Читать книгу The Dressmaker of Dachau - Mary Chamberlain - Страница 7

The April sun cast shafts of light onto the thick slubs of black silk, turning it into a sea of ebony and jet, silver and slate. Ada watched as Anni ran her hand along the fine, crisp edges of the jacket, tracing the rich, warm threads and fingering the corsage as if the petals were tender, living blooms.

She was wearing it over a thick wool jumper and her cook’s apron, so it pulled tight around the shoulders. No, Ada wanted to say, not like that. It won’t fit. But she kept her mouth shut. She could see from Anni’s face that the jacket was the most beautiful thing she had ever possessed.

Anni was holding the key to Ada’s room in one hand and a suitcase in the other.

‘Goodbye,’ she said, throwing the key on the floor and kicking it towards Ada.

She walked away, leaving the door open.