The Old House on the Corner

by Maureen Lee

  He thought of saying he wouldn’t have minded a cup, but it would only delay his departure a few minutes. ‘Where will they sleep tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘Here, on the floor or the chairs. Madame Montand can have my bed. It will be only for one night.’

  ‘There’s plenty of room in the place I’m staying,’ Ernest said recklessly. ‘They can sleep there.’

  They arrived in a taxi at about six o’clock. To his relief, Anna was with them, probably wanting to make sure her charges were being delivered into safe hands. She had changed out of the caftan into a silky blue frock. Gold earrings jangled in her ears and she wore high-heeled gold sandals on her tiny feet. She reminded him of a fairy off the top of a Christmas tree.

  Ernest had spent the afternoon in the apartment, Cairo having lost its charm now that he’d met Anna. The patient had woken in the afternoon, demanding to play chess. It was one of the few times Ernest lost, too worked up to concentrate on a piddling board game. The colonel was encouraged to take more tablets with more whisky and was asleep again when the visitors arrived. The children had cheered up considerably since morning, but were still tired, and their grandmother was finding it hard to remain on her feet. A mystified Leila made everyone a drink and they retired to the three bedrooms – each held a double bed so there would be enough room. Earlier, Ernest had thoughtfully removed a drawer from the wardrobe for the baby, lining it with pillows.

  At last Ernest had Anna to himself. The first thing she said when they sat in the big room full of photographs was, ‘You’ve been so kind, yet I’ve never asked your name.’

  ‘Ernest Burrows. Call me Ernie, everyone does.’ His heart was beating so fast and so loud he half expected his chest to explode.

  ‘Does the apartment belong to you, Ernie?’

  ‘Jaysus, no!’ He explained the reason for his being there, getting the words all jumbled, stammering now and then when he lost the thread, yet he was a man normally in perfect control of himself, never flustered. Anna seemed to have dislodged something in his brain. He couldn’t think straight any more.

  ‘Does the colonel know the Montands are here?’

  ‘No.’ He grinned, not caring if he knew or not, then asked how she spoke such perfect English.

  ‘Back in Hungary, I was an actress,’ she said proudly. ‘When I was seventeen, I actually made a film. Before the war, our company toured Europe many times. We performed in London, Paris, Berlin, Rome, as well as Budapest. My father was a language teacher and he taught me to read in English so that’s what I’m best at, the others not so good.’

  ‘And what are you doing in Cairo?’ His heart had slowed down a bit. He felt more relaxed now that he was real to her, no longer the anonymous person who had turned up that morning and been unwilling to go away.

  ‘Helping Jews get to Palestine,’ she said simply. ‘Not everyone in Egypt wants the British to win. There have actually been demonstrations in favour of the Germans. Jews who want to go to Palestine are finding it difficult to get visas. The British embassy is besieged with applicants and it can take days, even weeks before the application is processed and then you can’t be certain of success. That’s what I do, supply the necessary visas. In fact, someone is making them for the Montands at this very minute.’

  ‘Making them? You mean forging them?’

  Anna nodded. ‘My friend, Omar, does them.’

  ‘But isn’t what you’re doing dangerous?’ Ernest gasped, worried for her. ‘What would the authorities do if they found out?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged carelessly. ‘Throw me in prison, I suppose, if only for the forgeries. But if you do dangerous things, you must be prepared to face the consequences. It’s dangerous to fight, but it didn’t stop you from fighting the Germans, knowing that you could be killed at any time.’

  ‘I had no choice,’ Ernest pointed out. ‘You have.’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’ All of a sudden, her voice was bleak. Her face was devoid of all expression as she said, ‘Back in Hungary, I returned from the theatre one night and found the Nazis had taken away my parents and two young sisters. I have never seen them since and have no idea where they are, whether they are alive or dead. I am doing this for them, for my family, helping to save other Jews if I can.’

  Ernest was too horrified to reply. Anyroad, what could he say? Tell her she was brave? Say how sorry he was about her family? He was surprised when she gave a tinkling little laugh.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ernie. I’ve depressed you, haven’t I? The trouble is you ask too many questions and the only answers I can give are the truth.’ She got to her feet. ‘I must hurry. I am meeting someone and we are going to the cinema: Boom Town, with Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy. Have you seen it?’

  ‘No,’ said Ernest, although he had, but hoped she’d invite him along and was bitterly disappointed when she didn’t. He’d been on the point of asking her out for a meal and it meant his disappointment was twofold.

  Every time the colonel woke, he was in a worse mood than before. Just after midnight Ernest was alerted by a series of groans and felt obliged to rise from his uncomfortable bed on an elegant sofa that hadn’t been designed to sleep on, to discover the reason for the groans.

  ‘What time is it, Burrows?’ the colonel snapped when he went in.

  ‘About a quarter past twelve, sir.’

  ‘Is that night or day?’

  ‘Night, sir,’ Ernest replied, adding pointedly, ‘It’s dark outside.’

  ‘How the hell am I supposed to know that when the ruddy blinds are drawn?’ the man snarled. ‘I’m bored, Burrows, bored out of my skull. Tomorrow, I’ll ask the doctor if I can get up and you can drive me to Shepherd’s for afternoon tea.’

  ‘Good idea, sir,’ Ernest said tonelessly. As a mere private, he wouldn’t be allowed inside Shepherd’s Hotel. It would mean waiting outside until the colonel had had his tea, his dinner, and no doubt his supper, before condescending to emerge in a state of acute inebriation. ‘We’ll just have to see what the doctor has to say tomorrow.’ He prayed the doctor would merely hand out more tablets and order the patient to stay in bed.

  The door swung open and the colonel nearly jumped out of his skin when a small boy entered and said something in French that Ernest didn’t understand.

  ‘What was that, son?’

  ‘He wants to wee-wee, Burrows,’ the colonel shrieked. ‘Show him where the bathroom is, then come back and tell me exactly what he’s doing here.’

  Anna arrived in a taxi next morning on the dot of ten, as promised. The Montands’ papers were ready and she was taking them straight to Ramses Station to put them on the train to Palestine.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Ernest said, determined not to take no for an answer. ‘Madame Montand isn’t a bit well. She’ll need helping on to the train.’ This wasn’t a lie. Madame had vomited up her breakfast and was having a job keeping upright. ‘She seems to have some sort of fever.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Anna exclaimed. ‘Thank you, Ernie. What is it they say in English? I bet you’ll be glad to see the back of us.’

  ‘No. Oh, no,’ he assured her. ‘In fact, I was wondering if we couldn’t see each other again: tonight, maybe, or tomorrow.’

  ‘That would be nice.’

  Was she only being polite or did she mean it? His stomach was in turmoil, his head was aching, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He had to see her again. He had to. He couldn’t just let her disappear out of his life. If necessary, he’d just have to tell her how he felt, lay his love out before her like a blanket and invite her to sit.

  Ramses Station was in a state of utter confusion: everyone bumping into each other and no two people seeming to want to walk in the same direction. The noise was deafening, the smoke-filled heat hardly bearable. Anna carried the baby, Ernest virtually carried Madame Montand, and the children were ordered to hold each other’s hands and not let go for any reason. At least Anna seemed to know which platform the train was leaving fr
om. The further towards the front of the crowded train they walked, the thicker the smoke became.

  ‘I’m afraid I could only afford third-class,’ she said. ‘Funds come from sympathizers in Palestine and I hadn’t enough for first-class seats.’

  Ernest grimaced. The third-class carriages were dirty and what seats were left looked hard and uncomfortable. ‘There’s two empty in there,’ he said, pointing through the grubby window. ‘At least Madame can sit down and one of the kids can sit beside her with the baby. We’d better grab them before they’re taken.’

  Two days later, Ernest entered the apartment on the island of Gezira. ‘Is that you, Burrows?’ the colonel roared from the bedroom.

  Ernest threw open the door, marched inside, and stood stiffly to attention. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, saluting.

  ‘You said you were just going to the station. I’ve been going off my ruddy rocker here, nothing to do, no one to talk to for two whole days. Where the ruddy hell have you been, man?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid it was unavoidable, but I’ve been to Palestine.’

  Madame had been close to fainting when she was helped to the seat on the train. Eva, the eldest girl, who was in charge of the baby, seemed nervous at the idea of the ten-hour journey spent looking after her grandmother and an infant at the same time, the other children had nowhere to sit, drinks would have to be bought on the way, food. Anna wondered aloud if they shouldn’t all go back to her flat. ‘But there isn’t another train until the day after tomorrow and Madame might still be sick – she could be for days. I think it best if they go now. It’ll be hellish, but tonight they’ll be with their aunt and they’ll think it was worth it.’

  The little boy who’d given the colonel such a fright the night before was trying to climb on to his grandmother’s knee, the baby smelled to high heaven, everyone else in the compartment was smoking highly perfumed Turkish cigarettes and regarding the newcomers with some hostility. The window was closed and Ernest knew a minor war would have to be fought to open it.

  ‘I’ll go with them,’ he said impulsively. ‘I can look after the children and I’ll catch the same train back tomorrow.’

  ‘But you haven’t got a ticket!’ Anna cried.

  ‘I’ll bluff my way along. I’m a British soldier. They won’t chuck me off.’ He’d noticed a couple of British officers further back in a first-class carriage. If necessary, he’d throw himself on their mercy.

  They were trying to pitch him off the train as it rushed through the night. The door was open and someone was holding him by the shoulders, pushing him towards the gaping black hole. Ernest tried to resist, hands on the doorframe, but they were too strong for him and he was flung into the blackness and his heart stopped as he waited to land, knowing it could mean death.

  He woke up just in time and found Leila shaking him by the shoulder. She stopped when she saw his eyes had opened and began to gesture towards the door, wanting him to come. If it was the colonel eager for a game of chess, Ernest swore he’d shoot him in the other foot. The white clothes he’d been wearing had disappeared and been replaced with his Army shorts, washed and carefully pressed, socks folded on top. His boots were beside them, well polished, the laces neatly threaded. He pulled on the shorts and went barefoot into the hallway. Voices were coming from the big room, one of them Anna’s followed by the colonel’s jovial laugh.

  ‘Ah, here he is,’ the colonel chuckled when Ernest went in. ‘The sleeper awaketh. You’ve got company, Burrows, extremely delightful company, I must say. Well, I’ll leave you two to it.’ He got to his feet – he’d acquired a stick from somewhere – and hobbled towards the door, pausing on the way to slap Ernest on the shoulder. ‘I shall dine out on this for a long time once this ruddy war is over: my driver goes for a walk and returns with seven refugees. He takes them to the station, but doesn’t come back for two ruddy days having accompanied said refugees all the way to ruddy Palestine. On top of all this, he meets an incredibly pretty girl.’ He gave Anna a lewd wink. ‘I’d like all the details later, Burrows, tonight, when I take you and Anna to dinner.’

  The door closed. Ernest stared at Anna. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I came to thank you for what you did, to see how you got on.’ She smiled. Dimples appeared in her smooth cheeks and her blue eyes twinkled like stars. ‘There’s another reason. You must know what it is, Ernie. I came for you.’

  Ernest held out his arms and she ran into them. He held her very tightly, knowing that he would never, ever let her go.

  Ernest spent only another seven days in Cairo: magical, thrilling days that would always remain the high point of his life. Barring death, an intolerable thought, he and Anna knew they would spend the rest of their lives together, as soon as the war, which was to last another two and a half years, was over.

  Ernest fought with the victorious Eighth Army in Tripoli and Tunisia, then was conveyed in an armada of more than 3,000 ships to Sicily, upwards through Italy where the retreating German Army fought with a harsh, audacious obduracy, despite knowing that the war was lost.

  By a strange quirk of coincidence, it was three years to the day that Ernest had first climbed the stairs to Anna’s flat in Cairo accompanied by Madame Montand and her charges, that he climbed them again, a civilian now, and knocked on her door.

  She opened it and she was as beautiful as he remembered if not more. ‘Ernie!’ she breathed. ‘I wasn’t expecting you for days yet.’

  ‘I came straight away. I didn’t even go to see me family.’ He picked her up and carried her inside to start the rest of their lives together.

  Wednesday

  11 JULY 2001

  Chapter 9

  The kettle was on for the first cup of tea of the day and gentle sunshine fell through the window, setting the kitchen alight.

  ‘It’s going to be another scorcher,’ Ernest muttered. He was arranging the tray for Anna’s breakfast when she appeared in the doorway, looking very pleased with herself.

  ‘I got up by myself,’ she crowed. ‘I feel terribly well today, darling. Shall we go somewhere exciting?’

  ‘We’re going to buy a computer this afternoon,’ he reminded her. ‘Isn’t that exciting enough? I’ll ask Victoria later if she’ll come with us.’

  She clapped her hands, thrilled. ‘Of course we are, I’d forgotten. I was going to suggest we went up the Eiffel Tower to look at the view or had a few games of roulette at our favourite casino in Monte Carlo, but buying a computer is much better.’

  He pulled one of the chairs from under the little table for her to sit on, made the tea, and sat down with her. ‘Do you miss those days, luv?’ he asked gruffly.

  ‘I miss being young, Ernie.’ She sighed and her lips twisted in a smile so sad it made Ernest want to weep, but then she surprised him with a laugh, as she had so often done in the past. ‘What a fool I am! I’m lucky to have lived so long, lucky to have had you. We’ve had a wonderful life, darling.’

  ‘I had a funny dream last night. It started in that little room I told you about where I lived with me mam, and finished after the war when I came back to Cairo and carried you into your flat.’

  ‘And we made love! Oh, we made love for days and days. It must have been at least a week before we came up for air.’

  ‘We did stop now’n again for a drink and a bite to eat,’ Ernest conceded.

  ‘I’d like those days back,’ Anna said, her face young again as she remembered.

  ‘Now all we can do is dream about them.’

  ‘At least we have some marvellous things to dream about, darling.’ She put her hand over his and squeezed it. ‘Not everyone has.’

  Victoria hadn’t talked to her gran for two whole days. She usually told her every little thing, but couldn’t very well tell her that last night she’d nearly made love with Gareth Moran – if his mobile hadn’t rung, there would be no ‘nearly’ about it. What’s more, Victoria didn’t feel even faintly ashamed. It wouldn’t harm Gareth’s marria
ge as it wasn’t exactly perfect, and she was going away on Sunday and wouldn’t see him again.

  Anyroad, Gran had probably been watching the whole time, tut-tutting loudly, shaking her head, and saying, even more loudly, ‘That girl!’ which she always did whenever Victoria had done something naughty, looking at her straight in the face, yet speaking as if she wasn’t there.

  ‘Are you there, Gran?’ she asked. ‘Are you watching? Can you see the state of the house? It’s disgusting. We both just sat and let the place rot around us. At least you kept it clean. You should have seen the cobwebs on the ceiling. I was covered in them by the time I’d finished, but you probably saw that an’ all. You used to be able to see around corners when you were alive.’

  She wondered if Gran had met Mum during the time she’d been in heaven. ‘Say hello to her for me. Tell her I miss her, I always have, just like I miss you and Granddad and I’ll miss the house once I’m gone.’ It was hard to imagine living anywhere else.

  ‘I must be going mad,’ Victoria said, to herself this time, ‘sending a message from one dead person to another. It’s time I did something useful for a change, like sponging down the wallpaper. That should keep me busy for a few days.’

  She prepared a bucket of warm, soapy water and had washed half the hall – to little effect – when Rachel Williams called and invited her for coffee at eleven o’clock. ‘It’s for Kathleen Cartwright really. She wants to meet everyone. Sarah Rees-James and Marie Jordan are coming. I’m just off to ask Anna Burrows and I’d better remind Kathleen in case she’s forgotten.’

  Victoria had almost finished another wall when Ernest Burrows came and asked if she could spare the time to go shopping with him and Anna for a computer that afternoon and she said she’d love to, particularly when Ernie said they would have lunch first.

  ‘I hadn’t forgotten, not at all,’ Kathleen said, ‘but I thought you might not feel up to it. You look a bit … harassed.’

  ‘I feel fine today,’ Rachel professed, although her eyes were wild and her face red and shiny with perspiration.