Page 32 of The Girl with a Secret
“Yes, it is startling,” she agreed quietly as they turned away from the empty panda enclosure. “I don’t like to think of war, even though I know it might be necessary. But I’m worried for my friends in Europe.”
“In Germany?”
Briefly she thought of Ernst, the way he’d been the last time they’d spoken, before she’d emigrated. His handsome face had been twisted with regret, his lovely blue eyes shadowed as he’d reached for her hands.I wish things were different, Rosa, of course I do… don’t you trust me? Love me?Had it all been an act, or had he felt as conflicted as Rosa had been, her heart and mind both sundered apart? She feared she knew the answer.
“No,” she told Peter after a second’s pause. “No one in Germany, not really.” Her parents’ parents were all dead, and her father had been an only child, her mother estranged from her only sister, who had married beneath her. “But in France, yes. And the Netherlands. I made friends on theSt Louis,” she explained. “I know it was only for a few weeks, but it was such a strange time, and we became very close… as close as sisters. My friends had no choice about where they were sent, and I fear for them, if it comes to war. Some say Hitler won’t stop at Czechoslovakia, or even Poland. He might want all of Europe.”
“I’m quite sure he wants all of Europe,” Peter replied with a rather grim smile. “The question is whether he will be allowed to have it.”
“He won’t,” Rosa answered, the knowledge heavy inside her. “And that’s why it will come to war.”
They were silent for a few moments, absorbing this dark truth, and then Peter shook himself, reminding Rosa of a dog shaking his wet coat, and said, “Enough of this depressing talk!I believe there is a restaurant in the Regent’s Building—shall we be very British, and have tea and cake?”
“That would be lovely,” Rosa replied, and they headed towards the café.
Just a few minutes later, they were settled at a table on the terrace, having ordered a pot of tea and a selection of buns.
“Do you have family still in Germany?” Rosa asked after the waitress had left with their order.
Peter’s face darkened briefly, and he nodded. “My parents. They could have emigrated when I did, but my grandmother, my mother’s mother, was too frail to travel. My mother couldn’t leave her.”
Rosa could not imagine how difficult such a situation must have been. She supposed her own family had been fortunate in that way, not having to leave anyone behind. “Will they join you later?” she asked.
Peter shrugged. “Not until myOmadies, and I could hardly wish for such a thing. And soon I fear it may be too late. Once war is declared, it will surely not be so easy to emigrate—and, heaven knows, it isn’t easy now.”
“No.” It had taken her father a lot of money and calling of favors to get them on board theSt Louis… and they still hadn’t recovered the savings he’d lost. Rosa didn’t think they ever would.
“What about you?” Peter asked. “You are here with your parents?”
“Yes.” She spoke cautiously, knowing she didn’t particularly want to talk about them, their complicated past. Her father might still want to be someone important, but Rosa doubted he wanted his Nazi connections known in this new country. She certainly didn’t want them known.
“How are they finding it?” Peter asked.
Rosa let out a quick, unhappy sigh. “Difficult. My father is—or really,was—a doctor, and he cannot practice here.”
Peter frowned. “If he takes the medical exams, he could.”
“Yes, but he refuses.” Peter looked surprised by this, and Rosa could hardly blame him. It was a particularly petty decision on her father’s part, and one that only hurt himself. “He says he can’t take them in English,” she explained, feeling she had to defend her father at least a little, even if he didn’t entirely deserve it. The old childhood loyalty was still part of her, deep down; at heart, she was still that child perched on his shoulders, trusting him to lift her high, to keep her safe. The knowledge was both shaming and aggravating.
“Perhaps he should be the one attending the English classes at the day center,” Peter remarked, and Rosa let out a slight laugh of acknowledgment.
“Yes, if he could bring himself to attend. But he’s a proud man, and I don’t think he wants to ask anyone for help.”
Peter nodded his understanding. “It is that way for many,” he agreed. “To come to this country with nothing, to be dependent on charity… it is very difficult.” The waitress came with their tea and buns, and he raised his eyebrows, a playful smile curving his mouth. “Now we can practice our English from this morning,” he told Rosa. “Shall you pour?”
It was late afternoon by the time Peter walked Rosa back to her flat in Belsize Park. He lived only a few streets away, so he’d insisted on walking her right to her door, and remarked that he hoped to see her again, perhaps at the next English class.
“Yes, I hope to attend,” Rosa replied, trying to ignore the little sting of disappointment his words had caused her; he had not suggested they meet again on their own, apart from theclass, and she realized she’d wanted him to. “I certainly need to improve my English,” she added.
“It won’t take long, I’m sure,” he told her with a small smile, and then with a little wave, his right hand tucked behind his back, he headed back down the street.
A sigh escaped her as she watched his retreating back. She’d had such a nice time today; it had been the sort of outing she’d once hardly dared to imagine for herself, exploring the city, making a friend. She was sorry it was over, especially since it wasn’t clear that she’d have another one. At least she’d see him at the English class.
Resolutely, Rosa turned back inside. As she opened the door to her flat, she steeled herself for the sight of her mother, sitting alone and dejected in her usual chair. She was surprised to see the chair was vacant, and there was the citrus scent of her mother’s favorite perfume, Worth’sJe Reviens, heavy on the air.
“Fritz? Is that you?” Her mother’s heels clicked on the linoleum as she emerged from her bedroom. She was wearing a new dress in midnight-blue satin, with a diamanté-studded belt at her trim waist. She’d done her hair and makeup, and she was just pulling on a pair of white kid gloves.
“Mother!” Rosa exclaimed in surprise. “You’re going out?”
