Sea Music. Sara MacDonald

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СКАЧАТЬ We have so many good friends here, you are respected by everyone. The patients and the staff love you. We have standing here, my dear, and financial means, if things get difficult.’

      Papa stares at Mama and shakes his head. ‘Esther’, he says quietly, ‘I beg you not to bury your head. Things are not just difficult, they are dangerous. What is the good of money if we cannot keep Marta safe? Please, you must accept what is happening. Everyone is fearing the worst. Both Germans and Poles are jumpy and frightened. Everyone is looking out for themselves. You must not count on anyone except fellow Jews. You will see, our Polish neighbours and German colleagues will not want to know us if Poland is invaded.’

      They stare at each other over the space that was once a garden full of flowers and now contains only things they can eat. Marta knows her father is frustrated by her mother, who has never in her life faced hardship or loss, and cannot yet grasp what is happening. Cannot, or is reluctant to face the end of their way of life.

      ‘Heinrich will see we are all right. Heinrich won’t let anything happen to us. I know it. You are colleagues, Paul. You are friends. Our children have played together nearly all their lives.’

      Papa walks abruptly towards the house. He does not see Marta sitting up in the window, listening. ‘Esther!’ he says angrily. ‘We are Jews. His wife comes from one of the old Imperial families. Do you really think that Heinrich can protect us from anything? What is the matter with you? Are your eyes shut? How can you fail to notice what is going on around you? Do you think our money can project us against this rising tide of anti-Semitism? Do you?’

      Marta’s mother grows pale at her husband’s anger. He is a gentle man who does not raise his voice. Esther is not used to people being unkind to her. She was a spoilt child and went straight on to being a sheltered and beautiful child-wife. ‘Our children have known each other, played together … all their lives,’ she repeats.

      ‘That time is over. It is gone. They are children no more,’ Papa says firmly. ‘I don’t want that boy, who has the makings of a dangerous little Nazi, anywhere near Marta.’

      His voice is sad: ‘Heinrich and I have known each other for longer than I care to remember. But whatever he privately feels about what is happening, they are Germans, Esther, and we are on the brink of war. Already the family are distancing themselves. At work I am being relieved of many of my patients, many of my duties. If the Germans invade Poland, I Would be relieved of all of them. You must understand, Esther, I could lose my clinic, my life’s work and probably all my money.’

      ‘You can’t know that!’ Mama’s voice is full of panic. ‘England will stop the Germans, you’ll see, Paul.’ She claps her hand to her mouth.

      Papa says quietly, ‘I Wish with all my heart I could protect you and Marta from what is coming, but I can’t. I cannot leave. I am a doctor and will be needed. The only thing I can do is send you both to England.’

      Mama stares at him, suddenly very sure. ‘No, Paul, We stay together as a family. Whatever happens, We stay together.’

      Marta, sitting up in the window of her room, shivers. She looks down on her arms, which are covered in goose bumps as if a cold wind has suddenly sprung up. She runs down the stairs, past her mother and across the garden to her father and clutches his arms. ‘Don’t send me away,’ she cries. ‘You’re frightening me, Papa.’

      Her father holds her hands between his for a moment and apologises for frightening her. He tries to change the subject, Make her laugh. He calls Pepe, their dog, and as they set off for their evening walk together he tells Marta about England and his friends who live there.

      ‘England is a very beautiful place, full of rivers and trees. In the towns there are parks to sit in the sun. People take their children and picnic and sail small boats in lakes. People mix freely, Matusia …’ Marta’s papa takes her arm. ‘A distant cousin of mine has offered to take you in. This is a great opportunity for you to learn, to extend your education. You are so good at languages … My dear child, I need to persuade your mama to let you go even if she will not leave me. You must trust me and help me to convince her that it really is the best thing to do.’

      Marta is silent, for she knows Mama is right: they must all stay together. The birds of evening are singing and fluttering, caught in the blossom of the huge apple tree at the bottom of the next-door garden, where she plays with the boy. Marta listens to the noise the birds are making and her fear is back. She shivers again, her father draws her away and they circle the wood and go home for supper.

      Marta remembers that walk. It was the last walk she ever took with her father without fear, without the hated yellow armband with the star.

      Coming into Martha’s bedroom, Kate sees that despite the warmth of the room, Martha is shivering with cold, sitting upright in bed, her tiny limbs trembling. She looks in the cupboard and finds a pale blue mohair sweater, which she wraps round Martha. Then she helps her into her trousers, which she has taken off. Her legs are like sticks and slightly misshapen. Odd little legs.

      Kate chats to Martha while she does these things, but Martha is a long, long way away and Kate knows in Martha’s head there is a different scene playing.

      Twenty minutes later Kate has both the old people safely in the back of her car. She drives out of the gates and takes the road towards Newlyn.

      As they drive along Kate thinks about how she will cope once she parks the car. She must hang on to both of them without seeming like a sheepdog. She is not going to lose them twice.

      She turns the radio on low and twiddles the knob to Classic FM. Fred turns contentedly towards the sea as they reach the coast road. Frothy waves are bouncing off the sea wall and the sun glints on the surface of the sea in dancing sparks.

      Martha does not see the sea. She is still somewhere far in the past. She is worrying about her knitting needle. Has someone stolen it? Her knitting needle is vital. Before she goes to bed she wants to poke it into the holes. She wants to poke out those revolting bugs that stop her sleeping.

      ‘My knitting needle,’ she murmurs.

      Kate looks at her through the car mirror. ‘Don’t worry, Martha,’ she says comfortingly. ‘We’ll find it when we get you home.’

      Fred folds her tiny hand in his large one and Martha is soothed. She looks out and sees the shimmering blueness of the sea and the bright fishing boats heading in and out of Newlyn, and is enchanted.

      As they drive past the harbour with the heavy trawlers and sleek yachts crammed together, the wind catching their stanchions and making a wonderful clinking sound, Martha smiles happily.

      ‘How beautiful,’ she says to Fred, turning to him. ‘How beautiful, darling.’

      Fred, seeing her lovely smile, smiles too, his heart aching with love and fear. All his life he has protected her, now the knowledge that he can no longer do so is slowly killing him. He brings her hand to his mouth.

      ‘My beloved little Martha,’ he whispers.

      Kate turns the car round at the end of the road and drives back to park near the gallery. Watching their faces, she realises they don’t get out enough. She will try and change that.

      ‘What did you say?’ she asks Dr Tremain.

      ‘I said, it’s a long time since I was last here,’ Fred says clearly.

      Kate smiles.

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