Something to Remember You By Read online

  Anna burst out laughing.

  “A musical conductor. So I moved to Los Angeles, California, in 1941, and I studied at UCLA with Arnold Schoenberg.”

  “Oh, how wonderful,” Anna said.

  “Yes, but then I was drafted and they made me a medic. And now—may I please ask you one very simple question?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “When did you come to London and how did you get here and do you have a job here and where do you live?”

  “You are a funny man. All right, I tell you a little bit. First of all, I’m Jewish.”

  “So am I,” Tom said.

  “Well, in 1943 Hitler ordered all Danish Jews to be arrested and deported to a concentration camp. He did the same thing the year before in Norway, sending Jews to Auschwitz, but it was different with us. The Germans were supposed to take us by surprise during Rosh Hashanah, but when we arrived for services the rabbi told us not to go home that night. Some of us hid in the morgues in the hospital, some waited in the woods. About eighty Jews were caught hiding in the loft of a church and were betrayed by a young Danish girl who was in love with a German soldier. But the Danish Resistance and ordinary citizens started evacuating almost eight thousand of us to Sweden in fishing boats. When the Nazis suspected how we were leaving they began using police dogs to inspect the boats before they left, but our scientists developed a powder of rabbits’ blood and cocaine. They put it on handkerchiefs and gave them to the captains of the boats. The dogs were attracted to the rabbits’ blood but the cocaine ruined their sense of smell, so they couldn’t find us hiding in the boats.”

  “That was brilliant.”

  “And when we made it to Sweden, the RAF flew those of us who wanted to go to the UK to fight against the Germans. We flew to Scotland. I took a train to London, got a job with the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force of the RAF, and now I wear a pretty blue uniform when I’m on duty.”

  “I admire you.”

  “And I admire you, Lieutenant Tom, for what you must have been through.”

  “The only thing you left out is where you live.”

  “I live on the third floor of a house on Bywater Street in Chelsea. It’s a quiet cul-de-sac just off King’s Road. My landlady is wonderful and the rent is so little. Her husband died during the Blitz and if I’m home when the bombing starts Bertie always holds my hand when she sees that I’m scared.”

  “Anna, I’m on a week’s convalescent leave right now and then they’re going to put me to work again. I’m not sure where, so, may I come visit you while I’m still in London? I mean, visit you where you work or we could go to a movie? I’d be very lonely if I couldn’t see you again.”

  “I’d be happy to see you again, but I think it would be better if we met here in the café. Seven o’clock tomorrow evening? That’s when I get off work—if that’s all right with you?”

  “Sure, but how do I call you, just in case?”

  “No, don’t call me ‘Just in Case,’ call me ‘Anna,’” she said, unable to stifle a giggle.

  EIGHT

  The next evening Tom walked into the Shepherdess Café at a quarter to seven. Since he had become somewhat of a celebrity the night before, their Cockney waiter, who was a foot shorter than Tom, greeted him with a warm hug. “I was hopin’ ta see you again, Guv, and here you are. Isn’t life funny? Is the young lady joining us?”

  “Yes, she’s going to join us at seven.”

  “Brilliant,” the waiter said. “I got a lovely little table for you right here.” When Tom sat down, the pianist began playing, “I’ll See You Again” and nodded to him. Tom nodded back.

  “Sorry we haven’t got the Sancerre anymore, Guv, but I got a lovely bottle of this Moroccan white that I’m told is just like the Sancerre. I’ll keep it in the ice bucket right here beside you so’s you and the lady can have it whenever you’re ready,” and off he went.

  It wasn’t as crowded this night as it was the night before, but people were still coming in. Anna didn’t arrive at 7, or 7:15, but at 7:25 she rushed in, out of breath, but smiling.

  “Sorry, Tom, they gave me a little extra work and then it was so so cold and dark outside. I hope you weren’t worried about my not coming?”

  “No, I was just anxious to see you again.” As he helped Anna into her chair he said, “Our favorite waiter brought us a bottle of Moroccan white wine. He hears that it’s just as good as the Sancerre. Are you ready to try it?”

  “Oh, yes. Please.”

  Tom took the bottle out of the ice bucket and poured both of them half a glass. As they clicked Tom said, “Cheers,” and Anna said, “Skal.”

  After a swallow Anna asked, “What do you think?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s as good as Sancerre, but it’s not bad, considering that we’re in the middle of a war. What did you do at work today?”

  “I shot radio beams into the air.”

  “Radio beams?”

  “Yes. And then I watch to see if they hit any airplanes. If they didn’t, I keep watching. But if I see a blip on my radar, then I wait for a signal that it’s one of our planes.”

  “And if it isn’t?”

  “Then I tell my boss and up go the RAF. What did you do today?”

  “Oh, what I did was much more complicated than that. I went to the Tate Museum and the British Museum and the National Gallery and had a cucumber sandwich and a cup of tea and then went to St. Paul’s Cathedral and the Royal Academy of Music, and then I went to a foot doctor.”

  “You silly, you make more jokes than I do. I think you must have Danish blood in you.”

  “Probably from all the Danish pastry I’ve eaten.”

  “Do you really like Danish pastry, Tom?”

  “Very much, especially if it’s from New York.”

  “Now you’re just playing games with me. What do you want for dinner?” Anna asked with a big smile.

  “Just to be with you and to eat a nice big steak, if they have it.”

  “You feel better tonight, don’t you?”

  “Yes I do. And here comes our waiter!”

  “Good evenin’ to ya, m’lady. Nice to see ya both again. Now then, what’re we havin’ for dinner tonight and how was the Moroccan white wine?”

  “May I ask what your name is?” Tom asked.

  “Alfred, sir. Alfred Hollingberry. But you can just call me Alfred if ya don’t mind, Guv, ’cause you’ll forget Hollingberry in an hour.”

  “Well, the wine was good, Alfred. Thank you very much. As for our dinner … what do you feel like, Anna?”

  “Right now I feel like someone’s warm hand,” she said, “and then I think I’ll just have some grilled salmon, if you have it?”

  “I do, ma’am. Lovely! And, sir?”

  “I would really like a steak if you have it,” Tom said.

  “You could have a wonderful Vienna steak, Guv, and it comes with roast potatoes, and you can have a very good bottle of Moroccan merlot with it. How’s that sound?”

  “What in the world is a Vienna steak?”

  “Well to tell ya the truth, Guv, it’s really just ground meat, like your American hamburger, but it’s mixed with pieces of bread and some wonderful spices and they cook it just right. If you want a real steak I’m afraid that’s almost impossible, except maybe in one of those hoity-toity posh restaurants.”

  “Don’t worry, Alfred, I’ll be very happy with—” but before Tom could finish his sentence the air raid siren rang loudly, modulating back and forth from a high pitch to a low one.

  “Steady as she goes, folks!” Alfred shouted. “You can go right ’round the corner to the Tube,” he said as he ran off to help his customers.

  The crowd around Tom and Anna may have been nervous, but most of them stayed in their seats. A few got up and headed quickly for the Piccadilly Tube station.

  “Are you all right, Anna?”

  “Thank you, yes. I should be used to it by now. It’s just knowing that the bombs are coming.”<
br />
  “Do you want me to take you to the Piccadilly station?”

  “I’d rather stay here with you, if that’s all right. It gets so crowded down there, and the smell isn’t very pleasant. Many of the people sleep there all night. Cots are provided for them. Tell me … tell me who your favorite composers are.”

  “Rachmaninov, Chopin, Schubert, and probably—”

  The first bomb exploded about half a mile away. There was silence for a few seconds and then a mighty explosion was heard from a bomb that landed much closer. Tom saw Anna’s eyes tighten and reached for her hand. She looked up and gave him a smile. “Thank you, Bertie,” she said simply.

  “You’re welcome. I wanted to hold your hand anyway.”

  “It’s funny,” Anna said. “I’m actually very brave. I’m not afraid of very many things, not even when the Nazis were searching for us, but I’m just not used to bombs. When I hear that horrible sound I suddenly feel that my life and everything I love is going to end.”

  “How many of your radio beams hit some planes today?”

  “I … I don’t know, I think … I was … Tom, would you like Bertie’s address and telephone number? I mean, just in case you can’t find me?”

  “Absolutely. Do you have a pen?”

  “Yes, but no paper,” Anna said, handing him her pen.

  “This tablecloth is just plain brown paper,” Tom said as he tore off a small piece. “Okay, I’m ready!”

  “Eighty-four Bywater Street. The phone number is Flaxen 399, but you just have to dial FLA and then the number. Bertie’s name is Cresswell … oh, but she’s gone to visit her sister for the weekend.”

  “Never mind,” Tom said as he put the piece of paper into his jacket pocket. “There, now I’ll never lose you.”

  A flurry of bombs landed nearby. Anna squeezed Tom’s hand but kept looking at him, trying to smile.

  * * *

  FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later the “all clear” sounded. Anna and Tom were still holding hands when Alfred came bouncing up to them with the bottle of Moroccan merlot he promised. “Here ya are, Guv. Not too late, I hope. The salmon and the Vienna steak will be along in a jiff.”

  * * *

  AFTER THEIR dinner Anna stood up slowly. Tom got up and stood next to her. “I’d better go home now, Tom. Thank you so much for holding my hand when I was frightened,” Anna said and gave him a quick kiss. He looked into her eyes for several seconds, then held her face gently in his hands and gave her a long kiss. Anna broke into a huge smile. “Oh, goodness,” she said. “I’m so glad you did that.”

  “Anna, I’m not going to let you go home alone when it’s so dark outside, and cabs will be scarce. I’m at Lower Sloane Street, almost around the corner from you, so I’ll walk you home.”

  “Thank you,” she said, obviously relieved.

  When Tom took out his wallet Anna said, “No, we have to go Dutch.”

  “You’re not Dutch, you’re Danish, so don’t talk silly.” Anna beamed.

  Tom paid the bill, and they both said good night to Alfred, who said, “See ya soon and thanks for the lovely tip.”

  “See you soon,” they both answered as they walked out of the café holding hands.

  NINE

  It wasn’t as cold outside as they thought it would be, it was almost balmy compared to the last few days. The streetlamps wouldn’t be turned on till dawn, but the curbs were painted white since so many people had injured themselves falling off of them. All the cars had their headlights masked with only a slit of light allowed. Tom held Anna’s hand as they walked slowly and talked about Copenhagen and New York and Danish pastry and music.

  “I play the violin,” Anna said, “but I get so confused when I try to play Schoenberg. I just don’t understand him.”

  “Well, I spent six months studying with him in Los Angeles until I was drafted, but his twelve-tone technique and atonal compositions made me dizzy, if that’s any comfort to you. I knew he was a genius, but at the same time I longed for Rachmaninov and Chopin and the major-minor scale system. I suppose it’s like painting … What’s beautiful?”

  “I was the same as you,” Anna said. “Some pieces are so beautiful that they make me cry, and others … well, they give me a headache, so I don’t play them anymore.”

  Tom didn’t speak for what seemed like a long minute, then he said: “Anna … I was very brave when I was surrounded by the Nazis in Bastogne, but to tell you the truth, I’m actually quite shy, at least with women—except when I saw you for the first time at that little table in the café, with that pretty pink bow in your hair. May I ask you something personal?”

  “Yes, I think so,” she said.

  “Have you ever really loved anyone?”

  “Do you mean, have I ever been in love?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I thought I was once, about three years ago. I was only twenty years old, and I was very immature, about physical love at least. I don’t know what I expected him to do, or me to do, and I realized pretty soon that it wasn’t love at all that I felt. I mean not being in love. Did you have many girlfriends, Tom … and have you ever been in love?”

  “I had one girlfriend who I thought I loved and I really wanted to marry her. But I waited so long before I had the courage to propose to her that she married someone else. After awhile I realized how lucky I was, because she didn’t care for music or theater or ballet or opera, or making love … so we had nowhere to go but down. I’m a grateful twenty-five year old now.” Tom stopped when he saw Bywater Street.

  “Oh, no! Here’s your street already. Now I don’t know what to say, because … I don’t want to leave you,” Tom said as he searched Anna’s blue-green eyes.

  Anna put her arms around him and hugged him. “But you’ve already said it, don’t you know that? Come with me. No one’s home and I have a lovely room with a nice shower.”

  * * *

  ANNA HELD Tom’s hand and led him to the third floor and opened the door. It was a quietly beautiful room with heavy rose-colored curtains and a blue bedspread. The window didn’t have a blackout shade but with the curtains covering it no light sneaked out from the only light in the room, which was from a little lamp next to Anna’s bed.

  “Please make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to go into the bathroom to wash up a bit and then put in my little cup. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Don’t go away,” she said with a smile.

  Tom saw a small bookcase on one of the walls. Most of the books were in Danish, but quite a few were in English and French. He took a glance at the French and English titles as he took off his jacket and shirt.

  Candide—Voltaire

  subtitled: “A classic case of optimism in the face of all odds” In English.

  The Count of Monte Cristo—Alexandre Dumas. In English.

  Uncle Tom’s Cabin—Harriet Beecher Stowe. In English.

  Tom Sawyer—Mark Twain. In English.

  Anna’s closet was partially open and the scent that came from it was wonderful. Anna stepped out of the bathroom wearing a pretty lavender robe.

  “Your turn, dear,” she said. “I’ll get us each a small glass of Lillet. Do you like Lillet?”

  “If you like it, I’m sure I will. I’ll be right back.

  After Tom washed up, he came out wearing his underwear, shoes, and socks, and carrying a bath towel. Anna was lying in bed under the covers. Tom sat down on the bed beside her and took off his shoes and socks. “Are you ready for me to come into bed with you?”

  “I am very ready,” she said. Tom took off his underwear and slipped into bed beside her.

  “Take a sip of Lillet with me,” she said as she handed Tom his glass.

  “Skal,” she said.

  “Cheers,” he said as they clicked glasses and tasted their drink.

  “I like it,” Tom said and then kissed her.

  “I hope you will like me, too,” Anna said.

  Tom put his glass down and put his arm under Anna’s head, t
hen placed his naked body against hers.

  “Could we stay like this for a little while?” Anna said. “It’s so comforting.”

  “Of course we can,” Tom said as he touched Anna’s remarkably smooth face and kissed her lips in a way that did not necessarily ask her to become aroused. But when she squeezed him closer he caressed her breasts, kissing each one as if he were still kissing her lips. When Anna pulled him closer with a deep sigh he ran his hand slowly over her belly and along her thigh. They held each other side by side for several minutes until Anna said, “Oh, please, would you come inside me now?” When he did, her face became filled with tears and they both reached bliss. They held each other side by side for three or four minutes, then rolled over onto their backs and talked for almost half an hour, sipping their Lillet and making each other laugh.

  “I’d better leave now,” Tom said. “You have to work tomorrow.”

  Tom got dressed. Anna put on her robe and walked him downstairs. He kissed her again and then felt her tears falling onto his nose. “Anna, why are you still crying?”

  “Because I don’t know when I’ll see you again,” she answered.

  “But we’ll see each other tomorrow night, won’t we?”

  “Of course, dear. Seven o’clock,” she said wiping her tears.

  They kissed each other again and then Tom left.

  TEN

  The guard who checked Tom’s I.D. at the entrance said, “The walkway is over a mile long, sir, and it’s all underground, so please look carefully at the names on the doors so you don’t get lost.”

  Tom walked slowly along the walkway until he saw Col. H on one of the doors. He walked into a room filled with officers sitting at a long table with maps on it. A major, who was doing the talking, looked up when he saw Tom and said, “What’re you looking for, Lieutenant?”

  “I’m looking for Colonel Hartley, sir.”

  “Just knock on that door to your left,” the major said and then turned back to the other officers. Tom walked to the door and knocked. He heard someone inside say, “Come in!”