Читать книгу Out of the Hitler Time trilogy: When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit, Bombs on Aunt Dainty, A Small Person Far Away - Judith Kerr - Страница 24

On the following Monday Anna set off with Mama to the école communale. Anna was carrying her satchel and a cardboard case containing sandwiches for her lunch. Under her winter coat she wore a black pleated overall which Mama had bought her at the headmistress’s suggestion. She was very proud of this overall and thought how lucky it was that her coat was too short to cover it, so that everyone could see it.

They went on the Metro, but although it was only a short distance they had to change twice. “Next time I think we’ll try walking,” said Mama. “It will be cheaper, too.” The school was just off the Champs Elysées, a beautiful wide avenue with glittering shops and cafés, and it was surprising to find the old-fashioned gate marked Ecole de Filles tucked away at the back of all this grandeur. The building was dark and had clearly been there a long time. They crossed the empty playground and the sound of singing drifted down from one of the classrooms. School had already begun. As Anna climbed up the stone stairs at Mama’s side to meet the headmistress, she suddenly wondered what on earth it would all be like.

The headmistress was tall and brisk. She shook hands with Anna and explained something to Mama in French which Mama translated. She was sorry that there was no one who spoke German in the school but hoped that Anna would soon learn French. Then Mama said, “See you at four o’clock,” and Anna could hear her heels clattering down the stairs while she was left standing in the headmistress’s study.

The headmistress smiled at Anna. Anna smiled back. But it is difficult to smile at someone without talking and after a few moments her face began to feel stiff. The headmistress must have felt stiff too, for she suddenly switched her smile off. Her fingers were drumming on the desk and she seemed to be listening for something, but nothing happened, and Anna was just beginning to wonder whether they would be there all day when there was a knock at the door.

The headmistress called “Entrez!” and a small dark-haired girl of about Anna’s own age appeared. The headmistress exclaimed something that Anna thought probably meant “at last!” and launched into a long, cross tirade. Then she turned to Anna and told her that the other girl’s name was Colette and something else which might or might not have meant that Colette was going to look after her. Then she said something more and Colette started for the door. Anna, not knowing whether she was meant to follow or not, stayed where she was.

“Allez! Allez!” cried the headmistress, waving her hands at her as though she were shooing away a fly, and Colette took Anna’s hand and led her out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind them Colette made a face at it and said “Ouf!” Anna was pleased that she, too, found the headmistress a bit much. She hoped all the teachers were not going to be like her. Then she followed Colette along a passage and through various doors. She could hear the murmur of French voices from one of the classrooms. Others were silent – the children must be writing or doing sums. They came to a cloakroom and Colette showed her where to hang her coat, admired her German satchel and pointed out that Anna’s black overall was exactly like her own – all in rapid French supplemented by sign language. Anna could not understand any of the words, but she guessed what Colette meant.

Then Colette led her through another door and Anna found herself in a large room crammed with desks. There must be at least forty girls, Anna thought. They were all wearing black overalls and this, combined with the gentle gloom of the classroom, gave the whole scene a mournful look.

The girls had been reciting something in unison, but when Anna came in with Colette they all stopped and stared at her. Anna stared back, but she was beginning to feel rather small and suddenly wondered, violently, whether she was really going to like this school. She held on tight to her satchel and her sandwich box and tried to look as though she did not care.

Then there was a hand on her shoulder. A faint smell of scent with just a tinge of garlic enveloped her and she found herself looking into a very friendly, wrinkled face surrounded by frizzy black hair.

“Bonjour, Anna,” said the face slowly and clearly so that Anna could understand. “I am your teacher. I am called Madame Socrate.”

“Bonjour, Madame,” said Anna in a low voice.

“Very good!” cried Madame Socrate. She waved her hand towards the rows of desks and added slowly and clearly as before. “These girls are in your class,” and something about “friends”.

Anna removed her eyes from Madame Socrate and risked a quick glance sideways. The girls were no longer staring but smiling and she felt much better. Then Colette led her to a desk next to her own, Madame Socrate said something, and the girls – all except Anna – began to recite in unison again.

Anna sat and let the sound drone over her. She wondered what they were reciting. It was strange to be having a lesson at school without even knowing what it was about. As she listened she detected some numbers among the droning. Was it a multiplication table? No, there were not nearly enough numbers. She glanced at the book on Colette’s desk. There was a picture of a king with a crown on the cover. Then it came to her, just as Madame Socrate clapped her hands for the recitation to stop. It was history! The numbers were dates and it had been a history lesson! For some reason this discovery made her feel very pleased.

The girls were now taking exercise books out of their desks and Anna was given a brand-new one. The next lesson was dictation. Anna recognized the word because once or twice Mademoiselle Martel had dictated a few simple words to her and Max. But this was a very different matter. There were long sentences and Anna had no idea what any of them meant. She did not know where one sentence ended and another began – not even where one word ended and another began. It seemed hopeless to embark on it – but it would look even worse if she just sat without writing at all. So she did what she could to translate the incomprehensible sounds into letters arranged in what seemed like possible groups. After she had covered most of a page in this strange manner the dictation came to an end, the books were collected, a bell rang and it was time for break.

Anna put on her coat and followed Colette into the playground – a paved rectangle surrounded by railings which was already filling up with other girls. It was a cold day and they were running and skipping about to keep warm. As soon as Anna appeared with Colette, a number of them crowded round and Colette introduced them. There were Claudine, Marcelle, Micheline, Françoise, Madeleine …it was impossible to remember all their names, but they all smiled and held out their hands to Anna and she felt very grateful for their friendliness.

Then they played a singing game. They linked arms and sang and skipped forwards, backwards and sideways in time to the tune. It looked rather tame at first, but as the game went on they went faster and faster until at last they got into such a tangle that they collapsed in a heap, laughing and out of breath. The first time they did this Anna stood and watched, but the second time Colette took her hand and led her to the end of the row. She linked arms with Françoise – or it might have been Micheline – and did her best to follow the steps. When she went wrong everybody laughed, but in a friendly way. When she got it right they were delighted. She became hot and excited, and as a result of her mistakes the game ended in an even bigger muddle than before. Colette was laughing so much that she had to sit down and Anna was laughing too. She suddenly realized how long it was since she had really played with other children. It was lovely to be back at school. By the end of break she was even singing the words of the song, though she had no idea what any of them meant.

When they went back into the classroom Madame Socrate had covered the blackboard with sums and Anna’s spirits rose. At least for this she did not need to know French. She worked away at them until the bell went and morning school was over.

Lunch was eaten in a small, warm kitchen under the supervision of a large lady called Clothilde. Nearly all the children lived near enough to go home to eat and there was only one other, much younger girl who stayed, apart from a little boy of about three who seemed to belong to Clothilde.

Anna ate her sandwiches but the other girl had meat, vegetables and a pudding, all of which Clothilde cheerfully heated up for her on the stove. It looked a much nicer lunch than her own and Clothilde thought so too. She made a face at the sandwiches as though they were poison, crying, “Not good! Not good!” and gave Anna to understand, with much pointing to the cooker, that another time she should bring a proper lunch.

“Oui,” said Anna and even ventured “Demain”, which meant tomorrow, and Clothilde nodded her fat face and beamed.

Just as they were coming to the end of this exchange which had taken some time, the door opened and Madame Socrate came in.

“Ah,” she said in her slow, clear voice. “You are speaking French. That is good.”

Clothilde’s little boy ran up to her. “I can speak French!” he cried.

“Yes, but you can’t speak German,” said Madame Socrate and tickled his little tummy so that he squealed with delight.

Then she beckoned to Anna to follow her. They went back to the classroom and Madame Socrate sat down at a desk with Anna. She spread the morning’s work out in front of them and pointed to the arithmetic.

“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.