Hurry, Sofie! Her sister's voice floated through the open door, echoing past the bookcases lining the walls. It reached her as Sofie sat in a world of her own, lounging in the window seat in her father's library, her favorite spot in the house. A book lay open in her hands, but her eyes were gazing out to the pale pink softness of the cherry blossom petals fluttering down from the tree on the street below.
There you are! Rachel hurried into the library, and Sofie could hear the tenderness in her elder sister's voice as she crossed the room. I knew I'd find you in here. She smiled gently and rested a hand on Sofie's arm, and Sofie tried to imprint it into her memory, the essence of their nineteen years together—her entire childhood, and the only place she had ever known.
“I’ve decided not to go.” Sofie trained her eyes on the page, trying to blot out reality. “You can tell Papa.”
But Rachel’s hand remained on her arm, her voice calm. “You know you have to go, Sofie. Think of Papa. He worries about you, and we’ll follow you there very soon.” She fixed Sofie with her firm smile, as if it were all agreed and there was nothing more to say. “We’ll be together again before you know it.”
Three years older, Rachel had always been the leader, serious and strong. Sofie, ever the youngest, had been the dreamy one with her head in a book. “Why can’t you go in my place? You’re far better suited for this than I am.”
“I’m sorry, Sofie.” She sat down beside her. “This job, the visa, they’re in your name. I can’t take your place, and even if I could, I wouldn’t. I want you to be safe, and right now, Britain is one of the safest places in Europe.” Rachel put an arm around her, and Sofie slumped into her with resignation, knowing that she was right, as usual. Ever since their mother’s death ten years ago, Rachel had taken on much of the responsibility of their family. Sofie had been partially raised by her, not that she would admit it. As a result, Rachel was the person she always turned to when she didn’t know what to do.
Pulling away, Sofie crushed her fists into her eyes with frustration. “But if they hadn’t canceled your job, we’d have been leaving for London together. At least we would have each other.”
“I know that it’s daunting to go alone, Sofie, but a job will come up for me soon. I’ve been going to the British Embassy every day to check the advertisements and apply for posts. Yesterday there were two, one for a housekeeper and another for a cook—although I would have to learn some of that bland British cooking for the job.” Rachel laughed, trying to make light of it, but they both knew how dire things were. Britain was the only place in Europe still offering visas to Jews; every other country was too scared of having a deluge of refugees, too scared of what that could mean in the coming war.
But the British visa came with a catch: you could only apply for one if you had already secured a job contract for domestic work. There was a shortage of servants in Britain, so the British humanitarian groups pressing to help Jews had finally struck a deal with the government: They would let Jews into the country if they were to fill a vacant servant’s position.
“But it’s not so easy anymore,” Sofie said in despair. “Scores of people are swarming to the British Embassy every day to apply for only one or two new positions. Everyone I know is trying to get a visa. What will we do if you’re not picked?”