Page 38 of The Girl with a Secret
“Air-raid warnings,” the announcer went on, and Rosa could hardly bear to listen, although she knew she needed to know what he said. No hooters or sirens to be sounded except on the instructions of the police. Short, intermittent blasts or a warbling note would alert anyone to a possible air raid, or else by police whistles. Swallowing a laugh of near hysteria, Rosa wondered how anyone would be able to tell—it didn’t say which sound would be alerted where, and yet the tone of the BBC announcer suggested such air-raid sirens might be sounded any second. “When you hear any of these sounds, take shelter.” Rosa swallowed hard. “If poison gas has been used, you will be warned by means of hand rattles.”
Poison gas? Zlata let out a small sound of distress and grasped Moritz’s hands. Rosa’s mother simply shook her head, her face pale, her lips bloodless.
“If you hear hand rattles, do not leave your shelter until you hear signs that the poison gas has been cleared away.”
Dear heaven. Rosa closed her eyes, then snapped them open as she kept listening.
“All schools in neutral and evacuation areas in England, Scotland, and Wales are to be closed to lessons for at least a week from today. General: keep off the street as much as possible. To expose yourself unnecessarily adds to your danger. Carry your gas mask with you always.”
It all sounded so unrelentinglyawful. Rosa suddenly lurched up from her seat, causing her parents and the Rosenbaums to look at her in surprise.
“Rosa—”
“I’m going out.” She reached for her coat, shoving her arms into the sleeves. Her mother half-rose from her chair.
“Rosa, youcan’t. Didn’t you hear what he said? It’s not safe?—”
“Even if the Germans sent fighter planes over this very moment, it would take some time for them to get here,” Rosa pointed out, although, in truth, she had no idea how long it would take. “I’ll just be gone for a few moments.” She left quickly, before anyone could make a further protest, and hurried down the stairs to the street.
Outside, Rosa took a few deep breaths of fresh air and blinked up at the bright, clear sky. She saw no fighter planes racing across it, even though she’d been half bracing herself. The air was full of the sounds of the city—the rumble of a lorry, the chatter of children and the trill of birdsong. Rosa could hear no menacing drone of planes or the shrill notes of an air-raid siren. All was as it should be, as it had been, and yet…
War. It had come to these shores, to all of Europe. Everything had changed, even if Rosa couldn’t see it. She couldfeelit.
She started walking, not realizing where she was going until she turned onto Peter’s street, knowing she needed to see him, be reassured by his steadying presence. There were a few people about—couples taking a stroll, people late for church. Rosa had the urge to grab them all by the shoulders, shake them.Don’tyou realize what this means?she wanted to cry.Don’t you realize your whole life, the whole world, has changed?And yet she was out here too, walking along as if she hadn’t a care in the world. How could anyone know how their lives had changed, when the sky was still blue, and the sun was still shining?
She reached Peter’s building and rang the bell. A few seconds later, he appeared, his dark hair mussed and in just his shirtsleeves.
“Rosa—”
“You heard?”
“Yes.” His face was somber, but she thought she saw a flicker of something almost like excitement in his eyes, and she could not understand it. “Do you want to come in?” he asked. “Or go out?”
“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted. “Go out, I suppose. Are you free for a walk?”
“Yes, let me just get my coat.”
A minute or so later, they were walking toward Belsize Park.
“I can’t believe it’s real,” Rosa said numbly as they fell into step alongside each other. “Air-raid sirens and bomb shelters and gas masks…” She shook her head, almost wildly. “I don’t want any of it!”
Peter was silent for a moment, his face drawn into thoughtful lines. “You knew it was coming,” he said at last. “That it had to come to this.”
“Yes.” Rosa spoke heavily. “But I still don’twantit, Peter. Do you?”
“I want Hitler to be defeated.” His voice was steady, as was his gaze when she looked at him miserably. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, but…” Was she so selfish, Rosa wondered, to not want such a great evil defeated, simply because it might impinge on her life?
No, she realized, she was simply scared—scared for herself, for her friends in Europe.
“I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I do want Hitler defeated. I’m just… frightened.”
“I know. I am, too.” Peter’s voice was gentle as he put his arm around her, the first time he’d ever done so. Rosa leaned gratefully into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his bay rum cologne, drawing comfort from his solid presence.
“Your parents are still in Germany,” she remarked after a moment, the realization trickling through her, making her feel even more selfish. “Peter, aren’t you worried for them?”
“Yes.” The single word was stark and heartfelt. “But I know they feel the same as I do. Hitlermustbe defeated.”
