After the first book in the 'Secret Family' the subsequent books in the 'Family Secrets' series can be read in any older.

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This book is in beta mode. It is currently in final edit following another rewrite. However, chapter one is done, actually a lot more that that has been done, and I'm pleased to be able to release the first chapter as a sampler. Please check back regularly to see subsequent parts. Even better, subscribe to my newsletter or blog and be one of the first to read it.

The first book 'Searching for Love' tells of the story of a family shattered by tragedy and who are finally reunited over seventy years later. Now 'Love' tells her story. The mystery of her and her twin's disappearance echos through the years. Where was Love the night her father was murdered and her family vanished? Was she murdered as her nemesis boasted? Did her desire for revenge finally end with her own death?

1.

Berlin 1940 Saturday, August 24^th

Lubja sensed an air of expectancy as the train slowed for Berlin Spandau Bahnhof. The last few miles had been especially slow, punctuated by numerous seemingly unendurable stops in the middle of nowhere. This was always the most dangerous part of the journey. She hoped her twin Nadja would be waiting, and prayed she wasn't wearing the red beret.

Lubja glanced at her fellow passengers as everyone started pulling their bags from the overhead racks in anticipation of arriving. She had been feeling a growing sense of unease and impending dread since Koln when she'd first heard the distant whine of the sirens and the drone of aircraft overhead in the darkness. The carriage lights had been switched off, and the blinds had been pulled down as a precaution, but she knew where they were finally in Berlin from the familiar sounds and accents for the gangs working on the siding. The train lurched and clanked as the couplings took the strain and inched slowly forward again. Finally the engine hissed loudly signalling its final stop.

This had been an epic journey. Two days from Paris! Nadja and the family must be frantic with worry, she thought as she remembered her trip; Lubja smiled at the middle-aged Hauptmann who shared the compartment with a couple of other officers. It was part of her plan, a specially crafted cover. She always befriended some unwitting stranger to accompany her past the guards at the barrier without raising suspicion. Never underestimate the power of an attractive confident young woman, she frequently told her girlfriends. It would only take a smile, a girly giggle or wiggle and that look in her eyes for her unwary dupe to be hooked and a high-ranking officer would serve her purposes perfectly.

Of course, that didn't always workout so well. Her first attempt nearly ended in disaster when she had to jump out at Frankfurt and catch the next train to escape the clutches of Hauptmann and his friends. That was part of the reason that she was so late. She had met him when she was

languishing at the end of the queue at the ticket barrier. She doubted that she would get a seat, the service was so packed. The Hauptmann must have spotted her at the end of the queue and offered her a seat in his carriage. She was ushered past the ticket collector and the guards without a second glance and found herself with two of his friends. The officers pointed at the three civilians in the compartment who prompted vacated it.

A celebration started when one of the officers opened a bottle of liberated French champagne, and after a second bottle was consumed the party really took off. Lubja soon found herself centre of the Hauptmann's unwanted attentions. None of them noticed the Oberst and his retinue who boarded and took the compartment next but one to them. Soon the high spirits raised along with the noise level as the alcohol flowed. Lubja soon found it more and more difficult it fend off the officers unwanted attentions. She tried to get her bag and move compartments but was shoved by one of them and she ended sprawled across some-ones lap. She felt hands all over her. The more she struggled, the more they laughed and grabbed at her. Now she was really in trouble. She needed to reach the communication cord to get help from the guards, but one of them was holding her arms down as the other held her on his lap.

Lubja was desperately trying to defend her modesty, kicking and screaming for help while fending off the Hauptmann who was now trying to reach up her dress. The Hauptmann had his back to the compartment door. The noise stopped suddenly, and the officer's faces fell as they realised what was about to happen. In that instant of silence the Hauptmann recognised the faint but unmissable double-click of a Walther PPK slide action reloading beside his ear. It's amazing that a sound so quiet could be heard so clearly, and its effect be so profound. The Hauptmann froze as he stood, instantly sober.

“Gentlemen, you can consider yourselves under arrest.” The Oberst said quietly as he stroked the muzzle of his gun along the Hauptmann's cheek and temple.

His junior officers with guns unholstered, disarmed the trio and told them to lay, face-down on the floor.

He accompanied Lubja to his compartment and indicated for her to sit opposite.

“Papers.” He snapped holding his hand for her papers irritably, “Hmm, you're German,” he exclaimed examining her passport and papers, “I assumed you were French. So, what's your story young lady?” His voice now softer.

She decided to tell the truth, well heavily edited version of the truth. She just missed out the bit about her mother being of Ukrainian descent and being 'untermensch'. Instead, she told he about her grandfather; a proud old Prussian soldier who fought at Verdun and the Somme. At the mention of the Prussian infantry his curiosity was piqued.

“What regiment?” he asked.

“The Royal Prussian 1^st Hessian Nr81.”

“Count Friedrich's regiment. You know the British said they were the best fighting force they ever met. Is he still alive, your Opa?”

“Barely. He suffers with the after effects of the poison gas that damaged his throat and lungs during the war. It's Opa's suffering that inspired me to become a doctor, I'm studying medicine in Paris, or I was until the war got in the way.”

“And your father is in the Regiment?” he assumed, “I believe they are now a Panzer regiment in Normandy.”

“No sir, he's a physicist. He works on a secret project government project at Siemens in Berlin.”

The Oberst pursed his lips, disappointed at her answer.

“It's a very important project. He was building an Electron Microscope before the war, he works at the forefront of electronics. Fuhrer himself assigned him to the task.” This was not going well, so she tried changing the subject, “What will happen to the officers?”

They'll be cashiered from the Army and sent to a labour camp like the common criminals that they are. Let it be a lesson to anyone who dares to disrespect the flower of German womanhood.”

“In my opinion,” she started and saw him bridle at her words. He was a Senior Officer, and she was just a woman. Women shouldn't have opinions, and if they did they certainly shouldn't be so forward as to express then outside the home, but she couldn’t help herself. “As I said, I want to be a Doctor and learned about men's behaviour under stress. I believe it is common for German soldiers to take Pervitin before and during battle, and these three were obviously enjoying liberal amounts of alcohol. Pervitin and alcohol are not a good mix. It strips men of their inhibitions and makes them feel like they are supermen, they don't feel tiredness, or fear, or pain. They don't feel drunk, they just feel great, and raring to go, but their judgement is severely impaired. They are likely to make bad decisions, to do things they would not normally do. I don't think they would have behaved that way normally without the effect of the drugs.” She paused momentarily, “I'm only a student doctor and a woman and it’s not for me to comment on military matters Oberst,” she added in an attempt to moderate her comments, “but I can tell that you are a fair and honest man, an honourable officer and a gentleman like my Opa ... I know you will do the right and honourable thing.”

He listened, his face and neck becoming gradually redder as she spoke, until she finally stopped. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and calm.

“In my opinion young lady, you have too much knowledge and too little understanding. Life is not a clinical trial, and as for honour, believe me there's no honour in death. When I first noticed the noise, I dismissed it as high spirits. Then you started screaming for help, and I realised you were really in trouble and the situation was spiralling out of control. If I had not intervened when I did, those animals would have had their way with you, and when they tired of you they would had hidden the evidence. If they were merciful, they would smother you before they threw your limp and bloodied body from the window of the speeding train. What would be fair or honest for you or your family, or the next young woman they assault, or maybe they've done it before. No. They are going to face justice this time. It's my duty as a man and an officer to help and defend any woman in trouble. I'm a father; I have two daughters at home and God help me, I would kill the man who tries to harm my daughters.”

He lectured her about staying safe, why education for girls is pointless, and evils of alcohol. Lubja listened silently and respectably until he finally ran out of steam. Then they made a truce and talked about happier things, home, family, loved ones, and the things that soldiers and daughters talk of like praying that the war would end soon. Eventually she told him that she wanted to break her journey at Frankfurt. She didn't tell him why. She needed to get off this train, and away from the Oberst and the others, as soon as possible. The longer she was with them the greater the risk. So she jumped from at Frankfurt as settled down to wait for the next service, she was not deterred, this time she would pick an easier target.

About two hours later another train arrived and she spied the injured sailor. She played on his youth and inexperience. He was probably younger than she was. It was not long before she had his life story. He quickly proved only too willing to allow himself to be entrapped in her web of deceit; he soon forgot all about the fresh young girl eagerly waiting for news of him back home in Falkenberg. Lubja continued started work on him; she'd never met anyone who served in the Navy before. She was enthralled, the young men of their victorious armed forces were so heroic and brave, especially the handsome and rugged sailors in their smart uniforms. It was corny but true, she insisted that there was definitely something about a man in uniform.

He served on a U-boat and was on shore leave after sustaining a broken arm and ankle while in action during an enemy attack, he'd explained. Of course he skipped the bit where that it had been his first ship and it was patrol launch, and that he'd slipped in the head(toilet), slipping on his own vomit while being sea sick during his first and only encounter with rough seas. (Oh well, it was his story, but the facts weren't important.) He regaled her with his deeds of daring and valour that he'd borrowed from the old salts in his mess. She had so many questions about living undersea in a tin can, as he described it. She was fascinated, hanging on his every word, looking on with her big, bright eyes, as she listened to him adoringly. She snuggled into his good arm, resting her head against his shoulder as she pretended to doze.

The train stopped. She stood up and pretended to struggle to reach her bag from the overhead rack. She stumbled into him. She smiled coyly, she was so awkward, and he was helpless to stop her falling; She fell into his lap giggling infectiously. Of course he got her bag down and helped her down from the carriage, well as much as he could. She linked arms with him and looked longingly into his face, her head leaning on his good shoulder, as they talked and walked together toward the barrier. He was her injured hero, scarred from battle. It was a scene the old ticket inspector had seen a thousand times before, a young warrior home on injury leave with his girl thrilled to have him back. Pretty girl, lucky guy, obviously in love. She stopped in front of him and made a performance of getting his papers out for him. Smiling brightly at the ticket inspector offering their papers as she hugged the sailor affectionately. The inspector nodded the happy couple through without a second glance. No point in checking their papers he thought, as he tried to remember what it was like when he was that age and in love.

As soon as they were out of sight of the inspector and the guards she heaved of sigh of relief and scanned the crowd, first problem solved. Putting her headscarf on she pointed across the concourse to the ladies. She gave him a cigarette, lit it for him and took a pull from it, placing it between his lips and kissed him on the cheek before parting. Then not looking back she walked to the ladies trying to calm herself and not appearing rushed as her heart pounded fit to burst. This was always the most dangerous part. Those moments after she vanished for good and he realised his papers and money had vanished with her.

A few minutes later she emerged again. Even if he'd waited hoping to see her again he would not recognise her with her disguise. A grubby, bent old bag lady wearing a dirty old stained coat several sizes too big for her blundered into him. A moth-eaten woolly hat with tendrils of unwashed matted hair that trailed over her shoulders. Muttering to herself and mouthing obscenities under her breath she shoved past nearly knocking him over, as he struggled to step out of her way. He glanced momentarily behind her with a look of disgust at the smell of stale body odour and sweaty feet that trailed behind her. She smiled to herself as she wondered how long would he wait before he realised he had been duped. Hopefully never, if she was as good as she thought.

Reluctantly he scanned the crowd for any trace of her, he guessed they'd must have missed one another in the crowd. Later he'd try explaining to the police how this old bag woman must have picked his pockets while he was waiting for the girl to reappear and they must have missed one another in the confusion.

Meantime from her vantage point Nadja had spotted her twin the moment she had exited the carriage. She watched the performance at the ticket barrier; she was always amazed how it seems to work every time. Nadja was wearing the red beret, the predetermined signal that they were in imminent danger. She felt conspicuous like she was wearing a beacon on her head. As soon as she saw that Lubja put her scarf on, she knew that the confirmation that the message had been understood and she whipped it off. Nadja casually checked her make-up in her compact mirror, allowing her to scan the crowd for watchers. She put the beret in her bag and took her time as combing hair and checking her makeup again before strolling out of the station. The old bag lady shuffled through the exit on the opposite side of the station mumbling and cursing to herself. To a casual observer nothing unusual had occurred; the police no doubt would pick her it shortly. The twins would carefully check that neither of them was being followed, crossing one another's paths several times before they finally met. Lubja having shed her smelly disguise as soon as possible.

The twins met later, in a coffee house, after they were certain that they had not been followed. Nadja sniffed as they kissed one another. She lifted Lubja's hand and sniffed it again and recoiled.

“You've used your Limburger cheese trick with the bag lady disguise. Its rank.” Nadja coughed, as she dug a bottle of eau-de-Cologne from her capacious bag and sprayed Lubja's hands and the front of her coat liberally with the perfume.

“So the Limburger works.” she grinned, “What's the emergency?”

“Let's finish our coffee and talk in the park.” Nadja suggested.

She led them to a quiet, out-of-the way bench and speaking quietly in their mother’s native Ukrainian dialect, to prevent casual eavesdroppers understanding, she explained what had happened that night.

Lubja's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. The blood was draining from her face and her arms began shaking as she clenched and unclenched her fists. Nadja grabbed the arms and held her firm. She looked into her sisters ghostly white face and gently shook her.

“Lubja. Lubja. Listen, try to understand, and please don't make a fuss,” Nadja explained, staring into her face closely, “we have to hide and run now. I was warned yesterday by a clerk at the train station. I asked when the Paris train was due and he said 'Brussels is your best route to the west. The Paris train is too dangerous for you now young Miss'. It was a warning. We are being watched.” Nadja squeezed Lubja's arms tightly as she shot worried looks around for suspicious characters, “Please don't make a scene or you'll get us both arrested.” Nadja pleaded.

“I won't make a scene. I need to know everything. Tell me everything you can remember. Our stories need to match.” Lubja commanded getting control of herself.

Nadja relived the last few hours in details as Lubja listened intently, picking-up on various details as she tried putting the events of the night into context.

“Poor souls! They must have been terrified.”

She was worried about their grandparents. They were old and frail. Opa had been in the Great War, as he called it. He was a decorated and proud hero who was injured serving the Kaiser, but there was nothing to be proud in today's Germany. He could have even been thrown in prison for mentioning such thoughts these today.

“I was so frightened.” Nadja added.

“Did you give them a sleeping draft before the raid?”

“Yes, I thought they'd never get to sleep without something. I stayed in the shelter until the bombing stopped and the planes had gone. Then I checked for damage and made them a fresh warm milk and gave them each one powder.”

“Well, that should keep them asleep until well after we've gone.”

“Did you tell them what we were about to do? As far is I know no one other than Papa and Vera knows. So, no one could know for certain.”

“Your sure?”

“Of course not, but Oma guessed. You know what she's like.”

“That's OK. She'd die before she'd say anything. What about Papa. Where was he?”

“He'd gone in to his lab but went out during the air-raid to conduct some tests with the gun and searchlight crews.”

“Did he see what happened?”

“No, he'd finished his experiments and had gone back. Someone ran after him and told the house had been hit. When he got there, the crew were digging through the rubble. Mama and Vera were found outside the stairwell. They must have been running to the shelter when they were hit. Papa went to the hospital with them.”

“Did they say if he knew where we were?”

“No, he didn't say anything. Everyone thinks we are buried in the rubble or blown to bits.”

“Good, that's what we want them to think.”

“There must be something we can do?” She pleaded.

“What did you say about the Sauer brothers?”

“The crew said they were sniffing around for a while, then they started asking about us and Papa, and then they asked which hospital they were sent to and went.”

“That's not good.”

“No. I'm almost frantic with worry.”

“There's nothing that we can do for them now. All we can do is survive. That's what they'd want us to do. Survive!”

Somehow Lubja threw off her stupor and newly energized she got up. “Then we better get going. The longer we stay around there the riskier it will be, and more likely someone will recognise us.” She agreed. It was like she was a different person.

They were well aware of the risks and had made the journey frequently before the fall of France and the low-countries. They usually tried to vary their route or not to catch the same train as each other, but in this case they figured that the risk of travelling together was less than one of them hanging around for a later train. The service was far from regular at best. The faster they got out of Berlin the quicker. But she needed to buy something to eat of the journey, she hadn't eaten since yesterday lunchtime, and wanted to pick-up something. Nadja would get the tickets, and they agreed to meet at the station later.

Nadja went to a free ticket sales window and asked for two tickets to Paris. The clerk squinted at her and glanced around.

“That's two to Brussels.” He said proffering tickets for Brussels.

“No, Paris. I asked for two tickets to Paris.” She repeated.

“You won't want to get that train. That's not for you. Take that one and you will end-up in Ravensbruck.” He hissed and placed a mimeographed picture of her where she could see it. “Better get a move on, the service to Brussels leaves in ten minutes.” He told her pushing the tickets to her raising her eyebrows, “good luck, young lady.” He called after her.

Lubja met-up again on the concourse and Nadja rushed them to the Brussels train. She noticed that there was a commotion around the Paris service and guessed that Nadja had switched their route because of it. The was no problem boarding their service, and they were soon comfortably installed in their seats with Nadja explaining the last-minute change of schedule. A few minutes their train pulled off and they could relax at last.

Lubja told her account of the journey to Berlin and insisted that Nadja went to change into the new outfit that her sister had bought with her ill-gotten gains.

“Don't be difficult.” she insisted, “We look odd, people will notice. I look like a chic fashionable Parisian woman and you look like a dowdy providential hausfrau. Go on!” She indicated to the toilets at the front of the carriage.

That trip between Berlin and Cologne turned out to be a moment of calm in the storm of the war that raged around them. Nadja lifted her bag from the rack, kissed and hugged her sister before she climbed down from the carriage. Lubja watched from the carriage door as Nadja strode confidently down the platform. Her look changed to horror as several men in black coats suddenly swarmed toward the ticket barrier. Nadja was getting her papers ready as she neared the barrier, she hadn't noticed the men converging toward her. The scene unfolded in front of her in slow motion as Nadja approached unaware or the impending danger. Nadja was at the barrier.

Lubja gasped, barely able to breathe. She held her breath, her arm waving wildly toward her sister indicating the source of the danger. She wanted to shout a warning, but that would be a death sentence to both of them. She turned away. She couldn't bear to watch the moment of her sisters inevitable arrest.

Now it was Lubja who that the problem. The Gestapo were about to board her train. How had they tracked her down so soon? They threw the doors open systematically checking each carriage in turn. They were searching. She scanned the station futilely to see a glimpse of Nadja one last time before she was dragged to jail or a death camp. She shouldn't have turned way, now she may never know. The doors slammed open and closed as the agents searched. Nearer and nearer they came. If only she could see if her sister was safe. The atmosphere in the carriage was charged, the passengers held their breath nervously (it seems, everyone harbours their own secrets.). Lubja fidgeted avoiding eye-contact with anyone. Another slam, her carriage was next. She steeled herself for the inevitable, flight or fight, should she jump from the carriage and make a run for it, or should she sit still and calmly accept her fate.