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Authors: Brock Thoene, Bodie
Tags: Against the Wind
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girl!” cried the woman, breaking free and running toward him. She smothered the cat in kisses and wrested her from Murphy’s arms. “I raised her from a kitten, I did. Found her in the rubbish heap and nursed her meself…now look! Not even the Nazis can kill her. It’s true indeed what they say about a cat and nine lives and all that.”
She left Murphy and me and wandered off.
“Well, then, you’re a hero,” I said to Murphy. “Saved the cat.”
“She was out wandering about when I walked up. I scooped her into my arms, and she began to purr.”
“You have that way about you.”
“Glad she made it out. Glad no one was in the bonfire.”
We watched the landlady stagger off, whispering in the yellow cat’s ears.
“No one killed,” I repeated. “But I’m left with the clothes on my back, I’m afraid. Mariah’s blue dress and nothing more. We’ve lost the umbrella too.”
“Elisa, you know I will always love you…even with no clothes.”
“Thanks. But…Raquel’s red dress.” I mourned slightly. “I won’t be able to borrow anything from anyone anymore.”
“It’s becoming a problem.”
“And where shall we sleep tonight? Back at St. Mark’s? Loralei’s office?”
“No. I’ve got good news, Elisa. TENS has found us decent lodgings.”
“I wish I could have got the red frock out of the other place before it burned down.”
“If ever a building needed renovating, that was it. Come on. I’ve already got us checked in to the new hotel.” He dangled a key.
“Is it better than the last?”
“It’s still standing.”
“As long as I’m not sharing the WC with twelve other lodgers.”
He eyed me from under the brim of his fedora. “How would you like your own bathtub?”
“It couldn’t be possible in London. And I know I’m not in heaven yet!”
“Well, then? How do you feel about the Savoy?”
That evening in the posh Savoy River Room I danced the conga in Mariah’s plain navy day dress. In the powder room, I explained to a wealthy American woman in furs that I had twice lost my wardrobe to bombings. I could see the awe and admiration in her eyes.
When the siren sounded, Murphy and I tramped down among the rich and famous to the reinforced steel and concrete bomb shelter. Hours passed. The hotel orchestra improvised jazz numbers as the barrage raged above the Thames.
The all-clear sounded, and we made our way back upstairs. Miraculously, the Savoy was undamaged, though buildings all around were stricken.
It was after midnight. The elevator was out of service, so we set our faces to the long journey up six flights to our room.
Murphy, in a move he had practiced with the landlady’s cat, scooped me up and carried me over the threshold and laid me gently on the bed.
“I am purring,” I whispered.
“Just what I hoped to hear.” He kissed me, turned out the lights, and opened the blackout curtains. The golden glow from enormous fires on the river flickered against the wall like soft, romantic firelight. Murphy turned on the radio and searched for mellow music while I undressed.
“I told you.” He turned down the sheets. “See…I love you even with no clothes at all.”
We made love fiercely, then lay back exhausted and content after the most horrific day. How could it be, I wondered, as I heard Judy Garland’s voice from the radio?
London burned as she sweetly sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”
Deliver me from my enemies, O my God; protect me from those who rise up against me; deliver me from those who work evil, and save me from bloodthirsty men.
P SALM 59:1–2 ESV
VIENNA, AUSTRIA
DECEMBER 21, 1937
How things have changed in Austria in only a year. Disguised Nazis stream over the border at the same steady rate as Jews fleeing from Hitler in Germany and refugees from the Spanish Civil War. There are protests about Jewish musicians from Nazi sympathizers in the Austrian government. I pray that what happened in Germany will not happen in Vienna,
She left Murphy and me and wandered off.
“Well, then, you’re a hero,” I said to Murphy. “Saved the cat.”
“She was out wandering about when I walked up. I scooped her into my arms, and she began to purr.”
“You have that way about you.”
“Glad she made it out. Glad no one was in the bonfire.”
We watched the landlady stagger off, whispering in the yellow cat’s ears.
“No one killed,” I repeated. “But I’m left with the clothes on my back, I’m afraid. Mariah’s blue dress and nothing more. We’ve lost the umbrella too.”
“Elisa, you know I will always love you…even with no clothes.”
“Thanks. But…Raquel’s red dress.” I mourned slightly. “I won’t be able to borrow anything from anyone anymore.”
“It’s becoming a problem.”
“And where shall we sleep tonight? Back at St. Mark’s? Loralei’s office?”
“No. I’ve got good news, Elisa. TENS has found us decent lodgings.”
“I wish I could have got the red frock out of the other place before it burned down.”
“If ever a building needed renovating, that was it. Come on. I’ve already got us checked in to the new hotel.” He dangled a key.
“Is it better than the last?”
“It’s still standing.”
“As long as I’m not sharing the WC with twelve other lodgers.”
He eyed me from under the brim of his fedora. “How would you like your own bathtub?”
“It couldn’t be possible in London. And I know I’m not in heaven yet!”
“Well, then? How do you feel about the Savoy?”
That evening in the posh Savoy River Room I danced the conga in Mariah’s plain navy day dress. In the powder room, I explained to a wealthy American woman in furs that I had twice lost my wardrobe to bombings. I could see the awe and admiration in her eyes.
When the siren sounded, Murphy and I tramped down among the rich and famous to the reinforced steel and concrete bomb shelter. Hours passed. The hotel orchestra improvised jazz numbers as the barrage raged above the Thames.
The all-clear sounded, and we made our way back upstairs. Miraculously, the Savoy was undamaged, though buildings all around were stricken.
It was after midnight. The elevator was out of service, so we set our faces to the long journey up six flights to our room.
Murphy, in a move he had practiced with the landlady’s cat, scooped me up and carried me over the threshold and laid me gently on the bed.
“I am purring,” I whispered.
“Just what I hoped to hear.” He kissed me, turned out the lights, and opened the blackout curtains. The golden glow from enormous fires on the river flickered against the wall like soft, romantic firelight. Murphy turned on the radio and searched for mellow music while I undressed.
“I told you.” He turned down the sheets. “See…I love you even with no clothes at all.”
We made love fiercely, then lay back exhausted and content after the most horrific day. How could it be, I wondered, as I heard Judy Garland’s voice from the radio?
London burned as she sweetly sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”
Deliver me from my enemies, O my God; protect me from those who rise up against me; deliver me from those who work evil, and save me from bloodthirsty men.
P SALM 59:1–2 ESV
VIENNA, AUSTRIA
DECEMBER 21, 1937
How things have changed in Austria in only a year. Disguised Nazis stream over the border at the same steady rate as Jews fleeing from Hitler in Germany and refugees from the Spanish Civil War. There are protests about Jewish musicians from Nazi sympathizers in the Austrian government. I pray that what happened in Germany will not happen in Vienna,
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