Page 28 of The Girl with a Secret
She straightened, leaning forward slightly to try to hear better, but volume was not the issue. He spoke plenty loud enough. Still, at least shelookedas if she were listening, which she realized belatedly was taking so much effort that she was now missing two words out of three.Hopeless!
So caught up was she in trying to understand what was going on that she hadn’t realized they were meant to divide into pairs to practice speaking with one another until she looked around and saw everyone moving chairs and starting to chat. Perhaps this would be a good time to leave, after all…
“I see you’re without a partner, and so am I,” a male voice said from behind her, making her jump a little. It was a kind voice, with a hint of wry humor.
Rosa turned around to see a handsome young man, perhaps a few years older than her, smiling down at her. He was tall and slender, with dark hair that fell over his forehead and brown eyes that glinted with good humor. He was wearing a three-piece suit in tweed that looked as if it had seen better days; the patches on the elbows were shiny with use. He stood slightly angled down toward her, with one hand behind his back. “Shall we work together?” he asked in what seemed to Rosa to be flawless English.
She opened her mouth and again her language defeated her. “Yes,” she finally said, incapable of forming a longer sentence. “Good.”
The man’s smile deepened, revealing a dimple in one lean cheek, his eyes positively twinkling as he took a seat opposite her, pulling the chair to face hers, so their heads were quite close. Rosa breathed in the scent of his aftershave—bay rum, she thought—and her heart gave a funny little flutter.
“Very well. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Rosa blinked at him. “Verzeihung…?” she asked blankly.Excuse me?Why was he asking her if she wantedtea?
“We’re meant to converse as if we are at a tea party,” he explained in careful English she was able to follow. “But perhaps first I should introduce myself.” He held out his left hand for her to shake, rather than his right, which he still kept tucked behind his back. “Peter Gelb, pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Rosa took his hand and shook it. “Rosa Herzelfeld.”
“Where are you from, Rosa?”
“Berlin.” She wished she could say more, but she simply didn’t have the language. “And you?” she managed.
“Frankfurt, originally. But I have been living in Swiss Cottage for two years now.”
“You are… experienced, then,” Rosa said carefully. “I am new.”
His smile deepened. “I could tell.”
She laughed then and shook her head. “I am… not surprised.”
“You’ll come on quickly, I’m sure. These classes are very helpful.”
Rosa nodded, not quite believing it. Everything still felt like such a struggle, and right then she could not imagine it ever being much different, although she certainly wanted to.
“I mean it,” Peter told her, leaning toward her so that his head was even closer to hers. “I know it can seem so overwhelming at first,” he continued, “but it does get easier.”
Rosa nodded again, managing a smile. She’d understood the gist of what he’d said, at least, but she knew she didn’t have the English to make a sensible reply.
Peter, seeming to sense this, sat back as he raised his eyebrows. “Well, then. Shall we talk about tea?”
“Tea…?”
“Yes, shall we have tea or coffee? And shall I pour, or shall you?” He held out his hand and mimed pouring tea from a teapot.
“I will pour,” Rosa said, smiling as she let herself get into the spirit of things. With exaggerated courtesy, she mimed taking the teapot from him, even going so far as to pretend it was heavy, and was rewarded with Peter’s unabashed grin, which made a frisson of delight shoot through her, like a spark. “Do you take… cream?” she asked carefully, and he gave a nod of approval.
“And sugar, for my sins.”
“One lump, or two?” This, at least, was language she knew, thanks to working in a teashop.
He raised his eyebrows. “Would it be very extravagant of me if I said two?”
She didn’t know the word “extravagant,” but again she guessed the gist. “Very,” she told him, her tone solemn, and he laughed out loud, causing a few people nearby to turn and look at them curiously.
“I think your English is coming on very well,” he told her, and this time Rosa was the one who laughed.
Shortly after, the teacher called them all back together, and Peter inclined his head, a wry smile touching his lips, as he moved his chair back. Rosa returned his smile before she looked away, shifting her attention to the front. She’d enjoyed their conversation, and it had very little to do with the English she’d practiced. She’d felt as if she’d made a friend, which was undoubtedly foolish, since they’d barely spoken, and then only about how they took their tea! Although, in point of fact, she hadn’t even mentioned how she took hers, not that she actually liked tea very much. Not yet, anyway. She was determined to like the English drink eventually.
