by Ella Zeiss
‘I didn’t know that,’ he said at last. His mother’s sorrow over this one tree was almost suffocating.
‘Promise me one thing,’ she said all of a sudden, dropping her hand. ‘Wherever we go next, don’t plant another peach tree for me.’ She turned round abruptly and hurried into the house.
Harri and his sister were allowed to stay at home the following day to help with preparations for the move. It didn’t matter if they missed one last day at school. Mutter had gone to work for the last time to collect her belongings. She had been so shocked the day before at the prospect of being resettled that she’d forgotten to take them with her.
At a loss, Harri looked around the bedroom he had shared with his sister. His eyes strayed over the books on the shelf, the lovely quilt on his bed that Mutter had stitched for his birthday, the pictures his sister had painted. What should he take? How was he supposed to decide?
Twenty kilos per person, his mother had said. One suitcase each – that was all they were allowed to take with them. Although this wasn’t his first move, he had never had this restriction before. The last time he and his mother had gone back twice to Aghstafa to collect the things that meant the most to them.
Harri sighed and opened the suitcase. Clothes, blankets and food were the most important things. He had to be pragmatic about this and not guided by sentiment. He quickly started folding his clothes, rolling his blanket tightly so it would take up as little room as possible, but even so his suitcase was nearly full as soon as he put it in. Harri swallowed, staring sullenly at the bookshelf for a moment. He had known from the start that he wouldn’t be able to take those treasures with him, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. Then he stood up and walked staunchly out of the room. The books he was leaving behind were just ink and paper after all; the words and stories contained within them could never be taken away from him. They were engraved on his mind.
Harri found his sister sitting despondently at the dining room table. She quickly wiped her eyes when she heard him coming.
‘How far have you got?’ he asked quietly.
‘I’m almost done,’ Emma sniffed.
‘Good, then you can help me with Mother’s things.’ He would have liked to say or do something to cheer her up but couldn’t think of a single thing. He felt just as sad and scared as she did, even if he was better at hiding it.
He fetched Mutter’s sewing machine and put it on the table, certain she would want to take it with her, along with the big photo album that had always accompanied her everywhere they had been. There were pictures of him and Emma when they were small and some of when their parents got married, even a few faded, out-of-focus pictures of their grandparents and of course of Onkel Otto. Wherever they were going, they weren’t leaving behind this photo album.
They ate their lunch in silence for once, he and his sister both preoccupied with their own thoughts.
‘Pots and pans,’ Emma said suddenly. ‘We need to take some pots and plates with us.’ She ran her fingers along the edge of the pretty china plate decorated with bright flowers in front of her.
Vater had given mother this crockery set on her birthday three years ago. Harri could still remember how delighted they both were that he had managed to find something so lovely.
‘I don’t think we’ll be able to take this with us,’ Emma said sadly.
Harri nodded without speaking. The plates were too delicate and totally unsuitable for a journey to who knew where. ‘We’ve got some metal bowls somewhere, haven’t we?’ he asked quietly. ‘You know, the ones for when we’re out working in the fields. We should take those.’
‘Yes.’ She put down her fork. Her plate was still half-full.
‘You should try and eat up,’ he reminded her gently. They had no idea what was awaiting them.
She sniffed bitterly but didn’t argue.
In the afternoon, Mutter came home bringing another woman with her. Harri had met Natalya briefly once before. She was a colleague of his mother, one she got on well with. Natalya’s husband had fallen in the very first weeks of the war and now she was faced with the task of trying to raise two children on her own.
‘I thought Natalya might like some of the things we can’t take with us,’ Mother explained. ‘Much rather her than some stranger,’ she added quietly.
Harri and his sister nodded. He noticed that, like him, she avoided watching the woman who very hesitantly took a few of the things mother showed her and put them in a big cloth bag – an embroidered tablecloth, a vase, a side plate.
‘She can have my books,’ Harri suddenly croaked. His voice sounded strange, even to himself, but Mutter was right. It was better if Natalya and her children had them than someone from the Central Commissariat.
‘Are you sure?’ Mutter asked quietly.
‘Yes,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I have to leave them behind in any case.’
‘And my dolls,’ Emma whispered. She had two, and although she was really too old for them, Harri knew how much she still loved them.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Mother said in dismay.
‘I do,’ Emma said, smiling bravely. ‘I’ll have to give them up some day.’
Mutter smiled at her in return, her heart full of so many mixed emotions, then led Natalya through into the children’s room.
In the end she had to fetch another cloth bag so that the woman could carry all the things she had been given. Natalya couldn’t thank them enough and tried to give Mutter a few roubles, but she wouldn’t hear of it.
‘We would have had to leave everything behind anyway,’ she said, looking carefully around the room. ‘Thank you for getting everything ready so well,’ she said, praising the children as she sat down at the sewing machine. ‘I just have one last thing to do before we pack up the rest.’
‘What do you have to do?’ Harri asked.
Her face remained blank. ‘I received a message. Your father needs some warm clothes.’
Harri gasped. ‘Then . . . then he’s coming with us?’
The rush of joy he felt disappeared the moment Mutter shook her head.
‘There was no mention of that.’ She concentrated on threading the needle of the sewing machine.
Harri was sure she was doing it to avoid giving him an answer. ‘What is it, Mutter?’
She sighed. ‘I don’t know. Maybe he only needs some warmer clothes. Winter is on its way and they know we’ll be leaving this area and won’t be able to bring him anything in a few weeks’ time. Perhaps . . .’ She looked at the children intently. ‘Or perhaps he’s going to be moved to a colder region.’
‘You mean he’s been sentenced?’ Emma gasped.
‘I don’t know.’ All Mutter’s fear and helplessness was contained in this one sentence. ‘All I know is that your father needs warm clothes and so that’s what I’m going to make.’ She straightened her shoulders. ‘If that’s all we can do, then it’s something at least. Tomorrow morning I’ll take the things to the prison. If I’m lucky, I might be able to see him and exchange a word or two. If not, I’ll ask them to give him a letter from us.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ Harri said at once.
‘So am I,’ Emma added emphatically.
Mother nodded. ‘You’re right. We should all stay together tomorrow. We don’t really know when the men are coming to pick us up and we don’t want to get separated, whatever happens.’
They were just about to set off to the prison the next morning when there was a loud knock at the door. All three of them exchanged fearful glances. Was it time already?
Mutter ran to the door and opened it quickly. ‘Natalya,’ she called, relieved.
‘Yes,’ the young woman smiled. ‘I thought you might be in need of some help. I can cook something for you while you’re out.’ She lifted a basket of carrots and potatoes to show them.
‘You really don’t have to do that,’ Mutter said, sounding surprised. ‘You didn’t have to take time off work for us.’
&nb
sp; ‘I wanted to,’ Natalya said with a warm smile. ‘It’s the least I can do.’
‘Thank you,’ Mutter said simply. ‘We’ll be as quick as we can.’
‘Good luck,’ Natalya said, squeezing Mutter’s hand encouragingly.
It felt odd walking away from the house, even though Harri knew they would be coming back one more time. It was as if he had said his goodbyes already, as if their home and the things still in it no longer belonged to them. Their life there was over; there would be no more sunsets for them to watch together, sitting on the front steps while the scent of ripe grapes filled the air.
As he walked along quickly beside his mother and sister, he couldn’t help wondering what the future would hold. Until now the cup of true bitterness had always passed them by, but he felt as if their luck was beginning to run out. His father was in prison and they had no idea what was going to happen to him. Since the beginning of the war, any goodwill towards them on the side of the Government had come to a definite end. The fact that they were being driven away yet again from a place where they had settled and made themselves a home made that more than obvious. They were all under general suspicion simply for being German.
Harri did his best to contain the anger and fear now threatening to overwhelm him. For the first time he understood how slim his father’s chances of survival really were, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He watched his mother desperately gripping the warm coat she had made for Vater as if a piece of cloth might actually protect her husband and help him survive. How hollow and absurd that hope was.
But he could tell that the knowledge that she was doing everything in her power to save the man she loved was the one thing keeping his mother going at the moment. Whether that would suffice or not would be decided by fate or God or the Party.
‘What are you doing here?’ the irritated worker behind the glass window at the Central Commissariat asked Mutter when she announced her name. The prison was in the cellar of the office building.
‘We’ve brought winter clothes for Samuel Pfeiffer,’ she answered, confused all of a sudden. ‘I received a message that—’
‘Yes, yes, I know all that,’ the man said, interrupting her impatiently. ‘But you’re being resettled today. The cars are already on their way. You need to hurry.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Mutter stammered, shocked.
Harri started to feel uneasy too. Would they get into trouble if they weren’t at home when the men arrived?
‘May I have a brief word with my husband, please?’ Mutter asked nonetheless.
Harri knew this was almost certainly the last chance to say goodbye to him.
The man looked her up and down. ‘All right then,’ he sighed in the end. ‘Give me those things. We need to search them before we can give them to him.’
‘Of course,’ Mutter said, handing him the bundle gratefully.
‘Come with me,’ he said, sounding more friendly.
‘Do you know what will happen to Samuel?’
The man shook his head with regret. ‘I expect there’ll be several more hearings before his case is decided.’
Mutter smiled bravely. At least it was better than if he’d been convicted already.
The man led them into the inner courtyard of the building and went over to a barred window about a foot above the ground. He crouched down and called loudly, ‘Pfeiffer! You have visitors.’
Harri held his breath, waiting to see if his father would indeed appear.
‘Samuel!’ Mutter fell to her knees and pushed her fingers between the bars to touch his face.
‘Vater!’ Harri and his sister knelt down beside her and stroked his hands, which were tightly gripping the bars.
‘What’s the matter?’ Vater asked in alarm.
‘We’re being resettled,’ Mutter explained quickly, ‘to Kazakhstan! Here.’ She hastily dug in her bag and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
‘What’s that?’ the man who had accompanied them asked sharply.
‘Just an address,’ Mutter said, passing him the scrap of paper. ‘The address of a friend. I’ll write to her as soon as we’ve reached our new destination.’
The man nodded and allowed her to keep the paper.
Mutter passed it through the bars with shaking hands. ‘She’ll be able to tell you where we are when you—’ She cleared her throat and carried on speaking quickly. ‘When you’re free again.’
‘They’re sending you away?’ Vater asked dejectedly. ‘To Kazakhstan?’
‘Yes, but don’t you worry about us,’ she said, smiling through her tears. ‘We’ll be fine, and Natalya will tell you where to find us.’
‘I’ll come as soon as I can,’ Vater promised firmly. ‘I love you all.’
‘We love you too,’ she sobbed, and even Harri found it hard to stop himself from crying.
‘Take care of yourselves.’
Harri felt his father’s strong warm hand squeeze his. ‘We will,’ he promised.
‘That’s enough now. You have to go,’ the man from the Central Commissariat urged them.
‘See you soon,’ Mutter whispered, and kissed her fingertips before stroking his cheek.
‘Come on,’ the man said, pulling her to her feet.
Harri looked back, not taking his eyes off his father for as long as possible. He was pressing his face against the bars, stricken with worry and yearning.
Then they turned a corner and he disappeared from view.
Harri took a deep breath to fend off the pain of separation. His father was alive and in no immediate danger. That would have to do for now.
They ran nearly all the way home, expecting to see a truck full of irate men heading towards them at any moment, but they were lucky.
Natalya was waiting for them with a steaming pot of potato stew but other than that there was no one anywhere to be seen. Relieved, they all sat down quickly to eat their lunch.
Harri felt as if there was a huge block of ice in his stomach with all the worry. He found it difficult to stay sitting calmly on his chair, and didn’t feel in the least bit hungry, although he still ate his food diligently. As he had told his sister the day before, it was important to eat as much as possible. They were probably going to have to count their rations from now on.
His plate was half-empty when he heard a clanking engine outside.
‘Sit down and eat,’ Mutter said when he jumped up nervously. She remained seated herself until someone knocked on the door. When she opened it, three armed men were standing outside. Behind them Harri could see an open-back truck.
‘Hilde Pfeiffer?’ one of them asked.
‘Yes, do come in,’ she said with a polite smile.
The man faltered, looking surprised.
‘We’re nearly ready,’ she continued swiftly. ‘The children are still eating. Do have some too if you like – you’d be most welcome.’
‘Thank you, but we’re running to a tight schedule.’
‘As I said, we’re almost finished. Maybe you’d rather pick some grapes outside at the back of the house?’ Harri had left most of them on the vine because they wouldn’t keep for very long in any case.
The man hesitated, but eventually nodded to his comrades. ‘Do you have a basket, perhaps?’ he asked, turning to Mutter once more.
‘Of course,’ she said, handing him one. ‘You can keep it if you like.’
The man cleared his throat. ‘Thank you,’ he mumbled. Her quiet dignity seemed to embarrass him. ‘We’ll be back in a minute, Comrade.’
Mutter’s eyes followed him until he had closed the door, then she sat back down to finish her own meal.
‘I’ll take care of that,’ Natalya said quickly when Mutter started to clear the empty plates from the table. Harri saw his mother gaze at the pretty crockery with regret. This was the last time she would ever use it.
‘Thank you. If you like, you can have it too,’ Mutter said quietly as she looked one last time around this house that
was no longer hers.
Harri followed her example. Everything looked the same as usual. They were taking so few things with them that the impact was barely noticeable. The white curtains still hung at the windows, a vase full of flowers stood on the shelf where the framed family portrait was the only thing missing. Nothing suggested that they would be leaving their home in a few minutes, never to return again.
‘Are you ready?’ The man re-entered the house with a full basket of juicy grapes on his arm.
‘Yes,’ Mutter said, picking up her suitcase while Harri took the other two.
‘Right then, come with me, please.’
‘Goodbye,’ Natalya said.
‘And to you too,’ Mutter answered. Without turning round again she left the house with her shoulders back and her chin held high. Harri and his sister followed her.
Harri could have laughed at the irony of it all when he realised where they were being taken. The truck clattered into the yard of the Central Commissariat and came to a standstill. They needn’t have hurried back quite so quickly this morning.
Around thirty people were already waiting, wondering what was going to happen next. He knew a lot of them by sight. Some of the children went to the same school as him and were all members of the German minority, as far as he could tell, so it wasn’t just their family. The Government really had started to punish them all for their heritage.
‘Quick, out you get!’ the driver ordered.
Obediently Harri jumped off the back of the truck and lifted down the suitcases before helping Mutter and Emma to climb out.
‘Can you see him?’ Emma stood on tiptoe, craning her neck in an effort to see over people’s heads.
Harri didn’t need to ask who she was looking for. ‘Come with me,’ he said, checking to make sure Mutter was looking after their luggage, then he dragged his sister through the crowd. They kept going until they reached the barred window where they had spoken to their father only a few hours ago, but this time they were disappointed. The window had been boarded up to prevent any kind of contact with the inmates inside. Presumably the authorities were keen to avoid anything that might cause further agitation.