Out of the Hitler Time trilogy: When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit, Bombs on Aunt Dainty, A Small Person Far Away

“Very good!” she said. Anna had got nearly all of it right. Then Madame Socrate pointed to the dictation, “Very bad!” she said, but made such a funny face as she said it that Anna did not mind. Anna looked at her book. Her dictation had disappeared under a sea of red ink. Nearly every word was wrong. Madame Socrate had had to write the whole piece out again. At the bottom of the page it said in red, “142 mistakes” and Madame Socrate pointed to the number looking amazed and impressed, as though it were a record – which it probably was. Then she smiled, patted Anna on the back and asked her to copy the corrected version. Anna did so very carefully, and though she still could only understand very little of what she had written it was nice to have something in her book that was not all crossed out.

In the afternoon there was art and Anna drew a cat which was much admired. She gave it to Colette for being so kind to her and Colette told her in her usual mixture of quick French and dumb-show that she would pin it up on the wall of her bedroom.

When Mama came to fetch her at four o’clock Anna was very cheerful.

“How was school?” asked Mama, and Anna said, “Lovely!”

She did not realize until she got home how tired she was, but that evening, for the first time in weeks, she and Max did not have a row. It was exhausting going back to school again the next day, and the day after that, but the following day was Thursday when no one goes to school in France and she and Max both had a whole day off.

“What shall we do?” asked Max.

“Let’s take our pocket money to Prisunic,” said Anna. This was a store she and Mama had discovered on one of their shopping expeditions. Everything in it was very cheap – in fact nothing in the whole store cost more than ten francs. There were toys, household goods, stationery and even some clothes. Anna and Max spent a happy hour finding all the different things they could afford, from a cake of soap to half a pair of socks, and finally emerged with two spinning tops. In the afternoon they played with them in a little square near home till it got dark.

“Do you like your school?” Max suddenly asked as they were walking back.

“Yes,” said Anna. “Everybody is very nice, and they don’t mind if I can’t understand what they say. Why? Don’t you like yours?”

“Oh yes,” said Max. “They’re nice to me too, and I’m even beginning to understand French.”

They walked in silence a little way and then suddenly burst out with, “But there’s one thing I absolutely hate!”

“What?” asked Anna.

“Well – doesn’t it bother you?” said Max. “I mean – being so different from everyone else?”

“No,” said Anna. Then she looked at Max. He was wearing a pair of outgrown shorts and had turned them up to make them even shorter. There was a scarf dashingly tucked into the collar of his jacket and his hair was brushed in an unfamiliar way.

“You look exactly like a French boy,” said Anna.

Max brightened for a moment. Then he said, “But I can’t speak like one.”

“Well, of course you can’t, after such a short time,” said Anna. “I suppose sooner or later we’ll both learn to speak French properly.”

Max stumped along grimly.

Then he said, “Well, in my case it’s definitely going to be sooner rather than later!”

He looked so fierce that even Anna who knew him well was surprised at the determination in his face.

Chapter Sixteen (#ulink_dd6aef79-c167-5b3d-b970-96db6b8eb86d)

One Thursday afternoon a few weeks after Anna had started school she and Mama went to visit Great-Aunt Sarah. Great-Aunt Sarah was Omama’s sister but had married a Frenchman, now deceased, and had lived in Paris for thirty years. Mama, who had not seen her since she was a little girl, put on her best clothes for the occasion. She looked very young and pretty in her good coat and her blue hat with the veil, and as they walked towards the Avenue Foch where Great-Aunt Sarah lived, several people turned round to look at her.

Anna had put on her best clothes too. She was wearing the sweater Mama had knitted, her new shoes and socks, and Onkel Julius’s bracelet, but her skirt and coat were horribly short. Mama sighed, as always, at the sight of Anna in her outdoor things.

“I’ll have to ask Madame Fernand to do something with your coat,” she said. “If you grow any more it won’t even cover your pants.”

“What could Madame Fernand do?” asked Anna.

“I don’t know – stitch a bit of material round the hem or something,” said Mama. “I wish I knew how to do these things, like her!”

Mama and Papa had been to dinner with the Fernands the previous week and Mama had come back bursting with admiration. In addition to being a wonderful cook Madame Fernand made all her own and her daughter’s clothes. She had re-upholstered a sofa and made her husband a beautiful dressing-gown. She had even made him some pyjamas when he could not find the colour he wanted in the shops.

“And she does it all so easily,” said Mama, for whom sewing on a button was a major undertaking – “as though it weren’t work at all.”

Madame Fernand had offered to help with Anna’s clothes, too, but Mama had felt perhaps that would be too much to accept. Now, however, seeing Anna stick out of her coat in all directions, she changed her mind.

“I will ask her,” she said. “If she just showed me how to do it perhaps I could manage it myself.”

By this time they had arrived at their destination. Great-Aunt Sarah lived in a large house set back from the road. They had to cross a courtyard planted with trees to reach it and the concierge who directed them to her flat wore a uniform with gold buttons and braid. Great-Aunt Sarah’s lift was made of plate glass and carried them swiftly upwards without any of the groans and shudders Anna was used to, and her front door was opened by a maid in a frilly white apron and cap.

“I’ll tell Madame you’re here,” said the maid, and Mama sat on a little velvet chair while the maid went into what must be the drawing room. As she opened the door they could hear a buzz of voices and Mama looked worried and said, “I hope this is the right day …” But almost at once the door opened again and Great-Aunt Sarah ran out. She was a stout old lady but she moved at a brisk trot and for a moment Anna wondered whether she would be able to stop when she reached them.

“Nu,” she cried, throwing her heavy arms round Mama. “So here you are at last! Such a long time I haven’t seen you – and such dreadful things happening in Germany. Still, you’re safe and well and that’s all that matters.” She relapsed into another velvet chair, overflowing on all sides, and said to Anna, “Do you know that the last time I saw your Mama she was only a little girl? And now she has a little girl of her own. What’s your name?”

“Anna,” said Anna.

“Hannah – how nice. A good Jewish name,” said Great-Aunt Sarah.

“No, Anna,” said Anna.

“Oh, Anna. That’s a nice name too. You must excuse me,” said Great-Aunt Sarah, leaning perilously towards her on the little chair, “but I’m a bit deaf.” Her eyes took in Anna properly for the first time and she looked astonished. “Goodness, child,” she exclaimed. “Such long legs you have! Aren’t they cold?”

“No,” said Anna. “But Mama says if I grow any more my coat won’t even cover my pants.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she had not said them. It was not the sort of thing one said to a great-aunt one hardly knew.

“What?” said Great-Aunt Sarah.

Anna could feel herself blushing.

“A moment,” said Great-Aunt Sarah and suddenly from somewhere about her person, she produced an object like a trumpet. “There,” she said, putting the thin end not to her mouth as Anna had half-expected, but to her ear. “Now say it again, child – very loudly – into my trumpet.”

Anna tried desperately to think of something quite different that she could say instead and that would still make sense, but her mind remained blank. There was nothing for it.

“Mama says,” she shouted into the ear-trumpet, “that if I grow any more my coat won’t even cover my pants!”

When she withdrew her face she could feel that she had gone scarlet.

Great-Aunt Sarah seemed taken aback for a moment. Then her face crumpled up and a noise somewhere between a wheeze and a chuckle escaped from it.

“Quite right!” she cried, her black eyes dancing. “Your mama is quite right! But what is she going to do about it, eh?” Then she added to Mama, “Such a funny child – such a nice funny child you have!” And rising from the chair with surprising agility she said, “So now you must come and have some tea. There are some old ladies here who have been playing bridge, but I’ll soon get rid of them” – and she led the way, at a gentle gallop, into the drawing room.

The first thing that struck Anna about Great-Aunt Sarah’s old ladies was that they all looked a good deal younger than Great-Aunt Sarah. There were about a dozen of them, all elegantly dressed with elaborate hats. They had finished playing bridge – Anna could see the card tables pushed back against the wall – and were now drinking tea and helping themselves to tiny biscuits which the maid was handing round on a silver tray.

“Every Thursday they come,” whispered Great-Aunt Sarah in German. “Poor old things, they have nothing better to do. But they’re all very rich and they give me money for my needy children.”

Anna, who had only just got over her surprise at Great-Aunt Sarah’s old ladies, found it even more difficult to imagine her with needy children – or indeed with any children at all – but she did not have time to ponder the problem for she was being loudly introduced along with Mama.