Finding Rebecca: A Novel of Love and the Holocaust by Eoin Dempsey Page A
Authors: Eoin Dempsey
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before smiting her father once and for
all. Sandrine crept into his mind. It had been he who had pursued her, but that
had seemed like a long time ago, before Rebecca had come back. Tom asked who
the letter was from, and cocked his head to the side, rubbing nonexistent
facial hair between three fingers with a smile on his face when Christopher
answered.
“Be careful, Christopher,” he
advised, his smile melting away. “She’s engaged, and not just to anyone, to
Jonathan Durrell.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Christopher
replied, trying to convince himself more than anything else by saying the words
out loud. There was no denying that his mind, his world, had been tinged a
different color now. Christopher didn’t speak of the note that morning in work
with his father, though he would have liked to. It would have been good to
speak to someone who knew her like he did, but he knew what his father would
say, and he knew his father would be right. So he didn’t mention it.
Christopher arrived ten minutes early
and she was already waiting for him. She beamed, dressed in a new blue dress.
Christopher raised his hands to his tie, pushing it upwards as he smiled back
at her. Her face was so wonderful he almost burst out laughing as he walked to her.
Rebecca was sitting on a rock overlooking the Lion’s Mane, a rocky outcrop,
about half a mile down the coast from Rebecca’s parents’ house. Rebecca stood
up as Christopher walked to her. He was still moving forward and he held up his
arms but stopped short, as she did. Christopher brought his arms back down and
offered a handshake, which she took in both hands.
“Christopher, you look wonderful. I
can’t tell you how splendid it is to be back here, with you.”
Christopher’s smile widened so far he
thought it was going to tear his face apart. “Why did we call this place the
Lion’s Mane anyway? It looks more like a bunch of black carrots cutting into
the sea to me.”
“I suppose the Lion’s Mane was a
better name. It does sound better than the Bunch of Black Carrots doesn’t it?
It flows off the tongue rather better.”
Christopher laughed and then caught
himself staring. He tore his eyes away and threw them out towards the endless
fascination of the sea. It was hard to know what to say next. There was so
much. “Tell me about your time in England, where were you?”
“In Portsmouth mainly. We moved
around a little towards the end. Peter is in Southampton now, working on the
docks. He likes it there. I don’t think he’ll ever come back.”
“What was it like when you left? The
last I saw of you was as a fifteen year old. You must have been terrified.”
“I was, at first, but I think I could
get used to about anything now. Peter had set up somewhere for us to live and a
job for himself when I arrived so that was a comfort. I had Peter to look after
me. He was more of a parent to me than my mother and father ever were. I owe
him so much.”
“But you’re back living with your
parents now.”
“Only until the wedding,” she
answered, looking directly at Christopher as she spoke. The word wedding cut into Christopher like a
razor blade and he felt himself tighten inside. Rebecca seemed not to notice or
ignored him if she did, and continued talking. “They’re better now, most of the
time anyway. My father dare not lay a hand on me now, as he knows how it would
look in front of the Durrells, his new darlings. It sickens me how much my
mother and father fawn to them, but they’re my parents, I can’t give up on
them.” She took her eyes off Christopher and gazed out at the water extending
out in front of them. The early June sun shone off the tops of the waves as
they crested out in front of them like golden icing on some giant cake.
Christopher
all. Sandrine crept into his mind. It had been he who had pursued her, but that
had seemed like a long time ago, before Rebecca had come back. Tom asked who
the letter was from, and cocked his head to the side, rubbing nonexistent
facial hair between three fingers with a smile on his face when Christopher
answered.
“Be careful, Christopher,” he
advised, his smile melting away. “She’s engaged, and not just to anyone, to
Jonathan Durrell.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Christopher
replied, trying to convince himself more than anything else by saying the words
out loud. There was no denying that his mind, his world, had been tinged a
different color now. Christopher didn’t speak of the note that morning in work
with his father, though he would have liked to. It would have been good to
speak to someone who knew her like he did, but he knew what his father would
say, and he knew his father would be right. So he didn’t mention it.
Christopher arrived ten minutes early
and she was already waiting for him. She beamed, dressed in a new blue dress.
Christopher raised his hands to his tie, pushing it upwards as he smiled back
at her. Her face was so wonderful he almost burst out laughing as he walked to her.
Rebecca was sitting on a rock overlooking the Lion’s Mane, a rocky outcrop,
about half a mile down the coast from Rebecca’s parents’ house. Rebecca stood
up as Christopher walked to her. He was still moving forward and he held up his
arms but stopped short, as she did. Christopher brought his arms back down and
offered a handshake, which she took in both hands.
“Christopher, you look wonderful. I
can’t tell you how splendid it is to be back here, with you.”
Christopher’s smile widened so far he
thought it was going to tear his face apart. “Why did we call this place the
Lion’s Mane anyway? It looks more like a bunch of black carrots cutting into
the sea to me.”
“I suppose the Lion’s Mane was a
better name. It does sound better than the Bunch of Black Carrots doesn’t it?
It flows off the tongue rather better.”
Christopher laughed and then caught
himself staring. He tore his eyes away and threw them out towards the endless
fascination of the sea. It was hard to know what to say next. There was so
much. “Tell me about your time in England, where were you?”
“In Portsmouth mainly. We moved
around a little towards the end. Peter is in Southampton now, working on the
docks. He likes it there. I don’t think he’ll ever come back.”
“What was it like when you left? The
last I saw of you was as a fifteen year old. You must have been terrified.”
“I was, at first, but I think I could
get used to about anything now. Peter had set up somewhere for us to live and a
job for himself when I arrived so that was a comfort. I had Peter to look after
me. He was more of a parent to me than my mother and father ever were. I owe
him so much.”
“But you’re back living with your
parents now.”
“Only until the wedding,” she
answered, looking directly at Christopher as she spoke. The word wedding cut into Christopher like a
razor blade and he felt himself tighten inside. Rebecca seemed not to notice or
ignored him if she did, and continued talking. “They’re better now, most of the
time anyway. My father dare not lay a hand on me now, as he knows how it would
look in front of the Durrells, his new darlings. It sickens me how much my
mother and father fawn to them, but they’re my parents, I can’t give up on
them.” She took her eyes off Christopher and gazed out at the water extending
out in front of them. The early June sun shone off the tops of the waves as
they crested out in front of them like golden icing on some giant cake.
Christopher
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