15. Ich Bin so Eine

THIS TIME, SHE WAS NOT ALONE. WALKING WITH HER was an older woman—an English woman whom Alec had seen before at the market. He slowed his step to keep from catching up. Eva and the woman moved silently, looking straight ahead. Then, almost as if someone had tapped her on the shoulder, the girl turned and spotted Alec. Grabbing the sleeve of the woman, Eva pointed back toward him, and the woman spun around. Together, they waited as Alec approached. He didn't hurry.

"My lass tells me you are the kind lad who helped her out yesterday," the woman said. "She's not been in Dover long, and her English is still a bit weak. I'm sorry she troubled you."

"She wasn't far from where she needed to be," Alec said. "I just pointed her in the right direction."

"She was grateful regardless. She's been afraid to go out much, so she was happy to find someone friendly to her."

"It was a small thing," Alec said. "I was on my way to the docks anyway."

The woman clearly wanted to talk more, but Alec didn't care to spend his free day chatting with someone's aunt on a street corner in Dover. Yet the girl interested him; his disappointment slipped away as he stared at her. She was different—better—than before. She had exchanged her ratty dress for a new one. Its plaid fabric made her look like an English girl. Her tired boots had been replaced by flat shoes like those Alec's mum wore. Around her trimmed and combed hair she wore a ribbon the same plaid as her dress. Alec liked the difference the clothing made. He searched for something else to say.

"His name," the girl said, "his name ist Alec."

"Is, Eva, is—not ist," her aunt corrected her. "His name is Alec." Then, turning to him, she asked, "Where's your home?"

"The Shaftbury Inn," Alec said. "I live with my mum and father there. We own it. That's where I saw Eva, outside our place when I was going off to the docks."

"Oh, I know the Shaftbury," the woman said. "Your cook, Elizabeth Greshem, she comes to market to shop. She's a grand woman."

"Aye," Alec said, impatient to move on.

"And are you on your way to market today, Alec?" the woman asked. "Might Eva step along?"

Earlier, he would have said no. But Eva seemed so different today—happier. It had been a long time since he had roamed about with someone young. Besides, Aga's grocery sack over his shoulder betrayed him.

"I told Aga that I'd collect some packages for her, and I've got stops to make besides, but if you don't mind if we take some time, she's welcome to come."

"Oh, that would be lovely," the woman answered. "Eva needs to get a better look at the town. She'll be staying with us for some time, and I'll want her to run errands. So walking about with you can help both of us. You really don't mind?"

"I'll take a longer route," Alec said, "and show her some of Dover. We'll be a bit."

"We've nothing pressing," the lady responded, juggling the parcels in her arms. "Eva is safe with you, I'm sure. And you can help her with her English. She doesn't like to be alone, so don't let her off on her own."

"Aye," Alec said, realizing the errands would now be harder than he thought. "We'll be careful. But she'll be able to find your home when we're done?" Alec asked. He couldn't let anything interfere with his plans for later.

"Get her to Market Street and she'll do fine," the woman answered. "Thanks, lad."

Alec turned to face Eva. "Well," he began, "we're not far from Dover Priory. Let's walk there; it's near Lawton's Jewelry. Then you can see where the train station and the jeweler are."

As they started out, Alec felt odd. He'd never walked around Dover with a girl before. He'd always been alone or with Aga or his mum. He wasn't sure why he should feel any different, but for some reason, he did.

Eva walked slower than he did, noticing everything along the way. Scones cooled in a bakery window, and she pressed her face against the glass, as if trying to smell them. The newsagent, Mr. Kelly, saw them pass by and winked at Alec. Alec picked up his pace—but Eva didn't stay with him.

"What's wrong, Eva?" he asked, turning to face her. "Don't you want to go along?"

"Meine Tante—my aunt. She tries to help me," Eva said, moving to him.

"I can walk slower if you'd like," Alec said. "I don't have to hurry." He was confused. He didn't want to be too close to Eva, yet the space between them now seemed awkward. It was a strange feeling—wanting to be rid of her, yet wanting to be with her at the same time. He thought about taking her hand so they could keep the same pace as they walked. He was just about to reach for it when they turned the corner near Dover Priory and came upon a scene that made both of them stop and stare.

Groups of people were milling about outside the station. The hissing of the train's engine could barely be heard above the cries of children as they pleaded with their parents not to leave them.

Then a queue began to form, and people slowly made their way toward the doors of the station. Eva and Alec moved closer. Parents shuffled their children along, clutching packages and small suitcases. Alec stared at the crowd. Though he'd heard about it for days, he had not imagined that the children would actually be shipped out like parcels.

Eva edged closer still, and Alec followed. All the children had papers pinned to their clothing. There were Lester Donovan, Dover and Callie Everett, Ramsgate. One little lass wore a pink tag and a matching bonnet. The tag read Sarah Nelson, Dover. In the thickness of the crowd, the smell of sweat and urine burned Alec's eyes as small children, bundled in wool coats for weather to come, queued up to find a spot.

Alec and Eva moved to the side of the station where they could see the train waiting for its passengers. They saw fathers and mothers picking up their little ones and placing them on the top step of the train. Thrusting a bag or suitcase at them, the parents hurried away, unable to bear the sight of their children crying for them.

"Mum! Dad! Mum, don't leave!" Lester Donovan cried. But then someone from within the train car reached through the doorway and gently led him inside. As Alec watched, the scene replayed itself over and over again—weeping parents handing off their weeping children to strangers.

Swallowing hard, Alec turned to Eva and saw her eyes flash from the children to him and then again to the children. She backed away.

Alec reached for her hand. "Eva," he said to her. "Eva, it's all right. They're being sent to safety. They'll come back. Eva, what's wrong?"

But Eva didn't answer. Instead, she broke through the crowd and ran from the station.

"Eva!" Alec called. "Eva, wait. Wait!" he called again, chasing her down the narrow lane. "Eva, stop!"

He raced after her, the grocery sack flapping behind him. Turning a corner, he reached her just as she stopped for a bakery lorry coming down the lane.

"Eva," Alec gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Eva, where are you going?"

"Weg," Eva said. "Ich musste—I had—I had to run. I had to get away from them—from die Kinder," she said, almost in a whisper.

"I know it's sad to see, Eva. But the children need to be safe. Their parents are sending them inland to be away if the war comes to England. They'll be back," Alec explained.

"Nein, Alec," Eva said angrily. "Es ist auf immer—it is forever. They will never get back. I know. They won't come back. They are like me. Ich bin so eine—I am one like them."

"I know," Alec said. "But you're safe here. You have your aunt. She'll take care of you until—"

"She's not my aunt. Frau Miller—she's meine Freundin, my parents' friend. They thought I was in danger. In Deutschland. So they put me on a train—like die Kinder back there—and sent me away. Then I got a boat—for London. Ich—I—I stayed in an orphanage until meine Tan—Frau Miller sent me train fare to Dover. I've been with her since."

Alec watched Eva's face. The empty eyes he'd noticed the first time he saw her—the story explained her eyes. The lines creasing her forehead were not the lines of a fourteen-year-old. "She has been kind," Eva continued, picking every word carefully, "teaching me English ... and keeping me safe. But Ich—I don't want to be safe, I want to be home."

"But you need to be safe," Alec assured her. "And you'll get back home. Your parents will see to that." As he spoke, he doubted his own words. The dark feeling from the night before was hovering again.

" Meine aunt—she wants me to make this my home. She thinks if I learn about Dover, I'll feel safer. But Ich bin—but I am—I am a Jew. I am not safe even here. I've heard the others. They think Hitler will strike England because we are here. They want us to leave."

Alec thought about Douglas. Quickly, he changed the subject. "Come with me," he said. "It's my mum's birthday soon, and I have a gift to pick up at the jeweler's. Come along. We'll go to market first and then to Lawton's."

For a moment, Eva looked as though she wouldn't go. Then Alec took her hand, and she didn't resist.

He looked again at Eva. She had lost her home. He wanted to protect her. He was sure Douglas wasn't the only Brit ready to toss the Jews out of England. In fact, just a few days earlier, his father had complained about the Jewish orphans.

"We've no room for Jews here," his father had said. "We've rationed our food and fuel—why should we feed those who aren't like us?"

Now Eva walked next to Alec, hundreds of miles from her home, running from Hitler just as the British army was doing in France. The captain was right—war touched everyone.

As they walked hand in hand, Alec recognized shop owners and seamen from the area. Charlie from the docks turned up Snargate Street, but not before he gave Alec a big wave. Dr. Henchley sauntered by, his medical kit in his hand, and slapped Alec on the back.

"G'day, laddie. Who's your pretty lass?" he said.

"Her name's Eva," Alec called back, and kept walking. But if they were suspicious of Eva, Alec couldn't tell. He decided that they thought she was just a guest at the inn. He felt good being with her. How long had it been since he had felt so necessary? So valued? He found himself wishing the day would pass slowly.

Eva spoke quietly. As she grew calmer, her English improved. "Mein papa—he ist a lawyer, a criminal lawyer in Magdeburg," Eva said. "He has a good business; we have nice things and many Freunde. They like us and our Haus. We had many guests. Meine Mutter; she is a kind lady and she helped me with my school studies. I wore fine dresses and did well in school. I was happy."

Alec didn't interrupt. Eva needed to talk, to tell someone that she was part of a real family. She picked at her dress as if to say that this was not what she was used to, that this was not what she had left behind.

"We didn't do anything wrong. You must believe me," Eva pleaded. "One day I was attending die Schule, and then the next day Papa told me I could not go back. When I asked why, he said that all Jewish students had been refused die Schule. It was a sad day. I loved meine studies, and then suddenly I could never go again."

"Without notice?" Alec asked.

"They didn't care what happened. They just didn't want us in die Schule. So mein Mutter und meine Tante gathered books and taught us. But soon, the Nazis ordered all books destroyed. It was das Ende—the end."

"And then what happened?" They had stopped walking and stood facing each other on the lane.

"Mane Mutter bought me a nice dress and coat and packed a bag. And one night, she and Papa took me to the Bahnhof—to the railway station. They said I would be in an orphanage at first, and then their friend would call for me from Dover."

Alec could barely hear Eva now. He stepped toward her and bent down to listen.

"I was crying when Papa lifted me off the platform and put me on the Zug. Mutter was trying not to cry, too. I begged them to come with me. To not make me go alone. But they said they couldn't; the Nazis had taken their papers. They said they would come soon and get me. Ein Jahr. That was one year ago. I've heard nothing since.... Ein Mädchen—one girl—she was sitting near the door. I saw her Mutter on the platform. And then, just before the Zug started to move ... her Mutter—she ran onto der Zug, picked up her girl, and carried her off. Through the window, I saw the girl's arms around her Mutter's neck. She wouldn't let her go. I wish mein papa had saved me like that."

Alec watched as Eva kicked a stone on the walk. Her head was down, and though she wasn't crying, Alec feared she might. He didn't know what to say to her. How many times had he wished to be free of his home? And his young friend was aching to find hers. None of it made sense to him anymore. Not his father, not the war, not even Eva. What was she supposed to do if her parents never came? Could she stay with her "aunt" forever?

"Perhaps he did save you, Eva," Alec whispered. "You just may not know it yet."

Eva tugged the front of her dress and then looked at Alec. She was ready to move on.

Listening to her, Alec felt again the dark power of war. Eva had been in England a year, and in that time Hitler and his Nazis had moved quickly through Europe. Now they were threatening to ruin England. Alec feared they could. If they treated their own people as Eva had said, the Nazis would not turn from France or beyond. And if Mr. Sharpley was right, England had been left unprotected. Alec wanted to forget about errands and go home. Anything he did now seemed unimportant compared to what was happening a few miles across the Channel.

Walking along with Eva at his side, he thought again about his plans for the White Horse. There was no time left; he would go that night.

At the market, Alec was careful to keep Eva close by. The place was in chaos. In the center, greengrocers peddled potatoes and turnips and squash. Near the outside, bakers held their loaves aloft and shouted to the crowd, "Hot buns for sale here, mate. Get some for your supper while they're fresh!"

One butcher, trying hard to earn his wage, called out, "Lovely meat! Lovely meat! The same what the nobility eats—lovely meat!"

"Aye, the nobility," the baker shouted back, "the nobility gets all the bread and meat it wants. They're not pinched for ration cards and pork. They get what they want, they do—and we just see our rations get smaller and smaller. Why, I cannit get flour for my bakin most days. Never know until tomorrow if I'll even 'ave' ot bread to sell."

After collecting their cabbage and potatoes and bread for the evening's supper, Alec led the way as they moved up Larkin Street toward Lawton's Jewelry. Neither spoke. Then Alec broke the silence. "It's a Celtic cross I'm buying. Mum will like it, I'm sure. My friend Will showed me one before he shipped out. His grandda had given it to him when he was my age. Will is never without it. He believes it brings him hope."

"Everyone wants hope," Eva sighed. "I'm sure your Mutter will like it."

Later, holding the cross in his hand, Alec felt proud to have earned enough to buy his mother a gift. "You know that silver's a rare find now, lad?" the shopkeeper had said. "Like everything else, the war's taking all the fine metals from us. You're lucky I had this one. Guard it well."

Alec had promised him that the cross would be well taken care of. He could hardly wait to give it his mum.

For the rest of the day, Alec and Eva moved about Dover, visiting the post office and wandering along Castle Hill Road, and York and even Snargate streets—though Alec warned Eva against going into the pub district alone. By the time they were done, they had only a few minutes to stop at Cooper's Sweets before hurrying home for supper.

"When will we meet again?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he answered, feeling his face flushing red. "I've—I've got to go out on the Britannia tomorrow, and after that, I don't know."

"Ja? I can come to your inn tomorrow afternoon, then?"

Alec didn't answer. He certainly didn't want her snarling things up that night. But he didn't want to make her angry, either, and not see her again. He had liked being with her—had liked having her walking next to him through the town. But right now, he had other plans. So he stood quietly at the corner of her street and waited for her to speak again. She didn't.

"Maybe on a day when the Britannia's docked," Alec finally said. "Maybe then I could come by for a visit."

She looked defeated and turned quickly toward her aunt's house.

He thought about going after her, maybe to set a specific day to meet, but she was out of sight before he could make up his mind. So he swung around toward the Shaftbury, where he was certain Aga was waiting for her packages.

That odd sadness crept over him again. He wondered where it came from. He'd been fine before Eva. He didn't need her. Still, he couldn't make himself hurry away. Why was he so confused? She was only a girl. She wasn't like the sea. The sea held adventure. And it didn't talk back. He could make a good wage roaming the sea. A girl would only take the money he'd make. Why waste his time?