own nothing
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Eva had heard stories of luggage getting lost, sent to the wrong boat or train, and she had a feeling that it could happen to people, too. She glanced at the photo she was clutching. Brownish hair, green eyes. In other words, he could be absolutely anyone out of the hundreds in the train station. She would be lost like a parcel, her face covered in stamps and labels. Suddenly desperate for security, Eva looked around for her friends, but they had all been taken, for their own good. All she ever heard now was how lucky she was. How was she lucky to be sent away to England?
To keep herself busy, the short twelve-year-old began to methodically shred the star she had forgotten to remove from her jacket. It repulsed her, and it fell to the grubby snow in bits of confetti. It would be prudent to check again for the man, so she looked up and immediately noticed him, after seeing his photograph so many times. He was not as young or as handsome as her father. She pushed her way through the crowd, her carpetbag banging against her shins. He did not see her, so she tapped his elbow.
"I am the girl Eva Levine. You are Mister Ferdinand, I am thinking?" she stammered in English. The phrasebook had made it seem so easy. He smiled and took her bag, then responded in perfect German.
"That's me. How was your journey, Eva?" She was relieved that he pronounced her name the German way, "Eh-fa." The only thing she hated more than being called lucky was being called "Ee-vah."
"Nice, I suppose. I didn't like the animals on the ferry, they scared me."
"Well, then you won't like our pet, I'm afraid."
"What is it?"
"He's a perspicacious loris."
"I have no idea what that means."
"Neither do I, really, but my wife says it's just a clever monkey." They got in the queue for the bus. To Eva's horror, it was pulled by some kind of terrifying cat, like a giant tiger. Maybe she could hide behind the bus? Mr. Ferdinand noticed her expression and put a hand on her shoulder; she fought the urge to shrug it off.
"I promise it won't hurt you. The beasties take a while to get used to, but they can be fascinating." The girl had never felt less fascinated in her life.
"Are we going to London?" London was the only English city she had heard of. They got on the bus and sat towards the back, making room for the other passengers. Mr. Ferdinand stared at her.
"Eva, we're in Glasgow, Scotland. My wife and I live in the outskirts of the city." Eva blushed, and watched out the window for a long time. Finally, Mr. Ferdinand stood up, offering her a hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. "This is our stop." She followed him into the sunshine, meticulously avoiding the snow piled by the road.
After several blocks, he stopped in front of a tidy little house. He rang the bell, and there were two yells of assent from within. Inside, it was wonderfully warm, and something smelled nice. Mr. Ferdinand put down the carpet bag, and led her into the kitchen. A middle-aged woman with cropped blond hair and a kind face was sitting at the table, bickering with an old woman in English. At the sight of Eva and her husband, she stopped and stood up to greet them.
"Hello, Alek! And welcome, Eva!" Mrs. Ferdinand said in broken German. Eva nodded politely.
"Thank you for hosting me, Mr. and Mrs. Ferdinand. And it is a pleasure to meet your mother. Oma Ferdinand, I am Eva Levine." At this, Mrs. Ferdinand cackled triumphantly and the elderly woman whirled around.
"Please excuse that childish woman. I am Doctor Nora Barlow." Her German was very good.
"I'm very sorry."
"It's quite alright." said Dr. Barlow graciously. Just then, some kind of horrible monkey vaulted into the room, landing on Eva's shoulder.
"Welcome, Eva!" it said. Eva screamed, and it jumped to Dr. Barlow.
"W-what is that thing?"
"Bovril," said the doctor, wrinkling her nose at the name. She began to slice carrots.
"Er, may I help cook something?" Eva wanted to make herself useful.
"Go ahead. I take it you know how to make vegetable soup?"
"No, but I can cut the vegetables." She and Dr. Barlow set to it, and soon, the soup was simmering. At the table, Mrs. Ferdinand had put out candlesticks, saying something in English to the doctor, who translated.
"She wants to know if you want to do any Sabbath prayers." Eva shakily lit the candles, dropping the match in the sink. She cleared her throat as everyone watched her expectantly.
"Baruch ata..." she began. "Um, baruch ata Adonai..." Hot, prickly shame welled up inside of her. She had forgotten the blessing. "Baruch... I don't know it," she whispered, "I don't know." Tears stung her eyes.
"Do not worry about it," said Mrs. Ferdinand in German, "That is fine. Do not worry." The woman gently blew out the candles.