then, since Véronique was out.
The stables were still beautiful, she saw when she went in, although he said he had far fewer horses than he had when Antoine was alive. He had never found anyone to compare to him, to run the horse farm for him. Antoine had been gone by then for fourteen years. They reminisced for a time, and after a while, he called a cab for her to take her back to the city.
Daphne was already at home when she got back, and she was excited about a new boy she'd met in school. His father was in the army in Austria, and she said he was very handsome, with a twinkle in her eye, which made her mother laugh. The two of them had a quiet dinner that night. Daphne said she wanted to visit Amadea soon. They hadn't seen her in months. She was going to be taking her temporary vows again for the fourth time. She accepted Amadea being a Carmelite now as a matter of course. It was harder for Beata, who still hoped that one day she would change her mind. She had two more years before she took her final vows. It was the spring of 1941.
It was the following week that Beata went to the bank to take some money out for minor purchases. She wanted to buy some fabric for a few summer dresses for Daphne, and it was easier doing business in cash than writing checks, although there were fewer places to buy fabrics these days. All the stores she had patronized previously for those purposes had been run by Jews and were long since closed. She was thinking about what she needed when the bank teller handed her back her check, instead of cash.
“I'm sorry, madame,” he said coldly, “this check cannot be cashed.” There was obviously some mistake.
“I beg your pardon? Of course it can. I have more than adequate funds in that account to cover the check.” She smiled at him, and asked him to look it up again.
He handed the check back to her without checking anything. He knew he had read the notation correctly the first time. There was no mistaking those. The manager had made the notation himself, and the teller had no intention of challenging it. “Your account has been closed.”
“That's ridiculous. Of course it hasn't.” She was annoyed by their mistake, and about to ask for the bank manager, when she saw something in the young man's eyes. “By whom?”
“The Third Reich,” he said briskly, as she stared at him, opened her mouth, and closed it again. She put the check back in her handbag and turned around and walked out as quickly as she could. She knew exactly what that meant. Someone had reported her. All she could think of was Mina, her parents' former maid. She was the only one who knew. Or perhaps they had heard her call out “Miss Wittgenstein” and checked it out. However it had happened, they had closed her account, undoubtedly because someone knew that she was Jewish, and had been born a Jew. There was no other reason to close her account. Only Mina knew, although Beata had admitted nothing to her.
Beata walked quickly away from the bank, hailed a taxi on the street, and five minutes later she was home. She had no idea what to do, if she should wait to see what happened, or if they should leave immediately. And if they did, where would they go? She thought of the Daubignys, but she didn't want to endanger them either, no matter how sympathetic he said he was to the Jews. It was one thing to feel sorry for them, and another matter entirely to hide them. But maybe they could stay there for one night and he could advise her what to do. She had no passport, and she knew that she and Daphne would never be able to cross the borders. Besides which, she now had no money, except for what she had left with him previously, which she didn't want to use. The girls might need it later. Beata tried to fight waves of panic, as she took out two suitcases and began packing. She put her jewelry and some clothes for herself into one of them. And then she went into Daphne's room, and was throwing things into the suitcase when Daphne came home from school. The moment she saw her mother's face, she knew