Finding Rebecca: A Novel of Love and the Holocaust by Eoin Dempsey Page A

and his father smiled too. “No, no strange women at
breakfast. He must sneak them out before Alexandra and I get out of bed.” They
all laughed again. Alexandra came out and sat down with them.

    ‚ÄúSunshine, you‚Äôre getting too big to
sit on my lap now.” Uli smiled.

    ‚ÄúI can still try.‚Äù She said and sat
back on Uli’s lap. Uli grunted and snorted, pretending that she was crushing
him, but Alexandra just laughed.

    ‚ÄúAll right, Alexandra, that‚Äôs
enough,” her father said. “Sit down there, please.” He pointed to the extra
chair.

    ‚ÄúWe were just talking about your
father’s love life, or lack thereof. So what about you Alexandra, surely a
beautiful young girl like you has hundreds of boys chasing after her?”

    Christopher and his father both sat
forward and Alexandra smiled. “There’s too many to choose from Uli, I just
can’t make up my mind.”

    ‚ÄúI‚Äôll bet. You look just like your
mother. She was just like you, those blond curls and those pale blue eyes. Just
don’t end up with the kind of man that she did.” Uli roared laughing. Stefan
pursed his lips slightly and scratched the back of his head, but still smiled.

    ‚ÄúIs dinner ready yet?‚Äù Stefan asked.

    It was and they went inside where the
table was laid out and Alexandra brought the roast beef and potatoes and laid
them out on the table. Christopher helped her bring over the vegetables and
they sat down to eat. It had been some time since he had thought about her, but
the mention of Rebecca’s name quieted Christopher and he remained silent
through the dinner, watching the others speak. Uli was talking to Alexandra
about her plans to go to university when Christopher noticed his father looking
at him.

    ‚ÄúChristopher, could you clear the
table please?” Stefan asked. Christopher nodded and took the plates, making
sure not to waste any food before scraping them off. He stepped out into the
garden and reached into his pocket for a packet of cigarettes and drew one out.
“Are you smoking out there?” his father asked.

    ‚ÄúYes.‚Äù Christopher said. He raised up
his eyes whilst facing the other direction.

    ‚ÄúWell if you insist on indulging in
that filthy habit please go down to the end of the garden, at least that way we
won’t have to smell it.”

    Christopher trudged onto the grass
without answering. The night was drawing in and the greying light was gritty
and solid, as if he could reach out and feel it between his fingers. He lit the
cigarette with a match which glowed bright orange gold and then died as he drew
the smoke into his lungs. Christopher continued walking on down towards the old
tree house and the sea beyond. He stopped at the tree house and reached up to
touch it, to run his hand along the wooden surface. He was six feet tall now,
tall enough to see up and into it and the simple shelf that hung below the gap
in the boards that served as a window. The paint he and Rebecca had applied to
the inside of the tree house was flaking and cracked but still showed the
garish red color she had insisted upon, and Christopher smiled. He drew on the
cigarette and watched the grey smoke billow up and merge into and become the
night air. He thought about Rebecca and wondered where she was now and why he
had never gone to Portsmouth to look for her. He wondered what she looked like
now. He thought about their kiss, but then dismissed it. They were kids at the
time. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

    ‚ÄúYou know the government in Germany
has proven the link between smoking and cancer? Herr Hitler himself has spoken
out against the evils of smoking,” Uli said from behind him.

    ‚ÄúIs that right?‚Äù Christopher
answered.

    ‚ÄúYes, the government has initiated a
nationwide campaign to stop people from smoking. They say it causes heart
disease and that it can stop women from