Max took a deep breath. He was even further away in the past now, reliving every moment, every sensation. In his mind’s eye, he watched the lovely girl stop in front of the shop. Her blond hair was pulled into a loose knot in the nape of her neck as if she didn’t have enough time to style it properly. Her hat was a simple affair in contrast to some of the other’s that he had seen. He watched her lean over and earnestly study one of the books at the bottom of the display. Ever the chancer, Max stopped at the window and feigned interest in the display too. She lifted her eyes from the book and smiled at the handsome young man standing beside her.
“May I ask what has caught your eye, Miss? You seem very taken by something.”
“Poetry,” she said with a warm smile.
“A-ha, I admire that,” replied Max. “I am a terrible poet. I can’t even write a letter.”
“I am sure that’s not true,” she said before joking, “I am sure even you could manage to draw a simple ‘I’ or an ‘O’.”
Max loved the joyous playfulness in her behaviour. It made her even more attractive.
“Do you live far from here?” he enquired.
“No, Just of the market square. I live with my parents.”
Max looked at his pocket watch.
“It is almost time for mid-morning tea,” he announced. “Perhaps we can have some together.”
“If it is at a table where everybody can see us,” the girl added before rolling her eyes and sighing, “the old Warasavian women do love to gossip.”
“Indeed they do. Well let’s make sure we abide by their rules,” Max reassured with a mischievous grin.
They chatted non-stop as they walked to a small restaurant on the street corner and took a seat outside in the warm spring sun. Excited, yet nervous, they began perusing the menu in silence before he broke the ice.
“I’m Max, Max Liebowitz.”
“Maika Trzebetowsky. I’m studying at a small college for girls—much against my father’s wishes.”
“I work at a local theatre as a stagehand,” replied Max, “—Much against my father’s wishes,” he chuckled. “I am sure he would have preferred that I worked down the salt mines, like a real man.”
Max and Maika liked each other immediately.
“So, that is why you are roaming the streets in the mornings? You’re a thespian rather than a miner. I’m glad about that, I was worried you might be one of those feckless and workshy fellows who drinks vodka all day.”
Max laughed at her teasing.
“It might not sound it, but it’s hard work. I begin in the afternoon and work late into the night or often the early morning. It’s quite physical, moving the sets and props around between scenes.”
“It sounds fascinating,” enthused Maika, her eyes sparkling with interest.
“It is. One day, I am going to own a theatre, right here in Warsaw,” Max said proudly. “Have you ever been to the theatre?”
“Of course I have,” she laughed, “everybody goes to the theatre in Poland.”
“Yes,” answered Max, “I know that, but have you ever been to a real theatre?”
“A real theatre?” she asked, looking puzzled.
“It’s a place where anybody can perform whatever they wish, and it does not matter where you come from, or if you are rich or poor.”
Coming back to the present, Max opened his eyes and looked at his small audience in the hotel parlour.
“That is how I met Maika—your mother, David,” he said.
They were all listening attentively, eager for him to continue. Settling back into his chair, Max returned to sharing his memories. David has to know.
“Her parents did not like me very much,” he laughed. “They told her that they did not appreciate my Bohemian lifestyle. But we fell in love and over time her parents accepted me. My mother and father adored her because she brought light and joy into every situation. She was a refreshing exception to the timid and depressed creatures that roamed the streets of Warsaw—”
“—did you fall in love?” Madeleine interrupted.
“Of course, I fell in love, my dear. How could I not fall in love with such a beautiful person? She was educated, affectionate, loyal and so very full of life, always looking for the good in people and situations. Her strength of spirit was fuel for my—our—dreams. Not long after we met, we opened a café. I lived in the apartment above it. Maika stayed with her parents. At lunch, we would open our doors, and anybody was free to come in to perform and entertain. When she left college, Maika ran the café full-time. As its reputation grew, I was able to give up being a stagehand. We worked tirelessly to make the place a success. Sometimes, there were singers, other times dancers. Magicians were in abundance and acrobats—oh my, I must have seen a thousand acrobats in my lifetime. Occasionally, when we had a quiet night, Maika would get up and sing. She had an excellent voice for the eastern European styles of music, especially Slavish and Gypsy.”
David shuffled forward on his seat, hanging off his father’s every word.
“I would watch her and wonder what she was doing with a man like me. I asked her to marry me a year after we met, and she said yes. By then, her mother and father had realised that it was no good to try to keep us apart. They knew it was our destiny to be together. We were married in a small church in the morning, and then we went back to the café in the afternoon, where we had a party with all our wonderful friends. Our real friends, not just the people we only saw on special family occasions. We sang and danced and drank a lot of vodka—for three whole days,” Max put his head back and laughed, then looked at the faces around him. “We Poles love to celebrate a wedding,” he added with a twinkle in his eye.
Max seemed to retreat into his world again. He remembered their wedding night as if it was yesterday. After the party, they had gone upstairs to their apartment. They had undressed each other and laughed at their fumbling. Both inexperienced, they found themselves on a courageous journey of discovery. And what a wonderful world they discovered. If he thought that she was beautiful when she was dressed, she was breath-taking naked. She was his world, and he hers.
“Within six months, we found out that we were going to have a baby. It was going to be tough raising a child and running the café but we knew we would cope. We were lucky, since running our own business gave us a little flexibility. When you were born David, we simply carried on as usual, working day and night. We couldn’t afford a nanny of course, so I build David a crib that we kept underneath the counter. No one knew our beloved son was there, although we did get some strange looks when we seemed to talk to the countertop or wave at our feet.”
They all laughed. It was so typical of Max to do things differently. He grinned at them, proud of his wily and unconventional solution.
“Somehow, most nights, young David slept through all the noise without making a sound. Life was wonderful, not easy of course, but definitely rewarding.”
There was a pause as the smile fell away from Max’s face.
“And then our lives changed. Civil unrest threatened to overtake our homeland. The Poles, under the Russian and Prussian administrations, were to subject to ever stricter controls and increased persecution and so we sought to preserve our identity in non-violent ways. Maika and I knew things were deteriorating because there were always political discussions in the café. We drew the more revolutionary minds. Everyone knew that Poland only had a very slim chance against the opposing Russian and Prussian forces. So, Maika suggested we leave our birthplace and travel to England or America where we could begin a new life.”
The sense of injustice about the way the occupation had torn through the lifestyle and business Max and Maika had worked so hard to build gnawed at David, and the others.
“At first, I didn’t want to hear about the idea. I was not a coward. I didn’t want to abandon my roots, nor did I want to join some sort of rebel army and get killed. I thought about it for a long time and realised that my precious little family wa
s a tangible blessing. I loved them, and they brought me joy. I could not exchange them to fight in a war for independence which I didn’t think the Polish forces could win.”
All this was news to his son. Feeling betrayed, he challenged the story Max had told him in the past.
“I thought that Mama died giving birth to me,” he snapped angrily. “You lied to me. What sort of father does that?”
“I had to protect you, David. I could barely live with the truth. I wanted to protect you from the pain that I felt. The answer seemed so simple and innocent at the time. I created a fantasy world for you. A place where you would be safe and happy, free from worry. The longer the lie persisted, the harder it became to tell you the truth.”
David was not satisfied with the answer in the slightest, but he allowed his father to continue.
“We locked the café and left behind everything that we owned. I was told that there was a vessel sailing from the coastal city of Gdansk. We knew one of the first mates who arranged a berth for us. We were booked to sail on Christmas Eve of 1862. The three of us took a train to Gdansk and went straight to the harbour. The captain of the vessel believed that everyone would be far too busy celebrating the festive season—which meant there would be fewer soldiers patrolling the streets. I carried David and Maika walked beside me. We were going as fast as we could, without looking suspicious or so we hoped. It was freezing that night, perfectly clear, with the moonlight to guide us. With our breath formed big clouds in front of our faces, we stared at the ship thinking our new future together was about to begin. We stepped onto a pier that lead out to the moored vessels. Then a soldier stepped out of the shadows and stopped us. He blocked our way and waved a rifle muzzle in our faces.”
Max took a deep breath and looked directly at David as he finally explained the secret he had kept for so long.
“Your mother knew that the foreign soldiers would either kill or torture me for information, thinking I might be part of the resistance.”
“Give that woman the child,” the soldier barked at me.
Your mother argued but the soldier ordered her to be quiet. She was so brave though. Before I could stop her, she tried to step between me and the rifle. She kept yelling:
“I won’t let you take him! I won’t!”
Max could still hear Maika screaming to this day. It was the first time that Max had ever seen her out of control. His happy, joyous soul wife was now terrified of losing her husband and was prepared to fight tooth and nail to keep him and their infant son safe.
“By now, we were surrounded by a group of soldiers. The young officer who detained us was having no success containing the situation. It was not good for his image for his subordinates to see him fail to control a mere woman. His colleagues started to smirk at him for being weak. I could see that he felt scorned.”
“What happened, Papa? What happened to my mother?”
“It was a calculated decision, David. I think that they call it malice of forethought. The young soldier lifted the rifle and pointed it at your mother. He ensured his aim was perfect because he took his time. He was not about to be scorned by his colleagues again. Maika realised what he was going to do. I remember the shock in her face. She looked at him put up her hands. Her face was snow-white from the cold and her dry lips were pale. Her terrified eyes were the bluest that I had ever seen them.”
The sense of foreboding in the story had everybody gripped with emotion. David had tears in his eyes. Max looked at his son and knew he couldn’t shield him from the pain any longer.
“The soldier shot her twice in the chest at point-blank range. Because he was close to her, and the force of the bullets knocked her off the pier and she fell backwards into the icy black water. I ran to the edge and looked down. She drifted on her back for a while. Her clothes soaked in blood. Her face was now at peace, but it was a terrible sight. Slowly she drifted away. If I were not holding you, David, I would have hurled myself after her, done anything to save her—but I knew in my heart it was useless. She was gone.”
Apart from the crackle of the glowing logs, the room was silent, the group hanging off Max’s every word.
“I felt a pistol against my temple and they told me to run, or else they would shoot David in front of me as well. It was my turn to be terrified. I turned and ran until I got to a church where a priest preparing for the midnight mass took us in for the night.”
Sid Payne shook his head sadly, remembering all too well how brutal soldiers could be.
“I had to get you out of Poland, David. The priest found a British couple who were prepared to smuggle you to England and would wait for me to fetch you. I was terrified to let you go in case I never saw you again. But what choice did I have? By now, it was January, and the Russians had overrun the country. They were hanging Polish people or deporting them to Siberia. All I could think of was that I had to reach my little boy. I dressed like a local peasant and slipped across the border into Germany. That is how I met Sergeant Payne. The British had a close relationship with the Prussians because of Victoria’s marriage to Prince Albert, and some English soldiers had been stationed there. I was starving and on the verge of death. Sid overheard me asking for scraps in a bakery in Rostock, and he took pity on me.”
Max looked at Sid and nodded his head in thanks.
“I told him that my tiny son was in England, and he arranged with another captain that I sail to England. I was so lucky to get his help. Lots of vessels docked at Rostock, sheltering in the deep but calm waters of the estuary before heading out to the Baltic. Sid arranged some leave to travel with me. I had nowhere to go in England, and so he made arrangements for his family to take us in for a few nights until I found work to support us properly.”
Sid Payne nodded and smiled.
“I owe Sid my life,” said Max.
David looked at the man whom he had enjoyed belittling in a new light. Guilty feelings now stabbed at his throat, just like they had Lord Ashwood’s at dinner on Saturday.
“Please accept my thanks, too,” the young Liebowitz man croaked.
“I hated Christmas after that,” lamented Max. “I didn’t want to see a tree or look at a church. I didn’t want to hear a carol or even have a piece of Christmas cake or a humble mince pie. I raged against God wondering how he could he take my wife. I came to London and started to work at The Songbird. Every Christmas Eve, I would get so drunk that Maria, Suzanna’s mother, would take David up to her quarters and look after him.”
“But Max, I don’t understand,” wondered Thomas aloud. “These days, you love Christmas—more than all of us put together.”
“I used to sit back and remember the joy that Maika had created in our in Warsaw café, and how the performances uplifted the people who visited. I started to wonder what she would want for my life. It would certainly not be drinking myself to death and neglecting our son. Eventually, I had saved enough money to buy a share in The Songbird. My elderly co-owner was childless, and I was soon blessed to discover the theatre had been bequeathed to me on his passing. He felt I would make a good job of running the place, and I worked hard to honour his memory.”
Max smiled with understated pride.
”I looked for people who could benefit from my help, and that’s how I ended up employing single mothers like Maria or orphans like Madeleine. Over the years, I would often go to Maria and discuss my thoughts and feelings. One day, I asked her what she thought of working at The Songbird. Well, the answer surprised me. It also turned my life around. She told me that even though we were not related, the little community of workers there were the only family that she had. I realised that the people who worked for me had nowhere else to go and that I had to give them the best experience of life that I could. That is exactly how Maika would have done it. She had the gift of creating joy for other people. So, I began to revel in the festivities at Christmas time, to keep my Songbird family happy, and delight the audience with a magical unforgettable spectacle.”
Suddenly, Max’s crazy demands for the fireworks and the elephant made a lot more sense.
21
The progress update
On Monday morning, Monique paced her dressing room restlessly. She had suffered the worst humiliation in her life with Peter Ashwood breaking off their engagement and then forcing her to return to London alone. His audacity to investigate my past! In her eyes, it equalled high treason. She would be delighted to put a rope around his neck and then kick the chair out from underneath his aristocratic feet.
She realised that she had underestimated Ashwood as a gormless man, and had been proved painfully wrong. Next time, I will be more careful. A chateau in France was far too close. I will dream up something much more difficult to verify. Perhaps I shall sell myself as the daughter of a French baron living in Polynesia, wherever that is.
*
Max left David to deal with Lee Ting-Chong and find out how the fireworks were coming along. As he wandered back to his office, he found Thomas putting up more Christmas trees with the help of the Thakur family. They were glorious specimens, filling their spaces perfectly, with their tips just an inch or two shy of the high ceilings in the theatre’s corridors, dining rooms and bars. The Indian women pottered around with the decorations, ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ every time something bright and shiny appeared out of the box. Mr Thakur was standing precariously on the top rung of a wooden step ladder draping bunches of holly and mistletoe over every door.
The irony of the Hindu family putting up Christmas decorations did not escape Max. He was delighted they were happy and willing to help their friends. He laughed out loud and continued chuckling until he reached the Ting-Chong quarters in the attic, where relations seemed anything but warm and jovial. He gave a short rap on the door. Granny Chong opened it then looked Max up and down.
“Go! Go ’way,” she scowled.
“Now, now, my dear.”
Granny Chong raised her fist and lurched towards him. Max took a couple of dainty side steps to avoid her wrath and tried to peer over her shoulder to see how the work was progressing. Lee Ting-Chong came running out behind her, giving orders in Chinese. Granny Chong shook both her fists and proceeded to give him a good talking in Mandarin, then stomped off.
The Christmas Songbird Page 16