Love Is My Reason (6 page)

“
No. I
’
m afraid it
’
s worse than that,
”
Robin Drummond said, rubbing his hand meditatively against the side of his cheek.
“
I mean, my dear fellow, that the poor chap is dead. He must have died about an hour ago, I think. Probably when the girl thought he fell asleep.
”

CHAPTER
THREE

Afterwards,
David was ashamed to recall that his first reaction was one of overwhelming disappointment and frustration. By a matter of hours, he had missed, probably for ever, the chance of discovering the secret of Anya
’
s real origin.

But then, even as her name came into this reflection, he recalled that her tragedy far transcended any personal disappointment of his and, looking suddenly anxious, he demanded of Robin Drummond,

“
Where is she? Have you told her?
”

“
Of course. Though I think she guessed it when she saw him again. There
’
s some woman up there with her now. But I suppose it
’
s up to us to see about formalities. We
’
ll have to notify the death to someone, I take it, and have the body removed. After all, there are these other people
living in the room and
—
”

“
Wait,
”
David interrupted.
“
I must speak to her.
”

And, leaving his friend standing there, he went quickly into the block and ran
up
the s
t
airs, two at a time. It was dark in the corridor, after the sunlight outside, but he found the door at the end and he knocked softly and entered.

For years afterwards he was always able to recall the scene in its smallest detail, and always with a stab of pain for the fact that Anya was simply leaning against the wall, crying quietly, without apparently even the means of grieving in comfort. Beside her stood the woman he had seen the previous evening. But although she looked compassionately at Anya, she did not seem to have any words to meet the situation. Perhaps there
were
no words. At any rate, David himself did not pause to find them. He simply crossed the room and, gently putting the woman aside, took the weeping girl in his arms.

“
Herr David
—
”
She turned and hid her face against
his shoulder, with a sort of childish relief.
“
Oh, I
’
m so glad you came.
”

“
I
’
m glad too,
”
he said. And, in spite of whatever fresh complications might be arising, he found that in some strange way that was the truth.

He stroked her bright hair as though she were indeed a child, and after a minute he said gently,
“
Try not to feel too much alone. I promised—your father I would look after you, and I meant it.
”

The quick, grateful pressure of her hand on his arm was the only answer to that. And so, spurred on by the necessity of making some decision, he went on presently,
“
I think
,
Anya that for a few days at any rate, I had better take you away from here.
”

“
Where?
”
She looked up, wide-eyed and a trifle apprehensive.

“
To the hotel where I am staying. My aunt is with me there, and she is very kind. We will look after you until we can decide something about your future.
”

“
And—him?
”
She made a pathetically diffident little gesture towards the curtained middle cubicle.

David was not, or thought he was not, a specially imaginative man. But in that moment he knew exactly what she meant. Penniless and forlorn herself, she was asking, wordlessly, for some sort of tenderness and respect towards the mortal remains of the man she had known as her father.

“
If you will trust me,
”
he said quietly,
“
I will see to it that your father is buried with friendliness and dignity. I
’
ll interview the camp Kommandant presently, and I
’
m sure that everything can be arranged as you would wish. Will you come with me, Anya?
”

“
I think it would be best—when you have collected whatever you want to take. I can always bring you back to fetch anything else later, of course.
”

“
I haven
’
t much,
”
she said simply. And for the first time since he was a boy he felt a lump come into his throat.

“
Very well. Will you fetch what you want?
”

She went into the end cubicle obediently, and he stood and waited for her. But i
t
was only a very few minutes
before she came out again, carrying a poor little shabby case, tied with a piece of rope.

David took
i
t from her, however, as though it were a fitted dressing-case, and asked gently,
“
Are you ready to come now?
”

“
May I—go in and see him again?
”

“
Of course, my dear, if you want to.
”

“
Wi
ll
you come?
”

He hesitated, and then said,
“
Would you like me to?
”

“
I think,
”
Anya told him diffidently,
“
that he would have liked you to.
”

“
Very well,
”
David said at once. And he came with her into the small cubicle, where Ivan Beran lay in the peace and majesty of death, beyond the reach now of any of the cares that had fretted him for so long.

She stood for some moments in silence, without tears now, and then she said, half to herself,

“
He needs no passport where he is going. No one will ever call him a displaced person again. He
has
his place at last. It was better so.
”

“
Perhaps.
”
David put his arm round her, and when he thought she had stayed as long as was good for her, he gently drew her away.

They paused for a minute in the outer room, while Anya said good-bye to the other woman. Then he took her downstairs and out to the car, where Robin Drummond was still waiting patiently.

If he was surprised when David announced that he was taking Anya back to the hotel, he did not show it. He merely said,
“
You take the car, then. I
’
ll find the camp Kommandant and make some sort of report.
”

“
Thanks.
”
David was brief but grateful.
“
I
’
ll be back as soon as I can. And meanwhile will you make it clear that Anya
’
s father was a friend of mine and I should like everything arranged on that basis.
”

“
Very well.
”
Again the doctor displayed no surprise. He gave Anya
’
s arm a reassuring pat, and then David and she drove away together.

They said very little on the short drive to the hotel, and, by the time they arrived at the Drei Kronen, David saw that she was beginning to show signs of strain. There
was no colour at all in her face by now, and shadows were beginning to darken under her eyes.

“
Try not to be frightened,
”
he told her, as they entered the hotel.
“
My aunt is really more like my mother than just a casual relation, and she will be kind to you.
”

“
Thank you,
”
whispered Anya, with a wan smile. And then he took her up to the pleasant suite which his aunt occupied.

Fortunately she was there in the sitting-room, busily writing letters, for she was an indefatigable correspondent to a large circle of friends. She looked up as they entered and, with the quick instinct of the truly kind and capable, she evidently took in the situation, even before David presented Anya with a few words of explanation.

Whatever Lady Ranmere
’
s feelings might have been about her nephew
’
s wisdom, or lack of it, in becoming involved in this situation, it was not in her to be indifferent in the face of real distress, and she greeted Anya with kindness and sympathy.

“
Can I leave her with you, Aunt Mary, for the present? I have to go back and arrange about everything,
”
David explained.

“
Yes, of course. I
'
ll see she has something to eat
”—
Lady Ranmere was a great believer in the simple consolation of nourishment in moments of distress—
“
and
I’ll
keep her here so that no one will disturb her.
”

“
Thank you.
”

He smiled gratefully at his aunt, and then turned to take Anya
’
s hand. Perhaps if his aunt had not been there he might even have kissed her pale, upturned face. But Lady Ranmere
’
s brisk kindliness had put everything on a more normal basis. So he contented himself with a warm pressure of her hand, then went away, back to the camp, to help Robin Drummond with whatever formalities there might be.

To his relief, and a little to his surprise, he found the camp Kommandant a correct and not unkindly man. That a couple of well-dressed Englishmen should apparently wish to take over the funeral arrangements of one of the least of his charges impressed the Kommandant, and he was co-operative in every way.

He could not hide his surprise, however, when David explained that he and his aunt wished to keep the girl with them at their hotel, at any rate until the funeral was over, and that after that they would arrange something for her future. Possibly at this point he rather doubted the existence of any aunt—for the life of a camp Kommandant does not dispose one to view one
’
s fellows in a trusting light—but it was not his affair. So long as the records were correctly kept and there was no disturbance within the camp, his duty was discharged.

At the end of the interview, when everything had been arranged as suitably and decently as goodwill and money could ensure, David said,
“
I am interested in this family. If you have any official records of them, I should very much appreciate an opportunity to see them.
”

For answer, the Kommandant took from a tall cupboard beside him a thick file, labelled simply
“
A-D
”
, and, flicking through the pages came to a brief entry, which he obligingly presented for David
’
s inspection.

So meagre, so impersonal. Just the name Ivan Beran followed by the place and date of birth—Odessa, 24th June, 1902—and the bare information that he had been transferred from Eldenborg Camp on a date about three years previously.

Then, in a separate paragraph—
“
Anya Beranova, daughter of above.
Born
—
”
And suddenly, with a terrible pang
David realized that today was her birthday and she was just eighteen.

“
It
’
s her birthday,
”
he said, aloud and in English. To which Robin Drummond replied,
“
Poor little devil.
”
While the Kommandant waited politely until the Englishmen had finished what they wanted to say about the records
.

“
Thank you.
”
David returned the register, and got up to go. He had not really expected to find out anything about her real origin in anything so formal as a camp record, but he had felt bound to ask.

There was nothing further to arrange just then. The funeral had been fixed for a couple of days later, and the details attended to by David with a meticulous care that evidently slightly surprised Robin Drummond. They bade the Kommandant a courteous good-day and, as they walked back to the car, across the dusty quadrangle, Robin said
,

“
What do you intend to do about the girl, David?
”

“
I don
’
t know,
”
David confessed.
“
I only know I am not going to let her come back here.
”

“
It
’
s not too easy to absorb any of these people into the ordinary life of the community, you know. Years of camp life unfit them for responsibility or an independent existence.
”

“
She is eighteen,
”
David replied.
“
Today,
”
he added, biting his lip.
“
Normally speaking, she has her life in front of her. Do you suggest she should spend the rest of it in a place like this?
”