Hans stared up at the gates of the camp, Klara tucked in close beside him. This was nothing like the camps he was used to. The prisoners and the soldiers easily conversed with one another, and he could even see a few of them sharing cigarettes. He'd had no idea that there were so many of these prisoner of war camps in Britain.
Hans pulled his sister to one side as a large group of men returned from their day's work, chatting to one another as they passed through the gates. He searched the men's faces. Kai wasn't amongst them. Daniel had assured them that he was here; apparently he had been captured in France and sent here not long ago, assigned to help build new blocks of flats. Daniel had sent Hans and Klara to England armed with letters of passage, as well as an order to have Kai released. He had a good reputation and was happy to use it to aid his oldest friend. Though, Daniel had stayed in France for the time being and said that he would return to help them settle into the house in Scotland very soon.
Hans steered Klara to the soldiers on the gate, bidding her to wait for him as he went to talk to them. She watched Hans as he conversed with the British soldiers. Her English was rusty, so she was struggling to work out what they were saying. They seemed to be expecting him though and seemed amicable. She watched him with hopeful eyes as he came to stand beside her once more.
"He's here," Hans confirmed, Klara letting out a long, relieved breath. "They're just discharging him, then he can leave with us."
"I really must write to Daniel," she murmured.
Hans' arm wound around her to hug her close to him as he kissed the top of her head. "He'd like that. He's always had a soft spot for you. Sometimes I wonder if he was only my friend because he wanted to get close to you."
"Hush," she ordered, her hand trembling a little.
"Don't fret, you'll have your boy in your arms again soon enough."
"Thank you, Hans. Truly. We're safe because of you."
"You're my family. How could I not?" he said, forcing a small smile. But then his eyes fell vacant again. They always did nowadays.
When he had returned from his search for Anna, he was inconsolable. He wouldn't eat, barely slept and refused to talk to Klara. She'd thought at first that Anna must have died, and she hadn't known how to approach it. Hans knew how difficult it had been for her. He knew how his presence at that time had sucked the joy from the room. But when Daniel had finally called and told them of Kai's whereabouts, Hans started to come around again.
He'd told Klara what had happened, yet she still had had no idea how to comfort him. She'd never known him like this and told him constantly how annoyed she was at Anna. Klara could understand how a woman that had loved her brother so deeply could just forget him after everything they had been through together. Hans had to be the one to point out that he had left Anna behind, and that really, he had never deserved a second chance. She cursed her brother and his overly calculated mind. Why did he have to do this to himself?
Hans' mind drifted to Anna now. He imagined them lying in bed together, her chocolate hair running down her back as she lay across his chest. His mind fixated on her chatting away about what it would be like to be an archaeologist, her finger absentmindedly trailing circles across his skin. He could almost feel the small of her back against his palm, the glorious dip towards the base of her spine so perfectly suited to his hand. He flexed it now, as if to reignite the feeling.
Hans could see Klara watching him, and the pity in her eyes. He sighed heavily. "Don't look at me like that. It's no one's fault but my own."
"Does that mean I'm not allowed to feel bad for you?"
YOU ARE READING
The Cuckoo's Song
Historical Fiction'How could a God that inspired something as beautiful as this song also inspire people to rob her of the only person she had left? It made no sense to her. No higher power did. The comfort of an ultimate divine being had been ripped from her long ag...