“I’m with my grandmother this visit,” she replied, knowing full well that the two were in cahoots. He’d always tip off ‘her ladyship’ when Slim was in town.
“Really?” Cartwright arched his left eyebrow and pursed his lips, “And what brought that on, Miss Slim?”
Good Lord, Slim thought to herself what am I, still five? Does Cartwright need to know everything I do?
“I got married and had a baby, Cartwright, which is why I’m staying with Gran,” Slim said.
Cartwright, the man Slim never had seen smile, broke into a grin. “Married? A baby? That’s wonderful news…” Just as suddenly as the smile appeared, Cartwright took hold of himself, “I am delighted to hear that. Might I inquire as to your married name?”
“Cohen, and I need tea for two,” Slim said, nodding to the single setting.
“Will Mr. Cohen be joining us, Mrs. Cohen?” If Cartwright was shocked by the Jewish surname, he didn’t show it.
“No, sadly, he’s away on business,” Slim said quickly. “Prince Pavel Obolensky will be joining me instead.”
“Very well, Mrs. Cohen.” Cartwright snapped his fingers again and said to the nervous young man waiting tables, “Stevens, please set the table for two.” Stevens nodded and then shakily began to add another place setting. Cartwright bowed and left.
Slim looked at her notes. Lebensborn had warehoused only a small percentage of the stolen children. And while she could examine any existing files they had, it was probably more fruitful to get in touch with the Child Tracing Bureau. She thought about Lena again. Something didn’t add up.
“I’d rather champagne. But, I know you Irish like your tea.” Prince Pavel Obolensky stood before Slim with a ready smile. He was a walking cliche: tall, dark and handsome.
“Pasha,” Slim said, offering each cheek the Russian way, three times for a kiss. “My darling Pasha, how I’ve missed you.”
During the Russian Revolution, Prince Pavel had left with his mother and the Dowager Romanov Empress Marie Fedorovna on the last steamer departing Russia. Unlike many of his compatriots who were left impoverished by the Bolshevik revolution, Pavel and his mother had vast holdings in England. A bon vivant playboy in St. Petersburg, he came into his own working for MI5 during the last war. His Majesty’s Secret Service took full advantage of his polyglot skills and royal title. “People confide in me the most amazing things just because I am a prince,” he once told Slim.
They had been lovers, briefly, during a particularly rough period with Daniel. Pasha was everything Daniel wasn’t: kind, generous and lovable. But because he was married, he was also unavailable.
Peeking behind Pavel was a ten-year-old boy in short pants and a blazer with a crest. Slim could imagine what Pavel must have looked like as a boy.
“Slim, darling, this is my son, Dmitry, Dima, this is Madame Cohen.” Pavel put his hand around the boy who bowed slightly and held out his hand.
“Please to meet you, Madame Cohen,” Dima said in a decidedly American accent as he smiled brightly. He had his father’s charm.
“Dima is about to go off to the Ludgrove School in Berkshire. He’ll come home for holidays and some weekends. You have your ta fille, and now I have мой сын. That’s Russian for my son. Someone is behind in his Russian.” He winked at Dima and then saw Slim’s face at the mention of her daughter.
“Dima, I would like to have five minutes to speak with Madame Cohen,” Pasha said, as he handed his son some coins. “Would you go and get us some sweets at the store next door?”
“Yes, Papa!” Delighted with the money and the assignment, he bowed slightly to Slim and then bounded out of the room.
Pasha smiled and then noticed Slim's expression.
“Slim, what is it?” Pasha reached across and pulled her hands into his.
“Daniel is missing,” she said.
“Missing? What happened?”
Slim told him about the wedding and her suspicions about Klaus Barbie's involvement. He frowned and said, “I can make some inquiries, but it’s the Americans who will be able to tell you if that’s true. The French are furious that Barbie’s being protected by the Americans after the crimes he perpetrated in Lyon. One woman had to watch her father being boiled alive…” As soon as Pasha said it, he realized the mistake he’d made. “I’m an idiot. Let me see what I can find out for you.”
“Thank you.” She looked at the man who had been her lover and wondered why she hadn’t left Daniel for him and then remembered he was married. “So why is Dima living with you now? Isn’t he supposed to be with his mother in America?”
“His mother, who was a saint to have put up with me, by the way, succumbed to cancer.” Pasha’s voice broke on the word cancer. He had loved his wife in his imperfect manner.
“I am so sorry,” Slim said, horrified that she had not even asked Pasha how he was before launching into her litany of problems.
“He was lucky to have such a wonderful and caring mother for ten years,” Pasha said with a bittersweet smile. “Now he is here, and I hope I can be the father he needs me to be.”
“I hope I can be the mother Tiny needs me to be,” Slim said.
“Tiny? Is that her name? In Russia, we give diminutive nicknames, but that one is, well, literal. It would be like calling Dmitri malinki,” he guffawed.
“I haven’t named her yet.” Slim broke out into a grin.
Pasha arched his eyebrow in disbelief, “Is that some Irish tradition?”
“No, I think her father should help decide what to name her. Quite frankly, I have no idea what to call her. I’m just getting used to the idea that I am a mother and that in itself is a bit overwhelming,” Slim said ruefully. What had she been thinking even to get pregnant? All her worst fears about being inadequate to the task of motherhood seemed to be coming true. Granted, she was trying to bond with this baby; but the truth is, she had no idea if she was doing anything correctly.
“Look at the two of us. We’ve both become parents overnight. Oh, I know I’ve been one for ten years, but when the war broke out, I shipped them both off to America. After it ended I saw Dima a couple of times, but to call me a parent would be generous.” Pasha placed his hand on Slim’s cheek, “We will both be fine as parents. Maybe not the most perfect, but we’re better than not having any!”
Slim could see from the corner of her eye Cartwright’s face register surprise at seeing Pasha’s hand on her cheek. After all, she had just told him she was a married woman and now she was being caressed by a Russian prince.
“So, you said that you’re working on a case and you need my help. I am here. How can I help you, darling?” Pasha asked. In her last case, he had used his contacts in the war department to help her find a female spy who went missing in Europe during the war.
Slim explained the case she was working on and her meeting that morning with Selina Treichler.
“I remember that trial,” Pasha began. “Mostly because of the Einsatzgruppen aspect, which is now being referred to as the Holocaust by bullets; not so much for the stolen children. Where are the records being kept?”
“The records for the Child Tracing Bureau are in Bad Arolsen in Germany,” Slim replied.
“Would you like me to go with you? I’ve taken six months off from His Majesty’s Secret Service to get Dima situated. I’m taking him to Ludgrove tomorrow. He’s very excited and proud of his uniform, so I’ve been letting him wear it. When I was his age, I was sent off to the Corps de Pages, a military boarding school in St. Petersburg, where I found myself in endless trouble with Prince Feodor, the second son of the Tsar’s sister, Grand Duchess Xenia.”
“I need someone who speaks Polish and German.” Slim appreciated the offer, but could not imagine how helpful Pasha would be to the case.
“Darling, one of the reasons I am such a great asset to his Majesty’s government is because I speak Russian, English, French, Polish and German. My first language is English, and you’ll notice a slight Cockney lilt
thanks to my East End nanny. I know Russian because I am, well, Russian. French was the language of the court, and I am fluent in Polish because I had an estate in Spala. That’s where I spent my summers as a youth. Finally, I know German because after the revolution we settled in Berlin with the rest of the White Russians, before making our way to London.”
“I speak only French and English. I feel rather limited,” Slim admitted.
“Let me help you. Look, I know you are married, and I am assuming you want to remain faithful to your husband or you wouldn’t have married him. The truth is, I don’t think there’s ever been a time in my life when I needed a friend, a true friend, and I might be the same for you.”
Slim began to cry, “It’s just that I think I’m doing everything wrong. I’m a horrible mother. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Pasha reached out and enveloped Slim in an embrace, “Neither do I. How about we muddle through this thing called parenthood together? When I told my mother that Dima was coming to live with me, she gave me one piece of advice. She said, ‘Children don’t want expensive toys, they want you to spend time with them. That’s all they want.’ And when I was young, my mother spent an enormous amount of time with me. She was a great naturalist. We’d spend hours walking through the forests of Poland, where her sister had married a Polish Prince. I don’t remember a single name of a plant, but I do remember the time I spent with her.” Pasha let go of Slim to pull out a handkerchief. “Now, enough self-pity; let’s be parents together.”
For the first time since the birth of Tiny, Slim felt like maybe she could do this thing called parenthood.
When she got back to Gran’s, she heard the sound of singing outside her old nursery. The door was open slightly and through a crack, she saw Josie Phillips carefully untying the strings of Tiny’s dressing gown.
“Oooh, you’ve been scratching yourself, little miss. We’ve got to get some cotton mittens on you for now and trim those nails. Look at your perfect little fingers.” Josie kissed each finger while the baby cooed.
“You two seem to be getting along well,” Slim said, announcing herself.
Josie startled and grew red. “Madame Cohen, I am just getting Tiny ready for her bath. I can bring her out to you after,” she said shyly.
“Would you show me how to do that? She’s so tiny. Well, she is Tiny for now anyway, and I’m scared that I’m going to hurt her.” Slim was intimidated by the baby’s fragility.
Slim's uncertainty seemed to shore up Josie’s self-confidence.
“The thing is, Madame Cohen, babies are fragile, but if you handle them properly,” Josie said, lifting naked Tiny up, cradling her back and head with her two hands, “they’ll be just fine. This baby bath Lady Johnson ordered is perfect. The water is warm, but not too warm and I’ve added a bit of soap.” She took a cloth and handed it to Slim, who began to wash the baby gently.
“That’s it?” Slim asked, a bit embarrassed.
“That’s it,” Josie said with a grin.
“What made you want to become a nanny, Josie?” Slim asked.
“Me Mum. I mean, my mother was a housekeeper for the Singers. When Mrs. Singer needed additional help for her children, she hired me to help out with the regular nanny after school. I liked it so much, Mrs. Singer offered to pay my way through Norland College. You see, she was a war refugee from Germany. No one would work for her on account that she was German and a Jew. But, mother said, ‘That Mrs. Singer has four children and one on the way. She needs someone to help her manage.’ She needed help because Mr. Singer was in one of those camps. They got him out to England; he’s some sort of scientist. So, after we helped her, she decided to help me.”
“Will we be your first job out of Norland College?” Slim asked.
“I hope so!” Josie said excitedly.
“You’re hired. Are you able to travel? I don’t know how much Gran has told you, but I live in France.”
“I’ve never been abroad,” Josie said with a smile.
“Do you speak any French?” Slim asked.
“I studied it a bit at school. I’m not brilliant at it, but I can get by and I’m sure I’ll get better,” Josie said.
Slim decided to leave Josie with the baby at Gran’s for the next week or so while she went off with Pasha to Bad Arolsen, but she second-guessed her decision over dinner.
“Perhaps, Tiny’s too young to be left alone,” Slim said.
“Nonsense. Princess Elizabeth left Prince Charles in the care of their Majesties, the King and Queen, to travel to Yalta after his first birthday last year. Tiny will be fine. Josie will take her out for a walk in her pram every day in Hyde Park . Maybe she’ll even meet Prince Charles. Perhaps, we can arrange a match!”
“Gran, Tiny is an Irish Jew. She’s not going to marry Prince Charles,” Slim said, rolling her eyes.
After dinner, Slim got out her notebook and drew three columns: Auschwitz, Lebensborn, and dead. Lena had contacted the Child Tracing Bureau and the Polish Red Cross several times to no avail. Slim knew that after the war, the Child Tracing Bureau of UNRRA helped to find many missing children. UNRRA had shut its doors in 1947 when it was folded into the International Refugee Organization. The Child Search Bureau was folded into the International Tracing Service at the same time. Where were the archives of UNRRA? They had to be either in Washington D.C. or New York City. She didn’t have time to go back to the states. Lena was leaving with or without her son Karol in a month. Slim needed to find out who was in charge of the Child Search Branch and then go from there. She placed a call to Gitta Sereny.
“Hello, Gitta?”
“Yes,” came the German-accented voice.
“It’s Slim Moran. Sorry to bother you so late.”
“It’s quite alright. Did you manage to find Miss Treichler?”
“Yes, I did. Selina is a wealth of information. I do have a question. I need to get into the archives of the UNRRA’S Child Search Bureau.”
“They most likely have been shipped to United Nations Headquarters in New York City.”
“When you worked for the Child Search Bureau, who ran it?”
“A man named Roland Berger. He was like a dog with a bone. He found out about the missing Polish children in 1945, and he established the Child Search Bureau. He was relentless in tracking down those children.”
“Do you know where I might find him?”
“Not a clue. I do know someone who worked in the London office, though. She worked right under Eileen Blakey, who was the head of all the social workers. We became good friends. Her name is Felice Scott.”
“Do you know where I can find her?” asked Slim.
“That I do know. Scott is working at the American Embassy in London.”
“Thank you.”
“Be careful,” Gitta said.
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re going to be fighting on three fronts. You represent the mother who wants her child back.”
“That’s right. What are the other two fronts?”
“The German family who adopted him, if in fact he was adopted. Some of these kids were adopted into very high ranking Nazi families. If this is the case, you will have trouble getting him back.”
“And?”
“His country. If that child is repatriated, Poland will not release him to go to America. Poland’s population has been nearly wiped out. If he is in Poland, you will not be able to get him out.”
Slim hung up the phone. She turned to the back of her notebook and wrote “My darling Daniel, I don’t know whether you’re dead or alive, but I do know if you could, you would be here with us. I haven’t named our daughter yet. It doesn’t seem right to give her a name she will carry the rest of her life without her father weighing in. I’ve wanted to call her Adrienne after your little sister who perished in Auschwitz, but that seems such a weighty name for an infant. I’m calling her Tiny until you come back. I know you will find your way, back, to me. I know how much you wanted this
baby. I know you wouldn’t leave us.”
Slim put the pen down. She blinked back tears. As a child, she had willed herself not to cry, but the sheer helplessness of the situation overwhelmed her. She took a deep breath and evaluated her life. She could go back to Pasha again. After all, she found him attractive and attentive, but her love for Daniel was something she could not shake. She had to locate him. He must be dead, or he would have come back.
The next morning Slim took a car to the American Embassy in Mayfair. It had been too late to call the embassy the night before, so Slim decided just to show up unannounced. Time was of the essence. She needed to make the most of it.
When she arrived at the embassy, she took in the Neo-Georgian seven-story building that took up a good size chunk of Grosvenor Square. Framed by Corinthian columns, Slim felt dwarfed by its massiveness.
After being directed to the reception area by one of the U.S. Marine security guards, she headed up the steps.
Slim briefly told the receptionist she wished to speak with Felice Scott and that a mutual friend, Gitta Sereny, gave her Felice’s name.
Slim sat waiting for twenty minutes. She was about to give up when a young Negro woman with an open smile came down the steps.
“Miss Moran?”
Slim stood up and smiled back. “Oh good, are you here to take me to Miss Scott?”
“I am Miss Scott,” the young woman replied. Seeing Slim’s chagrin, “It’s okay. I’m one of the few Negroes working here.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just that…” Slim stammered.
“It’s a lovely day, let’s walk a bit, and you can tell me how I can help you.”
Slim followed her out the door.
“Gitta told me that you worked for UNRRA after the war,” Slim began.
“Yes. UNRRA initially was resistant to letting Negroes join up, but there was such an outcry, they relented. I was recruited right out of Temple University.”
“That’s in Philadelphia, right?” Slim asked.
“Yes. I can’t tell you how excited I was to go over. I had no idea what I was going to be doing, but it was all of us working together. And mind you, it wasn’t just the Americans. UNRRA was comprised of 44 nations. It was created in 1944 because the Allies knew that there were going to be displaced persons after the war. But the truth is, they had no idea how many. I have to say it was painful watching my fellow Americans get up in arms about what the Nazis did to the Jews.”
The Lost Boy Page 7
