Read Online Finding Sophie by Irene N.Watts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Irene N.Watts
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“Marianne, where is your mother?”
“She's still working for Mrs. Davy. Now that the war's over, we're hoping to hear news about my father. Waiting's awful, isn't it?”
“Yes. Do you have any other relatives over there?”
Normally I wouldn't ask anything so personal, but this isn't an ordinary conversation. Or an ordinary meeting.
“My Aunt Grethe is safe in Holland. She and Uncle Frank were in Westerbork Concentration Camp. He died there. She's back at home in Amsterdam now. My cousin Ruth, her daughter, lives in Palestine. She's two years older than me. She sailed there on a rickety old boat just before the Nazis overran Holland in 1940. Ruth lives on a kibbutz called Degania. She and her group are making orchards out of the desert.”
“Kibb. … I've never heard that word before.”
“A kibbutz is a farm that belongs to all the people who live and work there. Uncle Frank was always against her going. He thought the work would be too hard for her. He did relent at the last moment, so Ruth was able to leave with his blessing.” Marianne stirs her tea.
I remember the pictures of the camps I've seen. Somehow I can't imagine my father being in such a place.
They'll be all right. After all, my mother isn't Jewish.
Marianne looks up at me. “My grandparents, my mother's father and mother, were deported to Poland. Early on, I think in 1941. Mutti had a card from a neighbor in Düsseldorf. They'd arranged that before she left for England, in case anything happened to her parents. The card arrived from Switzerland; all it said was YOUR PARENTS HAVE RELOCATED TO LODZ. Jews from all over Germany were sent there. When the Russians liberated the camp in January, only a few hundred people were still alive.”
“My father's Jewish and my mother's Aryan. I never knew my mother's parents. I met my grandfather, my father's father, only once. He said he was being sent to Poland too.”
“I'm sure you'll have some news soon, Sophie. It's probably a great help to have one parent who's not Jewish, a protection.”
How did the conversation turn so serious?
I change the subject.
“What made you decide to be a nurse, Marianne? Is it fun living in the nurses' residence?”
“I always wanted to be a nurse. We do have fun, but the girls who join because they think uniforms are glamorous and they'll find a rich doctor to marry don't last long. Well, you know how hard the work is, Sophie. I don't know what's worse: never having enough hot water for a bath, or having to eat last night's supper when we come off night duty!
“Now, on that cheerful note, I'd better go or I'll be late for supper. See you on the ward on Saturday.”
We hug each other good-bye.
A unt Em is waiting for me, wanting to hear all about Marianne. When I come to the part about Dr. O'Malley, she says, “What an extraordinary week. Dr. O'Malley suggested I get out of London for a few days. I've decided to go. It's the first holiday weekend since the war. It'll be quite an adventure. I might meet a mysterious person from the past too!”
“Aunt Em, you know everyone's always buried behind the newspaper. People only talk in air-raid shelters and thank goodness we don't need those anymore. Where will you go?”
“I thought I'd accept Uncle Gerald's invitation. It will give me the opportunity to settle dull business matters.” She doesn't look at me.
Perhaps Aunt Em wants to discuss my adoption? After all, I have been sort of stranded with her for seven years.
“I'll take the 7:30 train on Friday morning. My friend Louisa lives fairly near, so I'll probably spend Saturday with her. Thatwill ease the ‘burden’ for Winifred. Uncle Gerald will drive me back on Sunday night.”
“Aunt Em, you surely won't leave a poor defenseless fourteen-year-old alone for the whole weekend? May Mandy come over, and would it be all right if she came early, to settle in before you leave?”
“I was going to ask Mrs. Gibson if you could go there.”
“Please,
“She's still working for Mrs. Davy. Now that the war's over, we're hoping to hear news about my father. Waiting's awful, isn't it?”
“Yes. Do you have any other relatives over there?”
Normally I wouldn't ask anything so personal, but this isn't an ordinary conversation. Or an ordinary meeting.
“My Aunt Grethe is safe in Holland. She and Uncle Frank were in Westerbork Concentration Camp. He died there. She's back at home in Amsterdam now. My cousin Ruth, her daughter, lives in Palestine. She's two years older than me. She sailed there on a rickety old boat just before the Nazis overran Holland in 1940. Ruth lives on a kibbutz called Degania. She and her group are making orchards out of the desert.”
“Kibb. … I've never heard that word before.”
“A kibbutz is a farm that belongs to all the people who live and work there. Uncle Frank was always against her going. He thought the work would be too hard for her. He did relent at the last moment, so Ruth was able to leave with his blessing.” Marianne stirs her tea.
I remember the pictures of the camps I've seen. Somehow I can't imagine my father being in such a place.
They'll be all right. After all, my mother isn't Jewish.
Marianne looks up at me. “My grandparents, my mother's father and mother, were deported to Poland. Early on, I think in 1941. Mutti had a card from a neighbor in Düsseldorf. They'd arranged that before she left for England, in case anything happened to her parents. The card arrived from Switzerland; all it said was YOUR PARENTS HAVE RELOCATED TO LODZ. Jews from all over Germany were sent there. When the Russians liberated the camp in January, only a few hundred people were still alive.”
“My father's Jewish and my mother's Aryan. I never knew my mother's parents. I met my grandfather, my father's father, only once. He said he was being sent to Poland too.”
“I'm sure you'll have some news soon, Sophie. It's probably a great help to have one parent who's not Jewish, a protection.”
How did the conversation turn so serious?
I change the subject.
“What made you decide to be a nurse, Marianne? Is it fun living in the nurses' residence?”
“I always wanted to be a nurse. We do have fun, but the girls who join because they think uniforms are glamorous and they'll find a rich doctor to marry don't last long. Well, you know how hard the work is, Sophie. I don't know what's worse: never having enough hot water for a bath, or having to eat last night's supper when we come off night duty!
“Now, on that cheerful note, I'd better go or I'll be late for supper. See you on the ward on Saturday.”
We hug each other good-bye.
A unt Em is waiting for me, wanting to hear all about Marianne. When I come to the part about Dr. O'Malley, she says, “What an extraordinary week. Dr. O'Malley suggested I get out of London for a few days. I've decided to go. It's the first holiday weekend since the war. It'll be quite an adventure. I might meet a mysterious person from the past too!”
“Aunt Em, you know everyone's always buried behind the newspaper. People only talk in air-raid shelters and thank goodness we don't need those anymore. Where will you go?”
“I thought I'd accept Uncle Gerald's invitation. It will give me the opportunity to settle dull business matters.” She doesn't look at me.
Perhaps Aunt Em wants to discuss my adoption? After all, I have been sort of stranded with her for seven years.
“I'll take the 7:30 train on Friday morning. My friend Louisa lives fairly near, so I'll probably spend Saturday with her. Thatwill ease the ‘burden’ for Winifred. Uncle Gerald will drive me back on Sunday night.”
“Aunt Em, you surely won't leave a poor defenseless fourteen-year-old alone for the whole weekend? May Mandy come over, and would it be all right if she came early, to settle in before you leave?”
“I was going to ask Mrs. Gibson if you could go there.”
“Please,
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