Remember Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

around making bird noises and the pigeons scattered. The old lady said, “Goodbye, dear,” and left.
    It was getting cold; other people were leaving. This was the first time Marianne could remember sitting on a bench that wasn’t marked FOR ARYANS ONLY – the first time she’d been in a park where Jews could sit anywhere they liked, not only on yellow benches. It was late; the afternoon was over.
    When she found her way out of the gates, she didn’t know which way to go. She must have come out through a different entrance. It was almost dark.
I’m lost.
An English policeman walked past her.
Is it safe to speak to him?
    “Please,” Marianne sobbed.
    He turned and walked back and looked at her. “Now then,” he said, “no need to cry. Did someone hurt you?”
    Marianne hadn’t realized she was crying. She shook her head, wiped her eyes, and fumbled for the piece of paper with her address on it. The policeman took it. He spoke too fast for Marianne to understand more than a few “lefts” and “rights.”
    “Please, I don’t understand,” she said.
    “Follow me,” said the policeman, and walked her all the way home to her gate.
    Aunt Vera’s horrified face, when Gladys opened the front door and said, “Here she is, Madam,” told Marianne that she must have seen the policeman. “Where have you been? What will the neighbors think?” She sounded very angry. Not worried – angry – embarrassed angry.
    “Sorry,” said Marianne. “I lose the way.”
    Aunt Vera talked loudly at her for a long time before sending her into the kitchen for tea. Marianne was in disgrace.

• 6 •
“Old enough to know better”
    A unt Vera came into the kitchen, where Marianne faced an unfamiliar Sunday breakfast of fried bread, bacon, and eggs. “Good morning. Finish your breakfast quickly, Mary Anne. Church begins at 10:00 A.M. Gladys, dinner at the usual time, so you can finish early. Mary Anne may eat with us in the dining room today.” Mrs. Abercrombie Jones left the kitchen and shut the door.
    Marianne carried her plate to the sink. “I wash dishes?” she asked.
    “No, thanks. Better get ready for church,” said Gladys.
    “Please, what is ‘church’?”
    Gladys turned to her with a look of shock.
    Now what have I done?
This was the trouble in a new country – you never knew when you said or did the wrong thing.
    Aunt Vera called out impatiently, “Mary Anne, put your hat on. We’ll be late.”
    Marianne walked behind Aunt Vera and Uncle Geoffrey along the High Street to a beautiful old gray stone building, with a tall spire. Organ music greeted them. Marianne knew immediately why Gladys had looked so horrified when she’d asked what “church” was. “Church” meant
Kirche.
She’d forgotten the word, that’s all. She used to pass
Neuekirche
– New Church – on the way to visit her father’s bookshop, and the French Church was near
Unter den Linden
on the
Französichstrasse.
This was the first time she’d been inside one.
    They sat down in one of the long shiny pews. Men and women together. Black leather prayer books were on a ledge in front of them, and a cloth-covered footstool was on the floor at each person’s place. Marianne was so busy looking at the stained glass window of Jesus wearing long white robes, surrounded by sheep, that she was late standing up. Aunt Vera gave her a small push. Everyone sang, even Aunt Vera and Uncle Geoffrey. Then they all sat down again.
    A man who looked strangely familiar, dressed in black robes covered by a sort of white overshirt, began to speak. He went on for a long time and Marianne dozed. She opened her eyes when he stopped, and there was a great shuffle while everyone knelt on the little footstools.
    Suddenly Marianne remembered where she’d seen the speaker before. It was the “spy in black,” the one who’d come to greet her on Friday for tea.
    Marianne tugged at Aunt Vera’s sleeve. “Please, Aunt Wera …”
    “Not now, Mary Anne,” Aunt