Maria strained her ears, desperate for any sound of life behind the heavy timber door. It was impossible to hear anything, so she held her breath, wishing her heart wasn't beating so loud. The constant pounding in her head seemed to be getting louder as the seconds dragged by. Her initial excitement at seeing Hede was now being replaced by a growing unease.

Glancing around the large space that served as part landing, part foyer for the flats on the first floor of the building, her eyes fell on the stairs. Hopefully, she had just popped out for a few minutes to pick up something from the shops. Surely, that was all. But she quickly gave up any hope of the heavy silence being interrupted by the sudden banging of the door downstairs and the pounding of shoes on the stairs heralding Hede's return. She turned back to the door. Hede would have been expecting them, so it seemed unlikely she'd go out at all.

There seemed more hope of the flat's front door flying open any second to reveal an out of breath Hede with her windswept hair and a warm embrace. Unlike her brother, the next smile, often accompanied by her infectious laugh, was never far away. It was her carefree spirit, her natural outgoing manner, that drew you in. It was the way she made you feel like you'd been friends forever, even when you'd only just met. In his own loving way, Georg had grumbled that anyone could be carefree and easy-going when they had little or no responsibilities. Regardless, she'd liked his sister from the start.

Even over her pounding heart, she could hear Georg's fingers drumming impatiently against his leg. As the silence hung heavy in the air, she didn't have to look at him. She sighed, already seeing that triumphant look of his, the one that said 'I-told-you-so' without him having to utter a single word. He'd keep his promise and not say anything, but still manage to gloat in that way of his she found equally annoying and amusing. Did Hede have any idea? Georg's begrudging promise to be nice to his sister and control his temper was unravelling here on the doorstep. They hadn't even made it inside her flat.

"Where on Earth..." he muttered under his breath.

"Don't say a word," cutting him short, Maria turned to him, "please, Georg..." But to her surprise, there was no smug look. Far from it. He was staring at the door, wearing the same concerned look she was.

"Trust me, darling, I'd love nothing more than for Hede to make an appearance," he gave her a grim look. Delving into his sister's private affairs was the last thing he cared for. Max had mentioned something at breakfast, but for the life of him, he couldn't recall what. His mind had been elsewhere, and God knows, at the time it didn't seem important. Perhaps she had gone home with the young officer after all. Hadn't Maria said they seemed to know each other? Placing the armful of gifts on a side table beside the doorway, he stepped up to the front door and pounded several times with his fist, each knock echoing around the hallway and sounding louder than the one before.

"I don't think she's home," Maria whispered.

"Well, if she is, she must have heard that," Georg glanced at her before quickly turning back, ears straining for any movement. Leaning in closer, he shaded his eyes and squinted through a slither of clear glass in one of the narrow panels of timber veneer and ornate, etched glass bordering either side of the front door.

"Can you see anything?" Maria's question was a mix of hope and concern, with just a little optimism.

"Nothing," Georg answered over his shoulder. "Not a damn thing…"

At the sound of a doorknob turning, Maria and Georg spun around to the flat opposite Hede's.

"Can I help you?" The face of an elderly woman with grey hair pulled back in a tight bun appeared, half-hidden behind the partially closed door.

"Hello, Frau Stoltenberg," Maria smiled at the old lady she'd only met yesterday. "I hope we didn't disturb you."

"Is that you, Maria? Hede's friend?"

"Yes, it is," Maria walked across the wide foyer to the old woman's front door. "And Hede's brother is here as well."

"Captain von Trapp?" She squinted, her failing eyes trying to focus on the tall, dark shape beside Hede's doorway before giving up.

"Yes, that's correct," Georg answered abruptly, trying to hide his impatience. "How have you been, Frau Stoltenberg?"

"As well as can be expected for an old lady," Frau Stoltenberg replied with a weary smile. "Is everything alright? I heard a ruckus outside my door," she turned to Maria, "we're not used to that kind of thing, not in this block of flats, you know."

Maria shot a glance in Georg's direction, then quickly turned back to Frau Stoltenberg. "We're sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you," she apologised.

"That's alright, dear," the elderly woman smiled, opening the door. "But if you're looking for Hede, you won't find her."

"Why not?" Georg demanded, his gruff tone drawing another sharp look from Maria that he tried to ignore.

"Well, I do like to keep my ear to the ground, especially with my eyesight not being what it was," Frau Stoltenberg lowered her voice. "Not that I want my neighbours thinking I'm a nosy old biddy."

"Oh, I'm sure they think nothing of the sort!" Maria rushed to reassure the elderly woman. "You wouldn't happen to know where we might find her?"

"Well," she kept her voice low, "two men arrived earlier and spoke to her."

"Two men?" Georg stepped closer to Frau Stoltenberg, suddenly deciding it may have been wrong to dismiss her as a mere nuisance.

"I think there were only two," she nodded, "I only heard two voices, but there may have been more."

"What did they want?"

"Like, I said, Captain, I don't usually listen in..."

"Frau Stoltenberg," Georg's tone was firm, but had lost its sharp edge. "I'd be grateful if you could tell us anything."

"Well..." the elderly woman looked up and down the foyer, making sure they were alone before taking a wary step out from her doorway. "I did hear strange voices outside my door. You know, Captain," she dropped her voice lower, "you can't be too careful these days."

Georg nodded in agreement at her grim understatement. He guessed from her surname that she had more reason than most to be fearful of the madness spilling across Austria's northern border.

"I was a little worried, strange men's voices and the like, so I did peek through the glass," she smiled as the Captain nodded in appreciation. "That's when I saw the men in uniform."

"Uniform?" Georg blurted out in surprise.

"Yes," she nodded.

"What kind of uniform?"

"I'm sorry, Captain, I couldn't tell. With my eyes, they all look the same," Frau Stoltenberg apologised.

"That's alright," Maria reassured her, but shot a concerned look in Georg's direction. "What happened next?"

"Hede answered the door. She seemed surprised, perhaps because she was expecting you," she gave a little shrug at the thought. "They sounded rather friendly. Actually, they mentioned your name, Captain."

"Me?"

"Yes. They said that something had happened, that she needed to go with them," Frau Stoltenberg nodded.

"What…?" Surely, the old lady was mistaken. "Something had happened to me?" Georg demanded.

"That's what I heard," the elderly woman assured him, narrowing her eyes. "But you look fine to me, Captain."

"I am…" Georg agreed, tightening his jaw. It made no sense. "Did Hede leave with them?"

"She told them she had to go get her jacket, and then they left," Frau Stoltenberg nodded.

"How long ago was this?" Georg's fingers were moving beside his leg, his concern for Hede was growing by the minute.

"Not long, perhaps an hour," the elderly lady guessed, "perhaps a little longer. I'm sorry, I should have paid more attention," she looked from one worried face to the other. "I should have known something was wrong..."

"That's alright, Frau Stoltenberg," Maria forced a smile, despite the feeling of dread gnawing away at her. "You've been most helpful."

"Where did they go…" Georg mumbled, almost to himself, his mind racing. What did they want from his sister? Where did they take her? Why? His mind was racing."Did they leave on foot, or were they in a car?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know, Captain," Frau Stoltenberg apologised for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I did go to my sitting room, but these days, my eyesight isn't what it was. Unfortunately, the footpath is too far away..."

"No need to worry yourself," Maria reached out and squeezed the old woman's arm.

"Oh, but Hede's telephone has been ringing," the elderly woman's face lit up, hoping this piece of information might be helpful. "When the window's open, I can hear it from my sitting room."

"The telephone?" Georg asked.

"Yes, in the last twenty minutes, it's rung out three or four times," she nodded. "I do hope everything's alright. I really wish I could be of more help."

"I'm sure there's a good reason for all of this. It should sort itself out…" Maria wondered who she was trying to convince. Why would anyone in uniform come to Hede's door? Why would they tell her something was wrong with Georg? Turning away from Frau Stoltenberg, her eyes followed him as he moved across the wide hallway to Hede's door.

Leaning towards the pane of glass bordering the door, he shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight and squinted through the etching. He didn't know what he hoped to find. Just like before, he couldn't see anything that might be a clue. Giving up, he reached for the door handle and slowly gave it a turn. To his surprise, it moved. Why wasn't it locked? Pushing gently at the door, it opened.

"Oh, my!" Maria gasped from behind him.

His head turned to see Maria moving towards him. The door was barely ajar, and instead of opening it further, he carefully closed it, not making a sound. Placing a forefinger against his lips, he motioned for Maria to remain quiet.

"Stay here," he whispered.

She placed a hand on his arm. "Be careful," squeezing his arm, she waited for his nod, a promise of sorts, before letting go.

Carefully, Georg turned the doorknob and slowly, silently opened the heavy door. The door opened into a wide L-shaped hallway. Like in most of the flat, Hede's artwork and framed poems jostled for space on the walls. Off to the left was the large sitting room that ran along the front of the block. Bright sunlight from outside streamed through large windows that looked down on the street and across the park, then continued around the corner of the room. Standing in the doorway, he glanced around the cosy room with its open fireplace and mismatched sofas and armchairs. Amongst the jumble of cushions and throw rugs, he couldn't see anything out of place. But then, it was hard to tell.

Not sure if he was hoping to find someone or something, he silently walked into the room and looked around the furniture, the large Turkish floor rugs softening his steps. Satisfied the room was empty, he retraced his steps to the hallway and turned right. The dining room, which was next along the hall was much less cluttered, with only a large table in the centre of the room and a few side tables along the walls. Taking a tentative step, barely in the doorway, he carefully turned his head, looking along the walls for anyone who might be hiding. Nothing.

Turning around, he continued down the hallway, the bright runner covering the timber floor muffling his footsteps. He stopped to glance into the small kitchen. A round table dominated the middle of the room, while benches and overhead cabinets lined two of the walls. Again, he craned his head around the doorframe, carefully looking either side along the wall. Nothing. Perhaps he was being over cautious.

He walked over to the table. Today's newspaper was spread open, while a pot of tea sat to one side. He peered into the teacup. More than half full. Touching the teapot with the back of his fingers, he decided Frau Stoltenberg must be right about the time. It was stone cold. Glancing at the newspaper, Hede had only turned over the first page. It seemed she'd been interrupted not long after sitting down. Where in God's name was she? His fingers flexed instinctively. If they dared to touch her, he'd be certain to make them pay. And pay dearly. He balled his hands into tight fists at the thought.

Taking a deep breath, he moved down the hallway. Stopping, he carefully opened the door to the bathroom. It was a functional, compact room with no real place to hide. Leaving the door ajar, he moved on.

Across the hallway from the bathroom was the first of the bedrooms. Standing in the doorway, he turned his head, first left, then right, looking along the wall. It was a large room, despite being the smaller of the two bedrooms, so doubled as Hede's art studio and guest bedroom. Blank canvases were stacked in one corner, with a handful of partly finished paintings resting on easels along one wall. On the other side of the room, one of the drapes moved, catching his eye. It fluttered for a moment, caught on a breeze that had found its way through the small gap in the window.

Walking into the room, his eyes scanned the floor around the edges of the bed, falling on the armchair placed next to the bedhead. Maria's overnight bag lay open on its seat, the only sign that she'd ever been there, a reminder that this was where she should have spent last night. His fingers started moving at the thought. If things hadn't gone so astray at the ball last night, she would have been here when the two men arrived. He clenched his fingers into a tight fist. Is that who they were really after?

Grabbing the handles of the armoire, he pulled them open in a sudden, jerking motion, fuelled by rage at the thought of faceless cowards targeting the women he cared for most. Trying to shake off his anger, he recognised two of Maria's dresses hanging from the rail, but otherwise it was empty. Closing the doors, he turned and walked out of the room.

At the end of the hallway, a door led to the main bedroom. Hede's room. The door was closed, so he took hold of the door handle and slowly opened it. With the drapes partially drawn, the only light came from the hallway and a small gap between the curtains. Straining his neck, he searched for anyone who might be hiding against the inside wall.

He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light, as he glanced around. The bed was made, but the pillows were roughly strewn at the head of the bed. Her gown from last night's ball was draped across the armchair in the far corner. Moving around the end of the bed, his eyes found her high heels kicked under the chair. He turned, making his way around the other side of the bed. Nothing.

Walking over to the window, he tugged impatiently at the drapes, letting the midday sun stream in. Moving across to the built-in wardrobe, he pulled open the doors, hating himself for prying in his sister's personal space. Rifling through the dresses and coats hanging from the rail, he closed the doors, satisfied they weren't concealing anyone. Spinning around, his eyes scanned the room for anything he may have missed. Not that he really had a clue how his sister's room should appear.

They were so very different, but had always been close. Especially as children. She'd been his older sister, fiercely protective of him and his brother. Sadly, after Agathe's passing they'd drifted apart. It had been his fault, all his own doing. Truth was, he'd avoided her, ignored her calls. Even to this day, the many letters she'd sent were still unopened. She knew him too well, better than he knew himself. One of the few people brave enough to challenge him, the last thing he'd wanted was hearing her harsh truths.

His eyes fell on a photograph placed on the centre of a chest of drawers. Striding across the room, he picked up the ornate silver frame. He smiled at the three small children staring back at him, their innocence and wide-eyed wonder not yet tarnished by the ugliness of the outside world. As was usual in those days, Hede had her arm around him and Werner. He ran a thumb over the youngest boy, still wearing short pants. He must have been six years old, maybe seven at the most. Almost a lifetime ago. Thankfully, the awkward, painfully shy boy was barely recognisable now. So much had happened, so much had...

"What a lovely photograph."

Spinning around, he wasn't sure whether it was her words or the hand on his arm that broke his thoughts first. "Didn't I ask you to wait outside?" His words were much harsher than she deserved.

"I couldn't wait any longer," Maria gave him a little shrug and a hopeful look. "Did you find anything?"

"Not really," he sighed, replacing the photograph on the chest of drawers. "She wasn't expecting them," he patted the hand that still rested on his arm. An apology for his abrupt tone. "She was having a cup of tea, reading the newspaper, when they interrupted her," he wrapped his fingers around hers, taking hold of her hand.

"You were close, weren't you?" Maria nodded at the photograph.

"Mmmm," he followed her eyes. "She was my big sister, protector, champion, guardian angel. Everything rolled into one," he sighed. "That was until she was sent off to boarding school."

"How old were you when she left?"

"Eight. Not long after that was taken," he reached up and straightened the photograph.

"You must have missed her," Maria turned back to look at him.

"Terribly…" his voice was low as he stared at the photograph, recalling a small boy's emptiness and pain. "I was nothing like Kurt at that age," he turned to look at her. "Much more like Marta, I'm afraid," he gave her an awkward look. "It was a few years later when I learned to take care of myself. It wasn't until I was introduced to the brutal reality of boarding school," he squeezed her hand affectionately. "You know, after that, I could never send the children."

She smiled at him. Months ago, he'd told her about his promise to Agathe. It had been barely a week after he'd returned from Vienna, when she'd blurted out the question that had played on her mind from her first day at the villa. She should have known there was more than one reason behind keeping the children at home. But like most things about her Captain, things were never straightforward. In fact, they were rarely what they seemed.

"I'm so worried for her, Georg," Maria whispered, not wanting to give her fears too loud a voice. "I hope she's alright."

"Come on," Georg's hand let go of hers and found the small of her back, "we're not going to find her here." He guided her out of Hede's room into the hallway and back to the kitchen.

Any other time, Maria would have started clearing away the cup and teapot from the table. But she couldn't. Not when they were the last tangible link to Hede. Instead, she held onto the back of one of the chairs. "What do we do now?"

"If Frau Stoltenberg's correct, Hede left with men in uniform," Georg closed the newspaper and folded it in half. "They could be army, but they could also be Gendarmerie*. God knows, they've both got plenty of Nazis in their ranks."

"Surely, there's something we can do?" Maria gave him a look of hopelessness.

"Come here, darling," he pulled her into his arms and held her tight. "I need to call someone, but right at this minute, I'm not sure who. We need to be careful," he buried his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes. "I just don't know who we can trust anymore."

Maria's arms tightened around him. "I hate feeling so useless," she whispered against him.

"I know, I just need time to think," he ran a hand tenderly through her hair. "Why don't you make a pot of tea?" He pulled back and forced a smile, watching her nod. It wasn't going to help find Hede, but at least it might take Maria's mind off things for a few minutes while he came up with a plan.

Turning to the stove, she picked up the kettle and walked across to the sink to fill it. His eyes fell on the brown paper bags in the middle of the table. The morning had started off so innocently. Breakfast with Max, a stop at the bakery, shopping for the children... The presents. He'd forgotten all about them.

"Let's try not to worry too much, darling, I'm sure Hede will be fine," he walked over to the stove, his arm snaking around Maria's waist as he kissed her cheek. "I'll go get the presents, I've left them in the foyer," his hand drifted from her waist, down over her hip. "Back in a minute."

Still staring at the kettle on the stove, Maria folded her arms. She'd only known her for a handful of days, but it was obvious Hede was strong and sensible. Still, she found herself praying for her future sister-in-law. These certainly were unsettling times. Why would uniformed men come to collect Hede? Why would they mention Georg's name? Did it have anything to do with that man who'd been following them? Or perhaps Georg's invitation to Bremerhaven? Hugging herself tighter, she shuddered as questions tumbled around her mind.

She turned at the sound of the front door closing and stared expectantly at the doorway. Her heart sank when he appeared alone. Biting her lower lip, she watched him place the gifts on the kitchen table. "Georg?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why was the front door unlocked?"

"Hede knew we were coming, she probably guessed I'd try the front door when there was no answer," Georg shrugged.

"Oh, I see…" The sound of the kettle coming to the boil eventually caught Maria's attention. She turned away and lifted the kettle off the stove.

"Leave it, darling," Georg was beside her, his arm around her waist, whispering gently. "Sit down, I'll make the tea." She gave up without protesting, a sure sign she was worried. He hated seeing her trying to force a brave face. "Give me a few minutes to come up with…"

His words were cut short by the shrill ring of the telephone. Sharing a look with Maria, he quickly turned and walked hurriedly to the front sitting room. Looking around, his eyes fell on a side table in the corner of the room. Striding over, he snatched up the receiver from its cradle. "Hello?" he demanded, turning to face Maria who'd followed him from the kitchen.

"Georg? Is that you?"

"Elsa…?" His voice betrayed his shock at hearing her on the other end of the line. Maria dropped her hand from his arm. She went to walk away, but he reached out and grabbed for her hand, catching her wrist. She turned back to him questioningly, but he nodded for her to stay. He waited, but the silence on the line dragged out. "What is it?" he tried his best not to sound impatient, but Maria squeezing his arm told him he'd failed miserably.

"I don't want to bother you, Georg..." Elsa had been dreading this. Their first conversation since that heart wrenching breakup and awkward farewell on the balcony. Hearing his voice, it brought the painful memories flooding back. Fighting back tears, she'd stumbled to her room to pack. Fearful of seeing anyone. Of seeing them. A hurried departure with Max to a hastily booked room at the Hotel Osterreichischer in Salzburg. She'd been kidding herself. She hadn't buried the painful memories of her retreat home to Vienna the following day. The long, lonely drive that seemed to stretch on forever. God, right at this moment, it seemed like yesterday…

"I'm sorry, Elsa," Georg softened his tone. "I really don't have time right now."

"I know," she sighed. "but please listen…"

"Elsa, this will have to wait," the impatient tone was back again. "I really need to go."

"Georg…" She'd missed saying his name. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. She was probably the last person he wanted to talk to.

"Georg, I'm calling about Hede…"

* Gendarmerie – the name used for the Austrian police at the time. From the mid-1930s leading up to the Anschluss on 12 March 1938, the force was increasingly infiltrated by Nazis.

Thank you everyone for continuing to read. Special thanks for the lovely reviews.

Apologies for the delay in posting. In my part of the world, we're back in lockdown, which just sucks the life out of (pretty much) everything. I hope you, your families and friends are all safe and well. Praying that this nightmare ends sometime soon…

I don't own TSOM, just having a lend. I should also mention (it's been a while) that the inspiration for this story is the song "Someone you Loved" by Lewis Capaldi.

"Immerse your soul in love"