Hiding Edith (6 page)

Once outside, Edith could see the whole three-storey, graystone building for the first time. The house sat in the middle of the street called Port à Moissac. Its shiny brass number 18 glistened above the door in the early morning sunlight. Edith glanced up at the windows. Each was adorned with a wrought-iron balcony and two full-length wooden shutters with bold crisscross designs. Trees lined the walkway to the house and the street. Across the road was a big bridge over the Tarn River, from which a cool breeze drifted in. Edith took a deep breath and filled her lungs with fresh air. She was so happy to be outside, even if she was going to school.

The children lined up in pairs behind one of the counselors. Sarah grabbed Edith’s hand and maneuvered her into place. When an orderly line had been formed, the counselor raised her hand, and the children set off.

Edith groaned as she entered the small schoolhouse.
Another change in the middle of the school year,
she thought,
and more schoolwork I won’t understand!
All the moves had made it difficult to keep up with the other students.

“Excuse me, madame,” Edith said timidly. “I’m new here.”

Madame Beaufort peered at Edith for a long moment, wrinkling her brow and appearing baffled. Then her face softened, and she nodded. “Oh yes! The new girl. And your name?”

“Edith Schwalb. I was told to speak with you.”

“Of course. Shatta told me you would be here today. Come. I’ll show you where your seat will be, and you can meet some of the
other girls. Don’t look so frightened, Edith. No one is going to bite you!”

The teacher led her to a desk near the front of the room. “Sit close to me,” she said. “That way, I’ll be able to give you some extra help if you need it. I understand that you have missed a great deal of school these past few years. But don’t worry. You’ll catch up.”

Edith was amazed. Most teachers had been indifferent to her struggles with schoolwork, but Madame Beaufort was not mean at all. Still, that didn’t make the work any easier, which Edith found out as soon as Madame Beaufort handed her the math assignment. The numbers swam in front of her eyes.

“Are you having trouble with that?” A girl peered over her shoulder.

Children from the house in Moissac on their way to school.

“No,” Edith said quickly. “I can manage.” She slunk low in her chair. It was dangerous to attract attention. Mutti had told her again and again: keep to yourself, be invisible. But this girl would not go away.

“I’ll help,” the girl insisted. She slid onto Edith’s chair, pushing her aside slightly. “I’m Renée,” she said. “Here’s how to do it.” Quickly, she explained the calculations, and coached Edith until she understood. Before long, the assignment was completed.

“Thank you,” Edith whispered.

“You’re welcome. I love teaching,” Renée replied. “You’re from the Jewish house, aren’t you?”

Edith froze.

“It’s okay. We know all about you,” Renée continued matter-of-factly. “We’re all the same, Catholics and Jews. That’s what my mother says, and that’s what I think too.”

Edith sat in astonishment. Nothing made sense here in Moissac. Teachers were gentle, children were kind, and being Jewish seemed to be okay. Even school might be fun.

As the bell rang to end classes, Edith whispered, “Sophie, I’m doing okay.”

After school, the girls returned to the house to complete their school assignments. Edith worked through her homework with a confidence she had not felt in some time. When her last piece of writing was done, she sat back on her bed and smiled proudly.
If only Therese could see me now,
she thought.

“I’m done too,” said Sarah, putting her book aside. “I want to take you to choir practice, but first we need to do some chores. ‘Work before play,’ Shatta always says. Our job is to peel potatoes. And,” Sarah whispered, “if we’re lucky, Cook will give us a treat. Let’s go!”

The cook was a round woman, almost as wide as she was short. When Sarah and Edith entered the kitchen, she was sweating over a big pot on the stove. She had to stand on tiptoe to stir the soup. Her face was red, and her voice made a soft wheezing sound as she quietly chanted a hymn.

“Sarah, ma petite, my sweet one,” the cook cried. “You’re my favorite young boarder and my best helper.”

Sarah grinned and whispered to Edith, “She says that to all of us.” Then Sarah turned back to the cook. “This is Edith,” Sarah said. “She’s new here.”

“Aren’t you a dear!” the cook exclaimed, wrapping Edith in a hug that nearly smothered her. “Look at those beautiful big eyes — just like my youngest. I’ve got six at home — every one a gift from the Lord.” She crossed herself and muttered a quick blessing.

Edith stifled a giggle. It had been such a long time since anyone had thought her pretty. The jolly woman probably found a compliment for all the children, but that didn’t matter — Edith liked her immediately.

“I’d take you all home if I could,” the cook continued. “But my poor husband! It’s hard enough for him to feed our six. How would he feed a hundred?” The cook’s laugh was so jolly that her whole body jiggled, and Edith and Sarah had to laugh with her.

“Take an apron, girls, and a paring knife each,” the cook said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

In no time, there was a huge pile of potato peelings in the sink. Working together had made the chore fun. As Edith and Sarah were about to leave, the cook smiled at them. “Did you think I had forgotten?” she asked. “A chocolate truffle for each of you.” The girls thanked the cook and ran out of the kitchen to savor their treats.

“Hello, Sarah,” someone called. Sarah and Edith turned to face an older boy.

“Hi, Eric. Edith, you remember Eric. You met him yesterday.”

Edith smiled. She had met so many new people that she could barely tell one from the other. Vaguely she recalled meeting this young boy in the hallway on the day she had arrived. Eric was about sixteen, serious-looking, with wild unruly hair and the darkest eyes Edith had ever seen. He stared at her intently until she had to look away.

“Eric knows more than anyone I’ve ever met. And he can do almost everything, too.” Sarah giggled. “He’s a photographer, a bookbinder, and works in the woodworking shop.” Sarah ticked off Eric’s accomplishments on her fingers, one by one.

Eric shrugged. “A bit of this and a bit of that. It all comes in handy.”

“Do you need some help?” asked Sarah.

Eric was loaded down with a large tent folded up and slung across his back. Several cooking pots dangled from his belt. Sarah and Edith grabbed the pots, and all three brought the equipment into the dining room, where children were rolling sleeping bags and folding tents. Shatta, at the far end of the dining hall, looked up briefly and waved, before shouting, “Group leaders, check all the tents very carefully! Make sure there are no holes. Have your teams pile them up over here once you’ve inspected them.”

Eric Goldfarb

“Are kids going camping?” asked Edith.

Eric chuckled. “We’re ready to go at a moment’s notice. That’s one of our mottoes here.”

Edith was puzzled. “Go where? And why quickly?”

“You’re new,” Eric replied, “so you haven’t been part of a raid. But you will, and then you’ll understand.” He unfolded his tent and bent to inspect it.

Sarah looked at Edith reassuringly. “We really are safe here. But the Nazis come through now and then, looking for Jews.”

A roundup! Fear gripped Edith’s throat. “My papa was taken in a round up,” she croaked.

“That’s why we’re prepared,” replied Eric. “Look around you — we’ve got tents, sleeping bags, lanterns, pots, pans, rope, knives, compasses, gaiters, backpacks, maps, and food, all ready to go.” Eric rattled off the camping gear, checking the equipment against a mental list. “Before a raid comes, we’re out of here.”

“But how do you know when there’ll be a raid?” Edith was beginning to panic. “And where does everyone go?”

“We’re warned if the Nazis are coming,” said Sarah calmly. “The mayor of Moissac gets word to Shatta, and all of us leave for a few days to go camping in the hills. When it’s safe, we come back.”

What was it that Shatta had said, Edith struggled to recall. Shatta had talked about the mayor of Moissac when Edith first arrived at the house. She said that the mayor was a friend and would help protect the Jewish children. Is this what Shatta had meant?

“Don’t worry. It will all make sense,” said Eric easily, before moving off to help some of the other children. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Sarah gently steered Edith from the dining room. Edith felt numb. How could she not worry? She didn’t want to have to find out what happened in a raid. She didn’t want to have to run again. Suddenly she didn’t want to be here at all.

The choir in Moissac – Henri Milstein, the choir director, is in the middle. Edith is in the second row from the bottom, just to the right of Henri’s arm.

When Sarah finally introduced Edith to Henri, the choir director, Edith stood mutely and hung her head. Sarah whispered something to Henri, who nodded. “Why don’t you just sit and listen to us today, Edith. You’ll join in the next time.”

Edith slumped onto a chair. Henri took his place in front of the girls and boys and raised a small baton. The sound of blended voices filled the room. Edith wanted to listen, to lose herself in the simple beauty of the harmony; but she was too agitated. Just this morning, she had woken up feeling safe. The cook had made her feel loved and secure. Now she felt as if she had been dropped out a window and was about to hit the ground.

There were more than one hundred children in the house in Moissac. How would everyone get out in time? When the Nazis came for Papa in the middle of the night, there was no time to escape. No one knew the raid was coming. Even if the mayor warned them here in Moissac, would they be trapped with no time to run?

There was no such thing in the world as a safe place, only places to avoid danger a little while longer. Moissac was a trick. Mutti had been wrong to bring her here. Edith closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She already felt trapped. And there was nowhere for her to go. She could only wait and see what would happen.

It was several days before Edith was finally able to visit Gaston in the smaller house next door. She had wanted to visit sooner; but her days were too busy and there was no spare time. Perhaps Shatta had orchestrated it that way, wanting the children in each room to bond with one another.

Edith opened the heavy wooden door of the house and climbed the stairs to Gaston’s room on the second floor. She walked in quietly, to find her little brother lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Gaston,” Edith whispered.

He turned his head slightly, then leapt up and wrapped his arms around her.

“Edith!” he cried, clinging with all his might, almost afraid that if he let go, she would disappear. “Where have you been?”

Edith hugged Gaston back tightly. She promised herself that from now on, she would make sure to visit him more often.

“I’m here now, Gaston. Come, tell me how you are.” She gently pulled his arms away from her neck and steered him back onto
his bed. She jumped up next to him and stared into his round eyes. Gaston had always been so special — spoiled and doted on. From the day he was born, Edith was happy to have a little brother — someone else to play with and even boss around at times. But she had to admit that she was also a little jealous. After all,
she
had been her Papa’s little girl and the baby of the family. Now she was replaced with this beautiful blond boy. And he commanded everyone’s attention. Gaston was always busy. He was energetic and full of life. Mutti had to watch him every second or he might jump off a table, wander away, or get into some kind of trouble. It was hard to imagine that that same lively child was this sad little boy who sat in front of Edith now.