While Still We Live (33 page)

“You had better return to the Aleksander woman now, and stay with her until you hear from me. Tell her about your new position here: say that I am a friend of the Poles. Arouse no suspicion. Find out, meanwhile, what you can about the members of her family.”

Sheila rose. Hofmeyer was already on his way to the study to answer an insistent telephone bell. “Heilitler!” he snapped, his hands deep in his pockets.

“’tler,” echoed Sheila obediently, and closed the library door.

She clutched her handbag firmly as she walked down Marszalkowska, turned left along Jerozolimskie Street. For inside the bag was her only security now: her identification and membership card for the
Auslands-Organisation
with the faint stamp across its surface reading special service. After that conversation for the benefit of a dictaphone, Anna Braun was no longer a mere name on a piece of paper.

CASIMIR

Inside the living-room of Stevens’ flat, Madame Aleksander and Casimir were waiting. The kerosene which Casimir had “found” now burned in a lamp which he had “discovered.” Madame Aleksander sat with her legs wrapped in a blanket. Casimir sat at her feet, directing the terrier as it tried to walk backwards on its hind legs. Madame Aleksander was smiling at the dog’s anxious eyes.

“I feel better each hour, Sheila,” she said as the girl entered. “Casimir has been telling me long stories. And he has been teaching the dog a new trick and it’s trying
so
hard to please. Just look at it!”

Sheila felt happier as she heard the new note in Madame Aleksander’s voice. The dull, dead tone had gone. She was indeed better, much better.

“I’ll soon be able to leave for Korytów,” she was saying happily. “Casimir is determined to come with me to protect me.”

Sheila bent down to pat the dog as it scratched impatiently for notice at her legs.

“We’ve found a name for him,” Casimir said proudly. “He’s a Scottish dog, so Madame Aleksander said we must give him a Scots name. He’s Volterscot.”

“Walter Scott,” Madame said with a smile. “I had to read his novels when I was learning English.”

“Volterscot!” Casimir called and snapped his fingers. The dog cocked his ears and twisted his head to the side. He panted his smile. “See,” Casimir said with delight, “he knows his name!” Volterscot wagged his tail happily, took Casimir’s forefinger gently between his teeth and paraded before the boy, proudly leading his hand back and forward.

“Volterscot is showing that he owns you, Casimir,” Sheila said. “If I had a nice bone, he would have it.” Volterscot deserved more than that, she thought, as she looked at Casimir’s face, young once more, and then at Madame Aleksander watching the boy and dog together.

“I’ll get him one. Somehow,” Casimir said, and leaped to his feet with all the unnecessary violence of a boy of twelve. “And there’s our supper to find, too. Have you three zlotys? Prices are
awful
high, now.”

Sheila counted out five zlotys. Almost seven shillings, she calculated quickly. She always seemed to translate money into English values. “Take good care,” she called after him, but he was already out of the door with a last wave of his hand. Volterscot looked at the two women as if to excuse himself, and darted after Casimir.

“Volterscot, the almost human,” Sheila said, and tried to look as if she felt like making a joke.

Madame Aleksander was watching her keenly. “Did you have a nice walk?”

“Yes. No.”

“That sounds very mixed.” Madame Aleksander looked as if she would like to hear more about Sheila’s afternoon.

Sheila said quickly, “And what have you been doing, besides getting up against my orders? I must be a very bad nurse, if my patient will not obey me.”

“Casimir helped me into this room. It was he who tucked this blanket round my legs. He’s a nice boy, Sheila. I’ve got very fond of him. And then we just sat and talked, and three hours disappeared.”

“I am sorry I was so long.”

“Nonsense. You need more fresh air. You’ve lost the colour in your cheeks. But I’m glad you’ve stopped putting that horrid red stuff on your lips.”

Sheila looked at herself critically in the small mirror over the bookcase. She wondered where she had lost that lipstick. Nowadays, everything got lost, and one never seemed to be able to remember where things had been put. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but finding something to eat and disguising it as food.

“Pale. But interesting, I hope,” she admitted.

“And we had three visitors. There was a man about the electric lights. And there was a man to see if the ’phone could be put into order.”

Sheila’s fingers stopped twisting the curls into a pattern over her brow. She turned away from the mirror. “Really? That’s good.” She looked nervously at the walls. Where did they hide those damned things?

“They told me that we should have running water soon. Men are working at the pipes day and night.”

“Good. And who was the third visitor?”

“Mr. Stevens. He came to collect the typewriter. He is going away.”

“So soon?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Well, the Germans hadn’t lost much time in getting rid of the neutrals. She felt twice as depressed. Parting from friends always made her feel as if she had lost something of herself: as each one went, a gap was left.

“Yes. He and another American and a Swedish gentleman called Schlott. It seems Mr. Schlott had his business here, but the Germans have taken a dislike to him and he must leave, too. Mr. Stevens is going to be a correspondent in Switzerland for an American newspaper. It is a better job than his old one. Isn’t that splendid?”

“Yes.”

“Sheila, couldn’t you go with him? Can’t you pretend you are an American?”

Sheila looked shrewdly at the blue eyes, too bright in the white face. So Steve had enlisted Madame Aleksander’s help. “And what about a passport?”

“You could have lost it in the siege. Russell Stevens said he and his American friend would vouch for you. The Germans seem eager to get rid of neutrals. Perhaps they don’t want them to see how they are going to treat us.”

“I’m staying here.” Sheila touched Madame Aleksander’s shoulder lightly.

“You must not think only of me. You must think of yourself,
Sheila,” Madame Aleksander said gently. She took Sheila’s hand and held it. “I can always go to Edward’s flat. I feel I should have taken you and Casimir there, anyhow. I wonder why Edward and Michal were so insistent that I shouldn’t go there?”

“Wasn’t it bombed?” Sheila asked, her eyes on the wall in front of her.

“He didn’t tell me! What about his manuscript?” Madame Aleksander was nervous again. Her voice was raised, her eyes were troubled. Sheila was sorry she had mentioned anything about the flat; and yet she had had to stop any speculation about Michal Olszak.

“Oh, I don’t think the whole place was destroyed. And you know Uncle Edward. He would save his book first of all.”

“Yes,” Madame Aleksander agreed. She relaxed again, but she was still worried. Her thin hands plucked at the fold of blanket on her lap.

“Why don’t you go back to bed? When Casimir brings back our supper, I’ll cook it and bring it to you on a tray. And I’ll read to you.” She looked at the pile of American magazines which Steve had left behind, and wondered what story she might find suitable tonight. Madame Aleksander’s taste ran to stories about New England villages, or about ranches in the West, or about plantations in the South. These were her escape from the ruins of Warsaw, perhaps because her life at peaceful Korytów had been a composite of all three.

“Casimir...” Madame Aleksander mused. “Sheila, do you know anything at all about him?”

“Only what I’ve guessed. I
think
his family were refugees from the west.”

“Tonight he told me a little, a very little and yet so much. His mother had long black hair. When she was brushing it, it fell beneath her waist.”

“How
did
you find that out?”

“I was brushing my hair. He was watching me in silence, standing over there at the bedroom door with this blanket over his arm. Then he said that.”

There was a silence. At last Madame Aleksander said, “I am going to take him to live with us at Korytów. I think I’ll try to leave tomorrow, or the day after. The sooner, the better. I never feel really well again until I get there.”

“You must first get official permission.”

“Permission? Korytów is only about forty miles away!”

“It is impossible to travel even five miles without the proper identification papers and a letter of permission. I saw the queue today outside the German Kommandantur: people waiting for permission. Sometimes it takes days.”

“Nothing but waiting,” Madame Aleksander said with rising anger. “First, we waited for the war, then for news, then for bombs, then for help, then for food and water. We waited to be killed, we waited for word from our families, we waited for the Germans to take over the city. We do nothing but wait. And there’s still more waiting to be done: waiting for the Nazis to be driven back into their own country. But a lot of us here won’t sit around and wait for that day. We didn’t in 1916. After the first shock of this defeat is over, I know there will be men who will—”

“Madame Aleksander, if you want to be strong enough to travel, you must rest.” Sheila glanced nervously at the walls. “I thought I heard Casimir,” she said more quietly.

“Oh, he couldn’t be back so quickly. It takes him at least two hours to reach the end of a queue on a lucky day. I’ve timed him. I used to worry about him when the Germans first appeared on the streets. He said he would—”

Sheila spilled the pile of magazines which she had been examining.

“Sheila, I think
you
need to rest. How selfish I am, always speaking of my own worries. You are missing England, aren’t you? If you really won’t go with the American, I am going to speak to Michal about you, and he will be able to plan something. I have great confidence in him. He’s very clever, and he knows so many—”

“I am all right,” Sheila said quickly. “I think I’m hungry, that’s all. It seems a long time since supper yesterday. Now do go to bed. Let me help you.”

“If anyone comes asking at this house who you are, do you know what I’m going to say?”

Sheila shook her head. She could only hope it would be nothing that would incriminate Madame Aleksander.

“I shall say you are Barbara.”

“Barbara.” It was the first time they had mentioned her name.

“Who is to know but our family and friends? And no Pole will tell.” Her face looked happier, now. “It’s a very good idea of mine,” she said firmly. “I can’t imagine why I didn’t think of it before.” She unfolded the blanket and rose slowly. She looked round the room and forced herself to talk of everyday things. “Tomorrow we shall clean this place thoroughly. I do wish we had Maria here. She is so good at making things shine.”

Sheila’s amazed look turned to one of amusement. Madame Aleksander didn’t believe anything was well done unless she
had at least superintended it, herself. Wars may change ways of thinking, but they don’t change instincts. Sheila looked at her hands, roughened by so much cleaning and scrubbing. She began to laugh.

“Are you all right, Sheila?”

“Yes. I almost forgot to tell you one piece of good news. I have a job. That will earn enough to buy us food and clothes. You see, someone must make money. Uncle Edward has been robbing himself to provide for us, but he will get no more salary from the University. All the teachers are looking for jobs. Wasn’t I lucky to find this one?”

Madame Aleksander looked doubtful. “What is it?” she asked slowly.

She looked relieved when Sheila explained, although she still frowned.

“But this man’s a German.”

“Of German descent. He is Polish now.”

“And he knows who you really are?”

“Yes, he knows.” That was one truth which the dictaphone could repeat without condemning her.

“Then either he’s a fool or a very brave man.”

“He considers himself a Pole,” Sheila said, and Madame Aleksander gave a strange little smile.

The bedroom door closed gently.

* * *

Sheila picked up the magazines which she had dropped, pretended to hum a song, folded the blanket, rearranged the table mat, moved a chair, and then sat down and stared at the walls. I just can’t bear the idea, she thought: I just can’t go on living here with this continual trap around me. She could guard
herself; but Madame Aleksander? She still broke into a cold sweat at the innocent remarks this evening which, if they had been completed, might have disclosed enough to the Germans. As it was, Madame Aleksander was convinced that Sheila was heading for a nervous breakdown. She would be worrying now in that room, as if she hadn’t enough to worry about.

Sheila jumped as the telephone bell rang. Was it tapped, too? Probably all telephones were.

“Telephone, Sheila,” Madame Aleksander’s voice called.

“Yes.” She went into the hall and lifted the receiver from the hook as if it exuded vitriol.

It was Steve. She almost wept at the sound of his voice. She couldn’t speak.

“Sheila, what’s wrong with you? It is you, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Say, is anything wrong?”

“No.”

“I wondered if you might have changed your mind. About coming. We are all gathered together in the Europejski, like sheep in a pen. We leave in an hour. There’s just time for you to join us.”

“But I’ve got to stay here, Steve.”

“Perhaps you feel you ought to, but there is no ‘got’ about it.”

The operator’s voice said, “That is all the time allowed for a telephone conversation. Are you finished?”

“No, damnation,” Steve said, “Sheila, listen—”

The telephone went dead.

Sheila had just re-entered the room when the bell rang again.

This time it was Bill.

“Steve wasn’t allowed to make any more calls. There’s a
mob of us here. We are allowed one each. How are you Sheila?

Sorry about that night. Remember?”

“I hope Lilli’s well. I liked her.”

“She’s a good kid. But say, Steve’s at my elbow. Why the hell don’t you come with us, and stop us all worrying? Schlott is here too. The Germans didn’t like his face. Just a minute, Sheila, Steve’s jabbering at my elbow.”