The Prodigal Daughter Read online

  It was agreed that each candidate would give a five-minute talk to the remaining twenty-seven members of the two classes. Miss Tredgold, without wishing to influence Florentyna, listened to her deliver her oration thirty-one times—or was it thirty-two?—as she remarked to Mr. Rosnovski the Sunday morning before the great election.

  Florentyna read the political columns of the Chicago Tribune out loud each day to Miss Tredgold, searching for any scrap of information she could add to her speech. Kate Smith seemed to be singing “God Bless America” everywhere and the Dow Jones Index had passed 150 for the first time: whatever that was, it seemed to favor the incumbent. Florentyna also read about the progress of the war in Europe and the launching of a 36,600-ton U.S. battleship Washington, the first fighting vessel America had built in nineteen years.

  “Why are we building a battleship if the President has promised that the American people will never have to go to war?”

  “I presume it’s in the best interest of our own defense,” suggested Miss Tredgold, who was furiously knitting socks for the boys back home. “Just in case the Germans decide to attack us.”

  “They wouldn’t dare,” said Florentyna.

  The day that Trotsky was slain with a pickaxe in Mexico, Miss Tredgold kept the paper away from her charge, while on another morning she was quite unable to explain what nylons were and why the first 72,000 were sold out in eight hours, the shops limiting the sale to two pairs per customer.

  Miss Tredgold, whose legs were habitually clad in beige lisle stockings of a shade optimistically entitled “Allure,” studied the item frowningly. “I’m sure I shall never wear nylons,” she declared, and indeed she never did.

  When Election Day came, Florentyna’s head was crammed with facts and figures, some of which she did not understand, but they gave her the confidence to feel she would win. The only problem that still concerned her was that Edward was bigger than she was. Florentyna imagined that this was a definite advantage as she had read that twenty-seven of the thirty-two Presidents of the United States had been taller than their rivals.

  The two contestants tossed a newly minted Jefferson nickel to decide the order of speaking. Florentyna won and chose to speak first, a mistake she never made again in her life. She walked to the front of the class, a frail figure, and mindful of Miss Tredgold’s final words of advice—“Stand up straight, child. Remember you’re not a question mark”—she stood bolt upright in the center of the raised wooden platform in front of Miss Evans’s desk and waited to be told she could begin. Her first few sentences came choking out. She explained her policies for ensuring that the nation’s finances remained stable while at the same time promising to keep the United States out of the war. “There is no need for one American to die because the nations of Europe cannot stay at peace,” she declared—a sentence from one of Mr. Roosevelt’s speeches that she had learned by heart. Mary Gill started to applaud, but Florentyna took no notice and went on talking while, at the same time, pushing her dress down nervously with damp hands. Her last few sentences came out in a great rush, and she sat down to a lot of clapping and smiles.

  Edward Winchester rose to follow her, and a few of the boys from his class cheered him as he walked up to the blackboard. It was the first time Florentyna realized that some of the votes had been decided even before the speeches began. She only hoped that was true for her side as well. Edward told his classmates that winning at kickball was the same as winning for your country, and in any case Willkie stood for all the things that their parents believed in. Did they want to vote against the wishes of their fathers and mothers? Because if they did support FDR they would lose everything. This line was greeted with a splutter of applause, so he repeated it. At the end of his speech, Edward was also rewarded with claps and smiles, but Florentyna convinced herself they were no louder or wider than hers had been.

  After Edward had sat down, Miss Evans congratulated both candidates and asked the twenty-seven voters to take a blank page from their notebooks and write down the name of Edward or Florentyna, according to who they felt should be President. Pens dipped furiously into inkwells, scratched across paper. Voting slips were blotted, folded, and then passed forward to Miss Evans. When the teacher had received the last one, she began to unfold the little rectangles and place them in front of her in separate piles, a process that seemed to take hours. The whole classroom remained silent throughout the count, which in itself was an unusual event. Once Miss Evans had completed the unfolding she counted the twenty-seven sheets of paper slowly and carefully, and then double-checked them.

  “The result of the mock election”—Florentyna held her breath—“for President of the United States is thirteen votes for Edward Winchester”—Florentyna nearly cheered: she had won—“and twelve votes for Florentyna Rosnovski. Two people left their papers blank, which is called abstaining.” Florentyna couldn’t believe it. “I therefore declare Edward Winchester, representing Wendell Willkie, to be the new President.”

  It was the only election FDR lost that year, but Florentyna was unable to disguise her disappointment and ran to hide in the girls’ locker room to be sure no one could see her crying. When she came out she found Mary Gill and Susie Jacobson waiting for her.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Florentyna, trying to put a brave face on the result. “At least I know both of you supported me.”

  “We couldn’t.”

  “Why couldn’t you?” asked Florentyna in disbelief.

  “We didn’t want Miss Evans to know that we weren’t sure how to spell your name,” said Mary.

  On the way home, after Miss Tredgold had heard the story seven times, she made so bold as to ask if the child had learned anything from the exercise.

  “Oh, yes,” replied Florentyna emphatically. “I’m going to marry a man with a very simple name.”

  Abel laughed when he heard the story that night and repeated it to Henry Osborne over dinner. “Better keep your eye on her, Henry, because it won’t be long before she’s after your seat.”

  “I’ve got fifteen years before she can vote, and by then I’ll be ready to hand the constituency over to her.”

  “What are you doing about convincing the International Relations Committee that we ought to be in this war?”

  “FDR will do nothing until the result of the election is known. Everybody is aware of that, including Hitler.”

  “If that’s so, I only pray that Britain won’t lose before we join in because America will have to wait until November to confirm FDR as President.”

  During the year Abel broke ground on two more hotels, in Philadelphia and San Francisco, and had begun his first project in Canada, the Montreal Baron. Although his thoughts were rarely far from the success of the Group, something else still remained on his mind.

  He wanted to be in Europe, and it wasn’t to build hotels.

  At the end of the fall term, Florentyna got her first spanking. In later life she always associated this with snow. Her classmates decided to build a massive snowman, and each member of the class had to bring something with which to decorate him. The snowman ended up with raisin eyes, a carrot nose, potato ears, an old pair of garden gloves, a cigar and a hat supplied by Florentyna. On the last day of the term all the parents were invited to view the snowman, and many of them remarked on its hat. Florentyna beamed with pride until her father and mother arrived. Zaphia burst out laughing, but Abel was not amused at the sight of his fine silk topper on the head of a grinning snowman. Once they had arrived home, Florentyna was taken to her father’s study and given a long lecture on the irresponsibility of taking things that did not belong to her. Abel bent her over his knee and gave her three hard slaps with a hairbrush.

  That Saturday night was one she would never forget.

  That Sunday morning was one America would always remember.

  The Rising Sun appeared over Pearl Harbor on the wings of hostile aircraft and crippled the U.S. battle fleet, virtually wiping out the base and killin
g 2,403 Americans. The United States declared war on Japan the following day and on Germany three days later.

  Abel immediately summoned George to inform him that he was going to join the American forces before they sailed for Europe. George protested, Zaphia pleaded, and Florentyna cried. Miss Tredgold did not venture an opinion.

  Abel knew he had to settle one final thing before leaving America. He called for Henry.

  “Did you spot the announcement in The Wall Street Journal, Henry? I nearly missed it myself because of all the news about Pearl Harbor.”

  “You mean the merger of Lester’s with Kane and Cabot, which I predicted in last month’s report? Yes, I already have the full details.” Henry took a file from his briefcase and passed it to Abel. “I guessed that was what you wanted to see me about.”

  Abel flipped through the file until he found the relevant article, which Henry had underlined in red. He read the paragraph twice and then started to tap his fingers on the table. “The first mistake Kane has made.”

  “I think you may be right,” said Henry.

  “You’re earning your fifteen hundred dollars a month, Henry.”

  “Perhaps it’s time to make it two thousand.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of Article Seven of the new bank’s rules.”

  “Why do you think he allowed the new clause to be inserted in the first place?” said Abel.

  “To protect himself. It has obviously never occurred to Mr. Kane that someone might be trying to destroy him, but by exchanging all his shares in Kane and Cabot for the equivalent Lester shares he’s lost control of one bank and not gained control of the new one because Lester’s is so much larger. While he only holds eight percent of the shares in the new venture, he has insisted on that clause to be sure he can stop any transaction for twelve months, including the appointment of a new chairman.”

  “So all we have to do is get hold of eight percent of Lester’s stock and use his own specially inserted clause against him as and when it suits us.” Abel paused. “I don’t imagine that will be easy.”

  “That’s why I’ve asked you for a raise.”

  Abel found the task of being accepted to serve in the armed forces considerably more difficult than he had at first imagined. The army was none too polite about his sight, his weight, his heart or his general physical condition. Only after some string pulling did he manage to secure a job as a quartermaster with the Fifth Army under General Mark Clark, who was waiting to sail to Africa. Abel jumped at the one chance to be involved in the war and disappeared to officer candidate school. Miss Tredgold did not realize until he had left Rigg Street how much Florentyna was going to miss her father. She tried to convince the child that the war would not last long, but she did not believe her own words. Miss Tredgold had read too much history.

  Abel returned from training school as a major, slimmer and younger-looking, but Florentyna hated seeing her father in uniform, because everyone else she knew in uniform was going away to somewhere beyond Chicago and they never seemed to come back. In April 1942, Abel waved goodbye and left New York on the S.S. Bonnguen. Florentyna, who was still only seven, was convinced goodbye meant forever. Mother assured her daughter that Papa would return home very quickly.

  Like Miss Tredgold, Zaphia did not believe that—and this time neither did Florentyna.

  When Florentyna progressed to the fourth grade she was appointed secretary of her class, which meant she kept the weekly minutes of class meetings. When she read her report aloud to the rest of the class each week, no one in the fourth grade showed much interest, but in the heat and dust of Algiers, Abel, torn between laughter and tears, read each line of his daughter’s earnest work as if it were the latest bestseller. Florentyna’s most recent fad, much approved of by Miss Tredgold, was the Brownie scouts, which allowed her to wear a uniform like her father. Not only did she enjoy dressing up in the smart brown outfit, but she soon discovered she could cover the sleeves with different-colored badges for such enterprises as varied as helping in the kitchen to collecting used stamps. Florentyna was awarded so many badges, so quickly, that Miss Tredgold was kept hard at it sewing them on and trying to find a new space for each one. Knots, cooking, gymnastics, animal care, handicrafts, stamps, hiking, followed quickly one after the other. “It would have been easier if you had been an octopus,” said Miss Tredgold. But final victory was to be hers when her charge won a badge for needlework and had to sew the little yellow triangle on for herself.

  When Florentyna progressed to the fifth grade, where the two schools joined together for most classes, Edward Winchester was appointed president of his class, mainly because of his feats on the soccer field, while Florentyna held the post of secretary despite having better grades than anyone else including Edward. Her only disasters were in geometry, where she came in second, and in the art room. Miss Tredgold always enjoyed re-reading Florentyna’s reports and positively relished the remarks of the art teacher. “Perhaps if Florentyna splashed more paint on the paper than on everything that surrounded it, she might hope to become an artist rather than a house painter.”

  But the line Miss Tredgold would never forget was written by Florentyna’s homeroom teacher: “This pupil mustn’t cry when she is second.”

  As the months passed, Florentyna became aware that many of the children in her class had fathers involved in the war. She soon discovered that hers was not the only home that had to face separation. Miss Tredgold enrolled Florentyna in ballet and piano lessons to keep every moment of her spare time occupied. She even allowed her to take Eleanor to the K-9 Corps as a useful pet, but the Labrador was sent home because she limped. Florentyna wished they would do the same to her father. When the summer holidays came, Miss Tredgold, with the approval of Zaphia, extended their horizons to New York and Washington, despite the travel restrictions imposed by the war. Zaphia took advantage of her daughter’s absence to attend fund-raising meetings in aid of Polish soldiers returning from the front.

  Florentyna was thrilled by her first trip to New York even though she had to leave Eleanor behind. There were skyscrapers, big department stores, Central Park and more people than she had ever seen before; but despite all the excitement; it was Washington she most wanted to visit. The journey was Florentyna’s first in an airplane, and Miss Tredgold’s as well, and as the plane followed the line of the Potomac River into Washington’s National Airport, Florentyna stared down in awe at the White House, the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, and the as yet unfinished Jefferson building. She wondered if it would be a memorial or a monument and asked Miss Tredgold to explain the difference. Miss Tredgold hesitated and said they would have to look up the two words in Webster’s dictionary when they returned to Chicago, as she wasn’t certain there was a difference. It was the first time that Florentyna realized that Miss Tredgold didn’t know everything.

  “It’s just like in the pictures,” she said as she stared down out of the tiny airplane window at the Capitol.

  “What did you expect?” said Miss Tredgold.

  Henry Osborne had organized a special visit to the White House and a chance to watch the Senate and House in session. Once she entered the gallery of the Senate Chamber, Florentyna was mesmerized as each senator rose at his desk to speak. Miss Tredgold had to drag her away as one might a boy from a football game, but it didn’t stop her continually asking Henry Osborne more and more questions. He was surprised by the knowledge the nine-year-old girl already possessed even if she was the daughter of the Chicago Baron.

  Florentyna and Miss Tredgold spent the night at the Willard Hotel. Her father had not yet built a Baron in Washington, although Congressman Osborne assured them that one was in the pipeline; in fact, he added, the site had already been fixed.

  “What does ‘fixed’ mean, Mr. Osborne?”

  Florentyna received no satisfactory reply either from Henry Osborne or from Miss Tredgold, and decided to look that up in Webster’s dictionary as well.

  Tha
t night Miss Tredgold tucked the child into a large hotel bed and left the room assuming that after such a long day her charge would quickly fall asleep. Florentyna waited for a few minutes before switching the light back on. She then retrieved her guide to the White House from under the pillow. FDR in a black cloak stared up at her. “There can be no greater calling than public service” was printed boldly on the line underneath his name. She read the booklet twice through, but it was the final page that fascinated her most. She started to memorize it and fell asleep a few minutes after one, the light still on.

  During the return flight home Florentyna again carefully studied the last page while Miss Tredgold read of the progress of the war in the Washington Times-Herald. Italy had virtually surrendered, although it was clear that the Germans still believed they could win. Florentyna didn’t interrupt Miss Tredgold’s reading once between Washington and Chicago, and the governess wondered, because the child was so quiet, if she was exhausted from the travel. On returning home she allowed Florentyna to go to bed early but not before she had written a thank-you letter to Congressman Osborne. When Miss Tredgold came to put the light out, Florentyna was still studying the guide to the White House.

  It was exactly ten-thirty when Miss Tredgold went down to the kitchen to make her nightly cup of cocoa before retiring. On returning she heard what sounded like a chant. She tiptoed slowly to Florentyna’s bedroom door and stood alert, listening to the firmly whispered words: “One, Washington; two, Adams; three, Jefferson; four, Madison.” She went through every President without a mistake. “Thirty-one, Hoover; thirty-two, FDR; thirty-three, Unknown; thirty-four, Unknown; thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, Unknown; forty-two…” There was a moment’s silence, then: “One, Washington; two, Adams; three, Jefferson…” Miss Tredgold tiptoed back to her room and lay awake for some time staring at the ceiling, her untouched cocoa going cold beside her as she recalled her father’s words: “You were born to be a teacher and the Lord’s plan takes us all in its compass; perhaps you will teach someone of destiny.” The President of the United States, Florentyna Rosnovski? No, thought Miss Tredgold, Florentyna was right: she would have to marry someone with a simple name.