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

searched th e crowded platform. My frustration and fear mounted at the impossible task of holding onto Anna while watching for Mila.
    I grabbed a passing conductor. “Where’s the train to Geneva?”
    “Ahead on the left,” he shouted. “It’s leaving,”
    I grabbed Anna’s arm, leaned forward using my shoulder to wedge an opening in the throng.
    “Mila! Ilona!” My shouts were swallowed by the cries of my neighbors. I saw the train and continued pushing until I reached an open space just along the edge of the platform. I had to avoid falling onto the tracks, but ahead, I could see Mila arguing with a conductor as she tried to get onto the train. I used all my strength to push toward her.
    “My mother has my ticket!” Mila pleaded. She attempted to push past the conductor. “Let me on and I’ll get the ticket from her.”
    I dragged Anna along with me until she refused to keep up. I dropped her hand and ran forward without a word or a look backward.
    The conductor shoved Mila back onto the platform. “No ticket, no entrance. This train is full.”
    The train shuddered, lurched forward and back. Undecided, it paused. A loud shriek of steel and steam and I watched in horror as it started to inch forward. Mila noticed and her attempts grew more desperate.
    “Please let me on,” she cried, skipping sideways to keep pace with the train. “My mother has my ticket.”
    Mila looked along the length of the train and then sprinted. She stopped halfway down the car and then started trotting to keep pace with the slowly moving train.
    She pounded on a window of the train, screaming, “Momma!”
    The window opened and Ilona leaned out. “Mila, how did you get here?”
    Mila reached up and grasped her mother’s fingers. “Momma, give me my ticket.”
    “I don’t have it.”
    They were moving too quickly now. I ran to catch up, spellbound by the macabre drama.
    Ilona looked at me and yelled, “Take her home. It’s too late!”
    “Why?” Mila cried.
    Ilona glared at me and then at Mila.
    “Tell her Ilona! Tell her!” I shouted. “There never were more than two tickets!”
    The wind whipped the hair across Mila’s twelve-year-old face as it crumbled in anguish. “Momma don’t leave me.”
    Ilona’s face was pained but defiant. My stomach churned with shame. Was this my younger sister? Was she raised in the same house as Anna and me? She looked at her daughter and then closed the window and turned away.
    Mila stopped. Her arms fell to her sides. She stood helplessly watching the train gathering speed. “But Momma, I love you.”
     
     

Excerpt from Mrs. Tuesday’s Departure ,
written by Natalie X,
published by the General Directorate of Publishing, 1952
    Once upon a time, in a future far away, seventy years after the end of the War…
     
    The old woma n dropped the unopened package onto the edge of the sofa. Pausing for a moment, she looked around the room, at the opulent mahogany armoire and card table, the tall windows whose heavy brocade curtains always stood open so that she could enjoy what little light came into the room. She was glad that she would soon leave the weight of it behind forever.
    At the front door, she put on her coat and wound a red cashmere scarf around her neck. She closed the door behind her, locked it, and then waited patiently for the elevator as she tugged on her black leather gloves.
    “Good evening, Mrs. Tuesday,” the elevator operator said as the steel doors rolled shut in front of them. “How are you this evening?” He thought she looked a bit pale, thinner through the cheeks.
    “I’m well, Patrick,” Mrs. Tuesday said as she watched the numbers descend.
    “Watch your step, Ma’am,” said Patrick as she stepped out and into the lobby.
    The gilt mirrors on opposite walls were still trimmed with Christmas garland and adorned with red velvet bows that matched the camel back sofas beneath. Her heels clicked and echoed as she crossed the lobby’s black and white