Heathersleigh Homecoming by Michael Phillips Page B

woman’s English.
    â€œBut . . . are you British?” she asked.
    â€œNo, but I speak English and German. Something told me English was right in your case.”
    â€œIs it that obvious?” replied Amanda in a nervous half laugh. “I have been trying to pass myself off as an Austrian.”
    â€œPerhaps not,” smiled the lady. “I just had a feeling. My name is Gretchen Reinhardt, dear,” she added, sitting down beside Amanda. “What’s yours?”
    â€œUh . . . it’s Amanda. Actually, you’re right—I do need help. I’ve got to get to France.”
    â€œWhy France?”
    â€œI need to get back to England. A man is chasing me. I am in dreadful trouble.”
    â€œWhat kind of trouble? Should we alert the authorities?”
    Amanda’s face fell. “I am afraid that would hardly help. He is Austrian, and actually . . . he is my . . . I can hardly say it . . . I should never—”
    She broke down in tears and glanced away.
    A moment later Amanda felt the woman’s hand on her own.
    â€œIf you can trust me, Amanda dear,” she said tenderly, “I think perhaps I may be able to help you. Would you come with me?”
    â€œI don’t understand,” Amanda said, sniffling and looking back up toward her. “Come where?”
    â€œI am leaving on a train north in a few minutes. I was waiting for it just now when I saw you. We will get you a ticket. If you can trust me, I would like to take you with me.”
    â€œYou mean . . . north —out of Italy?”
    â€œYes, Amanda dear.”
    Could she believe her ears! It sounded too good to be true. Yet . . . who was this woman? She couldn’t just leave with a total stranger.
    Or could she? Something in the lady’s tone and expression, mostly her eyes, told Amanda she could indeed trust her.
    â€œBut . . . but where are you going?” she asked.
    â€œI live in Switzerland,” the lady called Gretchen replied. “Switzerland is neutral, you know. Once there you will be safe. Then you can decide what to do next. But first it might be wise to get you out of your immediate situation.”
    â€œWill they let me across the border?” asked Amanda.
    â€œThe Swiss authorities are very understanding,” answered Gretchen. “I am certain they will.”
    She had not proved herself a very good judge of character up till now, Amanda thought to herself. Perhaps it was finally time she began looking inside people for the right kinds of things. And if she did intend to begin now—
    For an instant she was almost reminded of her mother. Again tears tried to rise in Amanda’s eyes. If ever she wanted her mother, it was now. Just to feel her arms around her, to be safe again, sitting on her bed, listening to her soothing voice.
    She had never felt so lonely and sad in her life. How could she have let herself stay away from her mother for so long? All she wanted at this moment was to be a little girl again, safe and secure in her mother’s arms.
    She looked up through her tears . . . yes, she had the distinct sense that this lady was trustworthy and good, and would let no harm come to her.
    Amanda tried to smile, then nodded.
    â€œYes . . . yes, I will go with you,” she said.
    â€œGood,” said Gretchen, rising. “Here, let me take your bag.—Have you had any lunch?”
    â€œI’m afraid I haven’t eaten all day,” said Amanda, standing wearily to follow her.
    â€œYou must be famished! We must take care of that too. I have some sandwiches. We shall eat them together once we’re on the train.”
    â€œBut I still don’t understand why you would do this,” said Amanda as they walked to the ticket window. “You don’t even know me. Why would you help me like this?”
    Gretchen smiled.
    â€œWe have been