In Their Mother's Footsteps

by Mary Wood

  Her father’s eventual destination for the family was America, but he hadn’t been able to secure his release from his job and, therefore, the necessary papers to travel. He’d planned to sail to Britain overnight and use his wealth to pay their way, in whatever manner he could, including using false papers.

  The boat had capsized and Leah believed that her family had perished. She had been picked up by another boat and brought to shore somewhere near the cliffs of Dover, where her rescuer had alerted the coastguard and then taken Leah to stay in his home. His wife had taken care of her while he brought their doctor to examine her. The doctor had left medication to help Leah sleep, but she hadn’t taken it. When her rescuers thought she was asleep, she’d heard the man who had saved her speaking on the telephone. From the little English she knew, she deduced that he was calling the police. When the call ended, Leah was able to understand that the police would come to the house the next day.

  Logic told Leah that this was bound to happen. She was a foreign national who had been involved in an accident that must be investigated. The police would want to know who she was, and why she and her family had been in British waters. Suspicion would be aroused as to whether they were trying to sneak into England and, if so, why. They would question whether she could legally remain. And if her family were found, they would need to know where they could contact her. Panic had set in when Leah realized the police would probably send her back to France.

  The only relative she had there was her spinster aunt, who hadn’t spoken to the family in years. Confused and choked by a painful grief, she’d waited until the couple were asleep. Then she’d stolen some money from the wife’s handbag, which was hanging in the kitchen, leaving a note saying that she was sorry and would one day pay them back. She’d made her way to London, where she thought she would get a job – any menial job where the language wasn’t a barrier; perhaps as a live-in chambermaid at one of the hotels.

  Leah didn’t go into details about her journey, but Edith suspected she must have slept out in the open, as it would have taken her several days. She marvelled that the girl had survived at all.

  ‘I eventually got a train, but I had nothing left when I arrived in London. No money, no food. I was unwashed and I looked bedraggled. I sat on the steps of the station, trying to decide what to do. A man approached me. I couldn’t understand him, but he made gestures as if he would feed me. I went with him. He took me to a house where I found myself to be one of many girls. There was another French girl there, and she could speak English. All the others were from foreign countries and had come to London by various means – some by arrangement with their families; or German girls whose families thought they were being taken to Ireland, to keep them safe. One girl told me that we had to let men do things to us or we would be beaten.’ Leah’s large, dark eyes filled with tears, which spilled over and made silvery lines down her cheeks.

  ‘Oh, my dear. How long have you been in that place?’ Edith knew she shouldn’t have interrupted and was meant to leave the questioning to the police officers, but she hadn’t been able to help herself.

  ‘I don’t know – months. I have been beaten many times. All of the women in there know about Jimmy’s Hope House, where you say you are from. Some have been to you for medical help, and said that you and another lady who assists you were kind. The girls have a way of helping each other to get out; they told me to go to you, but said I shouldn’t tell you anything, and that I should go back to them as soon as I can. If the man who runs the brothel finds that I am missing, he will take reprisals on one of them – maybe even kill one of them – and then he will find me. But I got lost . . . I’ve been gone for days. Those girls need help. Please help them.’

  Edith was appalled. ‘You are safe now. You are a very brave girl. I will speak to the police sergeant. Hopefully he will let you come with me to Jimmy’s Hope House, where we will take care of you.’

  Leah nodded. Another tear plopped onto her cheek.

  Edith wanted to take the girl in her arms and hold her tight. But she knew that was dangerous territory for her, and would result in undoing her resolve not to allow her past to weave its way into the present. Her priority now was Leah’s welfare, and to get the police to take action to save the other poor girls, and bring to justice the evil man that she talked about.

  Waiting for a decision from the sergeant, Edith willed herself to take Leah away from this wretched place. ‘I will take on the responsibility for her, and make sure she is available to you whenever you need to question her, Sergeant. Can’t you please release her into my care? I will sign anything you want me to.’

  ‘Well, as I haven’t any evidence of any crime to charge her with, I think that is the best option. But I’ll pass on to CID the information she has given me, and they will want to speak to her – and with some urgency, if what she is saying is true. They’ll contact the couple who rescued her, through the local police, who should have a record of the girl being found. If the couple want to press charges concerning the theft from them, we’ll have to deal with that and she will have to go to court. In the meantime we need her to sign her statement. Then you can take her.’

  Edith smiled as she released a deep sigh. The sergeant was human, after all.

  She felt proud of the way she had held herself together and suppressed her own anguish. But then hadn’t she been doing so for the last twenty-two years? Well, she would carry on doing so. Continuing to help young women like Leah would sustain her, as it always had done. As did having her beloved Laurent, and dear Ada, by her side. She was blessed in many ways.

  But despite these positive thoughts, the desolate feeling deep within her wouldn’t go away, and she knew she would never feel truly fulfilled until she was reunited with her children. Would that ever happen?

  2

  Elka

  Krakow, Poland, July 1939 – Petra Reveals All

  Though the sun was shining, Elka felt chilled to the bone as the men in black lowered her mother’s coffin into the stony cavity and laid it on top of her father’s.

  Made of lead, her father’s coffin was well preserved. Looking at it made Elka feel sad that she had no memories of her father, only recollections that others had given her. She and Ania, her twin sister, had been just fifteen months old when he had died in August 1918, a victim – like her maternal grandfather – of the flu pandemic that had broken out towards the end of the Great War.

  The sound of a sob drew her attention away from these thoughts. Dear Ania would need her more than ever now. A mirror-image of herself, with her tall elegance and red-gold curly hair, Ania looked imploringly at Elka from beautiful hazel eyes that asked her to take her pain away.

  Unable to speak, Elka enclosed Ania in her arms, but as she did so, she sensed movement on her other side and turned her head to look over her shoulder. Babcia Petra’s usually strong countenance had crumbled. Elka let go of Ania and caught hold of their grandmother’s sobbing body just in time to save her from falling.

  Babcia Petra’s distress took Ania’s attention away from her own unhappiness. She moved quickly to help Elka and, speaking softly, managed to soothe their grandmother. ‘We are still here for you, darling Babcia Petra.’ This helped their grandmother regain her composure and she stood bravely upright. Looking at her, and seeing her frailty, reinforced Elka’s decision not to leave Poland.

  Babcia feared that, as Jews, they faced untold horror if the Nazis invaded Poland. She had been urging Elka and Ania to leave the country, even though she would make no plans to leave herself. Her only reason was that she had left during the last war and had spent many years in a kind of exile in France. Once she’d returned home, she had vowed she would never leave again.

  The tales of what was happening to Jews in Germany, and now in Austria, since Hitler’s army had been getting stronger, frightened her. It was these tales that were prompting Babcia, and all of their community, to fear the future. They’d heard that Jews were not allowed to front their
businesses and had to register their wealth and property. All Jews over fifteen had to carry an identity card, which must be shown to police on demand. Synagogues were being destroyed, and Jewish doctors were being prohibited from practising. Babcia Petra was right to be afraid. Elka and Ania were afraid, too. But how could they leave Babcia now? Or Dziadek Gos and Babcia Miriam, their father’s parents, even though they had never acted as grandparents should towards them? They had treated Elka and Ania differently from their cousins, Jhona and Isaac, the sons of their father’s younger brother. Their grandparents had played with the cousins and lavished gifts on them and, upon each of them reaching twenty-five, had made them directors in the family jewellery business.

  Not that any of this affected her own and Ania’s relationship with Jhona and Isaac. They all adored one another.

  Lifting her eyes at this thought, Elka caught Jhona’s glance. Neither of them looked away, both compelled to convey to each other something deeply felt within them, something forbidden – the kind of love that you shouldn’t feel for a cousin. A love they didn’t acknowledge, but that bound them together.

  The first shovelful of earth hit the coffin, and the pain of realization struck Elka. After feeling nothing other than relief since her mother had sighed her last painful breath at noon yesterday, she now wanted to scream, as each mourner pitched more and more soil onto her coffin.

  Tears she’d thought she would never shed tumbled from her eyes and ran down her cheeks in streams. The salty taste of them dried her mouth. The deluge weakened her body, so that when her turn came, she found it difficult to dig into the mound of earth and throw some onto her mother’s coffin. But as this was a Jewish custom, she had to do so, to help her mother on her way. The thud made her feel as if her heart had shredded into little pieces and would never heal.

  An arm came round her. ‘Elka, my darling.’ Dropping the shovel, she gave in to her need to be held by Jhona and sank into his body. Nothing would look amiss; this was one cousin comforting another, that was all. But they both knew it wasn’t all, and that this moment of weakness had undone their unspoken resolve to deny their true feelings. A mixture of grief and happiness quivered through her. This was where she belonged.

  ‘Come along, you two – we have to go.’ Isaac’s urgent plea alerted Elka to how long and how intensely she and Jhona had been holding each other. Coming out of his arms, she saw that Isaac and Ania were supporting Babcia Petra. Her sister gave her a look of pity and love. Had she guessed the truth?

  Though they were identical twins, she and Ania were very different souls. Ania cared about everything, but in a quiet way: the welfare of the poor, and of animals; and for her work, teaching children in their Jewish Community School behind the synagogue.

  Like Elka, Ania had gained certificates in languages, something that came naturally to them both. All of their lives Babcia and their mother had made them speak in French, Polish and Yiddish, and they had developed a love of the English language since their first lesson at school – an essential language to have, if they ever wanted to travel abroad. She and Ania had found English to be magical and intensely personal, as if it belonged to them, and often conversed in it. For some reason, although she spoke the language very well herself, Babcia would become upset with them if she heard them using it.

  Ania had always wanted to work with children, but Elka was looking towards a career in medicine. She had no idea why, as her family on both sides were merchants and jewellers, and there was no one at all connected to the medical field. And yet the desire to become a doctor was very strong and she was waiting anxiously for the post each day, hoping it would contain a letter saying that her application to medical school had been successful.

  In her heart, though, she doubted the letter would come, given the current situation in Poland.

  Much had changed for her people, since the death of Poland’s ruler, Józef Pilsudski, in 1935. His policies had been inclusive of all Polish people, regardless of their religious beliefs, but anti-Semitism had gathered pace soon after he died, with the growing influence of the Endecja party.

  Elka’s worry had increased on hearing about academic harassment, such as the introduction of ghetto benches last year, which forced Jewish students to sit in sections of lecture halls reserved exclusively for them; and the semi-official quotas of Jewish students who were allowed to take placements. Now the number of Jews in Polish universities was half what it had been a couple of years ago.

  At the same time as the quotas were brought in last year, Catholic trade unions for Polish doctors and lawyers had restricted their membership to Christian Poles only. And then there were the anti-Semitism riots at universities, which terrified her because they were growing in size.

  Settling back into the soft leather seats of the horse-driven carriage, Elka put these thoughts out of her mind. Ania sat on one side of her, with her head resting on her shoulder, and Babcia Petra sat on the other. Taking Babcia’s hand in hers, Elka stroked it gently. The paper-thin skin revealed thick blue veins. Babcia’s vulnerability was evident today, more than ever. Elka felt a new strength enter her as she decided to do all she could to protect Babcia and Ania. But how was she to do that, with Poland under threat of invasion and so many of her fellow countrymen turning against her people? Somehow she must find a way.

  From the moment they had returned to their sumptuous top-floor home in their apartment block on Podgorska, opposite the beautiful River Vistula, a strange stillness had descended on them. It was as if any noise might shatter the lingering spirit of their mother. After a quiet dinner they had retired early.

  Despite having slept soundly, Elka felt tired and heavy-eyed. The dark rings around Ania’s eyes showed that she, too, was exhausted. Babcia Petra looked frail and drawn and yet, after they had breakfasted, she took a deep breath and stood up. Her demeanour was one of determination.

  ‘Are you all right, Babcia dear?’

  Babcia looked over at Elka and then at Ania. ‘No, I am troubled. Come, let’s withdraw to the sitting room. I have something to tell you.’

  As Babcia Petra sat down in her usual high-backed, ruby-red velvet armchair, the strength seemed to leave her and she looked drained. Elka wondered if she was worried about her future. Their mother had left Elka and Ania all of her considerable fortune, as well as this apartment block, which she had bought after their father died. The other apartments were rented out to a discerning Jewish clientele, bringing in enough revenue to maintain the building and add to their income. Knowing that Ania would feel the same way, Elka had no qualms about reassuring Babcia Petra. ‘You have no need to worry, Babcia Petra – we will take care of you forever.’

  ‘I am afraid you may not feel the same, after you hear what I have to say. You see, I – I’m not thinking of my future, but yours. The time has come when I must tell you the truth about your birth . . . I – I hope you can forgive me.’

  Elka opened her mouth to speak, but Ania’s reaction forestalled her. Ania had shot out of her seat and stood glaring down at their grandmother. Her body shook. ‘What do you mean by “your birth” and “the truth”? What is there to know?’ Elka looked from their grandmother to Ania, feeling unsure and afraid. Was Babcia Petra about to confirm something that had niggled at her for a long time? Had Ania ever had the same thoughts, and wondered at times why they both looked so unlike any of their family? And at the cold indifference to which they had been subjected by their father’s family? Or how, often, when speaking of their father, their mother had referred to ‘my dear late husband’ instead of ‘your father’? Had Ania wondered, too, if their mother had had an affair that resulted in their birth, or if they were even adopted?

  But none of these thoughts prepared her for what their sobbing grandmother told them.

  ‘My God! Babcia Petra, how could you have done such a thing – it is wicked. You stole us? You are not our babcia? Mama was not . . . I can’t believe it!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Elka. Please believe me when
I say that I – I did it for the best. Your mother was a high-born English lady, your father a corporal in the British Army. He killed himself after he . . . well, he forced himself upon her. But he was not well in his mind. Your mother could not acknowledge you as her children, for she would have been outcast by her society, maybe banished to a convent. You would both have been taken from her and put into some orphanage, and then, if adopted, you might have been split up and never known that the other existed. Your mother’s plan to have you taken care of, and for her to visit you, may have failed, but I loved you. I did not want anything bad to happen to you.’

  ‘Is our mother still alive? Did she love our father?’

  ‘I don’t know if she is alive, Ania dear. But yes, she did love your father. It was an alliance that would not have been possible in her own society, because he was from a much lower class. But this was wartime, and they had been thrown together. Though their union was forced onto your mother, I think that in a strange way she wanted it, too. She couldn’t help falling in love with him. And she loved you both very much. It broke her heart to leave you. That hurt me, and made it very hard to do what I did. But my daughter had no children of her own and couldn’t have any, and I knew that you would have a good and loving future with her – and with me – and that might not have happened with your real mother.’

  ‘Why are you telling us now?’ Ania asked this in a cold, disrespectful manner that held hatred and anger.

  ‘I – I want you to know that you are not born Jews. And to give you a reason to leave Poland. It is dangerous living in this country right now, for the Jewish community in particular. What we are experiencing at the moment is nothing compared to what I fear is to come. I thought that, if you knew the truth, you would leave.’