No One Must Know (16 page)

He stormed off before we could protest, his assistant following in his wake. With a final snicker in our direction, Steve and his cronies left. The crowd around us also dispersed.

“Well, I guess it’s time to go,” Shane said, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, guys,” said Jacob. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper. It cost us the trophy.”

“I’d have done the same,” Sam said.

“So would I,” said David.

“Me too,” added Adam.

The house was empty when I got home. Dad must have talked Mom into going for a drive. I went up to my room
and lay down on my bed. I realized that I knew how Jacob felt. Steve’s insults had made me afraid and powerless, just like Jacob. His insults had become personal. For the first time, I began to understand why Mom wanted to pretend to be somebody she was not. I also began to understand that I had to face the hatred.

While I was brushing my teeth before bed, Dad called up the stairs that somebody wanted to talk to me on the phone. I threw on my robe, pulled on my slippers, and padded downstairs.

“I hope your parents aren’t mad at me for calling you so late,” said Jacob.

I looked at Dad’s annoyed face. “Of course not. What’s up?”

“First of all, I want to thank you for helping me this afternoon. I never knew you were so strong.” He laughed.

“You’d better be careful how you behave with me,” I joked back.

His voice became serious. “When I told my parents what happened at the bowling alley, they were furious. They grounded me for fighting, but then Dad drove me back to speak to the manager. As soon as he understood exactly what had happened, he decided to award us the trophy after all.”

“That’s terrific! Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” He sighed. “The manager wanted to make Steve apologize to me, but I told him not to bother. He wouldn’t mean it,” he said. “I just called the other guys on the team. I thought you’d want to know too.”

“I’m glad you phoned.”

“The team is happy about the cup, but what happened this afternoon ruined it for me.”

“Don’t be silly! It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have controlled my temper. That’s the best way to handle such an ignoramus. The world is full of them, and hitting them won’t solve anything.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t hurt,” I said, remembering Steve’s shocked expression as Jacob knocked him to his knees. “Anyway, it’s good you were given the trophy. You deserved it.”

“Thanks,” he said flatly. “Well, I’d better let you go now,” he added. “Time for bed.”

I never heard him mention the trophy again.

At school the next morning, Molly asked me if I wanted to go with her to the school library to find some books for our English assignment. I said I had no time, but it was as if a lightbulb had gone on in my head. I called Mom from the payphone in the lunchroom at noon and told her I had to go and do some research after school.
Luckily, I had a couple of tickets in my pocket, so I could take the bus to the main branch of the public library, on William Avenue. Since it was the biggest library in the city, I knew it would have more of the books I needed.

I just loved the library – from the musty scent that assailed my nostrils as I pushed open the imposing double doors to the sight of the thousands of volumes lined up on their dark wood shelves. This day, I went straight to the stern librarian, who was seated behind a large oak desk. My footsteps sounded like thunder in the silence of the room.

“Can I help you?” she whispered.

“I want to find out what happened to the Jewish people in Europe during the war,” I said. I’d never noticed that my voice could boom.

She stared at me coldly through her pince-nez. “Why?” she finally asked. “That’s not a suitable topic for a young girl.”

I stood there, frozen. It had never entered my mind that I would have to justify my choice of books. “We have to write an essay about it for social studies class,” I eventually said.

She shook her head disapprovingly. “Well,” she said, “if you insist, I’ll show you some materials in our reference department. You’re welcome to look at the books one at a time, but you cannot take them out.”

I followed her to the back of the library and several glass-fronted cabinets full of heavy volumes. She unlocked the door of one and pulled out a very large book bound in black paper.
Auschwitz
was its title.

“Start with this one. You can look at it here,” she said, pointing to the wooden table and chairs beside the cabinet. “Please return the book to me when you’re done. Then I’ll give you another one.”

She locked the door of the cabinet and was gone.

I took a pencil and a notebook from my school bag and laid them carefully on the table, ready to take notes. I decided to leaf through the book before beginning to read it. It was full of black-and-white photographs. At first, I couldn’t process them. Skeletal figures in striped pajamas. Barbed wire and buildings with high chimneys belching dark smoke into the air. Mountains of bodies. The pictures were relentless. I began to weep silently, mourning the loss of the grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins I was never to know. Then I cried for Mom and Dad, for all they had suffered, for the humiliation they had endured. I cried for their past, with its painful memories, and for their future, which was forever changed.

I must have made more noise than I realized, for suddenly there was a tap on my shoulder and the book was whisked out of my hands.

“I knew it was a bad idea to let you read this,” the librarian said kindly. “Which school did you say you go to? I have a good mind to call your teacher and let him know what I think of his terrible assignment!”

“Please don’t,” I muttered, shrugging into my jacket and hustling out the door as quickly as I could manage.

Mom was in the kitchen when I got home. Dad was still in his office, so I was able to run upstairs without being seen. After I’d washed my face, I looked like I always did, although my eyes were slightly red. Only then did I go downstairs to say hello to Mom. I told her that I’d been at the library with Molly. I never told her about the photographs I’d seen.

“H
urry up! Molly and her mother will be here soon,” I called up the stairs.

I was sitting in the living room, dressed in my Girl Guide uniform, waiting for Mom to get ready for our tea at the Sports Club. Dad was out on a house call, so Mrs. Windsor was driving us.

When another few minutes passed and there was still no sign of Mom, I bounded up the staircase to find her. She was lying on her bed in her slip, a wet cloth covering her eyes.

“I have a migraine,” she said. “I can’t go with you. Molly and her mother will take you.”

“You promised you’d come!” My voice came out in a childish wail.

“I’m very sorry.”

“You went to the Ladies’ Auxiliary meeting!” I said.

“I knew all the women there. There will be too many strangers at your tea.”

I sat down on the side of her bed and burst into tears. “Please, Mom, you’ve got to come. All the mothers will be there! I’ll stay with you the whole time, I promise. I’ll even hold your hand.”

She sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and put her arms around my shoulders.

“Stop crying, dear. I know I’m unfair to you.” She stared at the floor for a minute, deep in thought, then raised her head and squared her shoulders. “Take my black suit out of the closet while I brush my hair and put on some lipstick.”

Ten minutes later, we were in Mrs. Windsor’s car. Mom was sitting up front, beside Mrs. Windsor, while Molly and I were in the back seat. On my knees I was balancing a pretty plate with a cherry cheesecake on it, and Molly was clutching a fancy ceramic bowl filled with chocolate chip cookies.

“Why haven’t you been coming to church with us, Alexandra?” Molly’s mother said in a kind voice. “We miss you.”

I was saved from having to respond because just then Mrs. Windsor pulled up in front of the Sports Club and
became preoccupied with maneuvering the car into a parking spot by the curb. As we were getting out, Mom grabbed my hand and held on tight.

Mrs. Cowan was waiting to greet us in the spacious lobby. “Put your baking on the buffet table in the banquet room and then circulate among the guests. And don’t forget to entertain your mothers,” she said to Molly and me. “Remember! You’re the hostesses.”

The banquet hall looked perfect. Our patrol had spent the previous afternoon spreading white cloths over the large round tables scattered throughout the room. The tables were set with the club’s monogrammed china, sparkling crystal glasses, and gleaming silverware, and each plate held a cloth napkin folded in the shape of a fan. We had made gallons of lemonade and stored it in glass pitchers in the club’s refrigerators. We’d even festooned the walls with crepe paper and taped up large signs welcoming the members of Girl Guide Company No. 2 and their mothers to the annual tea. I was tired by the time we’d put everything in order, for there were only four of us to do the work. Jean had stayed at home with the flu.

“Doesn’t the room look glamorous? It was certainly worth all the effort, and our baking looks yummy,” Molly said. “I’ll take the lemonade out of the fridge and put a pitcher on each table.”

“I’ll check off the baking.” I had made a list of what each girl was supposed to bring.

“I’ll come with you, dear.” Mom moved to follow me.

“Hi, Alex,” said somebody behind me.

It was Isabel. Jean and Christie were standing next to her, but they both seemed so absorbed in the placards on the walls that they didn’t say hello to me. I thought of all the happy times Jean and I had shared, and suddenly I wanted to try to put things right.

“Hi, girls,” I said in a friendly tone. “It’s nice to see you.”

Christie turned and left without answering me.

“What’s the matter with her?” Isabel asked.

“Forget about it.” I turned to Jean. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

The color rose in her cheeks. “Hi, Alex,” she mumbled. “I’m still a bit sick, but I came anyway. Welcome to our tea, Mrs. Gal, Mrs. Windsor.”

The words did not come easily, but I felt I had to say them. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Jean. Come over to my house after the tea so we can plan our birthday party.”

She blushed again. “I didn’t have the chance to tell you before, but my mother thinks I should have my own party this year. I’m sorry.”

Molly had rejoined us while we were talking. “But you and Alex have celebrated your birthdays together since kindergarten!”

Mom also opened her mouth to speak, but I squeezed her fingers so tightly that she fell silent.

“Your mother’s right, Jean. A separate party would be fun!” I didn’t want her to know how disappointed I was.

Isabel stared at us in turn, sensing that something was wrong. “Jean and I made party sandwiches,” she finally said.

By now, the banquet hall was filling up with Guides in their uniforms and their mothers in their Sunday best. Even the youngest girls were bringing some kind of baking.

“I think it’s time to boil the water for the tea,” Isabel said, taking Jean by the arm. “We’ll see you later. The Canaries are all sitting together at table nine.” She made a sour face. “When I made up the seating plan, Mrs. Cowan asked to be put at our table, so we’ll have to be on our best behavior.”

A few minutes later, we were gathered around our table, our plates piled high with different kinds of sandwiches and cakes. I stole a glance at Mom. She seemed serene, but she was grasping my hand tightly under the tablecloth.

“You girls are to be congratulated,” Mrs. Cowan said.
“You worked hard and did a wonderful job. You earned your hostess badges fair and square.”

“It was fun planning everything,” Molly said. She was sitting next to me.

“Our girls were adamant about doing everything themselves,” said Mrs. Windsor. “Fortunately, they had Mrs. Gal’s excellent recipes for guidance.” She took a bite of my cheesecake. “This is the best cheesecake I have ever tasted!”

I could see by Mom’s smile how much the compliment pleased her.

“Would anybody like coffee?” I asked.

“Thank you,” said Jean’s mother, holding out her cup.

I took it to the buffet table and filled it with strong, black coffee. As soon as I sat back down, Mom took hold of my hand again.

“Ah! Nothing like a cup of coffee after such delicious pastry,” Jean’s mother said.

“If you want to taste really good pastry, you must go to Europe,” Mrs. Cowan said. “My husband and I spent last summer in Switzerland. He wanted to go hiking in the mountains.”

Mom smiled wistfully. “When I was a young girl, before the war, our family used to spend our winter vacations in Lucerne. I still remember how lovely the city was.”

“It is, isn’t it?” said Mrs. Cowan.

“I bet you can’t get better cheesecake than this even in Lucerne,” said Mrs. Windsor.

“This is the first time I’ve been to the Sports Club,” Christie said, changing the subject. “This banquet hall is so” – she searched for a word – “elegant.”

“It certainly is,” Mrs. Cowan said. “There’s also a gym, indoor tennis courts, and a swimming pool. Our family spends every weekend here. Many of our friends have also taken out memberships,” she continued, between mouthfuls of cheesecake. “Best of all, it’s a private club, so none of
them
is able to join.”