That Stranger Next Door. Goldie Alexander
as an interpreter in Russian, Polish and Swedish.'
I nodded. Given my circumstances, I couldn't afford to be less than polite, but her accent was so bad it made me wonder which university had been this generous.
As before, everything we said was carefully recorded. The questions never stopped, not even after I had given them everything I did know, plus a little more to keep them happy.
I never did find out the men's names, only that the older regarded anyone who didn't speak English with enormous suspicion.
He kept asking Elizabeth, 'You sure she understands?'
Once they felt they'd wrung every bit of information out of me, and it had all been gone over at least three times, it was well after midnight. I was bundled back into their car and this time driven south to an apartment in a busy street on the first floor above a shop called a milk bar. The younger man leaned over to open the car door for me.
Before I climbed out, Elizabeth grabbed my arm, and for the first time I felt a hint of compassion from her. 'Eva, you'll be safe here,' she assured me. 'But it means you must never go outside, and never tell anyone who you are. Everything you need is here. I'll come in a few days to make sure you're settled.'
The men took me up a wooden staircase into the flat where I could hide, they told me, in relative safety. They made such a clatter going up the stairs we must have woken the entire neighbourhood.
The younger man said, 'Eva, this flat was recently renovated and refurnished. We're sure you'll be very comfortable here.'
He led me into the kitchen, opened cupboards to show me jars filled with tea, sugar, rice, flour, then into the bathroom to a cupboard stored with soap, towels and sheets; finally to the main bedroom where a suitcase sat on the bed. He pointed, saying, 'Open it.'
Inside, I found a wallet with fifty crisp new pound notes, a carton of Craven A cigarettes, three blouses, a skirt, three changes of underwear, a pink woollen dressing gown, three sets of stockings and a girdle, slippers and some lace-up shoes. Everything was new and functional, but chosen with no imagination or style.
Back in the sitting room, and hall, I looked for a telephone. There was none. It seemed that the wireless would be my only communication with the outside world. It was wonderful to listen to music, but what other use did a radio have when my English was so poor?
CHAPTER 4
Ruth
This morning Leon jumped onto my bed and bounced on me until I agreed to wrestle him back. Only when he was nearly suffocating under the blankets, could I get him back to his own room.
Sometimes I got fed up with having to look after him. It was no one's fault; Mamma and Papa worked sixteen hour, six-day weeks, so there was only me. Maybe if Leon wasn't so independent it would be easier. Last week in the park - where admittedly I was deep into a novel - he took off without me noticing. It took me ages to find him and I was so angry, I yelled at him. 'Do that once more, I'll tell Papa and he won't let you come here again.'
Then, of course, all the thanks I got for taking him to the park was him sulking all the way home.
After school today Mamma had arranged to take me and Leon to visit the Feldensteins. She came into my room to ask why I wasn't dressed to go out?
'Mamma, I've too much homework,' I wailed. 'Can't you take Leon without me?'
Mamma's hat was already on and she was pulling on her gloves. 'But Daisy will be expecting you.'
'Yeah, well.' I shrugged. 'I'm sure she won't miss me.'
Mr Feldenstein has pots of money and all Daisy could talk about was shopping, and how the saleswomen looked down on her, and how she bought stuff she didn't really want just to see their faces change from nasty to 'can't help you enough'. I didn't think she had any other friends except me, and I guess that's really hard, so I should be kind to her. But last weekend my best friend Nancy Bloom loaned me her copy of Rebecca and she wanted it back as she'd promised it to someone else as soon as I could return it.
Back at Elwood Central, Nancy and I were never apart. But these last two years, what with her attending a co-ed University High, and me at the girls-only St Margaret's, our lives were utterly different, though we phoned each other at least four times a week.
Something she mentioned last time we spoke was, 'Did you know that women teachers in state schools have to resign if they want to get married?'
'Really?' My eyebrows shot up. 'What happens to the men?'
'Suppose for them it's okay.'
'That's not right,' I murmured.
'Sure it is,' Nancy said in her 'mother-sensible' voice. 'But there's nothing they can do about it, is there.'
Nancy was always accepting stuff I would fight to the death to change. If I questioned anything too much, she'd act as if I was doing my best to throw her entire world into chaos.
I said, 'Can't being married be a secret?'
'Maybe. But things never stay secret, do they?'
The second tram I have to take to school was packed with St James Catholic College boys, thankfully too busy jostling each other to notice me. But there were no spare seats so I stood opposite a man holding The Argus and read it upside down. Still lots about Evdokia Petrov.
Further down the page I read: 'New Australian mobster chases wife with a knife.'
How horrid for that poor woman. When I tried to read a bit more, the man gave me a sour look and stowed the paper inside his briefcase.
I didn't care. I was back in my favourite daydream, the one where I was already at university studying medicine. Whenever this came up at home, Mamma snapped, 'Why can't you be happy as a teacher or a stenographer? They're perfectly good professions until you get married. If you trained as a teacher you would pick up a bursary that will pay for your further education.'
'Then I'd be sent to the country,' I retorted. 'You wouldn't like that either. You think I wouldn't be any good as a doctor. But don't you remember how I bandaged Papa's finger when he cut it almost to the bone? And what about when old Mr Collins fainted? Everyone panicked, but I knew to hold up his head, make him sip water and ask someone to phone for an ambulance.'
She sniffed disapprovingly. 'Who will marry a girl that examines naked men's private parts?'
'Aren't nurses women as well?'
'Nursing is no career for a well-brought-up Jewish girl,' she tartly responded. 'God knows what those girls get up to in the nursing homes.'
How was I supposed to answer that?
'If I don't get into medicine,' I shouted, 'maybe I'll go to Israel and join a kibbutz. They're always looking for volunteers. They might even let me ride a bike-'
'And another thing,' Mamma continued as if my threat meant nothing, 'why can't you be friendly with Daisy? As you're both going to private schools, you have a great deal in common.'
'Like what?' The last thing I needed was Mamma choosing my friends. 'Daisy only talks about shopping.'
'She's polite, which is more than I can say about my own daughter.'
'Maybe she's polite because her mother doesn't tell her who should be her friends.'
Mamma's chin lifted indignantly. 'I only advise you for your own good. It's time you started taking other people into consideration.'
'Being friendly with someone I don't like isn't taking me into consideration.'
As usual all these arguments between us only stopped with her walking away, muttering, 'You never think of anyone but yourself'.
I always spent morning and lunch breaks with Kate Howell's crowd. When I first got to St Margaret's Anglican College I was mostly ignored. It seemed that winning this scholarship would keep me lonely and miserable