At the far end of the ward, I stop short. Rose’s bed has been stripped to the bare mattress, the nightstand beside it cleared. “No…” The word rips from my chest.

Dava comes to my side and puts her arm around me. “She’s at peace now.”

I shake my head. “I should have been here with her.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference. And she was so happy for you last night, knowing that you had found Paul.” Suddenly my night with him seems like a distant memory. “Now, come with me.” I let Dava lead me outside to the terrace. “Wait here,” she orders before disappearing again. I drop to the bench where I sat with Rose the night before. My eyes fill with tears. I lost so many people during the war: my parents, my friends from the resistance. People I had known much longer and better than Rose. But the war is over. We are the survivors, the ones who made it. This isn’t supposed to be happening now. I put my head in my hands, sobbing.

A moment later, I hear footsteps. I look up and wipe my eyes beneath my glasses. Dava stands in front of me, holding two cups of tea. “Drink this.” I take one of the cups from her, cradling the warmth in my hands.

Dava sits down beside me. We sip our tea in silence, looking across the lake at the mountains. “I was with her,” Dava says suddenly. “At the end, I mean.”

I turn to face her. “Oh? Did she say anything?”

“She asked me to thank you for trying to help her.” Dava pauses. “She also asked me to give you this.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small envelope.

Puzzled, I take the envelope and open it. Inside is a folded piece of paper with an unfamiliar seal engraved at the top. Typewritten, it appears to be in English, but I cannot understand what it says. “What’s this?”

“It’s Rose’s visa to England,” Dava replies.

“Visa? I don’t understand…”

“Rose has an aunt in England who sent her a visa to come live with her. She never mentioned it to you?”

I shake my head. “Only that she had an aunt in London. Nothing about the visa.”

“Rose probably never mentioned it because it was a moot point,” Dava offers. “She was too sick to travel.” But I know this was not the reason Rose kept the visa from me. Rose knew that I had no one to go to in the West. She did not, I am sure, want to hurt my feelings by talking about her own opportunity. Dava continues, “She mentioned she was trying to get a companion visa for you to travel with her. She even wrote to her aunt to ask about it. I guess she wanted to see if it was possible first.”

Rose going to England. Me going with her. My head spins as I try to process all of this new information. “It was a nice idea,” I say finally. “But she’s gone now.”

“Before she died, Rose said she wanted you to have her visa, to go on to London without her.”

I stare at Dava, stunned. “But this is Rose’s visa. How can I…?”

“Technically it isn’t transferable, but there are ways. We can get you identification that says you are Rose for the purposes of the trip.”

My mind reels. “I can’t go to London,” I protest. It is too far away, too big.

“You’ve been studying English,” Dava points out.

“I’ve read a few children’s books. That’s hardly the same as speaking a language, using it every day. And I don’t have the money…” I falter, embarrassed. “For the passage, I mean. And to live.”

“Rose had a little money that she left. It will be enough to get you there.” Traveling to England with Rose would have been daunting enough, but the thought of going alone is terrifying. Dava grasps me by both shoulders. “Marta, listen to me. I know you are upset about Rose. I am, too. And to consider this trip on top of everything that has happened may seem overwhelming. But this visa is worth its weight in gold. You don’t have any special status, no relatives to go to in the United States or anywhere else. The camp won’t be here forever, and if you haven’t found a place to live when it closes you may not have much say over where you are sent. You need to settle somewhere, make a life for yourself. Do you understand me?” I do not answer. “Anyway, if you go to London you can take Rose’s belongings, tell her aunt personally that Rose is gone. You would want to do that for Rose, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” I reply. “But impersonating Rose, I mean, the false identification…is it safe?”

“Completely. So many people came out of the war without any papers that the border guards seldom scrutinize papers too closely. And making fake identification cards has become big business. I know an excellent source, right here in Salzburg. So does that mean we are agreed?”

I take a deep breath. “I’ll go. Perhaps in a few weeks, after I’ve improved my English some more.”

Dava shakes her head. “I’m afraid that is not possible. The visa expires tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Rose planned to have her aunt get the visa extended, if and when she was well enough to travel.” My heart aches, thinking of Rose making plans that would never be. “But of course that is impossible now. You have to go before this visa expires. If we book you on a train directly to the Channel coast, you can be there by late tomorrow, then take a ferry from Calais to Dover. But you’ll have to leave tonight.”

Tonight! My head swims. “What about Rose? I mean, will there be a funeral?”

Dava hesitates. “Yes, but I don’t think we will be able to have it before you leave. The coroner has to examine her, and there is paperwork. I’ll see to it that she has a proper funeral.”

My heart twists at the thought of not being there to say goodbye to Rose. I picture the camp cemetery, a small cluster of headstones on the hill behind the palace. “She should have a spot by the large oak tree.”

Dava nods. “I’ll have her buried there.” She stands up. “I need to go into Salzburg to get you a train ticket. I want you to get cleaned up and gather your belongings. Eat and rest. You are leaving tonight.”

After Dava walks away, I sit numbly, staring across the lake. A day ago, Rose was here and Paul was just a faint memory. Now they’re both gone and I am leaving, alone.

My entire body sags with exhaustion. I have to try to rest, or I will never have the strength to make the journey. I stand and walk slowly inside, crossing the foyer to the ward. When I reach Rose’s bed, I hesitate. I still half expect to see her lying there, waiting to hear about my night with Paul. I run my hand along the bare mattress. Dava is right, I realize. Rose would want me to go.

I take off my glasses and lie on the duvet that covers my bed, still staring at the emptiness beside me. My eyes burn. I’m sorry, Rosie. Sorry that I couldn’t make things right for you. I roll over and face the wall, pressing my cheek into the pillow and closing my eyes.

I dream that it is a gray March morning in the ghetto, the wind blowing newspapers and other debris across the cracked pavement. I should be on my way to the administration building to report to work, but instead I am walking toward the orphanage. I returned from my mission with Jacob a few hours ago and I am still reeling from Jacob’s revelation that he is married. I need to find Emma. Though I never named Jacob, I’d told her about my feelings for him. She will help me make sense of it all. I walk through the door of the orphanage and into the nursery where my mother is diapering an infant. She looks up, relief crossing her face as I approach. Guilt washes over me, knowing the anxiety my resistance work must cause her. “Hello, shayna,” she says, kissing my cheek while not letting go of the infant. Shayna. Beautiful. “How are you?” She does not ask me where I have been, why I did not come home the previous night.

“Fine, Mama. I’m looking for Emma.”

My mother’s expression turns serious. “Disappeared,” she says in a low voice. “Another girl came to work in her place yesterday.”