by Gill James
cold coffee
Käthe watched Renate as she coloured
in the picture she had drawn. Later today the girl would post the exercise book
to another from her class. All of the girls decided to keep in touch after
their lovely school had closed down. Renate loved this. No, she wouldn't tell
her just yet. She'd let her carry on enjoying herself for a few more hours.
Had Renate
suspected something when she'd refused to go to the opera? "They'll stare
at me, Hans," Käthe had said to her husband. "They'll know. I'm sure they'll know."
"Nonsense,"
he'd said. "You are the glamorous wife of a respected professor. They may
be more suspicious if you don't go."
But
she just couldn't.
"Why
have you been crying?" Renate had asked.
"Because
I have such a headache." Oh dear. A lie.
Had
she believed that about the school camp? That she shouldn't go because she was
still getting over a cold? Well, she'd argued a lot.
Then
there were the girls in their lovely uniforms. The navy calf-length skirts and
those smart little flying jackets. Yes, they did look elegant. Käthe could
understand why her daughter would want to join. "You're too young,
dear," she'd said.
They
would have to write to the Göddes and say that Renate had chicken pox and
wouldn't be able to stay with Hani this year.
No,
she wouldn't tell her daughter just yet that she was Jewish and was being sent
to England in a few days. Better wait until tomorrow.
About the author
Gill James writes shorter and longer fiction for all ages. She is writing a series of novels set in World WarII. She also edits this e-zine.
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