The Air Raid Book Club(14)
Charles laughed. “‘Top hole’ is Gertie-speak for ‘excellent,’ in case you were wondering, Hedy. Ausgezeichnet!”
The girl nodded uncertainly. Gertie felt her stomach lurch with fresh consternation.
She had been determined to keep everything light and cheery for both their sakes, but now she appeared to be baffling the poor girl. Added to this, the thought of the journey across London was making her skittish with nerves. Gertie knew that Charles would accompany them if she asked him, but she could see how tired he was. Come along, Gertie. You can’t shirk your responsibility now.
“I’ll telephone you, Gertie,” said Charles, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you for doing this. Truly.”
Gertie nodded, taking fresh courage from her friend’s words.
Charles turned to Hedy. “Schön Sie kennenzulernen, Fräulein Fischer.”
“Sie auch,” said Hedy in a small voice.
He touched the brim of his hat before disappearing into the crowd as Gertie fought the urge to call after him. She glanced at Hedy, who was staring at her with expectation. “Right,” said Gertie, the sudden weight of responsibility making her dizzy. “Time to go home.”
Gertie Bingham had always prided herself on being a capable woman. Despite growing tired of London’s chaos, she knew perfectly well how to travel across it, and yet she was woefully out of practice. They were immediately out of step with the streams of people, who all seemed to be moving in the same direction like a stubborn shoal of mackerel, refusing to let them pass. Of course their progress was hampered somewhat by Hedy. It wasn’t just her luggage, which took up the space of another person, but also the child’s reticence when confronted with everything from the escalators to the screeching Tube trains, which flew in from both sides of the platform. At one stage a man walked straight into her, and instead of apologizing, he shouted: “Oi, watch where you’re going!”
“Now hang on a minute,” cried Gertie with an outrage that surprised her. “How dare you jostle this poor girl after all she’s been through.”
But the man had already disappeared into the crowd. Hedy’s neck flushed scarlet.
“It’s all right, dear,” said Gertie. “London is very busy. It makes people forget their manners sometimes.”
Hedy didn’t respond, keeping her head down as a train pulled into the station.
“Here, let me help you with that, miss,” said a young man from inside the train, gesturing toward Hedy’s suitcase. She glanced at Gertie for guidance.
“Oh, thank you,” said Gertie. It was standing room only in the carriage, but two men moved forward to offer their seats, and Gertie graciously accepted. “There you see, Hedy. There are kind people in the world.”
Hedy didn’t answer. Gertie had always been nervous during long bouts of silence and now felt compelled to fill it with idle chatter. “Mein Deutsch is nicht gut,” she said cheerfully.
A man in the seat opposite wearing a bowler hat and reading a copy of The Telegraph lowered his newspaper to scowl at the sound of this offensive language. Gertie blushed at her foolishness.
“Perhaps it’s better for you if I speak in English. It will help you learn.”
Hedy stared as Gertie embarked on a strange, one-sided conversation.
“I run a bookshop. Do you like books?” Hedy gave a small nod. “Good. That’s good. I bought some books for your room that I thought you might like. Betty, she’s my assistant bookseller, helped me choose them. You’ll like Betty. She’s very friendly and not much older than you.” Hedy blinked at her. “And then there’s Hemingway. He’s my dog. We live in a small house, but we have a lovely garden. Do you like gardens? I do. I like to grow lots of flowers. Dahlias are my favorites. Do you like dahlias? In the summer, I’ll cut some for your room. I also grow vegetables. Potatoes, onions, runner beans, that sort of thing. I used to grow carrots, but they were always getting ravaged by carrot fly. They’re such a nuisance. And I like to grow brassicas, but you have to cover them, otherwise the pigeons strip them bare. They’re terrors.”
Gertie noticed Hedy mouth the word “brassica” and recalled the earlier confusion from their conversation with Charles. “Oh, sorry, brassicas are cabbages really. And cauliflowers. Also brussels sprouts, broccoli, spring greens . . .” The furrow in Hedy’s brow deepened as she tried to comprehend why this strange woman was listing vegetables. Gertie knew she was talking absolute codswallop but couldn’t seem to stop. Had she actually just told this girl about dahlias and carrot fly? She heard the man behind the Telegraph tut and clamped her mouth shut until they arrived at their stop.
Gertie ushered Hedy through the crowds to the overground station, where they would catch their connecting train. The concourse was a sea of men in bowler hats returning from their day’s work. Gertie had to fight the urge to plonk herself down in the middle of them for a rest. She could see that Hedy was struggling too, her face a picture of fretting weariness.
“Come along,” said Gertie. “Take my arm. Our train is ready on platform one.” Hedy looked reluctant but did as she was told. Gertie experienced a small thrill of victory on discovering two empty seats and flopped down into the one nearest the aisle after managing to lift Hedy’s suitcase onto the shelf above their heads.