Rebecca & Heart

by Deanna K. Klingel

  I guess it has been a pretty wonderful day, after all. I’m proud of how far Rebecca has come. From inside the car, she actually watched the fireworks. It’s a good thing, because the fireworks are just practice for what is soon to come.

  Chapter 17

  London’s Children

  “We really should be preparing, Mum,” I hear Butler say to the mother. Preparing for what, I wonder. I creep closer.

  “All the school children from London City are being sent to the country away from the German Bombs. Prime Minister Chamberlain says the bombing of London could begin at any time now, and we must be prepared. England is at war now you know.”

  “Yes, yes, I know. And it’s such an inconvenience. I can’t believe we aren’t safe in our own home. Look at this place, it’s practically a fortress. Do you really think a bomb could damage this house?”

  “Well, missus, what I hear on the BBC, it can not only damage this house, it can blow it to kingdom come, just like that,” he says, snapping his fingers. Maybe it’s my imagination, but looks to me like the mother just turned pale as a ghost.

  “Well, then. I have a meeting today in the neighborhood hall. I’ll take Rebecca along and we’ll pick up our—uh, supplies.”

  I know what the supplies are. I guess she can’t bring herself to say it. The father read it in this morning’s paper and informed us all while we drank coffee. Every citizen is assigned a gas mask. I guess if they actually have to use them…I’m a goner.

  “Rebecca? Come down, please, and bring your red cardigan. We’re going out.”

  Rebecca and Heart bound down the stairs. Some days I ask myself if this is the same Rebecca. I see the changes in her with all my 750 eye facets! I hop into the air and zoom toward the door. I hover impatiently waiting for it to open and the air pressure to suck me outside.

  It’s a brisk walk to the neighborhood hall. Rebecca walks quicker than normal. Heart trots along behind, dragging his leash. The hall is crowded. Rebecca balks, not wanting to enter the chaos. The mother grabs her hand. She starts to pull her hand away, but then, does not. Heart, not wanting to push through the sea of knees, lies down on the step away from the crowds and in the shade of the building.

  Rebecca and the mother are finally first in the queue. They’re handed brown boxes tied with string. They’re shown a gas mask and watch the demonstration how to put it on.

  The mask is ugly black metal with a fat snout, a huge version of my Uncle Ray, without the body parts. The lady puts it on her face and the mother gasps. Rebecca spins around so she can’t see it.

  “Pig,” she says.

  “Oh, really now,” says the worker. “No need for impertinence.”

  “Never mind her,” the mother says. She picks up their boxes. The worker checks their names off the list.

  “Next.”

  The mother has boxes stacked in her arms. There’s one for the mother, the father, Rebecca, Gardener, Butler, and Cook.

  “Baby?”

  “Carrie will have one at her boarding school.”

  “Heart?”

  No, there’s not one for Heart or a tiny one for me.

  Rebecca takes the box off the top of the mother’s stack to carry in her empty hand.

  I wonder if the mother is too discombobulated at the moment to appreciate the significance of that. But, then she smiles.

  “What a good idea, Rebecca. Thank you, dear. You are being very thoughtful and helpful.”

  We stop at a tent that’s set up in the yard of the hall. Here we queue up again and their names are checked off again. This time they pick up glow-in-the-dark buttons for the household. I wonder what in the world this is all about.

  “Here you go, little duck,” the lady says and pins it to Rebecca’s sweater. She gives six more to the mother. “Now when it’s blackout in the evening, you won’t be running in to each other, you see. None quite so clever as us Brits, eh? I heard the Prime Minister thunk it up himself!”

  Oh, so that’s it. Well, I guess it’s a good thing I don’t do much night time navigating. I don’t have anywhere to pin one. We stop for a frozen custard on the way home and I soak up the juices dripped on the cobblestones where Rebecca shares hers with Heart.

  Rebecca and Heart go to bed early tonight. I’m resting in the library, socializing with the mother and father, trying not to annoy them.

  “I just don’t know,” says the mother. “They say all London’s children are to be evacuated this week from Waterloo Station. People in Essex and the country sides are taking them in to their homes to keep them safe from the bombing. Do you really think bombs will fall here, Nelson?” And what about Rebecca and Carrie? If Rebecca were in boarding school she’d be evacuating with her teacher as Carrie is doing. Gracious me, that would be something! Poor Carrie, I wish she were here at home, too. What shall we do?”

  “The papers and Parliament believe the bombs will be falling on London, and sooner rather than later. Why don’t we go to our hunting lodge in the country for a holiday?”

  “But, you know Rebecca doesn’t take well to change.”

  “I dare say being bombed may be a change none of us will take to, Gwyneth.”

  “Maybe you’re right. A holiday would be good, away from all this war talk. Did you see those gas masks? How frightful. Rebecca thinks they look like pigs.” The father smiled. The mother giggled into her hand. “I have to agree with her,” she said laughingly.

  The next day blackout curtains are hung over all the windows. That night all the lights in London are put out. The family pins on their glow-in-the-dark buttons. I cling tightly to the mantle. In the morning they board up the house, pack the Daimler and we load up. We’re in for another claustrophobic motor car ride. I bang my head against the back window. Woolen overcoats are put into the car at the last moment. It looks like it might be a long holiday.

  “We don’t know how long we’ll be away, do we?” Cook says as she loads them into the boot of the motor car. Rebecca and Heart crawl into the back. Cook, Butler, and Gardener follow along in the town car.

  As we drive through the city that morning we see columns and columns of orderly school children. Each child carries one suitcase and a small brown box tied with string, their gas mask. They look very warm, but wearing an overcoat is the easiest way to carry one, even on a warm day. The children are in groups with their teachers. Each child wears a colored tag pinned to his coat. A matching tag is tied to his suitcase. They all wear their Sunday shoes and look as if they’re leaving on a holiday or a class trip. The long column ends at the Waterloo Station.

  The father slows down for the traffic. The mother seems quiet and pale. Rebecca looks unusually interested. Her face is pressed against the car window looking out. That’s as unusual as everything else today. A little boy spies her looking at him. He raises his hand in a slight wave. Rebecca, waves back. If I didn’t know better I’d say she’s waving a fly away. But, no, it’s a real wave. Maybe it’s her first ever.

  It takes all day to get to the family’s country estate. There’s quite a bit of traffic as London evacuates to the country.

  When we step out of the car, it’s chilly, foggy, and very, very quiet. Rebecca stares a few minutes in each direction. She holds tight to Heart’s collar. Heart watches her. She looks back up the allee we’d just driven up from the road.

  “Thirty-two,” she says. “Good. Even.”

  Everyone looks at her, wondering. My little heart pounds. I can’t believe all my eyes. My flight muscles need flexing anyway, so I take off down the allee. I zoom in and out all the trees lining the narrow drive, up one side, down the other. Sixteen trees are on each side. Thirty two tall trees total. I think the place makes a good impression on Rebecca. Even.

  “Rebecca, you and Heart may play out here, but stay near the house. We have to go in and uncover the furniture, and cozy the place up. You enjoy the gardens with Gardener, but don’t wander off.”

  I follow Heart who follows Rebecca who follows the Garde
ner into a lovely walled garden. Heart dashes to a hole in the wall and frightens a little hedgehog. Heart’s nose is in a state of excitement as he sniffs along the wall, back and forth, tail wagging. Rebecca studies the wall on all three sides. The fourth side was open. Uh oh, I think. Our girl won’t like this much.

  After a few days, Carrie arrives to join us in the country. Cook brings out late tea and Rebecca sits at an outdoor table.

  “Do you like our country home, girls?” the mother asks. Carrie smiles, and nods.

  “I’m so glad the school allowed me to come by train to meet you here,” Carrie says. “The truth is, I’m really homesick, anyway. I’m glad to be with my sister again.”

  Rebecca looks at her mother, then around the garden.

  “It’s very nice. It’s quiet.” Rebecca says that! I buzz over to the edge of the table for some spilled tea to celebrate her first real unprompted conversation.

  The mother smiles and I can see she’s excited about Rebecca’s comments. Carrie probably doesn’t fully understand what a remarkable moment this is. Heart does. He sits tall and looks at Rebecca. His ears are pointed. He’s listening to her voice.

  Then Rebecca picks up her tea cup. She speaks aloud, to no one in particular. “I like quiet. Do you like quiet?” The mother is ecstatic. I do a series of little fly cartwheels of joy.

  “Well, yes, I do,” the mother answers.

  “Me too,” adds Carrie. “The country is quiet.”

  “London is the city. Noisy,” Rebecca says.

  “You are right, that’s exactly right. It’s so nice to hear your voice, Rebecca,” the mother says.

  “Voice is noise. I don’t like noise. I like quiet voices.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  I stop my buzz and pulse silently on the drops of tea. That’s certainly enlightening. She’s telling us her reason for being silent. I always believe Rebecca has a reason for everything she does. Now, she wants to tell us why she doesn’t talk, when we know she can.

  Rebecca and Heart take long quiet walks in the countryside across the heath to look at cows and sheep. Whenever anyone sees her, they wave. She usually waves back.

  The mother gathers us all for a meeting in the large room. This is the most bizarre room in this hunting lodge. I rest above the family on the antlers of a stag. Not a live one, just the head of one that used to be alive. How grotesque! Beside it is the head of a wild boar. There are other heads of creatures too, but they aren’t from around England and I really don’t know what they are, or who they used to be. There are some butterflies, not alive of course, stuck on branches under glass domes. I shudder, imagining how I’d feel preserved under there. I find the entire room to be terribly macabre, especially all the dusty webs dangling from the rafters with fly carcasses stuck to them. I hope this meeting doesn’t take long.

  The mother is talking. “I’ve learned that some of the evacuated youngsters are crowded and more country homes are needed. 15,000 children are spread across the countryside. We have a lot of room here at Barley Hill.

  “Cook, Butler, Gardener, it would mean more work for all of you. Carrie, it will mean sharing your things and your room. Rebecca? It will mean more noise, and a few changes. But some noises are happy sounds, aren’t they? I want to invite a child or two to our place.

  “We’re going to do this the very parliamentary way, we’re going to vote. Everyone close your eyes and we’ll have a private vote. If you’d like to invite the poor displaced children from London to come share what you have, raise your hand. If you don’t wish to share what you have and don’t feel guilty about your comfort while the poor London children go without, then vote no and raise your hand.”

  The hands went up and down. I, of course, don’t vote. I haven’t any hands.

  “Well, good then. I’ll notify the Red Cross that we can take a couple of children.”

  No one asks the mother how the voting turned out, and she doesn’t offer a count. I counted the hands and I’m privy to the truth of it. I’m the only one, except for the mother, who does know. But, private voting being what it is, I won’t tell how the vote turned out.

  Chapter 18

  Guests

  Everyone works hard for the next few days preparing an empty room for our guests. Rebecca helps with the painting, and then makes the bed herself while Cook supervises.

  I won’t go into the detail of how I nearly get myself stuck in the wet paint. Dear Rebecca sees me struggling and flicks me out of the paint. Even now I wear light blue painted slippers on some of my feet. Rebecca has really involved herself in the preparation of the room, and I’m grateful for her attentiveness, especially during the painting.

  “The transport has arrived, Rebecca, Carrie, Cook, everyone, come quickly. Our guests have arrived.”

  She doesn’t call me, no one ever does, but I’m the first one at the door. I fly out the door when it opens and I’m the first one to greet the Red Cross bus. I sit on the warm bonnet of the bus and rub my wings in welcome.

  “Everyone, this is Charlie and Sophie. They are brother and sister from London. They are our guests for a while. Butler, will you show them their room and help them get settled?”

  “Of course, Madam. Come along Master Charlie, Miss Sophie.”

  Rebecca steps forward and picks up the small valises. “I will,” she says, leaving a stunned Butler behind. Butler looks at the mother. He shrugs, she smiles. When Rebecca and the children disappear into the room, everyone whispers their surprise and pleasure.

  “Did you see that?” they say.

  “She really did that?”

  I’m torn whether to stay and rejoice with them, or buzz into the room and meet the new guests.

  “I’ll set the tea,” Cook promises cheerfully. “I’ve made something special for the children. Come help me, Carrie.”

  Carrie seems a bit put out at having been left out of the welcoming party.

  Inside the guests’ room, Rebecca pulls out the drawers of the two bureaus. “Clothes here,” she says. “Sleep here.” She points at the two narrow beds. “Eat.” She points out the door in the direction of the dining room. She points to herself. “Rebecca. Big sister.” Then she points to Heart who sniffs their pants and legs. “Heart.” Then she walks out the room and down the hall.

  “None too talkative, I say,” says Charlie to Sophie.

  “Says all we need though, doesn’t she?” answers Sophie. She opens her case, pulls out all her clothes and dumps them into the drawers. She plops down on one of the beds and announces, “Good bed,” then she skips toward the hall. “I’ll go for the eatin’ part next.”

  She’s a child after my own heart.

  Charlie unloads his clothes and puts them in neat stacks in the drawers. He carefully shuts the drawers. He smooths the wrinkled cover of his sister’s bed. He glances at his reflection in the looking glass and slicks down his hair. He polishes his shoes on the backs of his legs. He walks straight down the hall like a regular young gentleman.

  Sophie’s in the garden with Carrie and Rebecca. Rebecca drags her bubble ring through the soapy water, swings her arm around and a huge iridescent bubble floats silently into the afternoon breeze. Carrie and Sophie run squealing, oohing and aahing after it. Rebecca covers one ear. Then she laughs. She makes another bubble, says, “oooh,” and runs after Carrie and Sophie. I can hardly believe my ears. Rebecca never wastes a word. “Oooh?” I didn’t know she knew that word! Laughter? Occasionally with Heart. But with a stranger? Chasing bubbles? What is our world coming to?

  And that’s exactly what the BBC says. “What is our world coming to?” It’s called a blitz. The London Blitz. And thankfully London’s children are safe in the countryside of England, while the adults are hiding in bomb shelters in the city. Sirens blare and planes roar overhead. Explosions and raining debris foretell massive destruction and personal loss in the cities of England.

  The country seems to agree with these four children, and Heart. They have bubbles and tea
in the garden. Charlie leads them in war games in the meadows. They feed the goldfish in the pond, track rabbits in the heath, pick wildflowers on their hill walks, and sleep well at night.

  Best of all, Rebecca wants to be with them. When they get loud, she and Heart go inside. She finds a book to read, or asks Cook for peas to shell. Rebecca never ventures too far from her own private world. But it seems her world is expanding enough to let others in. As long as they understand her terms.

  Carrie and Sophie become close friends and often play together, holding hands and giggling. Rebecca doesn’t mind, but Charlie is often at loose ends. Rebecca is a quieter friend than the adventurous Charlie hopes for. Hillwalking is the one thing they both enjoy. Rebecca likes to walk in silence. Charlie likes to chatter and make up adventures along the way. Charlie makes this old fly feel his age. I can scarcely keep up with him.

  One morning Charlie sleeps late. He’s disappointed to find Rebecca and Heart have gone off without him. I opted for a late morning myself, in the sunny window. Charlie grumbles and drags through the gardening chores with Gardener waiting for Rebecca to return. When Cook calls for lunchtime, Charlie is alarmed.

  “Is it really time to eat?” he asks. “Rebecca’s not returned. She’s been gone a long while, hasn’t she?”

  No one else seems concerned, but I think Charlie makes a good point. After lunch the clouds roll in and the temperature drops. I move to the folds in the draperies. The wind is starting to blow.

  “I’m going to find Rebecca,” Charlie announces. “Something’s wrong, I can feel it.”

  I am off the drapery and at the door. “I’m with you, Charlie, my boy.”

  “I’m a bit concerned, too,” says Cook. “It’s not like her to be gone so long from the house. Perhaps we should all set out to look for her.”

  “She’ll be back.” I wish I felt as confident as Butler. I agree with Cook. This is unusual. I’ll take a cruise across the meadow, around all their play areas. The wind is treacherous.