‘I’ll never give up.’ I dashed the tears away.
She leaned forward. ‘I know, and I’ll help you any way I can.’ I nodded and kissed her hand in gratitude. ‘You would do the same for me,’ she said and I nodded. She was right. We would always have each other’s back.
‘What about Leo?’ I needed him now more than ever.
She shook her head. ‘He’ll send out enquires to the ports and border crossings. The visa hadn’t arrived when Leo left Berlin, but he can’t leave the country without it. Vasily’s confident he’ll find him.’
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment to keep the rising panic at bay and leaned back into the pillows, feeling overwhelmed. We had to be reunited soon. Together we could find Elena and put an end to this nightmare. ‘If he was here…’
‘We’ll find a way to bring Elena back to you…’ Marika squeezed my hand before continuing. ‘I told Vasily everything that Julius has done to you and Leo, and about the Nazi atrocities he was involved in,’ she said grimly. I’d never have peace until I’d found Elena and Leo, but if Julius faced the punishment he deserved, not just for me but for the countless Jewish people he’d allowed to go to their deaths, the pain I carried would be a little easier to bear and maybe I could breathe again. ‘He’ll be passing on the information to the Ministry of Internal Affairs.’
I held my breath, taking in the implications, before letting it out slowly again. We both knew that it was Soviet policy to deal harshly with Nazi collaborators. ‘He’ll be interned?’
She nodded, her eyes bright with vengeance. ‘Let’s just say that he’ll soon be enjoying the hospitality of an NKVD camp. He’ll never be able to hurt you again,’ she said with satisfaction.
An overwhelming rush of relief swept through me. Justice had finally been served. But it would never alter the destruction he had inflicted or the pain I felt at losing my daughter.
‘Then I have my retribution,’ I said, hugging her tight.
27
My daily walk took me along the river and up past the boundary of the old estate. It was 1995 and I was seventy-one, and although my body was stiffer and slower than it used to be, I was determined to stay active and maintain my fitness. Like the new Germany after reunification, the estate was whole again, part of the now expanding and dynamic town, the community it had supported for generations. Orderly rows of homes sat on neat plots along new streets and adjacent to grassy parkland dotted with community buildings. Much of the land was now privately owned and what remained of the state-owned land now belonged to the local municipality.
I remembered the deep sadness I’d felt when Gut Birkenhof was transferred to the Soil Fund by the Committee for Land Reform during the Soviet occupation. Just like our beloved Germany, it had been broken up. Small allotments of about five hectares each had been distributed to incoming refugees from the east and landless agricultural workers. The rest had been left as a central state-run property and cooperative where resources, farm machinery and equipment were pooled and shared among the small holdings. It was a new chapter for us all in the place I still called home.
When I was released from hospital all those years ago, Marika had taken me home to Frau Kraus. At first, my life revolved around finding Leo and Elena. My continuing requests to have access to information were denied and I was still no closer to knowing where she was. Captain Snopov tried but was unable to find a legal loophole regarding the adoption.
There was no trace of Leo. He had simply disappeared, and his relatives in America had not heard from him. I finally learnt that Onkel Tedi and his family had perished in Auschwitz. There was nobody left of Tante Elya’s family in Europe. Snopov was recalled to Moscow in 1949 with the formation of the German Democratic Republic – the new state of East Germany governed by the Soviet-backed Socialist Unity Party. Germany had been split into the two new entities of East and West Germany, hostile to one another. I didn’t know then how Germany could ever return to the proud and united nation it had been.
Climbing the incline to the top of the slope and puffing slightly, I glanced over to the hill where the stand of birch still stood. The manor house was gone now, along with all the buildings except the stables and the dairy, but I’d never forget seeing it uninhabited for the first time, left to lapse into a state of disrepair. Doors, windows and flooring were missing, the stone embellishments and facings pulled down and used for new dwellings or firewood, leaving the scars of their crude removal on the eroded lime-washed walls like the horrendous wounds I’d seen on the soldiers I’d nursed in the war. It was like disfiguring a beautiful face for no reason: a terrible violation. The house – the heart and soul of the district for generations – had become an empty shell.
I stood there a moment and sighed. I still mourned Gut Birkenhof, but it was gone forever: a sign of Germany’s glorious past, a time that could never return after what the Nazis and Soviets had done to our nation. And yet life had gone on.
Although retired from nursing, I was still heavily involved in the community, running mothers’ groups and mothercraft classes, cooking and providing care packages for those families who were struggling. Marika had decided to stay in the village with me and she’d married the new local doctor. Together we set up a clinic for new mothers and babies, working closely with doctors and midwives. There was great competition between East and West Germany, even in public health care where the East German government was determined to prove that we were leaders in lowering the rate of infant mortality.
Nursing had been my constant, the place where I felt at peace, invigorated by the joy of new life and bringing hope and practical experience to the expanding families in the village, just as Frau Kraus and Tante Elya had always done. Through my work and the support of those around me, my life returned to some semblance of normalcy.
A cool gust of wind pulled me from my musings and, although it was summer, I was pleased for the windcheater my children had given me. I was now living in Frau Kraus’s cottage, which she’d left me when she died. Hans had passed away before her. Marika and her husband had retired to France where their grown children lived. In my moments of solitude, I’d begun writing letters to Elena, telling her about her birth, my life, and how I’d never stopped looking for her. The three beautiful children I’d had with my husband Gerhard lived in Berlin where there was work and I now had seven grandchildren. I’d met and married Gerhard when he worked for the District Commission, managing the old estate. He’d passed away ten years earlier, but I was so grateful for the wonderful years we’d had together.
I smiled at the burst of colour, cornflowers and poppies in the small meadow next to the road. These days I tended to think about the good times. Now that the Berlin Wall had fallen and we were a united Germany once again, socialism was no longer a part of life, but the old dachas of the Socialist Unity Party officials from Berlin still stood along the river. It wasn’t too long ago when limousines lined the streets of the town and guards surrounded the homes of powerful men from East Germany’s politburo who liked to party on the weekends.
How things had changed, but there were still reminders of my childhood and youth. The outer wall of the old stables, now part of an apartment building, reminded me of the day Leo had given me the carved horse he’d made me, and of all the hours he’d spent teaching me to groom the horses. The few remaining cherry trees lining the village street took me back to my nineteenth birthday and the passion Leo and I had shared under their boughs, and to our wedding day, sitting under the green canopy, full of love and happiness. Despite living a full life, I’d never forgotten Leo, thinking about our life together often and wondering how it might have been.
In the distance, a man leaning against the last remaining timber fence of the old estate caught my eye. He stared out across the new part of the town, where Gut Birkenhof had once stood. He wore a soft cap on his head and I couldn’t see his face, but there was something about his posture, the way he stood, that seemed familiar. I made my way towards him.
The back of my neck began to prickle. ‘It can’t be,’ I murmured to myself, and I shook my head with irritation. ‘I must be daydreaming.’ But the closer I got, the more my heart raced.
‘Hello,’ I said tentatively as I came near him. ‘Are you looking for someone?’
‘No,’ he said, keeping his gaze over the land. ‘Do you know what happened to the manor house that used to be here?’
I stopped, unable to believe what I’d heard. I knew that voice.
‘It was pulled down shortly after the war,’ I said tremulously. Although he stood tall, his hair was grey below his cap. ‘How do you know the manor house?’
‘I used to live there.’
I gazed at him, feeling faint, but I had to be sure. ‘How could you?’ I whispered, clutching the fence post next to him. ‘Everyone who lived there is either dead or gone.’
‘I’m the last one,’ he said sadly, turning to look at me directly for the first time. His face was weathered and wrinkled, but his eyes were brown and alert, eyes I could never forget. I swayed on my feet.
‘Are you okay?’ He put out a hand to steady me and his touch made me gasp. He quickly withdrew his hand, frowning.
‘Leo?’
He nodded warily then recognition dawned on his face.
‘It’s me, it’s Susie,’ I whispered.
‘She’s dead,’ he whispered, with a haunted expression.
‘I’m not dead, Leo. It’s me, Nightingale.’
I grasped the rickety fence with two hands to steady myself, unsure if I was dreaming. He saw his mother’s ring on my hand, now gnarled with age, and reached out to touch me, but dropped his hand by his side.
‘How is it possible?’ He took my hand gently then. ‘Susie? You’re alive.’ His voice broke.
‘Yes. You’re finally here.’ He pulled me into his embrace, both of us trembling. ‘I searched for you for years, but you disappeared. I never thought I’d see you again.’
I brought him back to the cottage, holding onto his arm the whole time, afraid that if I let go, he’d disappear, or I’d wake up from a glorious dream.
‘You live here?’ he asked. He stood in the middle of the kitchen. It had been a big shock to see me and there was a lot for him to take in.
‘Yes, I’ve been in the village for the last forty-nine years.’
He shook his head in amazement. ‘All this time you were here, and I had no idea.’
‘Come, sit down,’ I said. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea.’ I filled the samovar with water and lit the bottom.
‘You still have Mutti’s samovar?’
I nodded, placing a plate of biscuits on the kitchen table. ‘I don’t use it as much as I’d like to anymore, but it still makes the best cup of tea, and it always reminds me of you and your mother.’ It was dented, and the enamel paint faded and chipped, but still a precious object that held our family story.
We drank tea and slowly I told him everything since the terrible day of the building collapse. ‘I couldn’t leave, Leo. This was always my home; it was the only way I could remain close to you and your parents.’ I put a shaking hand to my mouth, the weight of that time coming back to me.
‘Oh, Susie. I’m so sorry I didn’t stay longer. We would’ve found each other, and Elena would be here with us too.’ The burden of realisation and guilt seemed to age him further, bowing his back under the load.
I took his hand, blinking my tears away. ‘They were chaotic days. People went missing all the time. You thought I was dead, just as I thought you were. I understand why you had to go. There were some days when I wished I could have left too.’
Leo brought my hand to his lips. ‘I thought I’d lost everything. I had to leave my past behind altogether. I didn’t care where I went or where I ended up.’
‘We searched for you for so long. Even Captain Snopov couldn’t find any trace of you.’ I dashed the tears that threatened to fall with the back of my other hand.
‘I went to Switzerland. I couldn’t wait for the American visa any longer. I ended up in Australia and found work on big farms and stations across the country. I drowned my sorrows in my work and lost touch with the outside world for a very long time, but my memories never left me.’ He paused as if in recollection, the tears bright in his eyes. ‘I’ve been living in Sydney for the past five years on my own, but city life isn’t for me,’ he said softly. ‘I had to come home.’ I covered his hand with my own. I understood his pain.
‘It was a long time ago,’ I said, ‘but you’re right, the memories never leave and it still feels like yesterday…’
‘I wish I’d been here for you, but I lost the estate, I failed my family, I lost you and our child… I was a broken man.’ He shook his head. ‘But now to find out that you’re alive and our daughter’s out there somewhere…’ I could feel him shake as the tears fell. ‘You have no idea where?’
‘No,’ I whispered. ‘Since reunification, the laws regarding adoption have finally changed so that children have limited access to their files, but not birth parents. Maybe she was never told she was adopted, maybe she tried to find us when she was younger… Maybe she doesn’t want to know.’ I closed my eyes as all the anguish, all the pain I’d been carrying deep within me, rushed to the surface again. ‘She’d be forty-nine years old now, and maybe a grandmother herself. I only hope that she has a good life.’
‘We’ll keep looking together. There has to be something we can find out.’
‘You’re staying?’ I quivered with emotion: hope and fear.
He smiled. ‘If you’ll have me. I never want to be parted from you again.’
I kissed his hand. ‘It was always you, Leo, and it always will be.’
Epilogue
Sydney
… Your father wound up his affairs in Sydney and we married again with the blessing of your brother and two sisters. The nineteen years we had together were a gift, more than I ever dreamed. It felt so good to be home with him once again. The estate had brought us together and it was what had brought Leo home and finally back to me.
Gut Birkenhof was always in our blood. It was part of who we were. The court battle to claim ownership of the estate lasted eighteen years: your father was never going to give up. The final judgement was delivered to us as he lay dying in hospital. Despite the odds, he was victorious, awarded the municipal land and compensation for the rest of the estate that’s now part of the village and in private hands. He never wanted the money: it was always about having the property back in the family. He donated some to various Jewish foundations as well as charities for political persecution. There’s more than enough money left for me to live on. And when I die the property goes to you. It’s what your father wanted.
It’s the last remnant of Gut Birkenhof, the home of your ancestors for generations, and a place where one day, if you choose, you can come, perhaps with your children and grandchildren, to understand your roots. Just as with your father and I, you too may feel in your blood that you belong to this place as much as it belongs to you.
The love of my life died two weeks after the return of the estate. I buried him next to his parents under the linden trees and I know it won’t be long before I join him there and go to my rest.
Natalie held the final letter in her hand. ‘Susie and Leo finally found each other after all those years… and Gut Birkenhof is their legacy, part of our heritage too,’ she said in wonder, wiping away the tear that trickled down her cheek.
‘It was enough that she left us Elya’s ring, but I never imagined anything like this.’ Ingrid shook her head in amazement, caressing the stack of letters bundled together.
‘And she never stopped looking for you.’
‘No, and my father was here in Australia all along.’ Ingrid closed her eyes for a moment until she felt the sudden surge of anguish dissipate.
‘Maybe we can visit them one day under the linden trees when the baby’s old enough. Perhaps we can even meet your brother and sisters.’ N
atalie rubbed her distended belly absently as she shifted on the lounge to get comfortable.
‘I’d like that… I only wish that I’d tried again. Maybe I would have found both my parents and seen them – even once.’
‘Nobody was to know, Mum. At least you know the truth.’ She squeezed her mother’s hand. ‘You can find out everything about your adoption, now you know where to look. She would have wanted that.’
Ingrid nodded slowly. ‘She would never have imagined I was across the other side of the world.’
‘Oma and Opa wanted a better life for you away from the chaos of Germany. Susie would’ve been happy with the family you had,’ said Natalie.
‘And now she has a great-grandchild about to come into the world.’ Ingrid smiled at her, tears in her eyes. ‘I’m so very glad that I’m part of your life… I can’t imagine what she went through.’
‘Me too, especially now. But I feel connected to her, as though she’s with us.’ Natalie’s gaze rested on the pile of baby suits and tiny singlets Ingrid had given her. ‘I always felt that a part of me was missing, a sense of identity and belonging to something beyond our immediate family.’
‘Oh darling, I wish it had been different for you.’ Ingrid kissed her daughter’s cheek.
‘It’s okay. I understand about our family now. Susie’s given us the greatest gift of all. We know where we come from.’
Ingrid picked up the diamond ring that had arrived with the package. ‘Tante Elya’s ring,’ she whispered. ‘My grandmother’s and my mother’s engagement ring.’ It was dented and scratched, worn thin with age and wear, but still intact and strong.
The perfect symbol not just of never-ending love, but of all their family had endured to remain together.
Author’s note
Dear Reader,
Letters from Berlin Page 35