But as Masha rose from her chair and turned to go, there was a ripping sound. The coat which she always wore had caught on the edge of the table. She clutched at the fabric in dismay, turning pale. ‘Rachel! My coat!’
‘Quick, take a hold of it.’
‘Help me.’
Rachel snatched up the torn hem of Masha’s leather coat, rolling it in her fingers. ‘Quickly. Back to our cabin.’
In this somewhat ungainly fashion, with Rachel holding Masha’s coat absurdly like a page lifting the train of a queen, they made their way out of the dining room. Stravinsky did not look up as they passed, but Katharine stared at them curiously.
Luckily, the cabin which they shared with a young Hungarian woman who spoke neither German nor English was temporarily empty, the bunks unmade and feminine clothing scattered all over the floor. They locked the door, and Masha carefully took off the coat.
The tear was a bad one, and the contents of the hem were sliding out, a thin chamois leather pipe. Masha unfolded the soft leather to reveal a string of dark-red rubies. ‘They nearly fell out in the restaurant. The stitching has all ripped away.’
‘Can you fix it?’
Masha shook her head. ‘I can’t sew like our grandmother.’
‘Let me try.’ Rachel got the little sewing kit out of her suitcase and sat down to inspect the coat. ‘The mend will be conspicuous,’ she said seriously, for once not making a joke of the situation. ‘What if the American customs officers notice it?’
‘Do you think they would confiscate the stones?’
‘They will make us pay duty.’
‘With what? We haven’t got a penny.’ The German authorities, indeed, had allowed each of them to take only the farcical sum of ten Reichsmarks, less than five American dollars, out of the country. And one suitcase of clothing apiece.
Masha, who had inherited a house in Berlin, had been forced to relinquish her title in the property to the State before she could get a ‘Jewish Passport’, entitling her to leave. Then, too, there had been the crippling emigration taxes which had been imposed on the family for the privilege of letting the two girls escape. The necessary documents required filled a thick dossier.
Nor was there any great welcome waiting across the Atlantic. To have had even a remote chance of entering the United States, the Morgensterns had been compelled to find several sponsors willing to give affidavits. They were required to prove that they could support themselves which, considering that they had been robbed blind by the Nazi state, was almost unfeasible. They had then been given numbers in a waiting list within the small quota established for Germany. The girls had been forced to undergo a humiliating physical examination at the United States consulate. It had all seemed impossibly hard until, at the very last moment, their numbers had come up. They had left Bremen with the iron gates almost literally crashing shut on their heels.
This little string of red stones represented the final gasp of a once-wealthy family, now reduced to pauperdom.
The girls stared at one another, the last two latkes on the saucer. ‘I could wear them round my neck from now on,’ Masha suggested.
‘Everybody would see. They would be stolen long before we reached New York.’
‘On board this ship? Surely not.’
‘My dear cousin, what planet do you think you inhabit? We are Jews.’
‘But not everybody hates Jews.’
‘When you find someone who loves us, would you kindly let me know? I’ll just have to make as good a job of it as I can,’ Rachel said.
Masha nodded. She watched Rachel sewing the maroon lining, her fair head bent over the work, and reflected – but did not comment – upon the interesting fact that this was the first time since leaving Germany that Rachel had neglected to vomit up a meal. ‘You’ve never told me whether you were ever in love, Rachel.’
‘Haven’t I?’
‘Not a word. You never talk about yourself.’
‘Perhaps there’s nothing to talk about.’
‘I don’t believe that for one moment. Why are you so enigmatic?’
Rachel examined her stitches closely. ‘I’ve learned to keep myself hidden away, like these rubies.’
‘So there was someone!’
Rachel lifted her shoulders. ‘Perhaps there was a certain someone.’
‘Tell me about him!’
Rachel’s smile had a certain secretive quality. It lifted the corners of her eyes, turning her high cheekbones into little apples. ‘You’re too young.’
‘Nonsense,’ Masha scoffed. ‘I told you about Rudi, didn’t I?’
‘Yes, you told me about Rudi.’
‘Well, then. What was his name?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘At least tell me his first name!’
‘I can’t even tell you that.’
Masha was fidgeting with excitement. ‘Somebody famous, then!’
‘No. Not famous.’
‘What, then?’ Masha’s eyes opened very wide. ‘Married!’ she gasped.
Rachel drew up the crimson thread carefully. ‘No, not married.’
‘Thank goodness for that.’ She laid her hand on her mouth. ‘Oh. I’ve guessed.’
‘Have you?’
‘A Gentile. And your family objected.’
‘You’re very clever,’ Rachel said, ‘but that was not the difficulty.’
‘What was the difficulty, then? Tell me!’
‘Stop asking questions. You’re distracting me.’
‘And you’re exasperating me!’
‘If I don’t make these stitches neat, the customs men will confiscate our precious rubies.’
‘It’s not fair,’ Masha exclaimed. ‘I told you all about Rudi.’
‘Of course you did. You are incapable of keeping a secret.’
‘There shouldn’t be secrets between us.’ When Rachel didn’t reply, but just kept smiling and sewing, Masha went on plaintively, ‘I think you’re very unkind to keep things hidden from me. I know hardly anything about you, and we’re first cousins. We used to have fun when we were children, didn’t we?’
‘Yes.’
‘We used to play duettinos by Clementi together on the piano, do you remember?’
‘Of course I remember.’
‘And then they started keeping us apart. When I asked to see you, they said you were a bad influence.’
Rachel seemed wryly amused. ‘Did they indeed? Well, you should be warned.’
‘But we only have each other, now. And I like your influence.’
Rachel lifted her cool blue eyes to Masha’s. ‘Do you?’
‘Yes. You’re rather cynical, you know. You don’t have a good word to say about anybody. But I’ve grown to like that. It makes me feel grown-up.’
‘Really?’
‘I’m too romantic. I know it. I always have stars in my eyes. You help me to question things.’
‘Well, the question before us now is whether this repair will pass muster,’ Rachel replied, lifting the hem of the coat to show her cousin. ‘What do you think?’
Masha examined it critically. ‘A man on a galloping horse might not notice.’
‘We shall have to be content with that. Be careful not to catch it on anything again, or you’ll be scattering precious stones like the girl in the fairy tale. Let’s go and get some sun.’
They went up to the deck together, with Masha none the wiser about this mysterious love-affair of Rachel’s.
‘At least,’ she begged, ‘tell me his initials.’
‘No.’
‘How can you be such a tease? You’ll make me hate you!’
‘I hope not,’ Rachel said gravely; but no matter how Masha pleaded and bullied, Rachel refused to be drawn further on the subject.
Southampton