Forty-Six
Forty-Six
T he nausea has gone. Nothing more to worry about. Sudden shock and grief can stop bleeding. I heard that somewhere, and it’s a relief to be without the dreaded monthly cramps.
As I’m gathering my books for school, Kuschi barks loudly from the hall, heralding the arrival of the postman.
I find Mutti in her bedroom. Unusually, since Karl’s death, she is dressed to go out at this time of morning.
She’s sitting at her dressing table, arranging her hair into its usual neat chignon.
“Good morning, Mutti,” I say, unable to mask the surprise in my voice. “Do you have an appointment?”
She smiles at me in the mirror.
“It’s time I pick myself up and get back to my charity work.
The need for the children’s home becomes more urgent every day,” she says.
“Truthfully, Hetty, I don’t have the heart for it, but the doctor says I must, otherwise my malaise may never leave me.
And I’m not sure I can bear to live with it forever,” she adds with a quiver in her voice.
I place my hand on her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze.
“He’s probably right,” I say softly. “Nothing will bring Karl back. He would want you to be happy, Mutti.”
She nods and taps my hand with her own.
There is a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Mutti calls, sliding a final pin into the back of her hair and patting it.
Vera appears. “I have a letter for Fr?ulein Herta,” she says, handing me an envelope. I recognize Tomas’s handwriting.
Dear Hetty,
I’ve not seen or heard from you since the night of the dance, but I’ve thought about you all the time.
Day and night. I’d hoped you might write and soothe my nerves and let me know that I’m forgiven entirely for my mistake.
I hoped you would come to see it as a compliment, because it demonstrates my passion toward you and the strength of my feelings, which are undented by your silence.
I went too quick for you and I shan’t make that mistake again.
There is something wholesome and good and old-fashioned about waiting and I’ll wait, so you needn’t worry.
So please say you will come for a walk with me on Sunday.
You will be perfectly safe. Perhaps we could see a film together another day soon as well?
Yours devotedly,
Tomas
I fold the letter slowly and put it back in the envelope. I try to picture myself with Tomas, holding hands or kissing him, and my skin crawls.
“Who is it from?” Mutti asks, fixing her hat in place with a pearl-topped hatpin.
“Tomas.”
“What does he want?”
“To walk with me on Sunday. To take me to the cinema. Ultimately to become my sweetheart, which I don’t want.”
“So write to him and say no. Surely he knows you’re too good for him?”
I look at Mutti as she stares at herself in the mirror, hair perfectly arranged beneath her hat, her dress neat, an amber pendant hanging from a delicate chain around her slender neck, and in that moment, I realize fully the helplessness of us women.
She, at the mercy of Vati, the sun in her universe, and yet he loves and fathers children with another; I, forced to walk out with a boy because he has a hold over me through what he knows.
Wissen ist macht. I shall never get away from it.
“But Vati was your inferior, Mutti, and you married him.”
“Don’t be silly; look what he has achieved in life!”
“He was just a poor farmworker’s son with no prospects.”
“Not when I met him. He was already apprenticed at the newspaper.”
“Still...”
“Well, it seems I chose well, in the end, doesn’t it?” She bristles.
“So shouldn’t I give Tomas a chance? He’s an apprentice with ambitions. He’s going to join the Heer in September. Perhaps he will be more acceptable then.”
“Herta—”
“I shall tell him we are simply friends, Mutti. Don’t worry. I’ll make myself clear. Will it be all right for me to go?”
“If you make your position absolutely clear, then yes. It can’t do any harm. You’ve known each other for a very long time.” She stands and picks up her handbag.
“Thank you.” I sigh. It’s going to be harder to extricate myself from Tomas than I’ve made out. But I’ll find a way. It might just take a little time, that’s all.
I peck her proffered cheek as I leave her.
A brisk wind numbs my face as I walk toward Erna’s flat.
Tomas’s letter is unsettling. He isn’t going to leave me alone.
Despite defending him to Mutti, the thought of being with him again, after his rough and desperate groping outside the dance, repulses me.
Even though he stopped short of it , what he did still feels like a violation, and every cell in my body is telling me to stay away from him.
But if I reject him, he still might talk about Walter and me.
I cannot risk the accusation of Rassenschande, with Ingrid and whatever she knows lurking in the background.
This threat will always hang over me. Shall I ever be rid of it?
“I’m worried about you, Hett,” Erna says, peering sideways at me as we push against the wind toward school. “You don’t seem yourself,” she adds. “You look so pale.”
“Vati still hasn’t forgiven me. Whenever he’s home, unless he’s in the company of others, he’s so frosty with me. I hon estly think if he never set eyes on me again, he wouldn’t give a damn.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. He’s just busy with his new role. In time he’ll forget it all.”
“And, in two weeks, Walter will be getting married. It’ll be unbearable to think...” I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Ah, so that’s it.”
We cross the grassy slope of Nordplatz and into the full force of the wind. Erna hooks her arm through mine, and we bow our heads.
“You need cheering up.” Her voice is raised against the gusts.
“Let’s get you out and find you a new love interest. I met this absolute dish last week at that BDM and HJ Celebration of Youth march.
Shame you missed it. He would absolutely have loved you.
Too short and intellectual for me, but for you . ..”
I dig her in the ribs and laugh for the first time in days.
“I don’t need anyone new, Erna, truly.”
“Oh yes you do. It’s the best way to get over an old love. Trust me, I’ve experience of these things.” She winks and smiles. “Besides, it’s the perfect cover. What better way to convince your father you are back on track? Come to the Heer dance on Saturday evening. Please, Hetty.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Why not?” She stops before we get within earshot of the pupils gathered around the front of the school. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m sort of... walking out with Tomas,” I admit at last.
“What? You are joking...”
“No.”
“ Tomas ! I know he’s always had a crush on you, but I didn’t think... I mean, I like Tomas and everything, but, Hett, you could have anyone .”
“He’s been... persuasive. He writes to me. We walk sometimes on Sunday afternoons with Kuschi. He wants to take me to the cinema.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve done anything with him?”
“No, I haven’t. He tried to once, but I made it clear it isn’t going to happen. He’s said he’ll be the perfect gentleman from now on.”
“But, Hetty, if you don’t feel the same way, you have to tell him.”
“Yes, I know. When I find the right way, and the right time.”
“Don’t leave it too long. It’ll only get harder.”
I should tell her what’s holding me back, the power he has over me, but I don’t.
She’d tell me I’m wrong, or that I could reason with him.
But where Tomas and I are concerned, reason doesn’t seem to come into it.
He’d take it as an affront that I would do with a Jew what I wouldn’t do with him.
It would infuriate him beyond measure, and he would be sure to want revenge.
There would be no way of silencing him then.
I decide to change the subject.
“What of the kindertransport ? Is there any news?”
Erna brightens. “Now, on that subject there is something positive. The English government is raising the age from fourteen to sixteen, so possibly within a few weeks, all Walter’s cousins could go together.
” Her face falls. “On the downside, there is a long waiting list. Besides, America has voted down its plan for a similar program. President Roosevelt’s own cousin and wife of the immigration commissioner said that twenty thousand charming children would soon grow into twenty thousand ugly adults. ”
“What a horrible thing to say.”
“Yes. Look, Hetty, we can only do what we can do. Try not to get too... involved.”
“What do you mean? You’re involved.”
“Yes, but only in the smallest of ways. Look, the Meuten have been brutally treated, broken up. The ringleaders were sent to prison. It’s getting harder and more dangerous, all the time.”
All my inner strength drains as I recall Vati’s discussions about the Leipziger Meuten. We are powerless. “I know. You’re right.”
She gives me a pat on the arm, and I follow her into school.