“Stop biting your nails, Sophie. They're just beginning to look decent.”
Four o'clock comes at last. Washing my hands in the cloakroom, I look in the mirror and see my face. I have two bright red blotches on my cheeks. Nerves.
Mandy says, “Put your hat on, take three deep breaths, and calm down. This isn't an exam.”
“Suppose she doesn't turn up?”
“Then you'll go home and listen to the radio, or draw, or go for a bike ride, or talk to Aunt Em, or read. Come on, Sophie, pull yourself together, as our ‘revered’ headmistress would say. Tell you what – why don't I walk to the tube with you? Let's hurry, though. Dad went back to his unit today, so Mum will want cheering up.”
On the way to meet Marianne, I try to explain to Mandy. “You see, she's the only person in England who remembers me from before. I'm not complaining or anything – I know I'm lucky – but you've got Nigel and your parents, and two grandmothers and a grandfather, and goodness knows how many uncles and aunts and cousins.”
“You've got Aunt Em,” Mandy says.
“You know perfectly well she's not really my aunt. Even her name's not real. I started calling her Aunt Em after the aunt in
The Wizard of Oz.”
“Okay, I forgot. You have my permission to be as nervous as you like. Look, is that her? The nurse by the telephone kiosk. She's waving.”
“That's her.” I wave back. “Come and be introduced.”
“Next time. I'll see you tomorrow.”
I cross the road to where Marianne's waiting.
“I 'm a bit early. I couldn't wait to see you again,” Marianne says, smiling broadly.
“Me, too.” We shake hands rather formally, and that makes us laugh, breaking the ice. “I hope you didn't get into too much trouble with Sister.”
“She went on a bit about decorum, and setting an example. She's actually quite decent under all that starch. Sophie, I cannot get over how tall you are. What happened to you?”
“I grew. I was fourteen on April 27.”
“I was eighteen on May 3. Let's have some tea. There's a Lyon's restaurant round the corner. It's self-serve. Would you like a sticky bun? I'm always starved. The food at the nursing residence is even worse than the patients get.”
Marianne insists on paying.
“Before I forget, Aunt Em said please come for tea or supper when you're free. She's longing to meet you.”
“Aunt Em?” Marianne looks puzzled. “Who is Aunt Em?”
“My guardian, alias Miss Margaret Simmonds.”
“In that case, of course, I'd love to. Is she the lady who fetched you from Liverpool Street Station – the one in the gray coat?”
“That's her. Still wearing that coat.”
“She looked very kind. I watched her face when she spoke to you, and the way she held your hand when you left.”
“She
is
kind. She and my mother were pen friends for years before the war, and when things got difficult, she wrote and asked Aunt Em to take care of me. The day we left, Mother said I was going on holiday to England.”
The men at the table beside ours are smoking. The gray-blue haze swirls behind Marianne's head. I remember the first time I saw her….
Mama says, “Today is a special day, Zoffie. It's the day you are going on holiday to England. Look, you have a new dress to wear, and so has Käthe. Two pretty girls. There is something in the pocket for you.”
“Is the orange for me?”
“Yes, to eat on the journey. Stop jumping up and down. You don't want to be late, do you? Let me brush your hair.”
“Are you coming on holiday to England too, Mama?”
“No, how could I? Who would look after Papa? You are such a big girl, you can manage on your own. …”
“Is that the holiday train, Mama? It's so big. Why are we waiting? I want to go through the gate.”
Mama is talking to a woman holding a list. She is blocking our way.
“Please check again. Her name is Zoffie Mandel. She was promised a place.”
“Mama, they are closing the little doors on the train. The guard is blowing the
Four o'clock comes at last. Washing my hands in the cloakroom, I look in the mirror and see my face. I have two bright red blotches on my cheeks. Nerves.
Mandy says, “Put your hat on, take three deep breaths, and calm down. This isn't an exam.”
“Suppose she doesn't turn up?”
“Then you'll go home and listen to the radio, or draw, or go for a bike ride, or talk to Aunt Em, or read. Come on, Sophie, pull yourself together, as our ‘revered’ headmistress would say. Tell you what – why don't I walk to the tube with you? Let's hurry, though. Dad went back to his unit today, so Mum will want cheering up.”
On the way to meet Marianne, I try to explain to Mandy. “You see, she's the only person in England who remembers me from before. I'm not complaining or anything – I know I'm lucky – but you've got Nigel and your parents, and two grandmothers and a grandfather, and goodness knows how many uncles and aunts and cousins.”
“You've got Aunt Em,” Mandy says.
“You know perfectly well she's not really my aunt. Even her name's not real. I started calling her Aunt Em after the aunt in
The Wizard of Oz.”
“Okay, I forgot. You have my permission to be as nervous as you like. Look, is that her? The nurse by the telephone kiosk. She's waving.”
“That's her.” I wave back. “Come and be introduced.”
“Next time. I'll see you tomorrow.”
I cross the road to where Marianne's waiting.
“I 'm a bit early. I couldn't wait to see you again,” Marianne says, smiling broadly.
“Me, too.” We shake hands rather formally, and that makes us laugh, breaking the ice. “I hope you didn't get into too much trouble with Sister.”
“She went on a bit about decorum, and setting an example. She's actually quite decent under all that starch. Sophie, I cannot get over how tall you are. What happened to you?”
“I grew. I was fourteen on April 27.”
“I was eighteen on May 3. Let's have some tea. There's a Lyon's restaurant round the corner. It's self-serve. Would you like a sticky bun? I'm always starved. The food at the nursing residence is even worse than the patients get.”
Marianne insists on paying.
“Before I forget, Aunt Em said please come for tea or supper when you're free. She's longing to meet you.”
“Aunt Em?” Marianne looks puzzled. “Who is Aunt Em?”
“My guardian, alias Miss Margaret Simmonds.”
“In that case, of course, I'd love to. Is she the lady who fetched you from Liverpool Street Station – the one in the gray coat?”
“That's her. Still wearing that coat.”
“She looked very kind. I watched her face when she spoke to you, and the way she held your hand when you left.”
“She
is
kind. She and my mother were pen friends for years before the war, and when things got difficult, she wrote and asked Aunt Em to take care of me. The day we left, Mother said I was going on holiday to England.”
The men at the table beside ours are smoking. The gray-blue haze swirls behind Marianne's head. I remember the first time I saw her….
Mama says, “Today is a special day, Zoffie. It's the day you are going on holiday to England. Look, you have a new dress to wear, and so has Käthe. Two pretty girls. There is something in the pocket for you.”
“Is the orange for me?”
“Yes, to eat on the journey. Stop jumping up and down. You don't want to be late, do you? Let me brush your hair.”
“Are you coming on holiday to England too, Mama?”
“No, how could I? Who would look after Papa? You are such a big girl, you can manage on your own. …”
“Is that the holiday train, Mama? It's so big. Why are we waiting? I want to go through the gate.”
Mama is talking to a woman holding a list. She is blocking our way.
“Please check again. Her name is Zoffie Mandel. She was promised a place.”
“Mama, they are closing the little doors on the train. The guard is blowing the
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