By the seventh day most people had already come to pay their respects. Very few were coming anymore. Sharon had returned to work several days earlier, and so only Gilde and Lenore were left in the flat.
“You know, just between us, Willie was Sam’s favorite. He was so proud of that boy. From the time Willie was born, he saw great things in him. I guess maybe every man wants a son.”
Gilde nodded. “I know Sam loved him.”
“I am not surprised that losing Willie was what put Sam over the edge. He was so sick and weak already.”
“Yes…” Gilde said.
“I have something that I want to talk to you about.” Lenore cleared her throat.
“Go on,” Gilde said.
“First off, you should be filing for a widow’s pension. You’re entitled to it. Do you know that?”
“Yes, I know,” Gilde said. “I will.”
“I’m telling you this for two reasons. One, we are going to have to close the business. Now, with Sam gone, there is no point in keeping it open and paying rent on it. And second of all … I think I’d like to move to a smaller flat. Something more affordable. You’re welcome to come with me if you want to.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what I am going to do now. I’ve decided that I am going to sign up for nurses training. I want to do something that would continue what William started. Something that would make William proud. Do you understand what I mean? I want to work for the war effort. If it’s possible I’d like to be sent to the battlefront and work with wounded soldiers.”
“That’s terribly dangerous, Gilde. When you turn eighteen you can get a local job and help with the war effort that way.”
“Yes, I know. But I think I want to go to nursing school. I want to save lives the way William did. I guess I want to carry on where he left off….”
“Do you know where you are going to go to school yet?”
“Yes, I am going to try to get in at the hospital in Birmingham. I’ve heard good things about Queen Elizabeth Hospital. From what people are saying they have a good nursing program. It costs twenty pounds to get in. But the training is supposed to be superior. So, that’s my plan for the future I suppose. One thing I’ve learned is that my future is always changing.” Gilde smiled a sad half smile.
“Do you need some money? I have a little that I can give you.”
“I’m alright, William gave me some money before he left for the navy. He said it was in case of an emergency.”
“Will you stay in contact with me?”
“Of course. I don’t suppose you have an address where I can write to you yet?”
“Not yet. But if I am accepted into the nursing program I will write to you through the Queen Elizabeth Hospital and forward my address,” Gilde said.
“Write to Sharon, because I am moving to a smaller flat. So, I’ll stay in touch with Sharon and she can tell you where I am. I will miss you, Gilde.”
“I will miss you too; you’ve been like a mother to me….”
CHAPTER 47
1942
The night before she left London to apply for the nurses program, Gilde packed the few things that she owned. She called Sharon to let her know about her plans to study nursing. Lenore had already moved in with an old friend three days prior. But Gilde was looking for a place of her own. The family had only two days’ rent left paid on the apartment. So, Gilde was leaving just in time. She and Sharon reminisced for a little while about the past and about William. Then heartsick and frightened of the future, Gilde went back to the bed she had shared with her husband for just a few precious days and tried to sleep. When the sun rose she got up in order to get ready. It was a three-hour bus ride from London to Birmingham. She planned to take an early bus. Then just in case of travel delays she’d arranged her appointment at the hospital for late afternoon.
Gilde wore the nicest dress she owned for the appointment with the admissions office at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. Her dress was old and she’d repaired it more times than she could count. But it was clean and ironed and for the first time, she wore the silk stockings that William had given her. She had styled her long hair in a neat twist with a curl at the top, which was the latest fashion. Gilde wanted to make a good impression. She wanted to get accepted into the program. “God forgive me,” she whispered as she removed Alina’s Star of David necklace. Being Jewish might prevent them from choosing her. Then she whispered, “I’m sorry, my love, my dear husband, I know you would understand,” as she removed her wedding ring. Being a married woman could be prohibitive. Why give them any reason to turn her away?
When the bus let Gilde off, she saw that Birmingham looked as bad as London. The same bombed-out buildings surrounded her and dust and smoke filled the air. This came as no surprise; after all, Gilde knew that Birmingham was where a lot of the factories were that supported the war effort. This was where they built army vehicles, planes, arms, and more. For a moment, she thought that perhaps she should have gone to a hospital in a safer area. But then she squared her shoulders and remembered William’s bravery. I will carry on his work, she thought.
The Queen Elizabeth Hospital was a large, modern, and imposing building. Not at all like the infirmaries she had seen pop up all over London. As she went inside to report to the nurses training admissions office, she was intimidated. After all, she had no medical training or background. How was she ever going to convince them to accept her?
“Gilde Lawrence?”
“Yes…”
“Miss Brown will see you now. Go through the double doors to the office on the right,” the receptionist, a young attractive girl with her long hair in a bouncy ponytail, said.
“Thank you.”
Gilde knocked on the door of the office. A large sturdy woman who looked like a man in the face, but had heavy breasts and wore her salt and pepper hair very short looked up from a pile of papers. She stared at Gilde and tapped her pencil a few times. Then put the pencil down on the desk.
“Well? Come in.”
Gilde walked in.
“Sit,” the woman said, critically scrutinizing Gilde, looking her up and down. “So, you want to be a nurse?”
“Yes. I want to save lives, to help in the war effort.”
“Do you know the rules here?”
Gilde shook her head. “No, I’m sorry I don’t.”
“Well, before you decide that this is where you want to be, let me make the rules clear to you right now. Training takes four years. During this time, you may not get married. If you are dumb enough to defy this rule and we find out that you have secretly eloped you will be expelled. It is required that you pay twenty pounds for your books and uniform. It’s expensive, I know, but it’s worth every penny. You’ll get the best nurses training here and you will earn eighteen pounds as salary each year you are in training. Don’t be mistaken; you’ll work hard. But you will learn a great deal and you’ll be given room and board. So, how does that sound to you?”
“It sounds good to me.”
“And how can I know you will not be getting married. You’re a young pretty girl. I’ll bet you have a fellow in the service.”
“My husband was in the service. He died. He wanted to be a doctor, to save lives. I want to carry on his legacy. I believe I will be an asset to this hospital. I’m not looking for anyone else,” Gilde said. Then she hesitated. “I want this very much. I am asking you to please accept me.”
CHAPTER 48
Elias 1943
Elias found himself working in a nightclub under the name of Earl Schmidt, with forged papers. The British intelligence had set him up in a modest one-bedroom apartment on the border of Belgium and France. His good looks and fearless manner made him popular with the Wehrmacht and SS officers who frequented the bar. He told them jokes and laughed at theirs. When one of them who was sitting at the bar saw a girl he found attractive, he asked Elias to intervene. Elias winked at the SS officer and said, “Watch this.” He poured the girl another b
eer and brought it over to her. “You see that man over there?” Elias pointed to the SS officer. “That’s Obersturmführer Shulman. He’s a very important man.”
Shulman heard Elias and stuck his chest out.
“He wants to buy you a drink.” Elias put the beer on the bar in front of the girl. She looked over at Shulman and smiled. Shulman got up and walked over to sit beside the girl, and as he did he nodded his approval to Elias.
That night Shulman left with the girl he’d met at the bar, and as he walked out he looked over her shoulder and nodded to Elias, who smiled back at him.
All the Nazis who frequented his nightclub came to love the way Elias praised them and made them feel important. He knew just when to talk and just when to keep his mouth shut. And, because he always appeared to be distracted by telling a joke or busy wiping down the bar when they were discussing covert operations, they began to trust him and converse easily and loosely in his presence. The Nazis affectionately called him a cad, a ladies’ man looking for nothing more than a good time. And he played the part well. He bought them drinks. They gave him generous tips. And if he hadn’t hated the Nazis as much as he did, he probably would have made some friends among his customers. But, Elias was always listening to the conversations around him, even when he appeared to be talking to another customer. He never, not for a single second, forgot who they were and who he was. And because his ears were always open, he learned before most of the world even knew what was really going on in the concentration camps.
If he hated Nazis before, he despised them now.
Everyone had heard bits and pieces about work camps in Germany. Elias still remembered that after Kristallnacht many of the Jews had been taken to these prisons. But now, he’d heard real-life horror stories from the Nazis themselves, not only of the concentration camps but of mass shootings of Jews, and Gypsies, and other sub-humans as the Nazis called them. He learned that the mentally and physically handicapped were being euthanized. And that Hitler planned to take over all the surrounding countries in the east and eventually maybe the world. Once a country came under Nazi rule, Hitler planned to eliminate all of the people he considered to be undesirables then turn the rest of the population into slaves for the Aryan race. Aryan breeding farms had also been established where children of racial purity were being bred. Yes, Elias was learning a lot.
Every week Elias met with several other men; they too were spies who posed as ordinary citizens of Belgium. They were his British intelligence contacts. Once a week they went to a restaurant where they shared drinks and dinner. They laughed, told jokes, flirted with girls in case they were being watched. And they were careful never to speak openly of anything of any importance. At the end of the meal, Elias would walk towards his flat with one of them, both of them acting drunk and disorderly. Then Elias would discreetly hand the other British spy a piece of paper that contained all of the information Elias had gathered from overhearing the Nazis at his bar that week.
If he were caught by the Germans he would be killed. Worse, if they found out that not only was he a spy, but he was a Jew, things would be even tougher on him. He might end up being tortured in one of those camps he’d heard about. And, sadly, he also knew that the British didn’t trust him entirely either because he was born in Germany and also because he was a criminal who had killed a man. Elias was alone in a strange country and friendless, walking a daily tightrope and playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse. But he enjoyed the secret game he was playing. He loved that the Nazis thought he was their friend. All the while he was secretly working towards their demise.
CHAPTER 49
Elias Late 1943
One of Elias’s British contacts came to his bar one night. This was highly unusual. But Elias acted happy to see his old friend.
“Jan, what brings you here?” he asked.
“I was in the neighborhood. I did some for an old woman who lives a few minutes from here so I thought I’d come in for a beer. She needed to have some pictures hung, it took me a few minutes, but I made a little extra money.”
Elias poured him a beer. Something was going on. Jan sat at the bar talking about his job at a factory. “I’ve been seeing this girl.” Jan smiled. “She is an actress, in Paris. Very sexy. I am going to see her at the end of this week. If you can get the time off, she has a girlfriend staying with her, another actress. We could have a good time. You know how women who are in the entertainment field can be? Huh? Easy?”
Elias smiled. “I’ll see if I can get the time off work. We’re busy on the weekend.”
“It will be worth your while, my friend. Besides, you can help me pay for half of the hotel room.”
“I knew there was a catch.” Elias laughed. But he was concerned. There was more to this than just a date with two women in Paris. Earlier in the year, in March, he’d reported hearing about two planned attempts on Hitler’s life. Both of them had failed. He’d just recently sent information that another attempt was being planned. Could this have anything to do with this trip to Paris?
“So, if you can make it, I’ll write down the name of the theater, and I’ll meet you there on Friday night. The performance is at eight o’clock. I’ll have her leave a complimentary ticket for you at the box. Just pick it up. I’ll be inside waiting.”
Elias had no trouble taking the time off. His boss was part of the operation.
On Friday he purchased a train ticket into Paris. Once he arrived, he took a taxi to a theater called the Grand Guignol. It was a small, bizarre theater; he’d heard that it was known for offbeat productions. Apparently, the show was a series of short plays. The man behind the counter at the box office handed him his ticket, and under the ticket was a note folded very small. He whispered, “Go to the bathroom right after the first short play ends and just as the second is beginning; when you get there, read this.” Then louder he said, “Enjoy the show.”
Elias took his seat. Jan was not there. No one joined him.
He glanced at the program. The show was to be a series of macabre short productions with frightening costumes and images. The curtain opened to a dark and dreary set. Elias felt a cold chill run up his spine as he watched what appeared to be an actual suicide taking place on the stage. A young man shot himself in the chest. The gunshot sounded very real and the blood that flowed from the wound looked authentic. When Elias had lived in London he’d been to the theater a couple of times, but he’d never seen anything quite like this. Where was Jan? Had something gone wrong? From living on the border of France and Belgium and working in the bar, he’d picked up enough French to understand the play. It was called “The Kiss”; it was the story of a young man who had fallen in love with a prostitute. She grew tired of him and he’d attempted suicide. As he lay dying a beautiful nun sat at his side. The boy became delirious and imagined that the nun was his girlfriend, the prostitute that he loved. In his delirium the boy kissed the nun, and even though she was a sister and had sworn a vow of celibacy, it was obvious that she kissed him back like a lover. The premise, the set, and the costumes were disturbing, especially since they hit Elias so close to home in his own life. After Glenda, a prostitute, had turned on him, he no longer cared if he lived or died. In fact, because his life meant so little to him, Elias had killed for Glenda and now he walked a treacherous path every day. The actor on the stage had shot himself in the chest. Then the beautiful nun somehow awakened him. Elias felt like he too was being awakened as he watched this scene unfold. It suddenly dawned on Elias that in a way he’d been asleep. . He trembled as he realized that he’d been living in danger all this time. He began to see that he’d been blinded by an unrealistic sense of invincibility. And, suddenly all the risks he’d been taking became very real to him. Until this moment, he’d never actually believed that he could die. Really die. He’d been willing to take chances because somehow he’d always felt invincible. But this play had struck a nerve, and now for some unexplainable reason, for the first time Elias was afraid. He felt the smal
l folded paper in his pocket and his fingers twitched.
When the first play ended everyone clapped. He was trembling as he waited until the first actor in the second play came on stage. Then, he had to contain himself so he didn’t sprint to the bathroom. Walk, he thought, but Elias was unnerved, unsettled. After he checked all of the stalls and was sure he was alone, he went into the last stall in the row and opened the paper.
“Go behind the stage door and wait. The password is Bumbleberry.”
He quickly tore the paper with the information written on it into small pieces and then flushed them down the toilet.
Before he left the bathroom, Elias looked in both directions. His fingers were trembling but poised on the gun under his jacket. The British intelligence had trained him to use the weapon before he left Britain, but as of yet, he’d never been in the position to use it. He was on edge, like a an animal being pursued in the jungle. Every nerve ending in his body a live electric wire. Did he remember how to shoot the gun properly? How could he have been so lax up until now? Remember the steps, Elias, remember everything they taught you, your life could depend upon it, he thought. They’d given him several weeks of target practice, with a profession trainer, but he was still by no means a perfect shot. In fact he hadn’t paid as much attention as he should have when he had the opportunity to learn. All he could think about was getting through it, because he hated the sound of a shot being fired and the smell of gunpowder.
As Elias slipped out the side door of the theater he jumped because heard the audience scream in terror. He was beginning to hate this weird theater. All he could hear was his heartbeat in his temple as he waited for his contact. For a quarter of an hour, Elias hid in the darkness and the shadows behind the building. Then a small sprite of a girl emerged from the stage door. Her blond hair had been cut in a short boyish style.
Watch Over My Child: Book Three in the Michal's Destiny Series Page 17