French accent, and chattered cheerfully to Mama on the way up in the lift. But as they entered the flat she remembered that Max was at school and the day suddenly felt dull again. She helped Mama unpack the shopping but after that she could think of nothing to do.
Grete was washing some clothes in the bathroom and for a moment Anna wondered whether to go and talk to her. But Grete was grumpier than ever since her holiday in Austria. She thought everything in France was awful. The language was impossible, the people were dirty, the food was too rich – nothing suited her. In addition Grete’s mother had extracted several more promises from her during her stay at home. Apart from always having to get her proper sleep Grete had promised her mother to be careful of her back, which meant that she could only wash the floors very slowly and not at all in the corners, and not to strain her wrists. She had also promised always to have a good lunch, to rest when she was tired and never to catch cold.
Grete was very anxious to keep all these promises which were constantly being threatened by requests from Mama and the rest of the family, and they cropped up in her conversation almost as often as her disapproval of the French.
Anna did not feel she could face her just now and she wandered back to Mama in the kitchen and said, “What shall I do?”
“You could read some French,” said Mama.
Mademoiselle Martel had left a book of stories for Anna to read, and she sat down in the dining room and struggled with it for a while. But it was meant for children much younger than herself and it was depressing to sit working away with the dictionary by her side, only to discover that Pierre had thrown a stick at his little sister and that his mother had called him a naughty boy.
Lunch came as a relief and Anna helped to put the things on the table and to clear them away afterwards. Then she did some painting, but still the time passed terribly slowly until at last, well after five o’clock, the door bell rang to announce Max’s return. Anna rushed to let him in and found Mama already at the door.
“Well, how was it?” cried Mama.
“All right,” said Max, but he looked white and tired.
“Isn’t it nice?” asked Anna.
“How do I know?” said Max crossly. “I can’t understand a word anyone says.”
He was silent and morose for the rest of the evening. Only after supper he suddenly said to Mama, “I’ve got to have a proper French briefcase.” He kicked the German satchel which he normally carried strapped to his back. “If I go round carrying this I even look different from everyone else.”
Anna knew that briefcases were expensive and without thinking she said, “But your satchel was only new last year!”
“What’s that to do with you?” shouted Max. “You don’t know anything about it, sitting at home all day!”
“It isn’t my fault that I don’t go to school!” Anna shouted back. “Just because Mama can’t find one for me to go to.”
“Well, until you do go you can shut up!” cried Max, and after this they did not speak to each other any more even though Mama, to Anna’s surprise, promised to let Max have the briefcase.
It was miserable, thought Anna. She had been looking forward to Max coming home all day, and now they’d had a row. She was determined that next day should be different, but it turned out much the same. Max came home so tired and irritable that before long they had another quarrel.
Then, to make it worse, the weather turned wet and Anna got a cold so that she could not go out. She began to feel cooped up in the flat day after day, and by evening both she and Max were so bad-tempered that they could hardly say a civil word to each other. Max felt it was unfair that he should have to struggle through long difficult days at school while Anna stayed at home, and Anna felt that Max was making enormous headway in this new world they were going to live in and worried in case she might never catch up.
“If only I could go to school – just anywhere!” Anna said to Mama.
“You can’t go just anywhere,” said Mama crossly. She had looked at several schools but none of them had been any good. She had even asked Madame Fernand. It was a very depressing time.
Papa was tired too. He had been working hard and had caught Anna’s cold, and now he had started having nightmares again. Mama said that he had had them before, but at the Gasthof Zwirn the children had not been aware of them. He always dreamt the same thing – that he was trying to get out of Germany and was being stopped by the Nazis at the frontier. Then he woke up shouting.
Max was such a heavy sleeper that Papa’s nightmares did not disturb him, even though Papa’s room was next door, but Anna always heard him and it distressed her dreadfully. If Papa had woken up quickly with one big shout it would not have been so bad. But the nightmares always started slowly with Papa moaning and making frightening grunting sounds until at last they exploded into a great cry.
The first time it happened Anna thought Papa must be ill. She ran into his room and stood helplessly by his bed, calling for Mama. But even when Mama had explained to her about the nightmares and Papa had told her not to worry, she felt just as bad about them. It seemed terrible to lie in bed listening to Papa and knowing that in his dreams awful things were happening to him.
One night after she had gone to bed Anna wished very hard that Papa could stop having nightmares.
“Please, please,” she whispered – for though she did not exactly believe in God she always hoped that there might be someone who could arrange these things – “Oh please let me have nightmares instead of Papa!” Then she lay quite still, waiting to fall asleep, but nothing happened.
Max cuddled his pillow close to his face, sighed twice and immediately dropped off. But what seemed like hours later Anna was still lying there, staring at the dark ceiling and wide awake. She began to feel very cross. How could she have a nightmare if she could not even go to sleep? She had tried doing sums in her head and to think of all sorts of boring things, but nothing had been any use. Perhaps it would help if she got up for a drink of water? But her bed was so comfortable that she decided against it.
However, she must have got up after all in the end, for she suddenly found herself in the hall. She was no longer thirsty, so she thought she would go down in the lift to see what the street looked like in the middle of the night. To her surprise she found the concierge asleep in a hammock slung across the front door and had to ease her aside in order to get out. Then the door slammed behind her – she hoped the concierge would not wake up – and she was in the street.
It was very quiet and there was a curious brown glow over everything that she had never seen before. Two men hurried past, carrying a Christmas tree.
“Better get inside,” said one of them. “It’s coming!”
“What’s coming?” asked Anna, but the men disappeared round the corner and at the same time she could hear a shuffling sound from the opposite direction. The brown glow became stronger and then a huge, long creature heaved into view at the top of the street. Although it was so vast there was something familiar about it and Anna suddenly realized that it was Pumpel, grown to gigantic proportions. The shuffling sound was made by his legs and he looked at Anna with his little spiteful eyes and licked his lips.
“Oh, no!” said Anna.
She tried
