Schatzi

30

An: prepare your google translate just as i did. There's a lot of languages in this chapter and I apologise to anyone who speaks German, French or Yiddish. And I apologise to the people who only speak English like I do because the language being spoken switches a lot.

All three of them sat on the floor, in a small circle by the open window, even though there were two perfectly comfortable sofas in the room. Eli was leaning back against the wall so his head was leant against the window frame, feeling the breeze on the back of his neck.

He sat with Tig and Billy, smoking as they lounged about all day. They'd decided to hang out for no particular reason but it had turned into a conversation of languages like it always did. All three of them were bilingual and had been teaching each other since they met.

Tig's mother had taught him all the french she'd learnt from his father. Once Tig's father had returned to France, she'd continued to learn the language and was fluent by the time Tig was five, at which point she'd started teaching him. Eli had always spoken Yiddish with his mother and with the other people in his old neighbourhood, and Billy was an English immigrant who spoke German in a heavy British accent.

"French is too hard," Eli groaned, sitting up and taking the cigarette from his lips, tapping the ash off out the window. "There's no point in learning it. It's not like I'm going to move there. If I remember correctly, there's a war on and France is the enemy." He looked at Billy and pointed his cigarette at him. "So's England. At least there are people in Germany who still speak Yiddish."

"Not for much longer if Hitler gets his way," Billy said darkly, shrugging as he shuffled through the pile of leaflets and papers on the floor in front of him. "We're all the enemy here, each of us for multiple reasons."

"What are they going to do with you?" Tig asked. "Technically, they count me as German because of my mother, but you're still British, right?"

"I don't know what will happen to me," Billy sighed. He spoke in English and Eli and Tig were just about able to understand what he said. They learnt quickly and had been learning each language for a few months at least. "It's still early days of the war. I might be deported, to where I don't know. I might be able to escape the country on my own since I know I'd already be persecuted for being a homosexual. They may not be accepting back at home, but they won't kill me there."

Eli nodded and looked down. Good for Billy. At least he had the option to escape. He couldn't stop his mind from wandering to Peter, who'd already paid with his life without even thinking about being able to leave the country.
"So you'll return to England?" He said, banishing the thoughts from his mind.

"Back to Birmingham," Billy nodded wistfully. "God, I wish I never left. The twenties were good here but Jesus Christ, I should have left in '31. I might still be able to leave. Lots of people are leaving the country, you know? All those kids off to Britain...do you think I could pass for 12 if I shaved?" He joked, running a hand over the stubble along his jaw.

Eli laughed and shook his head. Billy was the oldest out of the three of them, almost 30 compared to Eli's 24 and Tig's 21.

"Maybe I will leave," Billy sighed, speaking French now, earning a nod of approval from Tig. "But I'd feel like a traitor if I left now. There are so many who need to leave much more than I do," he said, pausing and gesturing to Tig and Eli. "Like you, you are more likely to be caught, because everyone will know you're a Jew because it says so on your papers, and Tig is obviously not an aryan, white German. We all share the crime of..." he laughed again, this time looking for the french word. "homosexuality," he said in English before continuing in french, "but they cannot tell that just by looking at us."