The Air Raid Book Club(66)
Gertie laughed. “True. Harry had two left feet, so we never really went dancing, but I must say I’m having a wonderful time.”
“Me too.”
“It almost makes you forget there’s a war on, doesn’t it?”
“I think that’s the only way to endure it sometimes.”
“I’ve learned that trick from Hedy,” said Gertie.
“She seems cheerful, all things considered.”
Gertie nodded. “I’m proud of her. Gerald is training her up as an ARP warden. Don’t tell her I said this, but I’m relieved she wasn’t able to sign up for war work. At least I’ll know where she is.”
“You sound like a mother hen.”
“Good.”
Charles reached over and took her hand. “You know, I’ve made many mistakes in my life, but the one thing I will never regret is asking you to take in a child. It has transformed you, Gertie. I never thought I’d see you this happy again.”
She regarded him for a moment. That kind, handsome face of a sweet soul, who reminded her so much of Harry. Whether it was the music or the sensation of his hand in hers, Gertie had a sudden flash of memory to what it was like to be young and in love. It made her heart rise with a tide of unexpected hope. “Neither did I,” she said.
Chapter 18
His sorrow was my sorrow, and his joy
Sent little leaps and laughs through all my frame.
—George Eliot, “Brother and Sister”
The two letters arrived within days of each other. The first was from Sam. He would always send Hedy a long letter during the first week of every month followed by two postcards in the second and fourth week. Hedy’s face was transformed whenever she spied one among that day’s post. She would clutch the envelope to her heart, stealing away to read it alone in her room. In the evening, she would sit with Gertie in the living room recounting his anecdotes. Gertie was fond of Sam and his amusing stories. He had a good friend in the camp called Harris, and together they would stage shows to keep everyone entertained. The pair would dress up as a couple of aristocratic old women and sing songs in high-pitched voices. Apparently, even some of the German prison guards enjoyed these revues.
The second letter arrived two days later. Gertie’s pulse quickened as she spotted the German script and Swiss postmark. “Hedy!” she cried. “Hedy, you must come at once.”
Hedy hurried down the stairs with Hemingway close on her heels. “What is it?”
Gertie held out the envelope. Hedy accepted it with trembling fingers. “Arno,” she whispered, staring at the letters as if daring to hope that he might materialize from within them.
“Do you want to read it alone?” asked Gertie. Hedy shook her head. “Come through to the kitchen then. We’ll read it together.”
They sat at the table with Hemingway bolt upright beside them, as if he understood the significance of this moment. Hedy unfolded the blue parchment paper and stared at the words in surprise. “He has written in English.”
“Probably to stop too many prying German eyes from reading it,” said Gertie.
Hedy took a deep breath. “My dearest Hedchen.” She paused as the tears began to trickle down her cheeks.
“Would you like me to read it, dear?” asked Gertie gently. Hedy nodded. Gertie took the letter from her shaking hands and began:
My dearest Hedchen, my darling sister,
I can only hope and pray that this letter reaches you safely. I have entrusted it to someone who I am sure will not let me down, but you can never be certain in this war. I must be quick in my writing as I do not have much time. I am safe, working in a factory in Poland. I was lucky to get this job and am grateful for it. The last time I saw Mama and Papa was when we traveled east, and apart from hunger, they were both in good health. I hope you have found a happy life in England. I think about you often, about afternoons strolling through the Englischer Garten with you, eating Pfeffernüsse . . .
Hedy let out a sob. Hemingway rested his huge warm head in her lap.
“Shall I stop, dear?”
Hedy shook her head, cuddling the dog to her as Gertie continued.
. . . talking about our plans for the future. I was going to build the tallest skyscraper in Europe, bigger than the Empire State Building, and you were going to write books, adventure stories of brave girls and boys beating the villains. I hope we still get those dreams, my dear Hedchen, and I hope the brave girls and boys beat the villains in the end. I miss you so much and I love you even more. I hope you are impressed by your lazy German brother’s English. I expect your English is better than the Queen’s by now.
Ever yours,
Your brother, Arno
Gertie’s eyes were streaming with tears as she finished. She and Hedy clung to each other for a long time, weeping for the ones they couldn’t protect. After a while, Gertie reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Very gently, she wiped Hedy’s eyes and kissed her on the forehead. “He’s alive, Hedy. Your brother is alive,” she said, folding her into a tight embrace.
Uncle Thomas did not like to travel south of the river. In fact, he didn’t really like to travel beyond the confines of Cecil Court, but he made an exception for his niece’s sixty-fourth birthday. The dinner had been Hedy’s idea. She suggested that guests each bring a dish to make their rations stretch further.