Читать книгу The Crooked Olive Branch - Frederick Munn - Страница 18

Chapter 10

The following morning just the two of them finished breakfast, in silence. The door opened and in ran Miriam who climbed up on Hal’s knee, helping herself to the remains of a croissant from his plate. Crumbs spilled down his shirt as she pushed it into her mouth.

“Noch mal,” she squeaked spitting more crumbs.

Hal, surprised and clearly delighted, brushed away the crumbs smiling. “Crumby business, kids.” Miriam returned the smile and looked up to Hal’s face.

Peter went to the side and collected cake, breads and preserves, placed the plate in front of them and sat down. Miriam claimed another croissant and scattered more flaky crumbs as she pushed it into her mouth. She forced some into Hal’s mouth. Laughing, he accepted the offering showering the table and themselves with even more. Meantime the nanny had arrived and was watching from the door smiling at the scene, partly with relief. She went to the side, poured a glass of milk and added this to Hal’s worries. He looked up at the nanny, smiled and said:

“Thank you.”

“Ilsa,” she replied with a little bob of a curtsy.

“Good morning Ilsa, kid been O. K.?”

It was Peter’s turn to smile.

“If I didn’t know Hal, I would assume you have done this before. It looks right.”

“Feels kind o’ right.”

From that moment on all plans for the day, at least for Hal, disappeared. The day was controlled entirely by this little girl who demanded and got one hundred percent attention from Papa Yo. Not that this pleased Ilsa who was rebuffed by both Miriam and Hal whenever she tried to intervene. Even when it was necessary for her to take over, she was assailed by a ferocious tantrum.

Peter, also not at all pleased, remained a worried spectator.

After dinner that evening Peter was able to voice his concerns.

Hal sat down on the lawn before lying flat and looking up at the stars.

“I’m bushed Pete,” he groaned, “what is that expression of yours, jiggered? But I’ve rarely enjoyed myself so much. Reckon I was made for this.”

Peter studied his hands thinking how to approach his worry without ruining Hal’s day.

Quietly he spoke, he hoped gently.

“Have you thought what will happen if you succeed in getting Miriam through safely?”

“Whoa, whoa there, partner, how do you mean if? Miriam is going through, be sure of that buddy!” Hal sat up.

Peter looked at him and realised that he was agitated more than angry.

Sorry, yet satisfied he’d made the point. He took to thinking how to lighten the conversation, to regain the comfortable mood which disappeared with Miriam’s arrival. He forced a chuckle.

“I wished I’d had my camera when you and Miriam were laid back kicking your legs in the air.”

He chuckled again, this time the laughter was genuine.

Miriam and Hal had been on the lawn playing, facing each other when she fell on her back kicking her legs squealing ‘Mach so.’ It was a command which Hal obeyed without redress for a translation.

It was a good choice by Peter. Hal immediately engaged but clearly did not share Peter’s amusement.

“Too right, Pete. I have a press camera. Will you carry it for me when we get to the border?”

“Why?” Peter sounded belligerent.

“Evidence, Pete. Faced with a camera the Goons will back off.”

“You think so? Do you think it will be that simple?”

Peter’s stance was making Hal uncomfortable. He stood up.

“They had better, Pete. Don’t underestimate the power of the pen.” He turned to walk away from Peter whose logical argument was making him uncomfortable. Peter also got up from the seat and went after him.

“Best not bond with the little girl, Hal.”

Hal ignored his friend’s remark. “I’m for hitting the hay.”

“So soon?” Peter now knew he was getting through to Hal and was reluctant to let him go.

“Leave me Pete, just leave me. I need to think.”

Hal left waving his arm as if wafting away Peter’s logical arguments.

Peter, much troubled, sat alone with his thoughts and fears.

It seemed to him that the repatriation of Miriam had not been thought through properly. A Jewess would naturally be adopted by a Jewish family which would mean a forced separation from Hal and this would mean a new trauma for them both.

Peter was now certain that his friend had bonded with Miriam. That Miriam was replacing her family with her Papa Yo, with all the further heartache that this entailed.

All he could do now was hope that he had warned his friend of the pitfalls to come.

As for the little girl’s future, he just dared not to think.

The following day followed much the same pattern at breakfast.

Miriam insisted Hal get up from breakfast to play out in the garden. Peter’s anxiety was not being helped by this.

The old woman came in to clear the table and collected the crockery on a large wooden tray. Before leaving she stood and watched Hal and Miriam through the window. “Give a man a daughter he is her slave and guardian, give him a son he is his captain.

It was always so!” The old woman observed in German.

Peter was surprised by the woman’s comment. She, having rarely spoken before.

“Miriam is not his daughter.” He protested.

“Matters not.” The woman replied leaving the kitchen.