by L. E. Waters
“Try to find some good music,” I say.
“I don’t mind. I think I’m learning some English just by listening to it. I just like hearing it in the background.” Kathrin tucks her small feet under her as she sits down. “Even though I’m sure all they’re talking about is war, it calms me somehow.”
So we sit together, each with a project: Elfi mends some socks while Kathrin and I write Mother back, as we listen to words with great inflection but little meaning.
Lee doesn’t even bother knocking on the door but lets himself in. He grabs his arms and shakes. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a winter as cold as this. Birds are freezing to branches, roads are practically impassible, and trains are incredibly delayed. It’s impossible to keep warm.”
“This is a usual German winter for us. We’re used to cold.”
“Well, it’s a terrible time to have one with all these coal and petrol shortages.” Teresia hops across his path but gets up on her hind legs to make sure she knows him.
“At least you Spartans have more compassion for small creatures.” He bends down to pat her head, but she shakes off his cold hand and takes cover under my chair.
“Why would there be a shortage of coal? It’s not imported.”
“With all of the young men away fighting, there’s no one to mine the coal.”
“I hadn’t thought of it.” I stare at our warm fire. The cold would be unbearable without it.
Elfi points to the radio. “Now that Lee is here, he can translate.”
Lee tells of the energy-saving strategies: “Only five inches of warm water in the bath, try to share your neighbor’s fire, use wood when you can, put up blankets at your windows and doors, and try to eat cold food as much as possible.”
“Yum, cold food,” Elfi says. “I think they just want us to stop eating entirely.”
I finish my letter and hand it to Kathrin to enclose with hers. “Well, let’s get to work, then.”
“Work?” Elfi looks too comfortable in her blanket.
I pull it off. “Hanging blankets, for one thing, and I’m sure we can go searching the road and land for sticks to help the fire.”
Kathrin goes to get her coat. “I could use some fresh air.”
As we walk around the side of the house in search of twigs, Lee spies a huge pile of used coal. “This will do very well.”
“Those are spent,” I say.
He holds a piece up in his white-from-the-cold hands. “Nearly spent. Most of these have some life left in them.”
Elfi and Kathrin hurry over with some buckets and we spend the rest of the afternoon picking through coal, making a new pile that we can still get some use out of. I stretch my hunched-over back and look out across the backyard. “Do you think the owner would let us turn this into a garden?”
“I don’t see why not. I could probably scrounge up some seeds as well.” He wipes his nose. “Isn’t it too cold to start, though?”
“Planting, yes, but there is so much work to be done beforehand. We’d have to make beds, find compost, and keep the animals out first.”
“Come on, let’s all go inside and eat a nice, cold dinner,” Elfi says and we follow her back inside, laughing.
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Lee returns days later with our usual dreary and unexciting supplies, but this time he’s waving a newspaper. “Three hundred British seamen freed from the prison ship Altmark.”
By the way he’s grinning, I thought it was going to have something to do with Georg. “That’s wonderful.”
Yet he can tell I’m not impressed. He tries again, “The seamen cried out when the destroyer came to their rescue, ‘The Navy’s here!’”
“Amazing.” This time, I attempt to share some of his enthusiasm.
“This is the first good news.” He runs over to the radio, and immediately I recognize Churchill’s pleasant and passionate voice.
“I wish I knew what he’s saying, it always sounds so wonderful,” Elfi says as she lies out on the floor.
“He’s my favorite,” Kathrin says. “He’s the only ray of hope in this dreary winter.”
Lee slaps his hand on the rolled up newspaper. “He’s speaking of the prison ship rescue. Mark my words, he should be Prime Minister.”
“Lee, we’re about to feast on my attempt of a spam ‘pork’ pie. Are you brave enough to try it?”
“Oh, I don’t want to bother you with making me supper. I think my landlady said she wanted to make me something for my birthday.”
Elfi, Kathrin, and I freeze.
“It’s your birthday? We didn’t even know,” Elfi says.
I say, “Now I’m forcing you to have some with us. Your landlady can make you breakfast.”
He sits down and I surprise him with a candle in the center of the pork pie clump. He laughs the candle out. Elfi gives him her other ration of chocolate and I slip a jar of preserves into his coat pocket. “The best present I could have asked for, besides you lovely ladies to share it with, is this news of the prison ship.” He leaps up from the table. “Oh, and I have a present for all of you.”
He goes out to the car without his jacket and is shivering when he returns with a small box.
“All the seeds I could find.”
“He gave us permission?”
Lee nods. “Now you can get busy growing me some blasted onions. I didn’t realize how terrible food tastes without them.”
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Whenever the cold relents a bit, we try to get out to the back to construct the beds and turn the soil. Lee brings us compost from the village, and we utilize nearly every container in the house to start the seeds. Once the bitter winter days give way to milder ones, we begin the annoying process of hardening the seedlings, which means taking them all out to enjoy the day in a nice sunny and sheltered spot, but then having to bring all them back in before the cold takes back the night. By the time the seedlings are crawling out of their pots, we have to plant them, crossing our fingers that the nights of frost are over. Happily, as terrible as the winter was, the spring is as glorious. We will be harvesting soon. Our garden is a mass of rich, healthy green, though with none of Odelia’s roses, no bright colors, no sweet fragrances like our hospital garden. Only the skunky smell of onion grass, earthy fertilizer, and spoiled compost.
Every inch has to be used for consumption. I’m checking to see if our onions can be pulled when Lee surprises me. I hold up the small, creamy clump of onions.
“Now I will have to stay for supper to see what you can make with those.” He sits in a chair Elfi brought out yesterday.
“I think these are destined for another pork pie, I’m afraid, unless you brought something better?”
“That I did. I managed to bribe a butcher for an actual cut of pork. Not a prime cut, mind you, but a nice tenderloin.”
“My mouth is already watering. We should start marinating it now with some of the marmalade you brought last week. They will go nicely together.”
“I had to find something to celebrate the special day.” His dimple shows. “Happy birthday.”
“That is very kind of you.” I pick up my spade. “If it wasn’t for Kathrin, I would have forgotten about it. I don’t even know what day it is anymore.”
“Of course I wouldn’t forget.” He looks into my eyes and I start adding more compost around the potatoes. “That is the good news. The bad news is that I couldn’t find much hay for Teresia. I don’t know what these farmers are going to do about feeding horses while I can barely feed a rabbit.”
I stick my hand into Teresia’s cage. “The cabbages and lettuce will be ready soon, so we’ll just have to ration her until they’re ready. Then there will be plenty for her.”
“But what will happen when harvesting’s over? What if we can’t find hay then?”
“I’m hoping there will be more hay after this growing season.”
Lee scratches his head. “A farmer I was trying to buy hay from told me that most everyone has eaten their rabbits, with the meat shortage.”
I point my spade at him. “I better never hear you say such things again. I will share my last piece of bread with her. She is family, not a food source.”
“Well, then, I would put a lock on that hutch. A nice, fat rabbit might look very tempting to any hungry neighbor walking by.”
“What a horrible thought.” I stare at the plump bunny nibbling happily away at the dandelion leaves I found for her. “Pick me up a little lock if you can.” I need to remove my coat; it’s getting so warm out. “As far as what we’ll do in the winter, I’m sure I can freeze the peas, carrots, and spinach to get by.”
“Hopefully you’re going to save something for us.”
Funny that he’s one of us now. “We’ll have more than plenty.” I turn around to the whole large yard. “I’ve used every inch of land for growing something we can eat: beans, lettuce, cabbages, carrots, potatoes, onions, parsnips, shallots, leeks, beetroot, radishes, and peas.”
“Now I’m hungry. Let’s get those onions frying,” Lee says.
Kathrin’s already cooking what Lee brought while I chop the onions, and I’m happy to cry at such a delicious offense. It’s been months since we’ve had any. Just the addition of onions frying in fresh butter makes the house fill with comfort.
Lee turns on the radio and sits near us as we cook. Every once in a while he translates for us, but usually Elfi has to ask. The pork dinner with marmalade and onions reminds us of how poor our usual meals are. “Just like Mother’s,” I say to Kathrin.
“We only need some streusel to follow and it truly would remind me of home.”
“Unfortunately this will have to do.” I pull out four small little cakes I threw together from all we had.
The strange little yellow mounds make Kathrin laugh. “Birthday cakes! When did you make these?”
“When you went for your walk.” I put one in front of everyone. “I call them nothing cakes. Simply flour, dried egg, custard powder, and a little sugar.”
We laugh once we take a bite.
“Aptly named, I’d say,” Lee chokes out as he requires his whole glass of water to swallow it down.
“I thought they were perfect, Annelie. Thank you. And here is a little something for you.” Kathrin pulls something out from under the table and I can’t believe my eyes.
“Coffee!” I grab for it immediately. “Who did you have to kill for this?”
“Lee must have done the killing, since he acquired it. I just gave him the idea.”
“Oh, I have to make some right away. Who will have a cup with me?”
“I don’t want to use up your present. Given what it took me to find this, it will have to last you for some time,” Lee says.
“It’s a celebration tonight and there is no talk of war, rationing, or sadness at celebrations. Now I’m going to make a cup for each of you.”
I hover over the little cup for a few minutes, enjoying the smell as much as I savor the taste moments later. It’s as good a cup of coffee as the one Georg bought me in Dresden. Everyone smiles brighter with the steaming cup in their appreciative hands.
“Shhh.” Lee puts down his cup and listens to the radio I forgot was on.
We wait for the announcer to stop talking and he says somberly, “The Germans attacked through Holland and Belgium toward France and the Channel.”
Elfi can’t drink anymore either. She realizes only now that her gas mask is over by the fire. She leaves to bring it nearer.
“Happy birthday,” I say to Kathrin.
“The happiest,” Kathrin replies, but her face says quite the opposite.
Chapter 30
It’s a glorious beginning to June, and now that the weather warms up and the days grow longer, Lee orders us to go into London with him and he threatens not to leave our cottage until we agree to go. Kathrin and I slink into the backseat and, as Lee comes around to open the front door for Elfi, I lean over to Kathrin and whisper, “You must be curious to see if we can find anything left of our life in London.”
“Do you think anything still stands?” I do see a glimmer of interest in her dull eyes.
“Maybe before Hitler drops bombs on them.”
Elfi balks at Lee’s nudge to get in and she shakes her head. “No, I don’t think it’s safe. London will be the first city the spiders bomb.” She looks at us. “Did you remember your masks?”
I point to our cases neatly tucked behind the front seat.
“London is perfectly safe. I wouldn’t take you in if it wasn’t,” Lee says. “There hasn’t been one air raid yet. Nothing’s going to happen today. I’ll have you back before dusk. Jerry won’t attack during the day.”
She backs up even more. “No, I’ve decided to stay home, thank you.” She darts back into the cottage.
Lee slides into his seat and starts the car, eager to try to make us happy. “So where shall we go first?”
Kathrin says, “I’m in the mood to go to Cheapside.”
“Cheapside? For the shopping?” Lee checks back at her, also surprised at her sudden mood improvement. I’m shocked that the street still exists.
“Annelie, isn’t that it?” Kathrin checks. “Didn’t you want to see the old parts?”
“I love the old architecture.” I wonder if it’s as disgusting as it used to be. Will I even be able to find my old house anymore?
“There’s much more beautiful places to see.” Lee offers, “We can go drive by Buckingham Palace, or I can show you the Tower, and there are so many lovely gardens.”
“No, let’s start with Cheapside, and then I’d love to see the old abbey,” Kathrin says, and I hope that something will still exist or she’ll disappear again.
“Suit yourself.” Lee sighs. “I’m just happy you two ventured out. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
I recognize the street immediately, even though the buildings have changed from one- or two-story cottages to four or five-level buildings. However, they’re still in the same spot, all packed in snug beside each other just as I remembered. Instead of the open air market, with shambles and tables out on the streets, wonderfully colored awnings protrude and invite shoppers inside the first floor. Instead of hollering out to passersby, wares are alluringly displayed in broad and high glass shop windows. Gone are the animals, and with them the putrid smells. Only the delicious smell of cooked meats and baked goods finds my nose. The wide street, needed for the horses and carts before, now is filled with shiny automobiles parked and moving. It’s just as congested and busy as before, but now is much grander and pleasant. Gone are the sounds of doomed animals, the bawdy market owners, and curses shouted out to move along the street, and they are now replaced with motors, shop greetings, and the hum of happy customers. Kathrin can’t wait to get out and, once Lee slows down, she hops right out, dragging me behind her. I’ve just enough time to grab our gas mask cases.
Lee hisses, “Wait until I can find a parking space.”
“We’ll meet you in the hat store,” Kathrin calls back.
We pass poster after poster of the usual wartime warnings and encouragement:
“Hitler will give no warning, so always carry your gas mask.”
“Dig on for Victory.”
“Women of Britain Come into the Factories.”
“Women of Britain Say, ‘Go!’”
“We Beat ‘em Before, We’ll Beat ‘em again!”
And my personal favorite, “Keep Mum—She’s Not So Dumb, Careless Talk Costs Lives.”
Everywhere I look there is propaganda either warning us, shaming us, or cheering us on. Some we could read by now, others were self-explanatory in their bright, anxiety-inducing graphics.
We duck inside the wonderful store with every kind of beautiful hat you can imagine. I immediately feel self-conscious of my simple black wool hat, and t
he shopkeeper sizes us up right away as gawkers and not paying customers. She busies herself with stacking hatboxes. It’s just as well, since we haven’t learned too many English words and we certainly can’t speak German where anyone can overhear us. After ten minutes, Lee appears and his fine coat and suit catch the eye of the shopkeeper right away. She asks him something in English.
“No, thank you,” Lee says as he escorts us both outside onto the crowded street.
Kathrin whispers in my ear. “Can you try to find your old house?”
“On Cornhill, but it probably won’t be there.”
Kathrin whispers something in Lee’s ear, and even though he looks confused, he follows behind us as I attempt to find my way back. However, it’s like having a blindfold on where you grab on desperately to anything that might be familiar. We pass Bread Street, where I went in search of breakfast only to find Oliver and Rowan, but I only recognize it by name. Nothing old exists as far as I can see down the lane. I imagine Rowan’s face in his window like it was only days ago.
I point down the road and mouth for only Kathrin to see, You lived there.
She looks eagerly, but her smile drops when she sees the concrete buildings.
Lee sighs. “Why don’t you let me help you?”
I shrug his impatience off and move through the crowd down Cheapside to the familiar fork. Then I see my old street, the gentle curve of it. We follow it uphill. Such a strange feeling of something familiar, but then nothing is familiar. I realize how silly it was, once I see the four-story brick building where our fine house had been, to have actually held out hope that it had been preserved.
Lee asks, “What are you looking for?”
“Oh, just thought I’d see some medieval houses on this road.”
“The Great Fire raged through this area back in the 1600s. All of the old houses were destroyed.” He stares at his old house’s location. “I always loved this street, the way it rises.”
Kathrin says, “I wish I could have seen it before the fire. I bet it was beautiful.”
“No, there’s something sad here. This house especially.” Lee’s eyes freeze over. “Maybe someone perished in the fire here.”
