by Diana Finley
‘But why did he have to go to school in England, Mamma? Why couldn’t he just stay at school in Germany, like me?’
‘Well, because Ben is three years older than you. He needs a different sort of school now.’
The ball bounces in the wrong direction and rolls under the chair. Emil pounces joyfully after it. Sighing, Anna retrieves the ball and hands it to Eve, who resumes her throwing. She had thought Eve would be less needy, less clingy, now that she had Emil for company. Yet she’s such a demanding child – nothing seems enough for her.
‘So will I have to go to school in England too, when I’m older?’
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’
‘Why maybe not?
‘Because you’re a girl. Daddy thinks it’s different for a girl.’ Eve drops the ball again and Anna brings it back to her. ‘Do you want to go and play with Emil in the garden?’
‘No, I like it here with you. Why is it different?’
‘I’m not really sure. Ask Daddy.’
‘Are girls less important?’
‘No, of course not.’ Eve’s ball bounces noisily on the parquet floor and rolls under the dining table. Anna has to stretch to reach it.
‘But it doesn’t matter if girls go to school in Germany?’
‘Well, it’s not that it doesn’t matter.’
‘Then why?’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Eve! Will you stop asking so many questions? Maybe you should go to boarding school too!’
Eve frowns. She takes the ball from Anna again and looks silently at the floor. She opens her hand and lets the ball drop from her fingers. Anna gasps in irritation and reaches for it yet again. Eve smiles.
‘You know what, Mamma? You’re like my slave, always getting the ball for me when I drop it!’
Anna flings the ball across the room and yanks Eve roughly from her perch on the sideboard.
‘Don’t you dare ever to call me that!’
Anna pulls Eve to the kitchen and asks Della to prepare some lunch for her, because she certainly can’t be bothered to cook for her when she’s in such a silly mood. Della makes Anna a cup of coffee, and then puts a plate of egg noodles and tomato sauce in front of Eve. Eve stares at it, tears welling in her eyes.
‘Well come on, Eve. Look what a nice lunch Della’s made for you.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘There are plenty of hungry children who would be glad of your good food.’
‘Then give it to them.’
Anna stands, her chair crashing to the floor behind her. Tight fists quiver at her sides. She turns to Eve, breathing heavily.
Della calmly steps between them. ‘Never mind,’ she says softly. ‘If you don’t want it now, Eve, maybe you’ll be hungry later.’
‘Della, you’ll have to see to her! I can’t deal with such a naughty girl!’ Anna storms from the room. The sound of her footsteps on the stairs echoes through the house.
* * *
‘Would you clean in Eve’s room today?’ Anna asks Maria. ‘We haven’t managed it properly since she got chicken pox.’
‘Yes, of course, if it won’t disturb her, Gnädige Frau.’
‘Oh no. She’s much better. She’s not even in bed today. She’ll probably be reading or drawing pictures. I’ll ask Della to make her some orange juice, and we could all have our coffee in her room to keep her company. She’d like that.’
Della carries a tray of drinks upstairs, with Anna close behind. They find Eve chattering to Maria. The room looks spotless, Anna notes with satisfaction, Maria is a quick and efficient worker. Eve runs to hug her mother. Anna steps to one side.
‘Careful of the drinks, darling!’ She waits for Della to put the tray down on the desk and then turns to return Eve’s hug, but she has gone to join Emil on the bed again and is sifting through a book of drawings. How pale she looks. She needs some good country air.
‘Look, Della, this is you, and Emil is chasing you!’ Eve holds up a sheet of paper and giggles.
‘Maria, this is you with your broom. It looks like a witch’s broom – but you’re not a witch, are you?’
‘As long as you haven’t drawn me riding on the broom!’
‘And, Mamma, I did you cooking potatoes. Only you’ve cooked a huge pot of them, and look how hot you are – all red in the face.’
‘Little monkey. You’re obviously much better – all these funny pictures of everyone. You’ll have to do one of Daddy too to show him when he comes home from work. What else have you been doing this morning?’
‘I’ve been reading the new books from the library. This is a good one about a chimpanzee called Zippy. Look, he’s got clothes on! And this is Pooh Bear. And look here, this is a new one I haven’t read yet. It’s got lots of writing – I think maybe it’s for older boys and girls. It’s about a little girl called Anne Frank. Who is Anne Frank, Mamma?’
Anna holds her coffee cup mid-way to her mouth, as though turned to stone. Della and Maria look startled. The air in the room has grown thick and heavy. Eve looks from one face to another.
‘Mamma, I said who is Anne Frank?’ she says, more loudly this time.
‘Ssshhh!’
‘What? Why … Mamma, who is—?’
‘Psshht, Eve! Don’t ask that! Don’t talk about it now. Not now!’
‘But I just—’
‘Did you hear me? I’ll tell you about it later. Not now!’
Eve flings herself backwards on the bed and buries her face in Emil’s body.
* * *
Anna is sitting on the wooden seat encircling the great chestnut tree, concealed by a beech hedge, trying to concentrate on reading. It is one of her favourite secluded spots in the garden, sheltered from the wind and catching early evening sunshine. Lately, she has come to the solitude of this place more and more often. Through the leaves of the hedge she can see Herr Eisen and Eve kneeling side by side in the vegetable garden. Anna holds the book open on her lap, but the lines of writing swim before her eyes. Her attention is not on the book; it is drawn firmly to the gardener and the child, to their quiet conversation and shared activity. A pressure grows behind her eyes as she watches.
They are planting garlic. Eve makes a deep hole in the earth with a wooden dibber, and drops a clove of garlic into it. She carefully spreads her hands wide, side by side, three times to measure the correct distance from the last hole, and presses the tool into the soft earth again. Herr Eisen studies her progress. When Eve looks up at him, he nods and smiles encouragingly. Anna can see Eve’s small hands working diligently in the soil. Herr Eisen’s hands, by contrast, are large and bony, with lumps swelling the joints. The skin is folded into loose wrinkles and speckled with patches of brown, like a hen’s egg. Anna watches as Eve looks back along the line of small mounds marked by a length of green twine pulled taut between two wooden stakes. The sight of Eve chewing her lip and frowning with effort and concentration is enough to trigger the release of the tears that have been welling.
‘You are working hard, little one,’ Herr Eisen comments softly.
Eve does not look up. ‘I have to.’
‘Oh?’
‘So Mamma will be pleased.’
‘Ah, yes.’
‘I’m going to pick her some flowers. That might make her happy, mightn’t it?’
Quietly Anna picks up her book and tiptoes back to the house.
* * *
For two weeks Anna determines to extend to Eve the warmth and affection she knows she so craves, and which she herself knows she feels, yet which it sometimes seems to take a supreme effort on her part to show.
‘You know, Frau Lawrence, I think it is harder with Eve, because she is so like you. Ben is a boy; it is different. But she reminds you of yourself, perhaps?’ As usual, Della’s wisdom and perception astounds Anna. Of course she is right. So often, she wants only to punish herself, but it is Eve who is there.
Events take over, which punish them all. Herr Eisen, dear, gentle Herr Eisen, dies suddenly of h
eart failure. Sam finds him lying outside his garden shed one morning.
Anna holds Eve on her lap, hugging her, stroking her hair, kissing her. She rocks her gently, as she did when she was a baby. It feels so good, so close; how she has missed her. Why did he have to die now, of all times? she wonders. So many losses to deal with, just when they all need some stability. Is nothing ever permanent?
‘Can we go and see him, Mamma? I want to see him, before he goes to heaven.’
What harm can it do? It is right for the child to understand death. Anna has discussed it with Della, as she does most issues of importance. When Della was growing up, the bereaved – even children – were expected to kiss dead loved ones goodbye. She told Anna she still recalled the feel of her mother’s face, as she lay in her coffin on the scrubbed kitchen table, the flesh hard, cold, and unyielding. Of course, Della had been older than Eve, and familiar with the relentless cycle of life and death, like any farmer’s daughter. Anna almost envies her this intimate contact with the dead. She had been so far away in Palestine when her own mother died in Vienna, and far away again when her father died in Esther’s home in America. Far away too when Jakob died alone in Auschwitz.
She pushes these thoughts away with a violent shudder and stands up, sliding the child off her lap and taking her hand briskly.
‘Come then. But remember, Eve, Herr Eisen cannot wake up or speak to you.’
‘’Course I know that. Why did he die, Mamma?’
‘He was very old. His body was tired. His heart was tired of sorrow. He will be happy to join his wife and children, with the angels. How he must have missed them over the years.’
‘Won’t he miss me? Won’t he miss living here with us?’
‘I think he will miss you, I’m sure of it, and Ben too. But Herr Eisen was a good man, so I expect he hopes that in heaven he’ll be reunited with all those he has loved and lost before. And one day we may join him there too.’
Eve thinks about this silently. Anna leads her to the salon where the simple, dark coffin stands on two tables in the centre of the room. On the sideboards at either side, two silver candelabra cast a gentle, intimate light. She lifts Eve, settling her into the hollow above her hip. They gaze down at Herr Eisen in silence for a few minutes. His white hair has been brushed up from his forehead and back behind his ears. His beard is white and clean, with a trace of golden streaks near the jawline. He is no longer wearing his worn brown jacket, his striped blue and white shirt frayed at the cuffs, nor are his old leather braces supporting thick, green loden trousers. Herr Eisen is smart and spotless in clothes neither Anna nor Eve have ever seen before: a black suit of a fine, slightly shiny cloth, double-breasted and buttoned right through, a shirt of pure white cotton with starched cuffs showing at his wrists, and a high collar at his throat. Around his neck is a red and white spotted kerchief, tied with a flourish.
Yet despite all this finery, or perhaps because of it, Herr Eisen looks quite unlike himself. His face is of a pale almond colour. Gone is the ruddy, outdoor vigour. His expression is strange too, fixed in a smooth and rigid smile, so uncharacteristic of a man whose face was usually serious and contemplative, only rarely breaking into a network of creases and ridges as he allowed pleasure to soften his features.
‘Herr Eisen?’ Eve says doubtfully. Anna cuddles her closer reassuringly.
‘Is it really him?’
‘Yes, Schätzel, he is dressed for his Maker.’
‘He looks … beautiful.’
* * *
Not long after Herr Eisen’s funeral, Anna again seeks Della out to discuss her concerns about Eve.
‘I just told her we were having a reception for the mayor this evening, and I wanted her to help by handing round trays of hors d’oeuvres for the guests – and do you know what she said?’
‘What?’ Della smiles indulgently.
‘She said “I don’t think I can. I’m much too shy to do that.”’
‘Oh, did she? Too shy?’ says Della.
‘Yes, and then she said, “Maybe I’ll go and ask Herr Eisen what he thinks”! Imagine! What on earth is going on in that child’s head? We all thought she understood that Herr Eisen is dead and not coming back. Yet she goes down to the garden shed to “talk to him” every day. It’s not healthy. Maybe I should forbid it?’
‘Hmm. I wouldn’t do that, Gnädige Frau. He was a very special friend to her, almost like a grandfather. She misses him, and now with Ben away too, it gives her comfort to feel Herr Eisen’s presence, in her own way.’
‘We all miss Ben, and Herr Eisen too of course.’
Children should be with their mothers, Anna thinks. No one knows just how much she misses Ben, how his absence has become a constant presence, blocking her feelings for Eve. At times she worries for Eve’s sanity. She does not mention to Della, or to Sam, that she herself regularly converses with Ben, when the agony of her longing for him becomes unbearable. That is different: she knows Ben can’t hear her – it is just a way of feeling close to him, of keeping the black shadows at bay.
Sam seems quite relaxed about Eve’s conversations with the dead gardener. As he and Anna dress for the reception that evening, Eve suddenly appears in her parents’ bedroom wearing her favourite lemon yellow party dress. She smiles at them both and sidles up to her mother, turning her back.
‘Can you fasten my dress please, Mamma?’
‘Yes of course, my sweetheart. How lovely you look. Have you decided to come to the party after all then?’
‘Yes.’
‘So did you ask old Eisen’s opinion?’ asks Sam, winking at Anna.
‘Yes I did,’ Eve says solemnly. ‘I told him I didn’t want to go because I was too shy.’
‘Oh, and what did he say?’
‘He said, “Just pretend you’re not shy.”’ She looks from Sam to Anna. ‘So that’s what I’m going to do.’
‘Excellent advice.’
Chapter 10
Ellwangen 1956
Sam stares at Dr Ehrlich. He presses his hands against his trouser legs, feeling their heat and dampness. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, as if hoping he might be transported away from this place, far away. When he opens them again, Dr Ehrlich is still there, sitting behind his large polished wooden desk, nodding in his understanding, sympathetic way. Bloody, bloody maddening, sitting there nodding like a puppet, like a mechanical doll. The best in his field, so they say. A specialist in healing the damaged and displaced of Europe, those who have suffered unimaginable cruelty and loss, those who have survived and don’t know why. If anyone can help Anna, he can. Someone must help Anna.
Eve is playing at a little table in the corner of the room, murmuring softly to herself. An imaginative child, her teacher had pronounced, dreamy. She lives in her own head a little too much. Just as well, Sam thinks. Right now, inside her head is probably a safer place, a good deal more comfortable than the real world.
Every so often Eve stops what she’s doing and gazes across the room at Sam with her large dark eyes. Anna’s eyes. Confused thoughts swirl around his brain, painfully abrasive, like grains of sand whisked onto an eyeball by an eddy of wind. He stands up. He remains motionless for a moment, as though surprised at his own action and unsure what he might do next. The sound of his chair scraping back fills the room. Dr Ehrlich stands too and smiles up into Sam’s face. A full foot taller, Sam suddenly feels more in control.
‘Thank you, Doctor.’ He extends his hand. Dr Ehrlich takes Sam’s hand in both of his and holds on to it.
‘Time, Brigadier,’ he says softly. ‘It will take time. There is only so much suffering the human psyche can stand before breaking. We are none of us made of iron, you know. Not even you.’
Sam glances at Dr Ehrlich’s face, searches it, and sees the remark is meant kindly.
‘No, of course not.’
‘She needs to feel secure and safe,’ continues the doctor. ‘At the moment she feels frightened and ashamed.’
‘Asham
ed?’
‘We are all ashamed of what we perceive as weakness, Brigadier Lawrence. I believe you understand this. She does not want to let you down, to admit she can’t go on, to admit she needs help. It is important that she knows you love her – unconditionally.’
Sam shifts his weight from one leg to the other, tries to stand still and upright. Sweat is trickling down his back under his uniform, tickling, like a caress. He closes his eyes and pictures Anna’s fingers tracing a gentle journey along his backbone.
‘I’d like to see my wife now.’ His voice is gruff and shaky.
Dr Ehrlich smiles. ‘Yes of course,’ he says. He moves swiftly to press a buzzer on his desk. After a moment, a neat young woman knocks and enters the room.
‘Ah, Monika, please take Brigadier Lawrence to see Anna.’
The child stands motionless now, watching. She holds a small toy figure mid-air in each hand.
‘Come, darling, we’re going to see Mamma,’ Sam says. Apparently so absorbed in her play just a moment ago, Eve instantly drops the toys on the table as if they are nothing to her, and walks towards her father, her eyes never leaving his face. He takes her hand. It feels soft and warm, like a small animal. Suddenly Sam feels like weeping. He follows the young woman to the door.
‘Say goodbye to Doctor Ehrlich, Eve.’
‘Goodbye, Doctor Ehrlich,’ Eve responds solemnly. Doctor Ehrlich bends towards her as if bowing slightly.
‘Goodbye, my dear. Your mamma will be very happy to see you.’
* * *
Sam concentrates on following Monika’s clicking heels and neat stocking seams down the long grey corridors – a welcome distraction from the monotonous and dispiriting surroundings. He wonders how she manages to arrange the seams in such a straight line. A faintly medicinal smell penetrates his thoughts, carrying him back to his father’s surgery years ago in Cumberland.
He tries to focus his mind on what Doctor Ehrlich said. Certainly, the man meant well and was highly regarded. But if you stripped away the psychological drivel, what was left? That Anna was mad? No, not that surely. But unhinged, perhaps. ‘A breakdown’. What did that really mean? He had tried to care for her – God knows he wanted to. Of course he loves Anna ‘unconditionally’, as the doctor put it. Perhaps he doesn’t go in for fancy words and romantic gestures, not as often as he should, but surely Anna knows how he feels?