***
Renata was too excited to sleep. Ma said gaily, ‘Let’s ask everyone to come for an early breakfast. Mrs O’Kelly from across the road brought in a gift of new-laid eggs from her hens yesterday, and we’ve some bread to toast …’
‘A breakfast party?’ queried Da dubiously. ‘On Monday morning?’
‘Yes, a breakfast party to celebrate Renata’s rescue!’ cried Hetty. ‘We’ll make sure it’s over in time for school and work.’
Da frowned. ‘We should all keep a low profile. After all, she’s still illegal here.’
‘We’ll tell them to slip in very quietly,’ said Hetty. ‘It’s so early, hardly anyone’s about yet.’ Crackling with energy, she snapped out directions like an army general. ‘Mabel, you go and get Bobba and Zaida–’
‘It’s too early to drag Bobba out, with her rheumatism,’ protested Da.
‘And Ben can get his Uncle Matt.’
‘And Granny?’ asked Ben. Granny was always up early.
‘Of course,’ Hetty agreed, ‘everyone that helped. I’ll go round to Eddie’s, and we’ll meet back here.’
Renata jumped to her feet. ‘And I help with breakfast,’ she said. ‘I make scrambly egg!’ They grinned as she followed Ma into the kitchen, leaving Da in his dressing gown, about to creep upstairs for a snooze.
But Ma put her head back around the kitchen door. ‘Leon,’ she said, smiling sweetly, ‘as a special treat you can give the baby his early bottle.’ He stopped in mid-step, sighed, and descended to scoop Solly into his arms complete with his toy rabbit, grabbing the bottle from Ma.
***
Ben rushed first to tell Granny the good news of Renata’s return. She declared jubilantly that she would be thanking St Jude, patron saint of lost causes. Then he hurried around to Uncle Matt, who got dressed immediately, and, leaving Auntie Bridie and Paddy still asleep, returned with Ben to Number 19 to collect Granny.
Ben’s Dad was already up, and Granny had told him the news. Then Mabel, who’d just brought Zaida into the Goldens’, tapped on the open door.
‘Er, my Ma sent me,’ she said hesitantly when Ben invited her in. ‘She asked … if your dad and Sean would like to come as well, she said it’s a kind of party, and you’re neighbours and …’ Her voice faded away uncertainly.
Dad was taken by surprise. ‘Well,’ he said after a moment, ‘it’s good that the girl’s … er … all right.’ After a pause, he continued, ‘But it’s a bit early for me and I’ve to go to work–’
In a steely tone that they rarely heard, Granny said, ‘Stephen, it’s an invitation from a neighbour to a celebration – just for a cup of tea.’
All eyes were on him. ‘Er, well maybe,’ he said, embarrassed, glancing at Uncle Matt, ‘I might drop in for a minute … before I leave for work … maybe I’ll follow ye, when Sean’s up …’
Ben was sure he wouldn’t, but at least he’d been polite.
***
In a short time the crowd, jammed into the small parlour of the house in Martin Street, could scarcely move, and plates of scrambled egg were being handed around over people’s heads.
Uncle Matt greeted the Goldens and said to Renata, ‘You’re welcome in our house as long as you like.’ He patted her shoulder kindly. ‘Our Paddy will be glad of the company. And I’ll make enquiries through the union to try and track down your da – if he’s still in Longford, it shouldn’t be too hard.’
Renata threw her arms around him and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘That is very kind,’ she exclaimed. ‘We say in German, wunderbar!’ Uncle Matt, looking bashful, reached for his pipe.
Ben squeezed through the crowd to Zaida, sitting slightly bewildered in the armchair with his old greatcoat over his pyjamas. Amidst the commotion, he questioned Ben about what had happened. As Mabel handed him a cup of tea he said slowly, ‘We all prayed for this. But,’ he added, ‘we mustn’t forget all the others in Europe, like Renata’s family, who found no haven in Ireland or anywhere else.’ He gazed up at the photograph. ‘Even at a good time like this, I think of whoever is left of my family in our little shtetl, at the mercy of the Nazis.’ Then, forcing a smile, he touched Ben’s shoulder. ‘But we mustn’t be sad; this is a happy day.’
A little later, Ben, threading his way to the kitchen in search of Hetty, noticed the front door open a crack and two figures squeeze into the packed room – his dad and Sean, both looking distinctly uncomfortable. Mrs Golden spotted them as she handed out plates, and gave her husband a look. He wriggled through the crowd and muttered nervously, ‘You’re both welcome.’
At the same moment Uncle Sam banged his spoon on a cup to capture attention. Hetty, coming down the stairs with Solly, who’d been woken up by the noise and wanted to join the party, rolled her eyes. Surely not some long speech, boring everyone and silencing the joy they all felt.
But Uncle Sam’s speech was very short. ‘This is a miracle – but it’s also due to the determination of Hetty, Eddie, Ben and their families, and the good will of others whose names we don’t even know. They all helped a brave young girl, our dear Renata, to escape from the Nazi terror. We thank the Almighty.’
Hetty’s da quickly added, ‘Please, no one should say anything about Renata to anyone, she’s still not out of danger.’ He smiled, and, raising his teacup, proposed the age-old Jewish toast, ‘L’Chaim, to life!’, echoed by most in the room.
Then Ben watched, amazed, as his own dad raised his cup and called, ‘Sláinte, good health.’ As they all repeated it, he added gruffly, ‘Sure, if I’d known there was a toast, I’d have brought in a real drink.’ There was a burst of laughter, and Hetty’s da said doubtfully, ‘Our whiskey’s run out and I don’t think there’s enough Kiddush wine–’ But Uncle Matt called out, ‘Wait, I happen to have a real drink with me,’ and he produced from his coat pocket a half-bottle of his precious Irish whiskey.
‘Ye have to go to work yet!’ warned Granny.
‘Ah sure, there’s only enough for about two drops each – and it’s just this once,’ muttered Ben’s dad as they passed it around to the adults.
Then Renata stood up on a chair and called out, blushing, ‘I have only one word – Danke schön – thank you.’
Hetty, holding Mossy close, put in mischievously, ‘That’s two words, Renata.’
‘Oh, trust you, Hetty,’ said Mabel, and across the talk and laughter, Ben’s eyes met Hetty’s, erasing the distance between them.
***
Ben’s dad, in rare good humour, put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. ‘Grand breakfast,’ he said, ‘but where were the rashers?’
Eddie, overhearing, grinned. ‘None of those in a Jewish house, I’m afraid,’ he murmured, ‘but I bet you don’t have cholent or kichels or matza!’
Shaking his head in puzzlement, Ben’s dad said goodbye and brief thanks to the Goldens. As they left, Sean muttered to Ben, ‘That Renata, she’s a right little cracker!’ Ben frowned, just like Hetty.
When they’d gone, Ben went into the kitchen, where Ma and Mabel were making a fresh pot of tea for Granny. His heart was so full that he gave Granny a hug, contentedly sniffing her familiar smell of peppermint and mothballs and lavender.
She said quietly, ‘You see, Ben, God is good.’ But as always, he knew she was thinking of his mam, and wishing, like him, that she too was part of this strange gathering.
But who knew, Ben thought – perhaps she wasn’t far away, still watching over them?
26
The Reunion
It was nearly the end of the summer holidays, and in Martin Street a football game was again in full swing. Ben, who’d finally delegated a younger boy from two doors down to watch for the glimmer man, was in the thick of it. When a goal was scored, leaving Joey Woolfson, the goalkeeper, lying prone on the ground, there were cheers and groans.
Then the door of Number 17 flew open and Hetty, in a pink floral summer dress made by her Ma, which she hated, rushed into the street waving an envelope. ‘Ben, quick, a let
ter from Renata!’
His open-necked Aertex shirt sticking to him in the heat, Ben was beside her in an instant. Examining the envelope with Hetty’s address printed on it, he noted the stamps from the Sword of Light set, which Smiler was collecting. They’d keep it for him.
‘Let’s go to Eddie’s and open it there!’ And together they sped round to Donore Terrace.
***
Renata had stayed in Uncle Matt’s for three weeks, often visiting the Goldens to help with sewing and to see Mabel, Eddie and Hetty – and especially Solly – and the Byrnes, where Dad appeared to be slowly, awkwardly, getting used to her. She became a favourite with Granny who tried to explain Irish expressions to her: ‘youngfella’, ‘oul’ one’ and ‘scarlet’, while Renata attempted the equivalent in German. And Sean, smitten with Renata, rushed home early to see her, and then was tongue-tied – unheard of for Sean – which amused them all.
Everyone now closely followed the worrying war news. The Nazis, in control of most of Europe, were advancing into Russia and Lithuania, and they were all aware that neither Zaida nor Renata had news of their families.
As time passed it had become increasingly difficult to keep Renata’s presence secret, though no one, not even Ben’s Dad, appeared to have let drop that she was a refugee. Some Martin Street residents, Jewish and Christian, such as Carmel and Maureen’s family with whom Renata had become friends, must have suspected, yet she was accepted as a visiting foreign friend, and, as Uncle Matt put it, ‘a grand young one’.
Uncle Matt, through fellow trade union members in County Longford, had soon tracked down Renata’s father at Hirsch’s Ribbons. ‘Ireland’s a small place,’ he told Renata when he came in as she was having tea with Auntie Bridie and Paddy, and handed her a piece of paper with her father’s address, watching joy light up her face.
Paddy, who was now off his crutches and keen to get back to the war, said, disappointed, ‘You mean you won’t be here for my next leave?’
***
Her departure had been marked by farewells, hugs and promises to keep in touch. ‘Where is Zaida’s hanky?’ she’d sobbed. There were kisses for everyone on both cheeks, which rendered Sean speechless.
Hetty’s Ma made sandwiches for the journey and a milky cake for her father. Uncle Sam gave her a ten shilling note from the family; Granny gave her a pair of scarlet wool gloves she’d knitted; and even Ben’s dad said gruffly, ‘Er, good luck now.’ Zaida and Bobba presented her with two half-crowns and a packet of three large, white linen handkerchiefs. Zaida said gently, ‘I hope you will not need them now for tears.’
But later when Ben and Hetty helped Renata carry her baggage and sewing machine to the station and waved her off, she leaned out the window, mopping her tears with one of the new hankies.
‘Good thing my dad wasn’t here,’ Ben grinned to Hetty afterwards. ‘Those kisses might’ve been a step too far!’ He’d rather liked them himself, and although no one in Ireland ever kissed anyone on both cheeks, he wondered, hopefully, if Hetty ever might. ‘Still,’ he went on, ‘Dad’s in better humour about things than he used to be.’
But Hetty wasn’t thinking of his dad. She grabbed Ben’s hand and, excitement in her eyes, said: ‘We did it, Ben! We rescued her!’ They had both laughed, happy it had all worked out.
***
When Ben and Hetty arrived with the letter, Eddie was in the front garden wearily helping his da pull up carrots and potatoes and load them into a wheelbarrow.
‘Come to help?’ asked Eddie hopefully. When they produced the letter, he hurried them into the kitchen, where Hetty opened it.
‘Liebe Hetty, Ben, Eddie and everyone!’
You will be surprised at this letter – Papa is correcting it and his English is now very good!
The journey to Longford was six hours! The carriage was hot and we stopped many times. They told us there is little coal because of the Emergency – I think they mean the war, so they use for the engine, turf.
In our carriage we chatted, but you can be sure I said nothing about myself, though one lady asked many questions.
There was a nun who I think guessed something – she gave me rosary beads and said she would pray for me.
Then, I got off at Longford very weary – and there on the platform was my dearest Papa, who I had not seen for so long. He wore his good grey suit and trilby hat that I remembered from Berlin. We were laughing and crying and I had to use again Zaida’s hanky!
Papa’s landlady has a small room which Papa asked to rent for me, though he does not earn much. She was not sure – until she saw my sewing machine! Now I do work for her instead of rent. More sewing! I wish Ma and Mabel were here to help.
It is good to be together, but underneath we are sad because there is no news of Mutti and Ella, or of Walter. Papa is still trying to contact them. He’s certain one day our family will be together again. It is good Zaida and Granny and your families and the nun on the train, are all praying for us.
So for now, ‘auf wiedersehen!’ This means ‘till we meet again’.
I hope you will visit us here. I miss you all, and I feel now I have an Irish second family!
My love and thanks to all of you – mit ganzen Herz,
Renata
There was a silence after Hetty finished reading. ‘I hope we see her again soon.’ Her voice trembled.
‘Come on, Hetty,’ consoled Eddie. ‘At least she found her father.’
‘But her family in Warsaw …’ Hetty flared up, ‘and all the terrible things that must be happening while we’re safe here. I can’t bear it!’
There was a tap on the window and Eddie opened the door for Zaida.
Greeting them, he noticed Hetty’s emotion and gently pinched her cheek.
‘Hetty, we’ll have to find someone else for you to rescue,’ he teased. Then, more seriously, ‘My dear children, I know these are hard times, not only for Jews.’ He glanced at Ben and they remembered his mam, and Paddy. ‘We can weep a little, but we must march on like soldiers in a just war, and do the best we can. And,’ he smiled round at them, ‘that is what you all did.’
He added quietly, ‘Like the rabbi said, “If I am for myself alone, what am I?”’ And Ben recalled his mam’s words in his autograph book, which he’d shown Hetty, ‘Never send to know for whom the bell tolls’ and thought, it says the same, really.
Zaida sank down in an armchair. ‘Now, what about a drop of lemonade for an old man?’
Hetty, her spirits lifted by Zaida’s words, told them, ‘My friend Gertie’s coming over. She wants us to go to Sandymount strand on the tram and bring sandwiches for a picnic.’
Ben asked quickly, ‘Er … can I come? And Smiler?’
‘And me,’ said Eddie.
‘Well, if we’re having an outing, Mabel will be home soon, she could do with cheering up,’ Hetty said, with a sudden flash of kindness towards her sister.
Pleased to see Hetty back in her positive, organising mood, Ben put in, ‘Maybe she’d like Carmel and Maureen to come too. We could all go!’
Zaida smiled, ‘Go in good health.’
‘We’ll all meet at Number 17,’ announced Hetty.
An hour later, laden with sandwiches, kichels, jam tarts, apples and lemonade, and tram fare scrounged from parents and relations, and with the two dogs racing around them, they all set off for the tram. By this time the numbers had grown to include more children from Martin Street who’d heard of the outing. At the last minute, Sean had arrived home on his bike, thrown it into the hall, and joined them, along with Billy and the Woolfsons.
Granny, Zaida and Hetty’s ma, with Solly in her arms, waved them off, until the crowd turned the corner and were out of sight.
Then the adults heaved a sigh, and went into Number 17 to have a cup of tea.
Epilogue
Extracts from Renata’s Diary 1941
translated from the German
Longford, Ireland: September 1941
Papa and I waved g
oodbye to Hetty, Ben and Eddie, who visited us just before school began. It was wunderbar (they all understand that word now!) to see my good friends again. Hetty, so brave and strong, Ben, gentle but brave too, and Eddie to make us laugh. They brought good wishes from Mabel and the family – even Sean, who used to visit me in Dublin and sit blushing, never saying a word!
They all agreed my English is much better – but I still write my diary in German! Hetty told us that when she grows up she wants to be a journalist so she can make sure people know what’s happening in other places and try to help.
Since they left, life is very quiet. Some people here are suspicious of us, but most are kind. I earn a little money from sewing. So far I haven’t made any clothes for myself. The landlady, who is friendly now, enrolled me in a night class ‘to improve my skills’. It is good we are safe here, but our family and my friends are in my mind. Now, at last, we received two letters. The news is good and it is bad …
First the good: Dr Lowy’s nephew, who emigrated to Palestine before the war, at last tracked Walter down and gave him our address. Last week a letter came with many stamps and postmarks!
Walter wrote that his ship, named by the passengers The Promised Land to remind them where they were going, was an old, leaky vessel, one of many that sailed to Haifa port laden with Jewish refugees from the Nazis. At least one sank on the way and all were drowned. Some ships were turned back by the British. But our brave Walter, though sick and very thin, he tells us, reached the ‘Promised Land’.
He was sent first to a British detention camp in Atlit. ‘It was not too bad,’ he writes. ‘I made friends there and learned Hebrew.’
After three months he was released and now lives on a kibbutz. ‘Everyone, boys and girls, men and women, work together on the land, and study or play music in the evenings,’ he says. ‘We now grow enough to feed ourselves, and everything is shared.’
17 Martin Street Page 14