The Cigarette Girl. Caroline Woods

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СКАЧАТЬ you liked first aid? It will be disastrous for us if we don’t figure out how to be independent, completely disastrous, don’t you understand?”

      Grete backed away a few steps, her lip trembling, and Berni’s anger fizzled. She reached for Grete. “Never mind, little bird. I’m sorry. So it won’t be the academy. It will be something else. I will mend this.” She felt Grete shiver. “Don’t worry.”

      • • •

      The next day began the same way. When Sister Odi blew her whistle at the front of the dormitory, every girl leapt up, bare feet on the cold floor, except Berni. Sister Odi left her alone. She stayed curled against her pillow, eyes squeezed shut, until she felt someone large and soft plop onto the mattress behind her. She heard the creak of Sister Josephine’s knees.

      “My dear Berni. My spirited child. It is not too late to repent. This silly disagreement between you and the reverend mother—you should not allow it to consume your soul.”

      She felt a cool hand against the burning skin of her neck. “Silly? She’s against us, Grete and me. She doesn’t care. Why should I sit behind her at Mass and pretend she’s holy?” Why, she thought, burrowing further into her blanket, should she be the one to give in?

      The hand withdrew. Sister Josephine seemed to be thinking. Finally she said, “You’re wanted in the office. I’m told you’re to bring your hidden contraband. Tread carefully, Berni. If you won’t take the rest of my advice, at least do this. Tread carefully.”

      Berni waited until Sister Josephine had gone, then sat up, rubbing her eyes. She trudged listlessly back to the scene of violence, the umbrella bumping against her thigh as she walked. She felt like a used dish on its way to a sink of hot water.

      She was surprised to find the woman from Fiedler’s department store sitting in the office, wearing a green dress and a tilted hat of black felt. When she turned her head, her blond hair swished. She gasped when she saw Berni’s eye. “Du Lieber! What’s happened to this child?”

      Sister Maria worked her lower jaw back and forth. The thin red welt running from her earlobe to her chin looked painful. “Bernadette, can you explain your appearance to Fräulein Schmidt?” Her mouth spread smugly, and Berni knew then she’d been in the courtyard and had done nothing. Berni touched the puffed skin of her eye. Her fingertips felt very cold. Flatly she told Fräulein Schmidt that three girls had held her down and beat her.

      “That’s what they always say.” Sister Maria chuckled. “The fights are never their fault.”

      “Don’t you at least want to ask who hit her?” Fräulein Schmidt asked. “Or call in witnesses?” Berni tried not to grin.

      “Berni,” said Sister Maria, sounding tired and irritated, “you have something that belongs to Fräulein Schmidt?”

      Fräulein Schmidt smiled and thanked Berni when she handed her the umbrella.

      “All is settled,” Sister Maria said. “You may go, Bernadette.”

      Before Berni could leave, Fräulein Schmidt grabbed her forearm. “Tell me,” she asked the reverend mother. “What do you know of her parents?” Sister Maria froze as Fräulein Schmidt went on. “Are they alive? Do the families ever reclaim the girls?”

      Berni’s heart thudded. For a moment even she thought this woman had gone too far.

      “Fräulein Schmidt,” said Sister Maria. “We do not examine the backgrounds of the girls we raise. Each one starts out the same—humble, as we are all humbled before God.”

      The two women locked eyes in silence for a while, and then Fräulein Schmidt peered up at Berni from under her asymmetrical hat. “Why don’t you wait outside for a little while?”

      Berni did as she was told, coughing, dabbing pus out of her eye with her sleeve. Finally, the door opened, and Fräulein Schmidt’s slim figure emerged. “It’s been decided. You’ll come live with me.”

      The words sounded too good to be true. “Live with you?”

      Fräulein Schmidt flexed her fingers, then pulled back a glove to check her watch. “Yes. I live in Schöneberg, on the southern side of Berlin. I have an extra room to let.”

      Berni hesitated. “The sisters will let me go?”

      “Darling,” Fräulein Schmidt said gently, “they don’t want you corrupting the others.”

      • • •

      In the early morning Berni nudged Grete as soon as she saw a hint of pink through the windows, then went to scrub her face and teeth. When she returned, she found Grete sitting atop the blanket, still in her nightclothes. Her childlike legs, warm and wrinkled from sleep, were curled atop the one wool cardigan Berni planned to smuggle away. She’d been told she could take only one skirt and one blouse, and in the night she’d packed the same for Grete.

      “Get dressed,” Berni whispered, stroking her sticky hair. “Today we begin a new adventure.” Slowly, Grete complied.

      Sister Maria waited in the corridor to escort them outside; she did so in silence. The welt on her face was beginning to scab. At the door to the yard, Berni felt a tug at her heart when she saw that Sister Josephine would see them off as well. “I must be getting old,” she said, her plump face streaked to the chin with tears. “It seems only yesterday you two came in as babies.” She allowed Grete to tuck under her arm, so that Berni could no longer see her face.

      After only a minute, a muscular black motorcar growled under the arched entryway to the courtyard, the grille in front as tall as Grete. Fräulein Schmidt hopped down from the driver’s side, her red lipstick stark against the flat scenery. “How do you do, Bernadette?” she said, disregarding the two nuns, who seemed ruffled in her presence. “Oh, and Grete! Little Grete, what are you doing here?”

      “She’s coming with us,” Berni said.

      “I see. I hadn’t realized. Well—all right. I can make space.”

      Berni turned to Grete, excited now: the last obstacle to their departure had been lifted. The adventure could begin. But Grete hadn’t let go of Sister Josephine. This was to be expected; Berni had known there would be some resistance, that Grete needed persuading. She dug through the fabric of Sister Josephine’s cloak to find her sister’s piping-hot face.

      “Come on,” Berni said, a frog in her throat. “It’ll be fine.”

      “I’ll start the Maybach,” Fräulein Schmidt said with a nod to Sister Josephine, and she walked toward the car. A little whimper came from under Sister Josephine’s sleeve.

      Berni pressed her lips to Grete’s ear. “Come now. If we need to escape, we can.” The engine started behind them, with terrible timing; it lurched and wheezed.

      “I can’t,” Grete said, her voice tiny. “How do we know what she’ll do with us?” Berni wanted to shake her, to force her to see this was their best chance.

      Sister Josephine laid her gnarled fingers on top of Berni’s and nodded. “I’ll make sure she’s taken care of, Bernadette.” She glanced toward Sister Maria, who stood apart from them, her hands hidden in her cowl.

      Berni СКАЧАТЬ