Mrs. Tuesday's Departure: A Historical Novel of World War Two Read Online Free

said.
    “She said we could take a later train.” Mila turned to me, her enormous blue eyes revealed her doubt more profoundly than her words.
    “Of course.” I shot the driver a warning glance as he looked at me through the rear view mirror. 
    “Anna how are you feeling?” I asked.
    “I have an awful headache.”
    “What were you thinking, walking into the street?”
    “That’s where you were.” she smiled up at me.
    I leaned over, kissed her forehead, and gently brushed my fingers across her bruised cheek.
    “We’re going to miss the first curtain,” Anna said. “I hope Deszo will wait for us.”
    The traffic piled up and finally stopped. The driver slammed the steering wheel. “Lady there’s no way I can get you any closer than this.”
    We were losing time. The train station was three blocks ahead.
    “Mila, grab our bags, we’ll have to run the rest of way.” I opened the door and helped Anna to her feet.
    I handed the driver a wad of bills. “Thank you.”
    He smiled sadly, “Good luck.”

Chapter Ten
    We hurried throug h the stalled traffic and throngs of pedestrians. Three gypsy children running against the current surrounded us. With ragged smiling faces, one stretched out a hand and another surreptitiously tried to find an entrance into a pocket or purse. Anna cried out as a young boy grabbed her coat. I slapped him away. Instinctively I clutched the lapels of my coat shut. Shoved from side to side, we slowly made our way forward. Pushed out into the street we moved between stalled cars.
    Regaining the sidewalk, I clutched Anna as her feet slipped on a patch of worn shiny ice and her legs collapsed beneath her. Mila was steps ahead of us, looking back from moment to moment, urging us to keep up with her. Finally, we crossed the last street before the train station.
    It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the ill-lighted gloom of the cavernous main hall. Our shoes slid against the slick marble floors. We stumbled over suitcases and bags tied together haphazardly with twine.
    Old women fleeing the terror in the villages sat in a stupor clutching their grandchildren in one hand and their meager belongings in another. Men in military uniforms paced listlessly waiting for orders. Beggars, limbs missing, were propped against the steps, like discarded luggage. We slogged our way through the main hall toward the stairs that lead to the train platforms. To our left, we passed a waiting area, shrouded in darkness, in which rows and rows of benches were crowded with silent, vacant souls.              
    “Nana,” Mila yelled pointing to a sign overhead. “The train is on track three.”
    “See if you can find your mother,” I shouted. “And get on the train.”
    Mila hesitated.
    “Go!” I shouted. “We’ll meet you there.”
    The crowd swallowed Mila and I prayed that she would get on the train. Even though her success would mean our separation.
    Clinging to one another in gray-cloaked clusters were those who had decided safety was hiding in plain sight. Others ran from one place to another, imagining salvation right around the corner.  I grabbed my sister’s face and our eyes met. “You must help me. We’ve got to get to the train track.”
    For a moment, the clouds in her eyes parted and lucidity beamed through.
    “Yes, let’s go.” she whispered.
    We locked arms. Swept into the current of bodies pouring toward the entrance to the tracks, we struggled to keep up.
    On the tracks, an explosion of cold washed away the fetid stink of the terminal. The noise level rose to a roar. The mob surged with the desperate energy of passengers on a sinking ship. Shouts from train conductors fought with the outraged defense of passengers without tickets. Fights broke out as people clawed and shoved their way onto to over-crowded trains. Above all of this, the monstrous hiss of engines and bone-crushing scrape of metal against metal heralded the trains’ departure.

Chapter Eleven
    I