Remember Me by Irene N. Watts Read Free Book Online

You embarrassed me,
and
my friends. What you did is like begging.”
    “It is wrong to try save my parents?” Marianne asked softly.
    “Don’t exaggerate, Mary Anne. They must wait their turn like other refugees. It is not a question of saving, but of good manners. Now, I am waiting for an apology, and a promise not to behave like this again in my house.”
    “Sorry,” said Marianne.
    “And, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about your hands.”
    “They are quite clean, Aunt Vera. I brush them.”
    “You must stop biting your nails, and the cuticles. It is an ugly habit. Try harder in everything, Mary Anne. Now go and finish your homework. Goodnight.”
    Instead of doing her homework, Marianne began a long delayed letter to her cousin Ruth. She’d emigrated to Amsterdam with her parents last November. Uncle Frank was a furrier and had a job to go to in Holland. That’s why they’d got a visa and been allowed to leave Germany.
    12 Circus Road,
    St. John’s Wood,
    London, NW8
    England
    25 January, 1939
    Dear Ruth,
    I memorized your address, didn’t want to risk anyone finding it on the train. Now that I’m in England fears like that seem far-fetched, but we know they aren’t, don’t we?
    I bet you thought I’d forgotten you – of course I haven’t. But you can imagine the panic when we had less than twenty-four hours notice that I was coming to England. Settling down here and learning different rules and being
nagged
in two languages from both sides of the Channel isn’t my idea of paradise. Mutti writes constantly that I must be grateful and obedient. In England they expect you to be quiet and invisible, but for different reasons than in Berlin. Not to be safe, but to be polite.
    I’ve been here seven weeks now and I’ve learnt more English than I did in two years in Germany.
    The first couple of weeks I thought I’d die of homesickness, and it’s still hard sometimes, specially when I’m bursting with news and no one’s there to listen.
    School is mostly alright. Some of the kids tease me and imitate my accent, but it’s normal teasing, you know, not thethrowing stones kind. I haven’t found any other Jewish students. If they’re there, they are keeping very quiet about it. I can’t very well stand up in Assembly and say, “Excuse me, is there anyone here who’s Jewish?” I don’t expect there were enough Jewish homes to go around for all the
Kindertransport
children. It was a bit of a muddle, especially as no one was expecting me. Did I tell you, I was on the very first one ever?
    Bridget, a new friend, helps me with English. Her father is a doctor who left Ireland at eighteen. In Ireland the different religions are always quarreling and the English and the Irish – at least some of them – don’t like each other. Bridget’s been called names, even though she was born here. We have a lot in common. I’ll miss her when she goes to another school – a grammar school for girls. They have beautiful school uniforms, and always have to wear a black velour hat with the school badge when they go out. The motto is in Latin and means ‘Trust in God.’ I do trust Him, but I wish He’d hurry up and bring my parents over. Aunt Vera (Mrs. Abercrombie Jones, who took me in) is not a great substitute for a mother, even if I was looking for one, which I’m not!
    Write soon and tell me all your news. Love to you all from your loving cousin,
    Marianne
    Marianne had just sealed the envelope, when she heard the doorbell. Footsteps came running up the stairs. A moment later,Bridget knocked at her door. “Ready for your English lesson? I brought Pa’s
Times
– you can practice reading from it.”
    “Bridget, I have a great idea,” said Marianne.
    “What?” asked Bridget.
    “Promise no word to Aunt Wera,” Marianne said.
    Bridget groaned. “Vera, V like vampire, W is like in water. Yes, I promise.”
    “I have to find work for my mother. I will knock on doors and ask. Aunt Vera must not find