His Majesty's Hope(15)
One by one, the other boys joined in. “Hang the Jews! Put the the priests against the walls! Hang the Jews! Put the priests against the walls!”
“Stop!” the priest thundered from the altar. The ugly face-off was interrupted by the menacing howl of an air-raid siren.
The H.J. boys looked at one another, then back to the priest. “Heil Hitler,” they said in near unison, saluting.
“Gute nacht,” he replied.
The head H.J. boy took one step toward the priest, then another. The siren wailed. “Say ‘Heil Hitler.’ ”
The priest held his ground. “Good evening.”
“Say ‘Heil Hitler,’ old man!”
The priest didn’t flinch.
The boy reached behind the priest and pulled off his skullcap, throwing it to the floor. He spat on it, then ground it under his black boot. As the other boys cheered and the sirens continued their wail, he turned and left, the rest following after.
The priest nodded to Elise and Fritz, leaving the defiled skullcap on the floor. “You can come with me—we have a crypt that doubles as a bomb shelter.”
Elise and Fritz followed, meeting up with him at the altar. The organist, a stout older woman with large hands perfect for bridging octaves, came, too.
As they walked together, Elise said, “You didn’t say ‘Heil Hitler’ to them. Weren’t you afraid of being arrested?”
“My dear,” the priest replied, opening the door behind the altar that led down into the crypt and letting them all enter first. “I made the decision a very long time ago not to say ‘heil’ to anyone but God.”
Chapter Four
The next morning, Maggie cornered David in the dining room over his breakfast and newspaper. It was dim, so she pushed aside the blackout curtains and opened a few of the windows, letting in lemony sunlight and warm morning air.
“Mr. Wright, hmm?” she teased, sitting down and pouring herself a cup of weak tea.
“Jumping Jupiter, stop—just stop!” David said, turning red. It was one of the few times in their four years of friendship that Maggie had ever seen him blush.
“When did all … this … happen?” she asked.
“While you were off—doing, well, whatever it is you’ve been doing for the last few months.”
Maggie spread margarine on a piece of toast. “And is it serious?” she asked. David had had numerous romances and love affairs, flirtations and flings—including one with a British traitor at Windsor Castle—but never had anyone serious in his life. Perhaps he’s growing up? Maggie wondered. Goodness knows, living through these last few years has changed us all. Maggie was one of the very, very, very few people who knew David was homosexual, and she took the responsibility of keeping his secret seriously.
“It is, actually,” David said, through a large mouthful of toast.
Maggie looked down at her nightgown and ratty plaid flannel robe. “He’s not still here, is he?” she asked, patting her disheveled hair and glancing to the doorway.
“Oh, goodness, no. He took off before dawn.”
“Well, congratulations to both of you. I think it’s absolutely wonderful.” Maggie stood to give David a huge embrace, causing him to choke on a crumb.
“Careful there, Mags. It would be a shame to survive all those air raids, only to be taken out by an overenthusiastic flatmate and a wayward piece of toast.”
Maggie returned to her seat, beaming. “I’m just so happy for you, David.”
“Well, it’s not all hearts and flowers, you know.”
“Really? Why on earth not?”
“Oh, nothing at all to do with Freddie.” David sighed. “It’s my parents, you see. They think it’s high time I should get married. To a nice Jewish girl. Have babies and suchlike things. I blame the war for it. Before, I might have managed my bachelor existence. Now, they’re suddenly quite concerned with their potential progeny.”
Maggie took a sip of tea. “Well, can’t you just put them off?”
“That’s the sticky part. They’re not religious at all, just go to temple on the High Holidays. One of my father’s favorite foods is bacon, for heaven’s sake. But ever since the Nuremberg Laws passed, they’re twitchy. And now they’ve given me an ultimatum. Find a bride and get married by my thirtieth birthday, or be completely cut off. In case you don’t remember, I’ll be thirty on—”
“September third. Yes, of course I know when your birthday is, you lout.” Maggie contemplated David’s parents’ ultimatum. It was horrible, of course, but still just a bit funny. She snorted a little. David did love his luxuries so. The idea of his making do without seemed … interesting. “You know, the rest of us seem to survive without vast sums from rich relatives.”