Читать книгу We Were Young and at War: The first-hand story of young lives lived and lost in World War Two - Sarah Wallis - Страница 75

Nicole and I went to the pool. A Bosche took my arm and amused himself by walking onto the diving board, still clinging on to me. I pushed him into the water to get rid of him. After that, I caught another one, who was sitting in the water waiting to catch a ball, I grabbed him by the head and made him do a back flip. But that’s not the main thing. I don’t know what I should think, or if Mummy would say I did anything wrong. Should I regret it? I don’t know. Anyway, we were playing ball when a Bosche took our ball from us. He didn’t want to give it back and I didn’t dare demand it back in German. But Nicole insisted that he return it. He put his hand on his face and told her she was a fool. Then he asked me to have a coffee with him; I refused, of course.

He looked sad, but didn’t say anything. Then I told him he would never reach England, that England was invincible and that everyone who had ever attacked her had been defeated. I gave Napoleon as an example and said the same thing would happen to Hitler.

But the worst thing was: he waited for us to get dressed, then he took my comb and used it to comb his hair! Then he walked out into the street with us (I was ashamed to see the way people looked at us). He was going our way, on the metro (the Bosches don’t have to pay), and he got into the same carriage. He asked if I would go for a walk with him. I said no. Then he asked when we were next going to the pool. Nicole said she was going on Saturday, so I’ll go then too. If Daddy knew, he would be furious! Would he be wrong to be? I suppose people will treat me the way I treat women who go out with Bosches, and in their eyes I am…Oh! I don’t want to think of it. What excuses me, in my eyes at least, is that I was direct with him and told him exactly what I thought! (He is tall, blond, twenty-five years old, and he thinks Paris is the most beautiful city in the world.)