A Song for Summer

Ellen had not intended to pull FitzAllan's irons out of the fire for him but for some reason the children had been very disappointed at the idea of cancelling the trip--and the truth was that she herself felt guilty about her reluctance to visit the Carinthian Municipal Abattoir. She was after all not a vegetarian--quite the contrary: her Boeuf en Daube had won first prize at the Lucy

Hatton School of Household Management--yet she had never seen how the wretched beasts she cooked so readily were dispatched.

So she had agreed to go and now was bitterly regretting it.

They had passed Klagenfurt and the sanatorium where chomsky still lay surrounded by devoted relatives. The last time Ellen had visited him they were debating whether to take Laszlo off to a spa to recuperate and had asked her if she would like to accompany him on the journey as his nurse.

If only she could trust Isaac to be sensible. She had left him with Lieselotte, determined to venture into Kartoffelpuffer, but he had begun to give up hope of Marek and was talking about getting away on his own.

Sophie, sitting in the row in front, turned around.

"Have you got a sick bag, Ellen?"' she asked, and Ellen handed her the last one in her basket.

What was the matter with everyone?

As so often with Sophie, she was trying to reconcile her warring sides. In England she read school-girl stories in which sneaking and telling tales was the worst thing that could be done, but in Vienna with her father, it was breaking the law that was unforgivable. What if they caused Ellen to be put in prison? They didn't put children in prison but they put them in awful places-- borstal and worse. Should she tell Ellen what was hidden in Flix's basket beneath the picnic food and her rolled up raincoat, or in Frank's? All of them had pliers and wire cutters but Flix and Frank had great files, and a handsaw.

Flix had planned it all. She was going to release the Judas sheep and shoo it away into the forest. "Then the other sheep will follow," she'd said, "and while the men are chasing them the rest of you can free the animals in the trucks and in the pens."

Sophie had wanted to help--one simply had to after FitzAllan had explained about the way the steers were stunned and had their throats cut while their hearts were still beating because that way the blood drained away better, as though animals were a kind of sewage. But she couldn't help wondering if it was going to be as simple as that: the stampeding beasts, the furious men, the blood ... Oh God, what shall I do? thought Sophie, and was angry with Ursula who had said from the start that it was silly and wouldn't work. She'd come along, but she wouldn't help in any way and she seemed to be the only person who wasn't feeling ill.

Another child put up his hand.

"Herr Tauber, I think we'd better have a break," said Ellen. "Do you know a suitable place to stop?"'

He nodded. "There's a garage at the bottom of the hill with a place to park. They have a fruit stall and toilets."

"Then we'll pull in there if you'll be so kind."

They drove into the forecourt.

"You can all get out and stretch your legs," said Ellen. "But five minutes only--we have to get on. Anyone who wants to go to the toilets--"'

But the children, for once, were not heeding her. Leon had given a shout and tumbled down the steps, Sophie followed and then all of them were rushing headlong towards the petrol pump in the far corner where a tall man was standing talking to the attendant.

Marek was not pleased to see them come. He had finished with the school, and the events of last week had shown him how important it was that he involved no one in his concerns. But as more and more children ran towards him, he found himself smiling at their affection and enthusiasm.

"Where are you off to?"' he asked, and they told him, excitedly, confusedly. Something fell from Frank's pocket and the boy picked it up quickly but not before Marek had seen what it was.

"Ellen's taking us," said Sophie, and the worried look returned to her face. "It was meant to be FitzAllan but now it's her."

Marek looked across at the bus and saw Ellen standing on the steps. He had forgotten the way her hair fell asymetrically, more of it to the left side of her face. Remembering how she had yelled at him the last time he saw her, he waited--but she came down and walked towards him and said, "Could I speak to you alone? Just for a moment?"'

"Of course."

He shooed away the children and together they walked to where they could not be overheard.

Then: "I have him," she said very quietly. "I have your friend."

Marek gave a half shake of the head. Her words made no sense to him.

"I have Meierwitz," she repeated.

"He's with me, working in the kitchen." But the transition was too sudden. He had left Isaac in his mind, shot down in the forest; he could not believe her.

"I left him with Lieselotte. She's teaching him to make Kartoffelpuffer."