My Family for the War (18 page)

Chapter 10

When I lay on my back next to the lilac bush and gazed up through the twigs and blossoms at the blue-gray spring sky, I didn’t have the energy to get up again. I thought I might just close my eyes and let my fingers grow ever so slowly into the earth. The ground under the bush was still hard from the winter cold, and I’d have to scratch and dig a little, but not too fast! Plants wilted if they weren’t given enough time to take root, Amanda said; she kept a sort of logbook for her garden, so she must know what she was talking about. She carefully recorded which plants would grow together, where in the garden they did best, and how much space and time they needed to get strong enough to flower.

She made sure I understood that the winter rest was vitally important. By now I was convinced that my exhaustion was because I’d had no time to rest this year. My departure from Germany, Satterthwaite Hall, moving in with the Shepards, my new school, the new language, Café Vienna, my secret door-to-door solicitations, not to mention the Jewish questions, had all been crammed into just three months. And
as the pages of Amanda’s logbook would testify, roots that shoot out in every direction at once don’t hold.

Fortunately, all was not lost. There are also late bloomers, plants that take their time in spring. I was quite confident that I would get back to normal if I didn’t do anything for a while. Nothing tiring, at least: no secrets, no door-to-door visits, nothing that had the slightest connection to Germany. I would start again soon, I would help my parents any way I could—but at the moment I just wasn’t able to stay away from home any longer than absolutely necessary for school and my twice-weekly Hebrew lessons.

After school I pedaled home as fast as I could, and even before I turned the corner into Harrington Grove I felt joy—a joy that grew and filled me with warmth as I neared our little house. I’d throw my schoolbag next to the stairs and find Amanda and Millie in the kitchen, preparing afternoon tea or supper (depending on what time I arrived) ready with a welcome kiss and the inevitable question, “How was school?”

We took tea right in the kitchen, with plenty of sugar in mine, and Amanda’s shoulder so close that I could lean on it and moan that I had had a difficult day. I still needed this excuse—I wasn’t used to spontaneous displays of affection. Apart from the miserable weeks at Aunt Ruth’s, Mamu and I had never cuddled, and I was quite certain that we wouldn’t suddenly start when we were together again.

I really couldn’t say why it was different with Amanda. Maybe it was because she had wanted many children, but had only been able to have one, and all that unused love stirred a need I never knew I had. That the affection was
mutual was even more confusing. The way things looked, she was going to have to take the place of not only Mamu, but also Bekka until further notice. She was able to occupy several empty spaces in my life at the same time: mother, aunt, sister, friend.

The week before we had had an extensive talk about Walter. I told Amanda that Walter meant a lot to me, but of course I was in love with Gary. Suddenly, to my horror, I remembered that I was talking to Gary’s mother. But she simply replied that she considered herself lucky never to have had feelings for two men at the same time, but she could imagine what a great dilemma that must be for me.

In my entire life, I had never felt like I had been taken so seriously.

It was also Amanda’s wonderful idea to invite “Wolter” to a specific occasion, namely Gary’s birthday in June. And I could hardly believe it when his answer came in the mail: He would be happy to come.

“Frances, come take a look at what I’ve bought!” Amanda’s voice tore me out of my daydream.

She was taking off her hat as I slipped through the garden door and into the kitchen. Her own hair peeked out from under the hat; she had been letting it grow since Pesach. Apparently Matthew had always been opposed to the idea of a wig! After that revelation, she wore a hat or a fairly unusual knitted cap. At home, she didn’t cover her head at all.

Along with several bags and smaller boxes, the taxi driver had deposited a large package in the hall, which she and
I brought into the kitchen. We removed the paper and admired the finely made gray suitcase.

“It will be so odd, Gary being at Oxford,” Amanda murmured as she ran her hand over the soft leather. “At least he’ll come home during the holidays. “

Uh-oh,
I thought.
He still hasn’t told them!

“But that’s exactly what we want from our children.” Amanda sighed. “We raise them to be adults, to go off into the world and break our hearts.”

She glanced at me and startled. At first I was afraid that Gary’s secret was somehow written across my forehead, but luckily she had only misread my unhappy expression.

“Goodness, I’m so sorry! How could I say such a stupid thing? It’s of course completely different with your parents!”

“It’s okay,” I said, embarrassed.

“Have you written them, by the way?” inquired Amanda. “Frances, they’re waiting to hear from you!”

“I don’t think so. They have other things to worry about. Mamu’s letters always sound like she hasn’t even read mine.”

“That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard!” Amanda replied angrily. “You can rest assured, your mother is constantly thinking about how and what you’re doing. And that’s why you’ll go straight to your room now and write home.”

That was the other side of my foster mother: She could become very strict all of a sudden, and then it was pointless to argue. Not that I intended to; I hoped she was right. My spirits renewed, I sat down at my desk, gazed into the fresh green of the tree before the window, and started writing.

It was about time for one of us to start telling the truth!

It would be a small birthday party—Gary, his parents and me, and Walter—and on top of that, it would take place several days late. But the magnificent weather that arrived on the third Sunday in June gave my foster parents the idea to pack a picnic basket and head to Regent’s Park.

Walter was waiting for us at the “theater,” as he called the old gymnasium. He had dressed up quite a bit, wearing a slightly too-big suit and a plaid shirt, and he turned beet red as he shook hands with each of the Shepards. Then he climbed in the back with Gary and me, and I sat blissfully between my two beaus.

“Happy birthday,” said Walter shyly. Poor Walter was so bashful he didn’t know where to look. His eyes darted across the narrow car several times, here and there, finally colliding with Amanda’s smile, and an entire minute passed before I heard him breathe again.

This is not going to work,
I thought with apprehension. Later, when we were spreading out our blanket in the park and Walter took a few steps away toward the water’s edge, I whispered to the Shepards, “Don’t be so nice! Just act as if he wasn’t there!”

They were utterly baffled. “But he’s our guest, Frances!” Amanda said.

“That may be,” I answered, frowning, “but someone who’s been starving for a long time can’t eat a whole cake in one sitting.”

The Shepards looked at each other and simultaneously broke out in suppressed laughter. By the time Walter returned, though, they seemed to have understood my point,
because Gary asked, “Would
anyone
care to come with me to rent a boat?” and after a little hesitation, Walter set off with him across the grass of his own accord.

“Don’t you want to go with them?” asked Amanda in surprise.

“Actually, I would,” I admitted. “But I think it’s better if they go by themselves.”

I lay on the blanket with my foster parents, arranged my straw hat, and felt disappointed and magnanimous at the same time. In less than ten minutes their boat approached, stopping at the shore a few yards from us. “Come on, Mum! Frances! A short round before lunch!” called Gary, who shared the oars with Walter.

I jumped up. “Don’t you want to go?” Uncle Matthew asked his wife.

“Oh…” Amanda stretched lazily and gave me a meaningful glance. “Yes, actually. But I think it’s better if she goes by herself.”

Sitting in the bow of the boat—being warmed by the sun and rowed around by my two best friends—the day came pretty close to how I imagined bliss. I sat up straight and smiled at the rowers, as I imagined would be expected of the only lady on board.

There was a lot going on along the shore. Swarms of Londoners had come to the park; there were children standing in line at the ice cream cart while adults played cricket, and a few brave souls joined the swans in the water.

Walter and Gary sat next to each other in the middle of the boat, rowing at a leisurely pace and conversing with some effort. I helped several times by contributing German
or English words, until Gary suddenly interrupted himself mid-sentence and observed, “My gosh, Frances, it’s hard to believe how good your English has gotten.”

“I’ve been in England for almost five months,” I answered modestly.

“Me too,” said Walter. “But where I am, I’ll never really learn it.”

“We’ve got to get you out of that sweatshop!” determined Gary. “Let’s talk to my parents. Maybe you could work at the theater.”

Walter shook his head. “My father would never allow it.”

“How old are you? Sixteen? Fifteen? Parents need to accept that children make their own decisions at some point,” Gary said with a fierce determination that could only mean that Walter’s problems were not the only ones on his mind.

“Have you heard from the navy?” I asked.

“I have!” A broad grin spread over his face.

“And? Are you in?”

“Well, what do you think?” Gary responded with pleasure. “Everything starts in six weeks. I’m just starting to realize what a great honor it is. The Royal Navy only takes the best, and I’m one of them!” His satisfied gaze wandered over the lake, but when it landed on Amanda and Uncle Matthew, it clouded over immediately. “But I hate to do this to them,” he muttered.

We looked over at the Shepards again, who had caught sight of us and were waving happily. Walter whistled quietly through his teeth. The boys pulled in the oars, letting the boat glide sideways to the landing, and Gary grabbed the hitch so I could climb out first.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked.

I didn’t move. All at once, every fiber of my being resisted leaving the boat. It felt like—with this one small step—the summer that had just begun might actually come to an end.

Amanda and Uncle Matthew had already set out plates and cups on the picnic blanket. There were sandwiches, cold chicken, fruit, and cake, but no ants, thankfully. Before we ate, we each took a small lit candle in our hands and made a wish for Gary for this next year of his life. Walter wished, “May you never fall in the water,” and everyone laughed, including Uncle Matthew and Amanda, because they had no idea what he meant.

It was difficult for me to come up with the right wish for Gary without giving away what he had yet to confess. “I wish that you always find the right words,” I finally said, and the others applauded.

Then Gary wanted to hold the candle himself, because he had a wish too: “I wish,” he said, looking earnestly at Amanda and Uncle Matthew, “that you will always remain my wonderful parents, even if I sometimes disappoint you.”

We were all quiet, and I had to think about how Amanda’s and Uncle Matthew’s parents had abandoned their own children when they were not much older than Gary.

Apparently it was nothing unusual for adults to play blind man’s bluff and hide-and-seek in English parks. I, who had mastered the art of hiding in my earlier life, was surprised to discover how much fun it was to be
found
! My hiding places were so easy that at first, the others intentionally overlooked
me so I wouldn’t feel stupid. Soon, though, Amanda and Uncle Matthew saw through my game; they snuck up so conspicuously that I roared with laughter as they grabbed me and dragged me back to the starting point.