FRIEDA LOOKED SORRY a moment later.
“It isn’t that I wouldn’t share with you, Anna,” she hurried to say, her brown eyes hoping her sister would understand. “But there’s just one bed — and I had you all the way over on the ship.”
She grinned, trying to make Anna smile too.
“I could show you the bruises,” she said.
Anna could not answer. What was there to say? She knew she was a restless sleeper. On the ship Frieda had often poked her awake and ordered her to stop thrashing around in the narrow berth they had shared.
Here there must be someplace though. There had to be.
“I’ve found something,” Dr. Schumacher called. His voice echoed eerily in to them from the dark hall. Relieved, they went to see. Anna walked slowly, her back very straight, her head higher than high.
It was not a room really. It was a bite out of the hall with one side open, a space left between the other two bedrooms.
“An alcove,” Mr. Menzies said.
Anna swallowed. It was dark in there and there was no window. A narrow cot stood against the wall, though. Someone had used it as a bedroom before.
“Anna is too little to sleep out here all alone,” Mama said, her voice troubled.
“She can’t sleep with Frieda and me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Gretchen burst out. She was tired of being the brave, kind, big sister. She spoke sharply, without kindness. “You know how she is, Mama. She even moans sometimes!”
Anger flared up in Anna, saving her. Something like pity in Dr. Schumacher’s face helped fan the flame.
“I want to sleep here. I want to be by myself,” she declared fiercely. “I hate having to share — especially with them!”
Klara Solden’s temper caught fire as quickly as Anna’s.
“Fine,” she snapped, all softness gone. “This shall be Anna’s room. And nobody will disturb her. Remember that. We shall wait to be asked.”
The others murmured uneasy assent. The older children were busy looking at their feet suddenly. There was something about Anna’s aloneness that they did not want to see. Papa cleared his throat.
“Papa,” Anna warned under her breath before he could begin.
He stopped, peered down at her, and cleared his throat again.
“What is it, Ernst?” Mama asked crossly.
“Nothing,” Papa said. “We’ll get you a special chest to hold your things, Anna.”
“All right,” Anna said in a dull, colourless voice, as though it did not matter much one way or the other.
Papa suddenly took charge.
“Baths for everyone, Klara,” he ordered. “I’ll find that box of bedding for you. These children are sleeping on their feet.”
“I’ll need something to clean that bathtub,” Mama responded, beginning gallantly to attempt the impossible. “Gretta, you come and help me. Oh, this place needs cleaning so.”
“Tomorrow we’ll get properly settled,” Papa called after her. “It will look better in daylight.… What about food for breakfast?” he remembered, turning back to Mr. Menzies.
Mr. Menzies looked helpless. “My wife …” he began and stopped.
Dr. Schumacher came up with the answer.
“You’ll find plenty at the store,” he said. “Do you have the key, John? We could go now.”
Mr. Menzies produced the key, and the three men started for the stairs.
“When you do get settled and a bit rested,” the doctor said, “bring the children around to my office to have their medical examinations for school.”
“School!” Fritz echoed, horrified.
The doctor looked back at the boy and laughed.
“Yes, school,” he said. “It starts a week from Tuesday.”
Fritz groaned.
The men went on downstairs, Dr. Schumacher explaining on the way where his office was.
“Come on, Fritz,” Rudi ordered. The boys disappeared into their new room. Frieda ran after them.
Anna stood in the hall alone. She could hear the men’s voices rumbling below, Rudi telling the twins how “his” room would be arranged, water running into the bathtub.
Gretchen came back through the hall. Mama had sent her in search of towels.
The older girl almost tripped over Anna, who still stood by herself in the alcove which was to be her bedroom. Gretchen paused. She looked at her little sister. Standing there, alone, she seemed to be crying aloud for help. But Gretchen knew Anna. It was not that easy. She was as difficult to get close to as a porcupine. It was no use asking her what was wrong. She would never tell.
Besides, Gretchen thought, there’s so much wrong. I hate it here too. We should never have come to this awful place.
“Gretchen, are you coming?” Mama called.
“Yes, Mama. In a minute!” Gretchen called back.
She took two steps toward the stairs. Behind her, Anna stood not moving, not speaking. In spite of herself, knowing it was useless, Gretchen turned back.
“Anna, it’s not so bad …” she started.
“Mama wants you,” Anna interrupted. “You’d better go. You’re standing in my room, anyway, and I didn’t ask you in.”
“You … are … impossible!” Gretchen spat the words at the younger girl.
She whirled away and ran down the stairs.
“Papa!” Anna heard her calling. “Mama wants towels.”
She was alone again. She backed up and sat down carefully on the extreme edge of the rickety cot. She sat very still, with her arms hugged in close around herself.
School — a week from Tuesday!
She should have known, of course. She should have seen it coming. Yet somehow, in all the rush of the packing and the weeks of travel, she had never thought that far ahead. Not once had she pictured herself actually going to school in a strange land.
School had been terrible enough back in Frankfurt. Anna sat in the darkness and remembered Frau Schmidt. Now it was going to start again, only this time it would be one hundred times worse. It would be in English.
When Mama came bustling in search of her, Anna had not moved.
“Anna Elisabeth Solden, get up from there and undress for your bath. What’s the matter with you?” Mama jerked at her, getting her onto her feet. “I’ll have the bed made by the time you’re finished. Here, let me help.”
Anna freed herself. “I can do it,” she said.
Mama’s hands dropped to her sides. She sighed. Then she frowned. Anna was moving — but so slowly.
“Speak English,” her mother commanded suddenly.
Maybe she too was thinking of school beginning. Maybe she too was afraid for Anna, her one German child.
“I will not,” Anna said in German. The words grated in her throat.
Then she turned her back on her mother and pulled her dress up over her head. Whatever Mama said next, she could not hear.