The Air Raid Book Club(7)
Gertie’s heart lifted when she saw this affable man standing on her doorstep. His hair was thinning at the temples, but his face was as open and kind as it had always been. He made her think of Harry in the best possible way, reminding Gertie of the treasured times when they’d formed a happy band of three in their youth. They spent many joyful evenings at the theater or out for dinner together. Charles was always vastly amused at Gertie’s attempts to pair him off with any woman who batted her eyelids his way.
“I prefer my own company,” he would always say. “Or yours or Harry’s. I’m too selfish to be a good husband.”
Charles’s usual genial demeanor was serious tonight, though. “Sorry to call so late, Gertie. May I come in? I need to talk to you.”
“Of course,” she said leading him toward the living room. “Is everything all right?”
“Not really,” he said as Hemingway lumbered in, his tail wagging as soon as he saw their visitor. Charles patted his head. “Hello, old chap.”
“I’m just making some tea. Would you like a cup?”
“I don’t suppose you’ve got any whisky, have you?” In the half-light of the living room, Charles looked gaunt and drawn.
“I think I’ve still got a bottle of Harry’s somewhere,” said Gertie. She opened the drinks cabinet and poured two glasses. “Come and sit down. You look as if you’ve had a fright. Whatever is it?”
They sat side by side on the sofa. Gertie took a sip of her drink, welcoming its sharp heat.
Charles swirled the amber liquid around his glass before taking a large gulp. “I daresay you’ve heard about what’s happening to the Jews in Germany?”
Gertie shivered. “Yes, of course. Terrible business.”
“I’m going over to help them.”
Gertie stared at him. “Help them. But how?”
Charles took another sip of whisky. “There’s a delegation going to speak to Chamberlain and the home secretary next week. They want to rescue as many children as possible. The British government is almost certainly going to allow them to come here.”
“Goodness, Charles. But won’t it be dangerous for you to go out there?” Gertie couldn’t bear the thought of losing another person she loved.
Charles was stone-faced. “Not as dangerous as it will be for the poor blighters if we leave them in the clutches of Hitler and his henchmen.”
Gertie nodded. “Of course. Will you be gone long?”
“As long as it takes.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Thank heavens for people like you, Charles. How will you find homes for them?”
He shot her a sideward glance. “I’m asking everyone I know to take in a child.”
Gertie stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. “But, Charles, I’m about to retire.” She knew this sounded hollow, selfish even. Here was this man, about to risk his life for a group of strangers, and here she was, fixated on her own fanciful needs.
Charles’s eyes didn’t leave her face for a second. “Do you know what I thought when Harry introduced you to me all those years ago?”
“‘Does this woman ever stop talking?’” suggested Gertie with eyebrows raised.
Charles laughed. “Well yes, but above all, I thought how lucky he was to have found someone with such fire in her belly and fight in her soul.”
Gertie stared into her whisky glass. “I’m too old to fight, Charles.”
“No one is too old to fight, Gertie, and you are far too young to be giving up.”
Gertie frowned. “Who said I was giving up? I’m merely planning the next step in my life.” Her mind cast back to the conversation earlier with her uncle.
Don’t make any rash decisions you might regret . . .
“Let’s just say I never had Gertie Bingham down as a woman who would sit idle in retirement while the world needed her,” said Charles.
Gertie caught sight of the photograph of her and Harry on their wedding day. They had been giggling when the photographer took the picture. You could see the sparkle in their eyes. They couldn’t wait to get started on their life together. “I’m tired, Charles. I’ve had enough of all this.”
Charles followed her gaze. “You miss him, don’t you?”
Gertie was surprised how quickly the tears formed. “Of course. He was the very best of men.”
Charles took her hand and kissed it. “And you are the very best of women. Which is why I’m asking you to do this.”
Gertie brushed away a tear. “What kind of place is this for a child?”
Charles glanced around the room at the shelves lined with books, the glowing hearth, and the dog, snoring gently at Gertie’s feet. “The very best place I can imagine,” he said. He took another sip of whisky. “All I would ask is that you give it some serious thought. The world is on the brink of something terrible. The question is do we stand by and watch, or do we stand up and help?”
Gertie stared at the fire. She knew he was right, and if she were thirty years younger, she’d have jumped at the chance. But as the world darkened around her, Gertie felt her own existence contract. She didn’t feel strong or capable or stubbornly opinionated as she had in her youth. She was bruised by life and unsure if she had the strength of will to offer hope to anyone, least of all herself.