by Mary Wood
‘I’m so afraid for her. I can’t bear it.’
‘War gives things to us all that we cannot bear. But take heart,’ Marianne told them. ‘The French and the British are amassing on the Belgium border. They will defeat the Germans. And soon the Germans will have to take their troops out of Poland and Czechoslovakia to fight, and both countries will be liberated.’
‘And if that doesn’t happen, I intend to fight. I—’
‘No, Jhona!’ This had come out fiercely, but as it hung in the air between them, Elka knew she was wrong to have said it, and now changed her mind. ‘No, you are right. Ania is right. You all are. I will fight, too.’
‘Then will you marry me? I think Marianne is right about that, too. We should not waste a moment of our love for each other.’
‘Oh, Jhona, I will.’
Marianne clapped her hands in joy. Elka was whisked from her seat and twirled round by Jhona. Their laughter filled the room. Somehow it felt right to rejoice, despite all that was happening in the world around them.
‘We should have champagne!’
‘Ha-ha, let me read the rest of my letters first. I will join you in a moment.’
How surreal is that! One minute I am experiencing deep anxiety, and the next I am being proposed to, and dancing around the room.
Reality hit hard as Elka continued reading Ania’s letter. Petra was deteriorating. Food was hard to come by, as the supply chains had dried up and Jews were only allowed to shop in certain shops; and many of the menfolk from the apartment block had been taken to work in a labour camp. The Germans were turning people out of their homes and onto the street, taking their homes for themselves. They hadn’t yet taken her own and Ania’s apartment block, but it was crammed to the rafters with displaced Jews.
Ania told of her sadness at not seeing Baruch, and of her love for him making her life feel complete, now that they were married. Sitting quietly for a moment, Elka absorbed this and all the other news the letter held. Sadness and fear enfolded her. Why was all of this really happening?
After a moment she thought about Ania’s marriage and how they had giggled as growing girls each time they found out something more about the intimate side of being married. Well, Ania knows now what it was all about; and I will too, very soon. At this thought she tried to kindle some joy, but all she could feel was a deep sadness.
As the letter came to an end, Elka sat quietly for a moment to compose herself, before beginning to read Edith’s letter. Referring to her birth mother by her Christian name didn’t really sit easy with Elka, but for the moment she was unable to think of her as her mama. The pain of her loss was still very raw, and she didn’t feel like replacing the woman she’d thought of all of her life as Mama. Not yet, not ever. Marcelina, Petra’s daughter, would always be her mama.
Edith’s letter was all she had hoped it would be. It spoke of her love for the man who was Elka’s real father, and told his story. And how painful it was for him to carry on, as his mind gave him a distorted view of life. It said that he was a very brave man and that he had been mentioned in dispatches, though his name had since been erased, due to his actions. Elka pondered this for a moment. There were no details about how her father had died. It was strange – Petra had told her that her father had committed suicide. Maybe it was too painful for Edith to say the words. Going back to the letter, she read about Edith’s friend Ada, and how it was her son’s execution that had tipped Elka’s father over the edge. Then the letter told of the family she had yet to meet. Marianne hadn’t mentioned any of this, but then she must have wanted to wait for Edith’s acceptance of Elka. She read about her Uncle Douglas and his family, and about her Uncle Christian’s plight. She felt a sadness at reading this, but also joy, because Edith’s descriptions of them made her feel that she would like her uncles and cousins. And she knew that she would like her mother’s cousin, Lady Eloise. Then came Edith’s loving description of her husband, which ended with her saying that Laurent had some very important work to do at the moment and it was because of this work that Edith couldn’t travel to see her, but she asked Elka and Jhona to visit her in London. Oh, that would be wonderful. My mother wants to see me. She truly does love me!
The tears Elka had fought against brimmed over as she continued to read Edith’s words:
My darling daughter,
I cannot express what it meant to hear from you. My heart bled with joy and yet suffered agonies over the injustice done to us all by Petra. But we have each other now, and I can smother you with the love that is bursting to be released and given to you. I have kept it safe and never lost it.
My dearest wish is that my darling Ania was with you. Oh, how my world would have been complete then. But I respect her wishes and know we will meet one day. I have enclosed a letter for her. Would you post it on for me, and pray with me that it reaches her? We will pray every day together for her safety. That gives me great joy, as until now I have prayed alone for you both.
Please come very, very soon.
I am your devoted mother.
xxxx
‘We will marry in England!’
‘Oh?’ Jhona sounded disappointed. She had barged in on them. He and Marianne were already drinking champagne.
‘Edith needs us to go to her! We will go soon, in a few days. Please come too, Marianne, and bring your friend, George – it will be a wonderful wedding. Please . . .’
‘Of course I will. I didn’t think I would ever make that trip again, but you two have breathed new life into me, and having you as companions on the journey will help. I will telephone to make arrangements immediately, but I know that George won’t come. I’m sorry, but she is working on a painting she is passionate about. However, it would be nice if you would stay for dinner. She is coming over and is intrigued by my tales of you and would like to meet you.’
‘That would be lovely. I am sorry we were a bit off about it all at first. We have never been used to anything like that. But now we have got to know you and your lifestyle, we understand and feel more accepting of the situation.’
‘She means since she has started to read the books you write! I can’t get a word out of her, once she picks up the one she is reading now,’ Jhona said.
‘That is true. You make your reader understand how every emotion feels, Marianne. I want to feel those emotions.’
‘Don’t you already, darling?’ Jhona’s voice held mock-indignation.
‘Yes, some of them. Now be quiet, Jhona, you are embarrassing me.’
‘Never lose that. It is sweet. We French are far too open – we have no mystery. I have learned from you too, my dear. I think it right to retain something of who you are. I wish I had done.’
Jhona changed the subject. ‘I would like to go back to the hotel before dinner, if we have time, Marianne? I would like to freshen up and write to my parents and my brother and grandparents. I have the address of where they are staying in England. I would like to try and delay their departure, now that we are going there. And as it has been decided that we are getting married there, I want them to be at the ceremony.’
‘That would be wonderful. Oh, can’t we send a telegram to make sure they wait? What if they have a passage booked to America already?’
‘Yes, that’s a good idea. I will draft it and get it sent in the morning.’
As they left, despite the bad news from Ania, Elka felt happy and more light-hearted than she had done since her mama died. Linking arms with Jhona, she loved the feel of the wind on her face and the sound of the waves splashing on the shore as they walked.
The shop windows glittered with delicate pieces of jewellery and displayed clothes that were simply wonderful, adding to the magical feeling that was gripping her.
‘Let’s buy our rings. Our engagement and wedding rings.’
As Jhona said this, it all felt real to her. They were going to be married – really married. No war could spoil that for them, could it?
He pulled her closer to him.
‘Everything will be all right. We will be all right. But, Elka, I don’t want to wait. I love you so much. Please will you come with me to my room when we get to the hotel? I – I will respect your wishes if you say no, but I have to ask.’
For a moment she was stunned, for she hadn’t expected this. But then she knew it was right that they should do so. Nothing could prevent their love. Waiting for a ceremony wouldn’t make any difference. Yes, it would make their love public, but what they wanted to share was their own – a sealing of their feelings for each other. ‘Yes, I will, my darling; yes, I will.’
11
Ania
Krakow, November 1939 – The Horror of Occupation
No one challenged her as she walked the streets of Krakow. From the beginning of the occupation, some six weeks ago, Ania hadn’t obeyed the order that all Jews must wear the Star of David. The Star marked you out as a Jew and meant that those wearing it were prohibited from walking on the same side of the street as others, and from entering cafes and shops. They could only use Jewish-owned shops, but the Germans dictated when these shops could open, and often that was only one day a week.
Those Jews who knew Ania well also knew why she had to reject her faith and her community. Those Jews who didn’t, but knew her to be of their faith, spat at her, making her feel sad and fearful that one of them would betray her to the Germans. The Germans, and those Polish who didn’t know her, accepted her as an Aryan. Something in her hated the deceit, but she knew it was the only way she could help her people and her country.
Many notices had started appearing on walls, shop windows and lamp posts, warning of severe penalties if people were caught fraternizing with, hiding or helping Jews in any way. Fear paved the streets, which now teemed with German soldiers. Jews were disorientated, their shops forced to close on certain dates, their businesses ransacked or taken from them. They milled around in groups. Soldiers kicked out at them and knocked them to the ground at regular intervals. It was as if they weren’t human. And yet among them were doctors, surgeons, lawyers, businessmen and highly skilled workers. Even Ania’s fellow teachers were confused and afraid. But they still tried to acknowledge her in some way, and she knew she had their support.
Cringing against the cruelty of what was happening to her friends, she found it difficult to walk past them and, as she did so, she went against the wishes of her heart. As she passed one group, a young man, with whom she had been on greeting terms, stared at her. His mouth opened, and she looked away. In Yiddish he said, ‘Traitor!’ Others looked up at her and one of them spat in her direction.
Oh God, if only they knew. Remembering that the young man was a highly skilled engineer, she wondered why he hadn’t joined the free army. Was he a coward? Maybe his name-calling covered for his own cowardice.
When she came to the end of her street she felt more at ease, because those she met now were familiar to her, her friends and neighbours. They did not glance at her and she felt safe with them.
As she arrived at the door of her apartment house, a German soldier barred her way. Speaking in German, she asked that he let her pass.
He surprised her by asking in English, ‘Vhy do you vant to go into this block? It is a residence of the Jews. Have you not seen the notices?’
Answering him in English, she asked, ‘Why are you speaking in English?’
‘Aah, so it is true. You do speak in many languages. But you haven’t told me vhy you live here?’
Without faltering, she had her answer ready. ‘I own this block. I was left it by my grandfather and I have to collect the rents. I also have an apartment here, as it is cheaper for me to live in my own property. I have seen the notices, and I am going to make arrangements for the rents to be paid to an agent, so that I do not break the new rules. I am also arranging to move out of the building.’
‘Kommen Sie mit mir!’
Hesitating, she didn’t know whether to go with him, as he had ordered, or protest, but decided it would be better to obey him.
The eyes of many Jews watched her as she got into the car parked a few yards away from her door. As they drove past the young man who had called her a traitor, he stood watching, a wry smile twisting his face. Has he told the soldier the truth about me? She knew the man to be an acquaintance of Baruch. Did he know what Baruch was doing and where he was? If he had betrayed her, would he betray Baruch, too?
As they neared Gestapo headquarters, her heart somersaulted, making her feel sick. Swallowing hard, she held her head high and followed the soldier inside.
‘Vait here!’
English must be his second language, she thought, as he hadn’t attempted to speak to her in Polish.
The door he’d gone through, and then closed behind him, opened once more. A stout man stood there and motioned with his head that she should follow him into the room.
In German he said, ‘You are a mystery to us. We have been told that you are a Jew. You live in a Jewish house. You taught at the Jewish school. You were very close to a man whose whereabouts no one knows. You own Jewish property. And yet you do not wear the Star symbol, nor do you look Jewish. Many papers were destroyed in the bombing, and all we know of you has been told to us by other people. Tell me: who are you and what are you up to?’
Thinking the truth might be a better story than any she could make up, Ania decided to tell it as it really was, though she had to begin with a lie. ‘I hate the Jews! They are deceitful, and they steal.’
‘We know you were one of them, so don’t lie: TELL ME WHO YOU ARE!’
His scream made her jump and sent a tremble through her. ‘I am a Polish citizen who was bought up by a Jew.’ He listened to her story without interrupting. She finished by saying, ‘So, you see, a Jew stole me from my real family, brought me up as a Jew, but the moment my sister and I found out, my sister left to try and find our real mother. I chose to stay. Poland is my country.’
He was quiet for a long time, his thick bottom lip rolled over his top one. His small black eyes peered from their fleshy sockets, travelling from her feet to her head. A podgy hand flicked a pen, making it leap around in his palm.
Sweat formed beads on her forehead and dampened her body.
At last he spoke. ‘You could be useful to us. First, you will surrender the deeds to your property. Then you will move out of there and into an apartment near here. There is one being prepared for staff close by.’
‘I will not collaborate. And I do not have the deeds. My sister took everything with her. I don’t even have access to our money. I have been living on the income from the apartments since she left.’
‘Very astute. We know you live with a Jew. Who is she?’
‘She is the woman who stole me.’
‘So, as you hate her, you will not mind us killing her?’
‘No! No, please . . . Please!’
‘Ah, so you do not hate her – you lied.’
Regaining her composure, she told him, ‘I did not lie, but I cannot bear for her – or any human being – to be killed.’
‘She is a Jew.’
This was said in the same tone that he might have said, ‘She is a snake!’ His next question shocked her. ‘Do you know where Baruch Elburg is?’
God! Whoever betrayed me has betrayed Baruch, too.
One of the beads of sweat broke free and made a cold trail down the side of her face. ‘No. He told me he was getting out of the country. I did not agree that he should go. We argued. I haven’t seen him since, so I assume he has fled. Many Jews did – they have gone to America.’
Again silence and an intense scrutiny. When he spoke again, it was slowly and calculatingly. ‘You worry me . . . As I see it, I have two choices. No, three. I can make you wear the Star of David. I can take you at face-value, and you do seem to be a truthful person. Or I can be done with you, and have you shot.’
If she had a choice, she would take the Star and wear it proudly. She would stand side-by-side with her people and gladly suffer what the
y did.
‘You say you will not collaborate . . .’
‘I have changed my mind. I don’t want to die. Nor do I want to wear the Star of David.’
‘Very well, but you will be closely watched, so don’t try anything. If I suspect anything, the woman you have lived with will be shot, and you will be made to watch. And if my suspicions prove to be true, you will be shot, too!’
‘I – I understand.’
‘You will be our interpreter. We are struggling to get things done, because of the language barrier. Only some of us can converse in other languages, and mostly that is English. You, I understand, speak German, French, English, Polish and Yiddish – am I correct?’
‘Yes, that is so.’
‘Then the first thing you will do is inform all of your tenants that they will pay their rent into this bank, from now on.’
She felt like spitting at him, but instead took the paper he handed to her. She nodded her head. ‘And what am I to live on then?’
‘You will be paid a salary and will receive a food allowance.’
Speaking to the soldier who had bought her here, he said, ‘Take her back to the apartment house.’ And to Ania, ‘Fetch just what you need – personal items. There is furniture in the apartment you are going to.’
As she left the building, she knew she should be rejoicing. This was exactly how Baruch had planned things. He would be so pleased with her. But how am I going to get information to him, or stand a chance of seeing him, if I am under twenty-four-hour guard?
On arrival at her apartment, she gave the order to Ruben’s wife, Rebecca, regarding the new rent payment. Her eyes held shock, then pity. ‘What is happening: have they taken the building from you?’
Knowing that the soldier was watching her, Ania spoke to Rebecca in a tone she’d never previously used to her. It gave the impression that she held her in disdain and was putting her in her place. ‘I have to go to Gestapo HQ to work. Look after Petra.’ She finished by telling her to move out of her way.
She knew Rebecca had understood, even though she cringed away from her. A tear plopped onto Ania’s cheek, following the trail that the bead of sweat had taken. Another followed it. The soldier couldn’t see her face. Before he did, she wiped the tears away and swallowed hard.