"Are you sure you've got everything, Maria Josepha?" Mami asks me. We're standing at the train station, the first signs of spring blossoming around us. Strands of dew-covered grass poke out of the cracks in the pavement. The station is unusually quiet. We have taken the train from Au to Heerbrugg, to then catch the train at Heerbrugg to as close as we can get to St Charles in Marseille.
Otto wraps his arm around me as a friendly gesture though my heart beats ten times as fast. I try to hide a blush spreading across my cheeks. Ugh. Why do I have to blush so easily?! "Yes Papi," I reply and kiss him on the cheek, "Don't worry about me." Otto leads me onto the train. "Safe travels!" Mami calls, "Remember, be careful, don't talk to anyone-" "I'll be fine, Mami!" I laugh and take a seat. I wave to her tear-stained face out the fogged-up window as the Heerbrugg Station fades out of sight.
"Maria Josepha!" "Karl? What-what are you doing here?" Karl sits opposite us, his blond hair hanging in his face which he flattens on the top of his head as he speaks. He grins. "I'm going to visit my Grossmueti* in Bordeaux," The way he pronounces the French city makes me blush even more. I have not realised how much I love the French language until now. I can feel Otto's glare shooting arrows into the back of my head. My cheeks hurt from smiling too much. "Who is this, Maria?" Otto mutters, loud enough to hear. I feel the tension rising and my smile fades. I become serious. "Um, Otto, this is Karl Schneider. Karl, this is Otto Buhler. He is a friend of mine."
"Oh, you work at the Au convenience store, don't you?" Karl asks, trying to make conversation. He doesn't succeed, as Otto ignores him, not looking impressed. What have I gotten myself into? I rest my head on the chair and shift my body uncomfortably. My back will be sore by the end of the remaining twelve hours.
I gaze out the window to see bombed houses flashing before my eyes. It makes me think lucky about living in Switzerland. We are now at the Swiss-French border. It's been a few hours. My breath hitches as a girl, no more than ten years old, stares into my eyes, dressed in holey attire, presumably burnt by the smell, eyes lifeless and cold. She stands at the front of the carriage for a few moments, making me shiver uncomfortably. She clutches onto a doll in her arms. The doll is creepy without an eye and covered in red stains that eerily look a lot like blood. "Aidez moi," I hear a whisper through my head, "Aidez-moi, s'il vous plaît," Help me. Help me, please. I blink twice and she's gone as if she wasn't even there at all.
"Maria Josepha?" Otto questions, concerned at the pale expression on my face. "Are you alright?" "Yes, yes, I'm fine," I say and sit back up in my seat, resting my feet on my suitcase under the bench in front of us. When we get off at St Charles, I say goodbye to Karl, who is invested in a book. The cool air wakes me up from my nap. "Merci beaucoup," I mutter to the conductor, who tips his hat towards me. I pull my scarf around my neck, the strands of wool protecting my skin from the harsh winter.
"What number is Mueter?" "Nineteen Rue de l'Eglise," We stop a taxi. "Herr-" Otto coughs, "Monsieur, pouvez-vous, s'il vous plaît, nous emmener au dix-neuf rue de l'Eglise de l'autre côté de la ville? Merci beaucoup.**" "You speak French?" I whisper loudly. He just smiles and hands over a few Francs to the driver. Before we know it we've arrived at number nineteen.
A girl walks out, no more than twelve. She has straight blonde hair and bright blue eyes and makes me think of a girl in fashion magazines. "Grüezi," I start in Swiss German, forgetting we're in Marseille, "***-Bonjour, est-ce la résidence de Lucienne Dubois?" I say in attempted French. "Lucienne Dubois does-used to-live here, yes," She replies in Swiss German. I furrow my eyebrows. "Used to? What do you mean?" Otto asks for me. "Mademoiselle Dubois... she passed away from Influenza. A few months ago. Who are you again?"
I feel tears pricking my eyes and I wipe them away quickly. I've come this far for nothing. In the end, it didn't even matter. My Mueter is dead. "My name is Maria Josepha Schmidt. I am her daughter. I was born in Sankt Gallen. I came as soon as I heard she was still alive..." Her face pales. "What is it?" "You better come inside." Otto and I head inside the house. House would be an understatement.
A glass chandelier sparkled above our heads, mocking our casual attire. The hallway was as large as a room and a staircase spiralled at the end of the hall. A table was situated at our right, draped in an intricate tablecloth and adorned with china plates, glasses, cutlery and vases full of flowers all colours of the rainbow. We take a seat on the sofa to the right.
A lady in an apron comes up and fills three dainty little cups with some sort of sweet-smelling tea. "Thank you, Anastasie," Her face glows in the sun as she walks off.
"Are you a niece of my Mueter's?" I ask. She laughs and I feel my face flushing. "No, no," she smiles and looks into my eyes. "My name is Henriette Dubois. Lucienne is-was- my Maman****,"
"So... does that mean you're my sister?"
"That would be correct, Mademoiselle,"
*grossmueti-grandmother
**monsieur, pouvez-vous, s'il vous plaît, nous emmener au dix-neuf rue de l'eglise de l'autre côté de la ville? merci beaucoup. - sir, may you please take us to nineteen rue de l'eglise on the other side of town? thank you very much
***bonjour, est-ce la résidence de Lucienne Dubois - hello, is this the residence of lucienne dubois?
****maman=mother
Still editing
Sorry this is a bit short! Online school got in the way haha
