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"Oh, I have no complaints," he said dismissively.
Carla thought: So what is this about? Is he toying with me, sadistically delaying the moment when he makes his accusation?
She said nothing, but stood waiting, trying not to shake with anxiety.
He looked down at the cart. "Why did you take that into the cloakroom?"
"I wanted something," she said, improvising desperately. "Something from my raincoat." She tried to suppress the frightened tremor in her voice. "A handkerchief, from my pocket." Stop gabbling, she told herself. He's a doctor, not a Gestapo agent. But he scared her all the same.
He looked amused, as if he enjoyed her nervousness. "And the trolley?"
"I'm returning it to its place."
"Tidiness is essential. You're a very good nurse . . . Fraulein von Ulrich . . . or is it Frau?"
"Fraulein."
"We should talk some more."
The way he smiled told her this was not about stealing medical supplies. He was about to ask her to go out with him. She would be the envy of dozens of nurses if she said yes.
But she had no interest in him. Perhaps it was because she had loved one dashing Lothario, Werner Franck, and he had turned out to be a self-centered coward. She guessed that Berthold Ernst was similar.
However, she did not want to risk annoying him, so she just smiled and said nothing.
&nbs
p; "Do you like Wagner?" he said.
She could see where this was going. "I have no time for music," she said firmly. "I take care of my elderly mother." In fact Maud was fifty-one and enjoyed robust good health.
"I have two tickets for a recital tomorrow evening. They're playing the Siegfried Idyll."
"A chamber piece!" she said. "Unusual." Most of Wagner's work was on a grand scale.
He looked pleased. "You know about music, I see."
She wished she had not said it. She had just encouraged him. "My family is musical--my mother gives piano lessons."
"Then you must come. I'm sure someone else could take care of your mother for an evening."
"It's really not possible," Carla said. "But thank you very much for the invitation." She saw anger in his eyes: he was not used to rejection. She turned and started to push the cart away.
"Another time, perhaps?" he called after her.
"You're very kind," she replied, without slowing her pace.
She was afraid he would come after her, but her ambiguous reply to his last question seemed to have mollified him. When she looked back over her shoulder he had gone.
She stowed the trolley and breathed easier.
She returned to her duties. She checked on all the patients in her ward and wrote her reports. Then it was time to hand over to the evening shift.
She put on her raincoat and slung her bag over her arm. Now she had to walk out of the building with stolen property, and her fear mounted again.
Frieda Franck was going at the same time, and they left together. Frieda had no idea Carla was carrying contraband. They walked in June sunshine to the tram stop. Carla wore a coat mainly to keep her uniform clean.
She thought she was giving a convincing impression of normality until Frieda said: "Are you worried about something?"
