In Search of Anna

by Valerie Volk

  I had always found her a pleasant companion, and never more than on our visit to Breslau. For we did travel there, in spite of Otto’s gibes. It was a year before I could find the money for the travel, many long hours of knitting, selling vegetables at markets—and safeguarding the coins lest they find their way to the inn.

  ‘Let the boy get away from you. He’s been in your swaddling clothes too long!’

  I believed Otto was concerned for his well-being and I was prepared.

  ‘Frau Schmidt will bring you food every evening. That is, of course, if you are here and not drinking yourself stupid each night.’

  Breslau was a window on a new world, an experience like my life at the Chateau. I began to realise just how much more there could be to life than my years in Rauschwitz and Lewin had shown me.

  I could scarcely believe our good fortune, when Berthe told me of a friend in Breslau who would give us rooms in her house. It was a small boarding house, but clean and comfortable and Melita Noske’s welcome was warm and enthusiastic.

  ‘I am so happy to have you here, dear ladies. I know you are tired from your journey, but when you have rested and unpacked, there will be Abendessen in the front room below, and you will meet the other guests.’

  We looked around with approval at the room we were to share. It was small, certainly, but with a big bed and heavy feather quilts and the window looked over the snowy square below. The winter days drew in to darkness early, and the chill in the air made the bed look inviting. But outside the Christmas markets were set up, even though Advent Sunday was just past, and we were full of anticipation.

  Frau Noske’s house was popular, and she preferred to treat her lodgers as guests. When we came down the narrow stairs, two gentlemen were already seated at the table, and Frau Noske’s face beamed as she made the introductions.

  I warmed at first to Herr Holstmayer, with his broad red face and huge curling moustache.

  ‘He looks like our Chancellor,’ I whispered to Berthe under cover of the table chatter.

  She nodded, for Bismarck’s luxuriant moustache was almost his trademark, no longer the carefully shaped beard of his early life. This was more imposing.

  ‘Herr Holstmayer works at the new railway station,’ our hostess explained. ‘And Herr Stieglitz has work with the Postal Service.’

  ‘My son has told me about the new station,’ I commented. ‘He says it is a wonder, and the pride of Breslau. I thought it very imposing when we arrived, but scarcely had time or energy to take it in.’

  Hans Holstmayer’s smile broadened even further, and his chest expanded. ‘I should be proud to show it to you, ladies, if you would care to visit one day. The platform hall is one of the biggest in Europe.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ added Frau Noske. ‘It is indeed wonderful. There is a restaurant and waiting rooms—all very beautiful.’

  ‘But of course, for first, second and third class passengers there are separate waiting rooms—no mixing of the classes here,’ added Herr Steiglitz truculently.

  The others looked embarrassed at the younger man’s comment. He was a spotty-faced youth, in his early twenties, I guessed, with weak eyes behind thick glasses, which almost obscured the jagged tufts of red eyebrows.

  Herr Holstmayer interpolated smoothly: ‘Our young friend has advanced political ideas. He claims to be a student of politics and would like to reform society.’

  Herr Steiglitz flushed unbecomingly. ‘One day there will be many more who are concerned about these matters,’ he muttered, and Frau Noske turned the conversation swiftly to our presence in Breslau.

  As we talked of Kurt and his studies, the older man nodded in approval.

  ‘Your son has come to the right place. Friedrich-Wilhelms University is a fine institution, and its traditional faculties have been highly regarded for almost two centuries. But we are—’ he smiled benignly on us all, especially Herr Steiglitz, ‘we are indeed a truly progressive society, and only a few years ago the Technological Institute was added. It is another jewel in our crown. We are famous for our scientific faculties. Oh yes, if your son is interested in steam, this is the place for him to learn how to harness this force for our greater good.’

  I sighed and studied my plate. Friendly and warm-hearted as he was, the man’s pompous manner was now beginning to annoy me. But we would see him only at mealtimes, and I could endure his company for the sake of a visit to the station. Little did I think that one day that building might be of more relevance to me.

  Frau Noske kept a good table, and by now we were hungry from our travels, so Berthe and I ate well of the various breads and wursts—Leberwurst and Teewurst, Blutwurst and Weisswurst—and an array of cheeses, gherkins and onions. There was no way we could have remained hungry, but she was apologetic.

  ‘We still have our main meal in the middle of the day, ladies, for the two gentlemen come home for the Mittagsessen. I hope this will be convenient for you.’

  ‘This will suit us well, for I want to spend time with my son …’

  ‘He will be most welcome to join us for meals,’ she put in.

  ‘That is a kind invitation, which I am sure he will be happy to accept. But when he is busy with his studies, there are many parts of Breslau we wish to see.’

  The suggestions came rapidly. Not only the station and the university, with its fine library and observatory, but the famous parts of the Old Town and the Opera House.

  ‘Another of our prized places, ladies. It was built over forty years ago but has had additions in the last decade and is even more splendid.’

  ‘Oh yes, another treat for those who can afford the ticket price,’ it was of course Herr Holstmayer who interrupted the older man, and I could see that most of our dinner table conversations would go the same way.

  ‘But you must also wish to spend time at the famous Christmas markets, I imagine?’ asked Frau Noske quickly.

  We agreed enthusiastically. I had heard of these markets, even Glatz had a version. But the big cities, like Breslau and Berlin, Nuremberg and Cologne … there the Christmas markets were so splendid that visitors came from all over our country, and others as well. So we had carefully timed our visit to see this famous market, and I had come with commissions from Hanna as to what I was to buy for the children and for their family Christmas. I looked forward to doing this.

  Our visit to the new station was a revelation. I had taken little notice of it at our arrival, my mind a confused whirl of impressions. The trip by train, a fearsome experience for one new to it, and the flurry of people all blurred my picture of the place.

  Now, with Berthe on one side and Herr Holstmayer as a guide, I could admire the spacious platform, known as one of the finest halls in Europe.

  ‘A triumph,’ boomed Herr Holstmayer as he ushered us through. ‘One of the most distinguished works of Herr Wilhelm Grapow, the famous royal Prussian architect, as you would know.’

  We nodded, although I was sure that neither of us had heard the name before.

  ‘And let me show you, dear ladies, the luggage lockers and the new telegraph facility—we have all modern inventions. Also the waiting rooms—they are extremely fine, but best of all is the special room and hallway for VIPs.’

  They were indeed beautifully furnished, though I was sure, as I whispered to Berthe, that Herr Stieglitz would not approve.

  ‘But now,’ our guide continued, ‘let me take you for a little Kaffeetrinken in the restaurant.’

  I could have happily bypassed this coffee, especially as Herr Holstmayer had tucked his arm under mine to guide us through the doorway. Splendid as the restaurant was, and excellent as the coffee and the cakes he insisted on ordering, I was not comfortable with the way he looked at me. Or with the pressure of his arm.

  ‘You have made a conquest,’ Berthe said to me that evening. ‘He admires you greatly.’

  I blushed. It seemed so long since I had thought of myself as a woman. ‘Tut, Berthe. You are teasing me. I am an old married woman with
grown children. Berthe, I am past forty years old! That is all long in the past.’

  She smiled knowingly and told me I was still an attractive woman. I was careful not to be alone with Herr Holstmayer in the evenings in Melita Noske’s drawing room.

  The few days in Breslau became a true holiday—the first I can remember having. The contrast was poignant. Instead of the dull and dreary routines of life at home, with only work to look forward to each day and Otto’s drunken return each night, I had freedom. Above all, I spent time with Kurt each day. Somehow he arranged his work so he could spend time with us exploring Breslau.

  We marvelled at what we saw. Although Berthe had been in this city earlier, she said it was like a new place, and with Kurt as our guide we went to parts she had not seen before. But she also wished to have time with her old friend, so Kurt and I went alone to the Shambles, that ancient slaughter yard, in among the medieval houses that lined Jatki Street.

  ‘Look, Kurt,’ I exclaimed, as we rounded the corner and caught sight of the wooden market stalls from olden times. ‘What did they sell here?’

  ‘Geese, goats—oh, all sorts of meats, hare, pigs, roosters, hens. Remember that this street was once the abattoir for the city. All animals were slaughtered here. Look over there.’

  I followed his pointing figure to a picture painted on one of the wooden stalls. It was Reznik, the butcher gnome, axe in hand, contemplating his waiting victims. I shivered. The look on the little man’s face was uncomfortably familiar. We glanced at each other, both aware we were thinking of Otto.

  ‘Do you have to go back?’ he asked softly. ‘Could you not escape? Live here, even?’

  ‘How would I live? Your scholarship is barely enough to keep you. It took me many hours to earn the money to pay for this visit here, even just these few days. In any case, I could not do that. I made marriage vows, and I will keep them.’

  ‘Empty words in a church when you were young and did not know what you were doing.’

  ‘No. In spite of everything, what I have said before God is still most important to me.’

  He looked disbelieving. ‘Still? Although my father gives you nothing, abuses you cruelly?’

  ‘I made those vows, and my faith has kept me going all these years. That is the great comfort of my life. How could I take communion before the altar if I broke my word? That, and you and Hanna—you are the bright moments in my life.’

  ‘You keep the vows, even though he has driven your children away?’

  ‘That’s what hurts,’ I admitted. ‘The loss of you—and Hanna of course. Though Hanna I do see at times. But you here, so far from me …’

  Kurt glanced quickly at me, then looked away. ‘It’s possible,’ he ventured, ‘that I might go even further.’

  The weather was cold, but it was not why I shivered. ‘What do you mean?’

  He tried to reassure me. ‘There is nothing certain yet … in fact these are only faint possibilities, but my professors have said I might need to go elsewhere. Further yet. For Breslau does not focus on ships, and that is where my real interest lies.’

  This was no surprise. Each time he spoke of ships, his face came alive. I said nothing.

  ‘The new steam ships they are building. The Dampfschiffe. These are the future—and I want to be part of it.’

  ‘These steam ships. They’re for sea-going, I think, not river travel.’

  He nodded, unwilling to put the next thoughts into words.

  ‘There are no seas in this part of the world. Not in Silesia.’

  ‘Ah, but in the north. In Prussia, and now we are all part of one German Reich. There in the north, in Hamburg, in Bremen—in those cities there are some of the greatest shipbuilding companies of the world.’

  I turned away. ‘I don’t wish to think about this today. Let’s just focus on the happiness we have. Tonight, the Christmas Market—I want to enjoy this time.’

  I think there was relief on his face. He knew the subject had been opened, and he too wished to delay the inevitable discussion that would have to come.

  But as we wandered around the markets that evening, fascinated by the colour, the lights, the profusions of foods and drinks, the variety of crafts and ornaments, I found it hard to drive away the thoughts.

  I tried to focus on the sights around me. Stalls of Christmas ornaments, the straw stars of every size, the Christmas angels, the carved wooden figures. And the foods, with their wonderful spicy fragrances, especially the Lebkuchen with its pervasive aromas of ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg. The Magenbrot and the Stollen … and the drinks. Everywhere stalls of Gluhwein, and the heady perfume of the spicy mulled wine and the egg punch.

  Such goods for the children. I bought the requested nutcrackers that Hanna had ordered, with their colourful carved figures that would please my grandchildren. But the real delight were the cribs, the intricate nativity scenes with their carved wooden stables and mangers, their tranquil Marys and brooding Josephs (well might he brood, I thought—he too had faced a wife pregnant with a child who was not his). I marvelled at the ornate costumes of the three kings from the east and the faith that had led them to follow the guiding star—that star still poised on wires above these stables. Beyond them, the heavenly hosts, with angel wings carved into protective folds above the kneeling shepherds.

  But, most of all, the animals around the manger: cautious cows with the dumb bovine look that all cows seem to have (was Frau Schmidt milking my Hermie each day at home, I wondered. Yes, she would be reliable in what she had promised); the placid compliant sheep dutifully following their shepherds to the crib side; the big-toothed donkeys waiting to bray at the sights; the little lambs, no longer frisking in the fields but gravely waiting their turn to see the small figure in the manger.

  I would have so wished to buy one of these scenes to take back for the children, but my precious store of coins was almost spent. Hanna’s Franz would have to purchase nativity scenes for that family.

  Then Kurt was at my side again with something hidden behind his back.

  ‘Close your eyes, Mutti,’ he ordered. ‘And hold out your hands.’

  I felt the hardness of the wood and when I opened my eyes it was to see the small Christmas angel he had bought, on its face a look of sweetness and wonder that made one marvel at the craftsman’s skill.

  ‘I saw you admiring these when we passed that stall, and I wanted so much to give it to you. She reminds me of you.’

  Tears pricked my eyes. ‘But you should not have done this. I know how little money you have, even for what you need.’

  ‘Ah, reason not the need,’ he quoted to me, one of my favourite lines from the Shakespearian play I had read, first with the Countess, then with the son to whom I had tried to pass on what she had given me.

  ‘You remember that?’ I whispered. I could not speak.

  ‘I remember everything you have done,’ he said. ‘And I want you to keep this.’ The fear clutched at me again. It was too like a farewell gift.

  So it proved. Soon he came back, briefly, to say farewell. Not to us; he would not come to this house where he had been so unhappy. Instead to Hanna’s, and Franz came to Lewin to take me to her. I knew what this visit meant. He would go to Bremen, to work there in the shipyards.

  That night, I rose from the bed where Otto lay snoring and looked at the shelf beside me in the moonlight. I cradled in my hands all that I had left of my son, and the carved angel gazed inscrutably back at me.

  CHAPTER 9

  Lewin, Silesia, 1887

  I will not pretend that I found that time easy. It seemed to me that the walls of our little house were closing in on me inch by inch, foot by foot. Where was the joy in life? The time in Breslau seemed a dream.

  The house seemed like my life, empty. It had been bad enough when the son who brought such happiness had left me. First to Glatz; then to Breslau—ah, how hard that had been. But I had found pleasure there, and the kindness of Melita Noske and my dear friend, Berthe.

>   Now Kurt was moving himself further away from us all, from Lewin, from his father—and from me. He was abandoning his scholarship and his life in Breslau. What for? I railed to Hanna. This dream of ships. Where had it come from? There were no sailors in our family. No one who had contact with the world of ships, of sea faring.

  ‘It isn’t the shipping, Mama,’ Hanna explained patiently, yet again. ‘It’s steam. Kurt is fascinated by the potential that it unleashes, what can be done with steam power.’

  ‘But it is wrecking our lives, child. How few of us can find a living from what we make in the home. Now it is all factories and mills. This is where things are made.’

  ‘Mama,’ she spoke gently. ‘You have always taught us that change is inevitable. You cannot now wish to stop progress.’

  I winced. ‘You call this progress. Look at your father. This is where your progress leads. Steam engines destroyed him.’

  Hanna shrugged. There is a hardness in her, a robust sense of truth. ‘It was not steam that lost him his arm. It was his own weakness, and the drink. You know it.’

  I could not deny it.

  ‘Nor is it steam or trains that make him what he is today,’ she continued. ‘It is something in him. Why do you think I come to you so rarely? And Kurt not at all?’

  There was nothing I could say. Already, although it was barely noon, Otto was at one or the other taverns in Lewin and would stay until the Mittagessen closing. At best, when he came in to eat, he would be silent, sitting in brooding darkness of spirit. At worst, he would abuse me for the food, the drink, the coldness of the house, the warmth, whatever he could find to criticise.

  ‘On a good day,’ I defended him to the young woman, ‘he will work in the field for a time.’

  ‘Until the taverns open,’ she retorted.

  That too was true.

  ‘Does he harm you, Mama?’

  I sighed. ‘There are times when a sort of fury enters him. His life is nothing, it is over, and he knows it. And sometimes it maddens him to the point where he must lash out and release the fury on someone else.’