Mrs. Tuesday's Departure: A Thrilling Historical Family Saga of World War Two by Suzanne Elizabeth Anderson

Author:Suzanne Elizabeth Anderson [Anderson, Suzanne Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Henry and George Press
Published: 2013-12-14T05:00:00+00:00

~*~

The atmosphere had changed drastically since I’d last been here. I unbuttoned my coat and tugged the collar away from my neck, as the café was like a steam bath. Waitresses, trays aloft, turned from side to side like ballet dancers as they snaked their way from the counter to the waiting patrons.

I followed one of them into the throng. The tables overflowed with people huddled over small cups of ersatz-Turkish coffee, more chicory than coffee, and their heads bobbing up and down as they carried on conversations and surreptitiously watched people at other tables do the same.

A man suddenly pulled back from his table and into my path. I stopped, grabbed my coat to my middle and turned sideways as he grunted an excuse and brushed by me.

I didn’t want to call attention to myself. There were too many uniforms. I couldn’t make out the faces through the tobacco smoke that hung in clouds over the tables, but it was clear that the Germans had come to occupy this place as easily as our country.

I prayed Deszo had come alone. A rivulet of cold sweat slipped between my shoulder blades. There was another room beyond the heavy maroon curtains, shielded from view.

I’d never seen them closed before. I could hear the laughter of men, and the guttural cadence of German coming from behind the curtain. I turned around surveying the main room.

There, finally, was Deszo was leaning back in his chair surveying the room like a ringmaster, smoking. I wondered how long he’d been watching me. He signaled me with a wave of his hand and stood as I approached.

“Not our usual crowd is it?” Deszo took my coat and laid it over the chair between us. He caught the eye of the waitress and ordered another cup of coffee.

I sat down and slowly took off my gloves, studying my hands. “I don’t like being here.”

Deszo smirked and shrugged. “For the most part, they’re harmless. At least in here.” The clank of his glass against the saucer brought my eyes to his. “Any more unexpected visitors?”

I shuddered remembering the look on the young soldier’s face as he stood just outside our door last night. I shook my head.

“How is Anna today?”

I glanced at a bad reproduction of a Titian painting on the wall behind us, and then back at Deszo. “She took Mila out while I was writing.”

Deszo frowned. “Where did they go?”

“Anna said they went for a walk in the park and then stopped for hot chocolate.” I leaned back and waited as the waitress put a cup of coffee in front of me. “But that’s not the point is it?”

“Strange.” A bemused smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Anna’s never shown the slightest interest in Mila.”

“And she decided to teach her poetry this morning.”

“Who can understand Anna? Well, at least Mila doesn’t look…like her father.”

“But if she’s seen by one of our neighbors—there was the incident with Mrs. Nyugati.”

“You think she’d turn in Mila.”

“Of course. To protect her shop from further persecution.

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