Far to Go - By Alison Pick Page 0,39

lifted a hand and touched the chandelier directly over his head, as though to steady it, or himself. “I will certainly consider it,” he said finally.

Anneliese said, “I’ve been wanting to go to Prague all along.”

Pavel turned to his wife. “And now, my darling, we’d have a reason to go.”

“A job?”

“Employment.”

But Marta knew Anneliese wouldn’t let herself get excited too quickly. “What about the factory?”

He shrugged. “You know as well as I do.”

“And your mother?”

“She wouldn’t come.”

Max interjected. “I could send someone down to keep an eye on her.”

“Won’t a Jewish plant manager be as much trouble as a Nazi?” asked Anneliese.

Pavel smiled at his wife. “Prague is not under Nazi rule. And Max is your brother-in-law!” He grasped Max’s shoulder and shook it.

“You could stay in our flat,” Max said. “I’ll be leaving the country for a while to visit Alžběta and our girls.”

Anneliese straightened at the mention of her sister and nieces, but Max had made it clear he could tell nobody where they’d gone.

“Yes,” Anneliese said. “Yes, that sounds . . .” She was quiet again. And then she said, all at once, “I’m thrilled!”

Pavel threw an arm around his wife’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “We’ll leave in the morning.” He was wearing his overcoat; he looked as if he planned to rush out the door that very minute.

Marta was still, her sewing needle poised. Was this really happening? After all her years of service to the Bauers she was about to be abandoned after all. They were acting in their own best interest and forgetting about her entirely. And why shouldn’t they, she asked herself. They had never promised her anything; her position in their family was as hired help, nothing more. Still, she felt a panic rising in her chest. She tried to reassure herself that things would work out somehow, but another part of her couldn’t see how; she would starve to death all on her own. And part of her thought she deserved to.

“We’ll need some time to pack,” Anneliese was saying in the other room. “To wash the linen and cover the furniture and thaw the icebox and . . .” She gestured around the parlour.

Max cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Anneliese, but I’ll need him as quickly as possible. Hofstader has already been let go. And I have a business to run.”

He smiled at Pavel as though to say that the world of commerce was beyond a woman’s comprehension. Marta thought perhaps he was not as kind as she’d imagined him to be. She felt tears rising and blinked in rapid succession, trying to clear her eyes. Be patient, she told herself; there’s time to figure something out. But clearly there wasn’t. The decision made, the Bauers had moved immediately into planning mode. “Your mother could look in on the house,” Anneliese said.

“Or Ernst. I’ll meet with him to tell him the plan.”

“And the school?”

Pavel grimaced. “They’re not teaching Pepik anything worthwhile down there anyway. They’ve got him facing the back of the class. Did you know?”

Anneliese coughed; there was the furtive sound of her raising a hand to her mouth and lowering her voice. “What about . . . ?” Marta looked up to see Anneliese tip her head towards the sewing room.

“Pepik can’t be without a nanny,” Pavel said loudly. “Marta will come with us.”

“But Sophie’s already run off. Maybe Marta is about to do the same.”

“You want to look after him yourself?” Pavel teased his wife. “You want to . . . you want to . . .” He was clearly searching his memory for what it was Marta actually did. “You want to cook his dinner? You want to give him a bath? Every night? And dry him, and dress him, and—” But Anneliese smiled and waved her hand to show he could stop. She did not want to do any of those things, and they both knew it—certainly not in Prague, where there were opera houses and movie theatres and her old friends from her teenage years.

“Marta!” Pavel called.

Marta made a stitch and pulled the thread taut. She waited a moment before setting down her needle and standing up and entering the room.

“We are going to Prague and you will come with us,” Pavel said, magnanimous.

He paused.

“If you wish.”

Marta had to blink some more to clear her eyes of tears. Such fear, and now such relief. She had nobody else—especially not Ernst—and deep down she knew she wasn’t capable of getting by on her