Her Hungry Heart (9 page)

Jack struggled with the lid. It appeared to have rusted tight. His tussle was watched by everyone. There was no lack of suggestions of how to prise it open. But it was Cook who finally snatched it from Jack’s hands. She cracked it hard several times on the marble hearth and managed to yank the lid free. She gasped with astonishment, and crossed herself three times. Then, walking quickly to her mistress, she handed over the tin container with its loose lid.

The Queen removed the lid. Long ago the box had been
filled with a soft clay substance. Pressed into it were four diamonds, a square-cut, a round, an emerald-shape and a pear-shape, not one of which was less than forty carats in weight, the size of small plums. By anyone’s standards, even a Queen such as Marie Caroline, who owned one of the largest and finest collection of jewels in the world, they were gems of undeniable beauty and quality. And dotted around the dark, now dried clay-like were smaller stones of various sizes and shapes. They shone like stars around celestial moons.

Chapter 7

Juliet and Mimi were inseparable during the winter of 1943. The twelve-year-old Pierre was a constant companion for the two girls, and they joyously followed his every whim. He was slavishly in love with Mimi. But then everyone was in love with her, even fifteen-year-old Maxi, who was always on the verge of running away, wanting to join the army, any army, to fight and even to die to win the war. Mimi foiled his plans with a counter-suggestion that kept him amused for a while every time the urge came upon him to be a freedom-fighter. The children were what made life in exile for the adults at Beechtrees more bearable.

But no matter what joy there was at Beechtrees, it was always overshadowed by the war. The household hung on every smattering of confidential information sent through to them from the state department. They read every account of every battle in the newspapers several times over. They worked as hard at economizing and keeping to the ration-books as their neighbours, and they prayed and hoped for victory every day. The Queen’s consort left them after Christmas to work in Washington in some capacity no one quite understood. Jack, Ernie and Jerry, the three FBI men, grumbled: they had not joined the FBI to miss the war.

Mimi was happy, life for her was less of a hardship. Cook and the family knowing her new circumstances were able to treat her, if not like family, as a close friend, but Mimi never took her happiness for granted. She often suffered a tremor of anxiety. Those nervous moments served as a
reminder to the child that the wonderful homely people who had taken her in could all vanish and leave her behind. She remained still a displaced child, roaming the world alone, waiting for her father. A victim of the fortunes of war. Courageous, a clever child, she would quickly shrug those black feelings off before they could take hold. Mimi had learned from bitter experience not to expect too much from life.

She was the only person at Beechtrees who never thought about the future. She could only think of now. The future, tomorrow even, was the unknown, a mystery, a no-man’s-land of nothingness for her. To imagine a future would have confused her. But as for living in the here and now, she was an expert at that. And this remarkable ten year old had the admiration of everyone for it.

If Mimi was unable to contemplate or worry about her future, there was not a person on the estate who didn’t do the worrying for her. Because everyone in the household knew one day that call would come and they would all – the family, the staff, Jack, Ernie, Jerry – leave Beechtrees to go home. Unless Mimi’s father did return to find her, or the FBI found him as Jack had promised they would, what was to become of Mimi? Every member of the Beechtrees community suffered her isolation for her. Behind closed doors, numerous Mimi-plans were hatched. But there was so much to be done for her before that day came. She was a child who hid the scars of her hardship well. Maybe too well. It was difficult to tell just how much psychological damage Mimi had sustained from living in such dreadful poverty and in semi-isolation from people and the world for so long as Mimi Kowalski, daughter of Mashinka.

The family had come to understand what dreadful mistakes had been made by those in charge of Mimi’s welfare. Their human frailties and downright ignorance had caused this child so much anguish, pain, and separation from people and society. But Mimi had not understood it.
She appeared to be blocking out her change of circumstances ever since the day it had been revealed over tea, when she showed her photographs and the contents of her treasured leather envelope in its yellowed oil-cloth wrapper.

The war was going badly on two fronts for America. Young men were dying a long way from home. The reluctant giant roared. Resources were committed to the fight. It was America’s war now, not just England’s or Europe’s, or the Far East against Japan. America became preoccupied with its own tragedies, its war efforts, its sufferings. It lacked only bombing-raids on the home-country or an occupying army.

The small enclave of foreigners living at Beechtrees in the Berkshires of New England felt the changes in the American attitude. The war had all but come home to Americans. All foreigners, even allies, were still alien to them. The local New Englanders had always seen them as unfortunate victims of war seeking refuge in the peace and tranquillity of their homeland, yet also as a race apart. People to be treated with cordiality, respect; a topic of interest, spoken of in whispers so as not to be seen as New England nosey. Now they were more reticent about than interested in the royal foreigners at Beechtrees. They were more attentive to War Bonds, rallies, the fresh gold star in a family’s window, symbolising the loss of a son, a father, a brother.

The Beechtrees residents became more isolated that winter of 1944. It was a bitterly cold one, characterized by blizzards. Their weekly excursions to the cinema in Pittsfield, to shop and lunch in Lee or Lenox, or walk through Stockbridge, were no longer carefree jaunts but hard work. The townsfolk still traded with them, were still cordial, but smiles were hard to come by that winter. Though it was never discussed, once they were beyond the Beechtrees gates, there was always a sense that they were
guests who had remained too long, that their welcome had run out.

Joe Pauley never failed them through that winter. Only the snow-drifts kept him from reaching them. But after they buried Mashinka in a grave in Chicopee his relationship with Mimi was never as close as when they had been friends in the Blocks there. Mimi’s change of circumstances, though neither she nor the pedlar was aware of it, distanced the child from her adored friend and most important benefactor. But in her young heart she never let him go.

Life at Beechtrees had not changed at all after Mimi’s tea party. The sovereign and her consort ran the family with a frugal hand. Everyone had his chores, his entertainments, his schooling. Mimi still rose at five in the morning and did her work for Cook. She still kept the room off the kitchen given to her on arrival. An alternative had been offered, but she had declined. The Queen and her consort insisted they should all remain as normal a family as possible under the circumstances, believing that normality and a structured life would give them all a base to cope with their predicament, the ravages of a world gone mad. Isolated and troubled by the anxieties of war they may have been, but their efforts at happiness were well rewarded. It was as happy a house as the children could have lived in. From that standpoint Beechtrees was a great success. Memories of it would kindle a lifelong gratitude.

Jack and Ernie’s investigation into Mimi’s affairs was fruitful, financially certainly, and interesting to the two FBI men. All their leads in the search for Mimi’s father came to a dead end, but they were getting a picture of a clever and responsible man who went to great lengths to cover his tracks. Before long, Ernie and Jack realized their work would be doubly hard: all indications were that Mimi’s father was using the name Kowalski to hide his real identity. But was that only in America?

So surprise and disappointment met Mimi’s refusal to
reveal her real family name. They persevered, but to no avail. Then an edict arrived from Washington: Close Kowalski file, immediately. At least until after the war. That directive proved to the two FBI partners how close they had come to locating Mimi’s father. By the sound of the letter from Washington, maybe even too close. But Mimi was to know nothing about that. It occurred long after she had gone to Jack and Ernie and told them, ‘I thought about it, Jack. I still want you to find my father, but not until after the war. That’s what he said: “I’ll come and get you after the war.” I don’t think I should do anything before that. And especially not now since I can afford, with all that money I have, to take care of myself. All those things he did for me, and all that money, those houses and jewels, and all those arrangements I don’t understand that he made to take care of me. To take care of him when he gets here. You must see, I have to wait.’

Between the tea party and Christmas Mimi made a journey to New York. Only an inordinate amount of coaxing persuaded her to go. The Queen and her consort, Jack and Ernie, even the Naval Attache, set about convincing her that she must deposit the contents of the red-leather envelope in a bank for safe keeping. A child’s logic – ‘I’ve had it with me all these years – why do I have to put it away now? Is it because I know what’s in it? That doesn’t make much sense’ – had to be overcome.

Eventually they did win her over. She boarded a train for New York City with Ernie, Jack and Miss Tolset, her teacher. They were going to see the lawyer who had drawn up the deeds, and the banker who was handling her financial affairs.

It was dark when they returned to Beechtrees, but that didn’t matter to the children. They were all waiting for her in the kitchen, eager to hear about her adventure into the big city. ‘You won’t be leaving us, will you?’ asked Pierre, looking very concerned.

‘No, of course not. Why would I leave you?’ She seemed genuinely puzzled.

‘Don’t listen to him. He’s stupid.’ That was Maxi.

‘What’s New York like?’ asked Juliet. ‘Was it fun?’

‘Well, it’s better here. But there’s something exciting about the place. It’s all so, well, speedy. Everything’s so fast. It’s overwhelming. Sort of gigantic, like a city in a movie. Not very real. Lots of tall buildings. I never saw so many people rushing up and down the streets in bunches. And the cars, they can only move by inches.’

‘Did you see the houses?’

‘Well, they’re not exactly houses. One of them faces this park, not just a normal park but one bigger than I have ever seen, like a city all on its own surrounded by the real city. And it’s a building with many floors, and different families living on each floor. It has these big windows that are two floors high. The lawyer who took us there, Mr Wilson, says it has a
fanciful façade,
’ mimicking the lawyer’s broad New York accent. All the children thought that worthy of a burst of giggles.

‘What exactly does that mean?’ asked a still laughing Juliet.

When Mimi got her own giggles under control she answered, ‘A fancy front, I think.’ This merited a new round of chuckles.

‘You children are being so silly.’ But Miss Tolset couldn’t help smiling: a teacher could only approve their eagerness to hear all about Mimi’s adventure. That was all it meant to them, an adventure. Such innocence was refreshing.

Mimi picked up where she had left off. ‘You can actually see the balconied studios behind the windows. Mr Wilson was very proud of the building. He kept telling us that every single apartment had “elaborate and lavish spaces”.’ More New York mimicry evoked more childish laughter. The adults around the old, wooden kitchen table joined in.

‘Oh, Mimi, that’s very funny, but it’s not nice to make fun of people. Please don’t do it again. Mr Wilson is a product of an environment – New York. They have their own way of talking, just as you all do.’ The admonition somehow lacked conviction: her imitation had been on target.

‘I’m sorry, but he did sound so funny.’ Turning back to the children she told them, ‘He was so nice to me. He really wanted me to know that it was a special place in the city, and that many famous people had lived there and still do. I forgot their names.’

‘Isadora Duncan, Alexander Woolcot, Norman Rockwell, Noel Coward, Fannie Hurst, to name just a few,’ offered Miss Tolset, a mine of superfluous information. No magazine escaped her.

Mimi shrugged her shoulders and carried on, ‘We did go in. And it was very big and unusual, sort of exciting, and we went into one of the studios – that’s what they call the apartments in that building – and looked out. And it was different from any house I had ever been in. I felt just like a bird looking down on the city. It was a lot different to being in the streets. They are
so
dirty.’

‘What about the other house?’ asked Pierre.

‘Oh, much more like a real house, although it’s divided inside into four flats, one on each floor. It’s in a place Mr Wilson says they call either Lower Fifth Avenue or the Village. Greenwich Village, on the edge of it, is what Mr Wilson says. That’s a more cosy house, and the village a more cosy place.’

‘Did you get to see a newsreel?’ asked Maxi.

‘No time.’

‘No time! What else did you do? Why couldn’t you go to a newsreel?’ Much disappointment in Maxi’s voice.

‘We spent a long time at the bank. The man in charge seemed very nice. They took my bank book and made so many recordings in it that they had to give me another one.’

‘They’re called deposits,’ contributed Jack, who was at the table with a cup of coffee, forking up pieces of mocca cream cake.

‘Where did the money come from?’ asked Maxi.

‘Shall I explain or will you, Mimi? They won’t be happy until they know everything.’

‘They should, they’re my friends. But explain what?’ She seemed genuinely confused.

‘Just what Mr Peabody at the bank told you about the money.’

‘Oh, that.’

‘You do understand?’

‘Yes, Jack. Well, sort of.’

He was now used to Mimi’s vagueness when it came to her newfound security. So was everyone else who knew her. They understood it as exactly what it was: a defence mechanism created by her to protect herself from disappointment, from her fear of loss. ‘You understand it better, you tell them, Jack.’

‘OK. Now listen carefully. Before the war, Mimi’s father bought the two houses and gave them to her.’ A look of astonishment on the children’s faces. This was truly a grown-up present. Jack felt prompted to add, ‘But he didn’t tell Mimi or anyone else. It was a secret, a surprise for her for the future. All the people in them pay rent to live there. They give the money to a man that’s called an agent, and he gives the money to Mr Peabody at the bank. He puts it away for Mimi, and someone writes it down in her little book so she knows how much money she has saved.’

‘How much?’ asked Pierre.

‘Pierre! What a rude question. It is none of your business. Apologize at once,’ demanded Miss Tolset.

Alert to his embarrassment, Mimi came to the rescue of her friend by leaping in before he could answer. ‘There is a flat in the building facing the park. It’s way up high. The man who lives there does so only until Father or I want to
move in. Mr Wilson says that’s “the terms of the lease”.’