Beyond the Storm

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Beyond the Storm Page 13

by Diana Finley


  In Berlin, Selma searched for work. Through the Red Cross she heard of an English family looking for a cook, a maid, and a nanny.

  ‘Do you speak any English?’ the woman asked her.

  ‘A little,’ said Selma, searching her memory for words learned nearly fifty years previously.

  ‘And which position do you wish to apply for?’

  Selma thought about this for a minute and replied, ‘I have some experience looking after children.’

  * * *

  Anna finds herself greatly disturbed by the incident with the black-marketeer. But most of all, the face of the hungry little boy in the street haunts her. A day or two later, she suggests to Sam they hold a Christmas party for needy local children.

  ‘Good idea,’ he replies. ‘I expect Della can help sort out some deserving children for you.’

  ‘But there are so many poor children in Berlin, Frau Lawrence. How should we choose them?’

  ‘I know, Della, I know. We can’t feed them all, of course. Oh, if only we could find that little beggar boy. Let’s just pick ten or twelve children who live nearby. Maybe ask the laundry lady and the coal man? Oh, and maybe we could ask at the shop on Herte Strasse.’

  ‘The poorest families will not be able to buy at the shop, Gnädige Frau.’

  ‘No, you’re right. Well, see who you can find. But remember to tell them it’s a special party this year, just for Christmas and to cheer the children up – not a regular event.’

  It does not take long for Della to identify potential guests for the Christmas party. The remaining preparations take much longer. Over several weeks small portions of spare rations are put aside: flour, sugar, butter, and eggs. Both Anna and Sam are adamant that they will not engage in black-marketeering, but they are prepared to sanction a few minor exchanges for this particular event, using their own supplies. Maggi is given some extra butter and coffee to barter. She returns from the nearby market with a paper sack full of oranges. The oranges are small and gnarled, but Della examines them in wonder, turning them over and over in her hands, breathing in their exotic scent.

  ‘It’s wonderful, a miracle!’

  ‘Maggi, did you really manage to get all these for that bit of coffee?’ Anna asks.

  Maggi hesitates, looking anxious. ‘I hope I did right, Gnädige Frau – I … I used some of my cigarettes too. My own allowance of cigarettes,’ she adds.

  Anna puts her arm around Maggi’s shoulders and squeezes.

  ‘Thank you Maggi, how clever of you. The children will be so happy.’

  Mother has the good idea of gathering worn-out woollens from anyone prepared to contribute. Soon she has collected a large bag full of moth-eaten, outgrown and discarded jerseys. She gets great satisfaction from supervising Anna and Della to wash the clothes, and then unpick and rewind the wool. The three women spend every spare moment knitting the wool into bright, warm mittens.

  * * *

  The morning of Christmas Eve dawns clear and bitterly cold. There is much to do before three o’clock. Herr Eisen brings extra wood for the fires, and the stove is stoked up with coal. The large hall is hung with paper chains, laboriously cut from old wrapping paper and magazines, and stuck together by Hannelore. Mekki and Ben watch with interest. They toddle back and forth selecting coloured strips for Hannelore to slot through the last link in the chain and paste together into a loop. She presses the two ends of the chain together, and gets Mekki and Ben to count to ten to allow the glue to dry.

  A tall fir tree stands at the half-landing, decorated with dangling balls of tissue paper and wooden figures, carefully carved and painted by Herr Eisen. Mother has brought a box of old tinsel with her from England, the slender strips pressed between two pieces of card and preserved over the years – Sam says he is sure he remembers it being used at home in Cumberland. The tinsel is smoothed and draped over the branches of the tree to add some festive sparkle. Sam brings a stepladder and clips metal candleholders to the firmest horizontal branches, and pushes a small red candle into each. Ben claps his hands and points at the wondrous edifice.

  ‘Tee! Tee!’ he exclaims in delight.

  In the adjoining dining room the long table is covered first with an oilcloth and then with an old green curtain. Herr Eisen has brought wooden benches for the children to sit on. Anna insisted they should sit at the table. They should be served properly, not have to line up as in a soup kitchen to receive their food. A plate and cup is placed for each child. Anna counts them.

  ‘Twenty-two! I thought we were inviting twelve? And Hannelore’s Mekki, and Ben would make fourteen.’

  ‘Herr Brigadier thought we should expect a few extra ones who may have heard about the party, Frau Lawrence,’ says Della.

  ‘Extra ones? I hope we have enough food.’

  ‘We’ve had years of stretching the rations,’ says Mother. ‘Surely we can manage a few extra mouths.’

  At three o’clock the front doorbell starts to ring. Anna and Sam welcome the first guests: a brother and sister aged about eight and six years, Gustav and Lena. They hover on the doorstep.

  ‘My friend Sasha would like to come too,’ says Gustav. A small, grimy boy steps forward out of the shadow of a laurel bush. A gap-toothed smile illuminates his face.

  ‘Come in, Sasha, come in all of you, and welcome,’ says Sam.

  Next come three little sisters. Their mother has cut up an old net curtain and made each child a lacy ‘party dress’, fastened around their narrow waists with a piece of string. Anna is delighted to recognise the little boy from the street, brought by a gaunt-looking woman. She envelops him in a hug and assures his mother he will be sent home with some extra food. Then two small brothers arrive, wearing outgrown trousers barely reaching their bony knees, more like shorts. Their father apologises for their shaved heads.

  ‘Lice,’ he explains.

  Mother utters an involuntary groan. Anna strokes the boys’ prickly heads and crouches to welcome them. The hall starts to fill up. Ben and Mekki are racing around the hall chasing each other and shrieking excitedly. Several of the young visitors join in the game. Mother sighs.

  ‘Samuel, I think you’re going to have to exert some authority and take charge here, if we are to avoid total bedlam.’

  At last the doorbell ceases its ringing. There are twenty children including Mekki and Ben. Sam balances on his stepladder and uses a long taper to light all the candles on the tree. The children watch entranced. Sam issues them with stern warnings not to get too close to the blazing tree. Then he puts a record on the phonogram. American dance music fills the hall. The children are astounded. They crowd around the phonogram to listen, laughing with delight.

  Sam organises games, instructing the guests in a mixture of bellowed English, pidgin German, and exaggerated mime. Those old enough to participate soon get the hang of ‘musical statues’ and ‘musical bumps’. Winners are given a caramel, which they stuff into their mouths immediately, with a look of ecstasy. Anna engineers the results, making sure each child receives at least one sweet, even the smallest, who have no idea how to play and simply mill about joyfully. After several more games, Maggi and Hannelore announce that tea is ready for the children. Eagerly, they begin to head towards the dining room. Mother bars their way. She surveys the gaggle of grimy urchin faces.

  ‘First, you must all come to the kitchen to wash your hands!’

  Clean, and quietened by the appearance of food, the small guests are seated at the dining table one by one, each in front of a plate. On every plate is a thick slice of bread, generously buttered, a fat sausage and a small wrinkled apple.

  ‘Look, Alma,’ a girl remarks to her sister, ‘white bread!’

  One little boy is overcome at the sight and bursts into tears. Anna immediately tries to take him on her knee to comfort him, but he clings to the bench, terrified that his unguarded food might disappear. Hannelore and Della circle the table with jugs, offering each child milk or orange squash to drink. Several sniff the squ
ash or dip their fingers in, having never tasted it before. The children fall upon the food. Mother is horrified to observe the pace at which food is crammed into small mouths. Someone will surely choke! She speaks no German, but asks Anna the word for ‘slowly’. She crouches by each child speaking softly and encouragingly.

  ‘Langsam, langsam.’

  They nod and smile at her as much as their bulging cheeks allow, and take no notice. When each plate is empty – it does not take long – Maggi brings in a cake, fragrant with a scattering of dried fruit, marzipan, melted butter and vanilla sugar. Each child receives a piece the size of two fingers. Awed silence descends on the table as they eat.

  Sam, meanwhile, has disappeared. As Anna accompanies the children back to the hall, they notice a shadowy figure sitting in an unlit corner behind the stairs. Excited, and even fearful, they pause and whispers circulate.

  ‘Saint Nikolas! It’s Saint Nikolas!’

  The boldest approach more closely. The figure looks amiable enough with his red robe and hat, and his thick white beard curling down towards his rounded stomach. More children creep cautiously towards him.

  ‘Does he have sticks?’ asks one small boy. They know Saint Nikolas is reputed to have an assistant who keeps a bundle of sticks for chastising children who have misbehaved during the year.

  ‘No. You must have all been good,’ says Anna. ‘See, he has no sticks. Let’s all sing to welcome him.’

  She leads them in singing ‘Stille Nacht’. The sweetness of the voices rises up and fills the hall. Della blows her nose loudly.

  ‘That was lovely. Now, one more time – and this time everyone must sing!’

  Then Anna puts her arm around Erich, one of the bigger boys, and gently coaxes him towards Saint Nikolas. He steps forward bravely, grinning at his friends – but jumps back in alarm when Saint Nikolas speaks and moves.

  ‘Ho ho, Erich!’ he says. ‘Come, come here, good boy.’

  The young visitors are quite unperturbed by Saint Nikolas’s broken German, but Ben is not fooled. On hearing the voice he shouts, ‘Dada! Dada!’

  Saint Nikolas plunges his hand into his sack and withdraws a small paper bag, which he hands to the trembling Erich. The boy grabs it and retreats to the safety of the crowd. The other children watch with awe as he examines the contents of his bag: a small carved spinning top, a pair of striped woollen mittens, an orange, and a tiny bar of American chocolate. Now greatly emboldened, they jostle to be next in line to receive their gifts. When all the bags have been distributed, Saint Nikolas gets up and waves to the children.

  ‘Goodbye, children! Happy Christmas to you all.’

  ‘Goodbye, Saint Nikolas! Happy Christmas!’

  Then he shuffles through the hallway and disappears into the kitchen. The children are chattering like sparrows as they compare their gifts. Anna notices Herr Eisen at the kitchen door, watching them spin their new wooden tops. It is the first time she has seen him smile.

  * * *

  Slowly winter recedes. One mild day in early spring Della tucks Ben into the big old pram and settles him in a sheltered corner of the back garden for his afternoon rest. Half an hour later she goes to check on him and utters a piercing shriek, which brings Anna and Mother running out.

  ‘He is gone, Frau Lawrence, Ben is gone!’

  They scour every corner of the garden, and then discover, to their horror, a side gate slightly open. Has Ben wandered off alone or, even more terrible, has someone come in and abducted him? Anna is distraught. She clasps her head in her hands and screams.

  ‘My boy. My baby!’ She sobs, ‘Where is my boy? I can’t lose him, not him!’

  Mother is clutching her, holding her up, as if fearing she might collapse completely.

  ‘Telephone Sam to come at once,’ she says, her voice cracking.

  Anna rings Sam at his base and he returns within ten minutes. Max drives the car at such speed that gravel is flung to all sides in the front drive. A military lorry follows moments later and half a dozen soldiers jump down, men of action ready to form a search party. Anna is white-faced and wild-eyed. Della is weeping uncontrollably.

  ‘What have I done? What have I done? I should not have left him. Oh, God in heaven!’

  Mother is trying hard to remain positive and strong for Anna, but is close to breaking down herself. Her hand is clamped over her mouth, as though stifling a scream that would otherwise escape unchecked.

  The soldiers set off on another search of the garden, but find nothing. Sam takes charge. They must widen the search. He orders two of the men to pursue the southward direction, two to go northwards, and two to follow the street leading westwards.

  Just as the soldiers clatter through the house to begin their expedition, a large lorry draws up in the drive: the coal lorry. A huge coalman hops down from his cab, whistling cheerfully. He scoops a small green figure from the seat and, holding him on his shoulder, strides towards the door. The coalman’s blackened face breaks into a dazzling white grin.

  ‘Found him heading off towards the railway bridge. Toddling along the middle of the road! Thought I’d seen him here when I delivered last time. By, but he’s a long way from home, I thought to meself. A right little wanderer. He’s all right though. Just said he wanted to see the trains.’

  ‘Puffer tains,’ adds Ben, happily stroking his new friend’s face. Anna rushes to the coalman, her face grim. She grabs hold of Ben, yanking him from the man’s grasp.

  ‘Ben! You naughty boy! How could you frighten me like that? Don’t you ever, ever wander off like that again!’ Her voice breaks into sobs.

  Ben gapes at his mother. His face collapses and he starts to wail loudly. Della gently prises him from Anna’s arms and wipes his coal-stained face, now laced by rivers of tears. Anna flings herself at the coalman and embraces him, weeping into his blackened chest.

  ‘Oh bless you, bless you! Thank you for bringing my baby back.’

  The coalman pats her back awkwardly and looks at Sam with a shrug.

  * * *

  Two weeks later Anna wakes screaming in the middle of the night. Sam holds her tightly to him, stroking her. She is sobbing and shaking.

  ‘Shhh. Shhh, my sweetheart. It’s all right. Just a bad dream. Everything’s all right.’

  ‘They took him! They took my baby!’ she shrieks. Drops of perspiration glisten on her forehead. Her eyes are wild.

  ‘I know, I know, darling. We thought we’d lost him. But we’ve got him back. He’s quite safe. You were dreaming.’

  She stares at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, then sinks back into the pillow.

  * * *

  Sam kisses Anna gently, careful not to crush the baby in her arms. He hands her a leather box.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Open it and see.’

  Inside, a necklace of creamy pearls nestles in deep blue silk.

  ‘You’re spoiling me, Sam.’

  ‘They’re only cultured ones I’m afraid. Anyway, you deserve to be spoiled. No one else has given me a beautiful daughter.’

  ‘I should hope not!’

  ‘She seems awfully greedy for such a small person.’ Sam strokes the baby’s dark head as she nuzzles at Anna’s breast. His touch stimulates a jerk of the tiny arms and another spasm of vigorous and noisy sucking.

  ‘Hungry, not greedy. Her purpose in life is to grow.’

  ‘Mmm. Must be rather nice to have to do nothing but eat and sleep. I wouldn’t mind having a go myself.’

  ‘Shhh! Sister will have you thrown out if she hears. She’s very fierce, you know.’

  ‘All Sisters are fierce. It’s their purpose in life.’

  * * *

  The following day Della and Mother bring Ben to the hospital to see his new sister. He clutches Patricia, his worn stuffed elephant and sucks his thumb. They peer into the cot at the sleeping baby.

  ‘Oh!’ exclaims Della, shaking her head. ‘Oh no, it’s not possible! Such a tiny creature, so little! How can a hum
an being be so small?’

  ‘Hold her,’ says Anna. ‘She won’t break.’

  Hesitantly, Della lifts the baby out of the cot. ‘So tiny,’ she breathes.

  ‘Baby … play?’ asks Ben.

  ‘When she’s a bit bigger, Ben, not yet.’

  ‘Baby name?’

  ‘She’s called Eve,’ says Anna, stroking his cheek.

  ‘Evening?’

  ‘Just Eve.’

  ‘Eve. That’s a lovely name,’ says Mother. ‘Do you like it, Ben?’

  Ben frowns and hugs Patricia closer. ‘Ben … like … Patissa,’ he says.

  * * *

  Max drives Mother and Anna to the station, while at home Della has sole charge of both children for the first time.

  In the car Anna looks at Mother, thinking how fond she has become of her mother-in-law, how she will miss her company. Anna had felt drawn to her from the start, but now, she feels, they are truly close, deeply connected. Their relationship has become so important to her: part mother-daughter, part friendship, part sisterly.

  Anna remembers the time years ago when Sam had taken her to visit his mother in her small house in Sussex – the first time she had met Mother. Sam’s brother Humphrey had also been there. She can picture Mother’s anxious, uncertain look, how she had deferred to Humphrey when asked a question, as though not trusting herself to give the correct response.

  ‘Early signs of senile dementia,’ Humphrey had said, and Sam had believed him, saying Humphrey was an experienced medical man, and must know about such things. Yet after Humphrey had gone home, when Anna talked quietly to her, Mother had become perfectly lucid, relating anecdotes about Sam’s childhood and family life in Cumberland to amuse and interest her new daughter-in-law.

  Later, Sam suggested it was as though Mother had recognised instinctively how Anna would bring to his life all that her own had lacked. In all the years of his childhood, Sam told her, he could not recall ever seeing his father touching Mother, nor uttering a single affectionate word. Anna felt so sad for Mother, and said how cruel – but Sam said his father was not cruel, simply a product of his age and background, the Victorian era.

 

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