by Mary Wood
The young man who had called her a traitor came round the corner. His head moved in quick jerks, as if checking that he wasn’t being watched. Then he nodded his head at her and raised his eyebrows, as if asking her something. Suddenly she knew it was him who had told the Gestapo about her. But, if it was, then it must all be part of a plan. As she nodded at him, another tear spilled over. He made a gesture as if to say it would be all right, nodding his head and looking optimistic. The soldier turned at that moment and lifted his gun. The young man raised his arms and spoke to the soldier, asking if he wasn’t even allowed to appreciate a pretty woman now?
The soldier looked from Ania to the young man, then back at her. She translated what had been said. Relief flooded through her as the soldier dropped his gun and scowled. ‘Abschaum!’
Looking directly at the soldier, Ania said, ‘Just so that he understands – and for your future use – the Polish word for scum is Szwołocz!’
The soldier clipped his heels and turned away from them. Again the young man winked, before turning and walking away. How she wished she could speak to him. He must be part of the Resistance; in fact, she felt certain he was.
The incident had lifted her. She no longer felt as alone as she had. She searched her memory for his name, but couldn’t remember ever hearing it. She felt sure he was trying to convey that he was on her side, and that he knew what had occurred in the Gestapo office.
She’d cycled past him many a time when leaving work. But what she knew of him had come from Baruch. They had passed him once together and Baruch had greeted him. To her enquiry, Baruch had told her that he was an engineer and they had been at university together. But Baruch had never mentioned him being one of the Resistance. Perhaps she had better be careful.
Petra cowered in her armchair as the soldier entered, and a look of horror crossed her face as Ania walked in behind him. ‘What? Ania, my—’
Speaking in Yiddish, but again using a tone that belied what she said, Ania snapped, ‘Don’t worry! Stay calm. I have to speak to you like this, as I am being made to work for them. I have to make it sound as though we are not friends.’
Babcia answered in Yiddish. ‘No, you must not. No! Ania, please, it is too dangerous.’
Petra’s body shot back in the chair with the brutal kick that the German gave her.
‘Nein, Tuen Sie ihr nicht weh.’
At this protest from Ania, he turned on her. His hand rose. She tried to dodge it, but his blow caught her shoulder and made her reel backwards.
Her back caught on the edge of the sideboard, drawing the breath from her lungs. Looking up at the soldier, she felt the dread in her turn to terror. His look held hatred and something she dared not define. Cocking his gun, he pointed it at her head. She could only whimper her apology and beg for mercy.
The moment froze. All sound and movement ceased. His stare took in the whole of her body. In her fall, her skirt had lifted, showing her thigh.
His tongue swiped his top lip. What she did not want to recognize before was now clear to see. Drawing up her knees, she covered them with her skirt. In a sudden movement he turned from her and realigned his gun. Her scream of ‘Nein, nein!’ went into the blast that blocked her ears and filled her nostrils with the stench of sulphur. Petra slumped forward. ‘B-Babcia, Babcia, no . . . No!’
Blood seeped from Babcia’s beloved body. It soaked her skirt and dripped onto the floor. Her moan, deep and agonizing, told of her pain. One long, drawn-out groan released her last breath.
Gasping in shock and grief, Ania looked up at the soldier, ‘Why? Oh God, why?’ Her mouth went slack and spittle ran down her chin. Sucking in a deep breath, she felt the room sway.
A bruising grasp on her arm brought her back from the sinking feeling that had cast a veil over her reasoning. As it lifted, reality hit her and terror engulfed her. The carpet burned her and Petra’s blood, which was sticky and warm, clung to every part of her as the soldier dragged her into the middle of the room.
Turning her over, he pointed the gun at her head once more. This time she did not beg. She looked over at Petra, seeing the shocked look in her dead eyes, and a fleeting thought came to her: What does it matter if I die now? We’re all going to die. They will kill us all.
‘Take off your pants.’
‘What! No, no, not that – no, please. Please!’
‘Do it.’
The gun came nearer her face. She didn’t want to die. Only minutes ago she had lost the will to live, but now – facing death – she knew she wanted to live. With her heart bleeding, she slipped off her boots and then her stockings, before pulling off her knickers.
At this, he got on his knees beside her.
Using all her strength, she rolled away whilst kicking out at him and catching him on his buttocks, which sent him toppling. As she got up, she made a grab for the gun, but he was too quick for her. Taking hold of the barrel of the gun, he swung out with it. The long wooden butt caught her shin, doubling her over with the sharp pain that zinged right up to her knee.
His hands grabbed her, pushing her to the ground. His body rolled on top of hers. Crushing one of her legs under him, he forced the other one away from it and got between them. As he held her with one hand, she could feel him fiddling with his buttons. The weight of him pushed all the air from her. Powerless now, all she could do was concentrate on her struggle to breathe.
He felt wet and hard as he brushed her thigh. He repulsed her, but she could not beg, or move. Desperate for air, Ania pushed at him. As she did so, he moved inside her. Though now she was able to fill her lungs, her world crashed around her: her love for Baruch was negated; she was violated.
Tears salted her tongue. His sweat mingled with hers. His thrusts went on and on, each one painful. He was treating her as if she were an animal.
As she cried out in agony and despair, a picture of her beautiful Baruch came to her. His gentle, passionate love was all she’d ever wanted her body to experience; not this vile, bruising intrusion.
Drawing in a hot, painful breath, she expelled it with a scream, which only made the soldier thrust more deeply. In her anguish, Ania called out to God, her tone one of despair. But her cries were drowned by his holler of extreme pleasure, as his body stiffened and he held himself rigid.
Frantic to get him out of her and stop him pumping his seed into her, she pushed at his chest and moved her body sideways. But all she achieved was to increase his ecstasy and to feel him pulsating inside her. After a moment he rolled off her sobbing body. She turned away from him and vomited. Though she was frantic for air, her body heaved and heaved, dispelling vile-tasting bile.
‘Ugh! You’re disgusting . . . Disgusting!’
If she could have spoken, she would have told the soldier that it was he who was disgusting, but she couldn’t. The retching of her insides prevented her from doing so.
Kicking her in the back, he said, ‘Get dressed, I’ll wait outside.’
When at last she’d stopped retching, Ania rose. Going to the bathroom on legs that would hardly hold her, she somehow managed to wash herself, before going to her room and dressing in clean clothes. It felt to her as if she would never stop crying. Through her weakening tears and the pain in her back, she made an extreme effort and got down her suitcase, to put inside it as much as she could.
Picking up a photo, framed in silver, she looked into the lovely faces of her mama, her beautiful sister Elka, and Babcia Petra, taken just a year ago. Oh God, why? Why?
After everything was in her suitcase, she pulled the sheet off her bed, rolled it up and draped it over her case, before dragging it through to the living room. With her body still shaking from shock and the relentless sobs, she bent and gently kissed Petra’s hair, then covered her with the sheet. ‘Goodbye, my babcia. In some ways I am glad your end came quickly. We are all going to die at the hands of these Nazis – better that you have gone now. Rest in Peace.’
She felt a stillness after saying this. But though
the outward signs of her distress remained, inside a calm feeling had settled on her. Or maybe acceptance was the word? Yes, she accepted that she was no longer an individual, but a dirty piece of meat that could be used by their conquerors – as, when and how they wanted. But worse was the feeling that came with this: she was no longer solely Baruch’s. Not only was she sullied, but she would have to do things that were abhorrent to her, in order to serve her country and her people. She hoped God would forgive her. She hoped Baruch would.
Oh, Baruch, Baruch, I don’t feel up to what is being asked of me, but I will do all I can. I make that promise to you, my darling. Together we will strive for freedom for Poland and, above all, for the Jews.
12
Edith
Leicestershire and London, November 1939 – Secrets Revealed
Edith’s body shook as she stood in the room that she most loved in Hastleford Hall. It was the one that she had asked to be incorporated into her apartment within the Hall.
When they visited, she and Laurent brought their own staff, so as to cause no disruption to Douglas and his family. The rooms she had taken for their use were on the west corner and comprised this room – a beautiful square room, furnished in soft greys, with deep royal-blue cushions and curtains – a kitchen at the back of the house, a library-cum-study, a dining room, three upstairs bedrooms and two bathrooms. Small, but adequate for their needs, for the length of time they would spend here in the country.
Looking around the room, at her family gathered there, made her feel more nervous, but she drew in a deep breath. ‘I have asked you all to get together because there is something I have to tell you.’
‘Oh, dear old girl, you look as if whatever it is will be dreadful. You’re not going to war again, for God’s sake, are you?’
‘No, Douglas. Though I have someone very, very dear to me who is already at war and I have no way of finding out if she is safe.’
‘You’re talking in riddles now, Edith – will you just get on with it.’
Getting on with it, as Douglas requested, wasn’t that easy. Her family was going to be shocked and disgusted, and maybe even angry, that she was prepared to bring a potential scandal down on their heads. But she hoped they would forgive her, and accept her daughter. It was only days now till Elka would arrive.
‘Would you like me to tell them, darling?’
‘N-no, I must do it, Laurent. Thank you, darling, but I must.’
‘Edith, what is it? You seem afraid. I can’t imagine you have done anything to be ashamed of.’
‘I have, Eloise. I mean, I’m not ashamed now – I have accepted it, and I want . . . Look, you all remember when I went missing . . .’
No one spoke for a few seconds as she came to the end of her story, then Andria, Eloise’s eldest, who reminded Edith so much of Andrina – her dear late cousin, and Eloise’s much-missed twin sister – broke the silence in a way that made Edith want to laugh. ‘Aunt Edith, that’s simply spiffing. I love that you have a past! What do the twins look like – have you a picture of them?’
‘Andria! This is serious.’ Eloise’s voice didn’t hold anger, only concern. ‘Edith, my dear, you have been through a terrible ordeal. Why didn’t you confide in us?’
‘I . . .’
‘I can imagine why. Good God, Edith, I don’t know what to say.’
‘Are you angry, Douglas?’
‘Not with you, my darling.’ Getting up, he said, ‘Come here, my poor darling.’
The feel of his rough tweed jacket as her brother held her didn’t detract from the relief and comfort Edith felt at his gesture. Over his shoulder she saw the disapproving look on the face of her sister-in-law, Janine. Her heart sank. As Douglas released her he said, ‘That bastard Albert! What a cad he turned out to be.’
‘Douglas! Mind your language in front of the ladies and the girls – they’re not your farming crowd! I am very upset by it all. The boys will be ridiculed! Why do you have to bring the girls to England, Edith? Why can’t they stay with Marianne in France, and you can visit them there?’
This told Edith more about Janine than she’d ever realized. ‘I’m . . . No, actually, I am not going to be sorry any more. I didn’t ask to be taken away from you all and, although I did have feelings for Albert, I didn’t go willingly to him. I mean . . . Oh, I don’t know, it is so difficult for me. But I am not going to be ashamed any longer. I have suffered more than you can ever know. That is at an end. My girls are coming back into my life. This is a wonderful time for me, as I have missed them so much. It felt as if half of my heart had been torn from me. Whether them coming into your lives gives you problems or not, nothing will really change – except that, if you don’t accept them, you will lose me.’
Several people muttered ‘No’, and then spoke at once, saying they were fine with it. Douglas’s youngest son, Thomas, said, ‘Mother, Aunt Edith’s girls are our cousins. Their coming into our lives will not affect us at all, will it, Henry?’
Henry, Douglas’s eldest, answered in his usual joking manner. ‘Well, only in a good way – we’ll be seen as interesting, for once. Nothing much happens in a farming community, other than cows calving and sheep lambing: too bloody boring for words. Thank you, Aunt Edith. This will blow the wigs off our lot. And I, for one, can’t wait to meet cousin Elka and cousin Ania.’
Eloise was suddenly standing by her side, without Edith knowing she had moved there. Her hand clasping Edith’s did as much for her as Douglas’s hug had. Eloise’s words settled everything.
‘I, for one, know how Edith must have suffered, and it breaks my heart that she felt she had to hide such a massive thing from us all. That in itself speaks volumes about us, and the stuffy way we view ourselves in the context of society. We suffered when Edith was missing, not knowing if she was alive or dead; and yet it was fear of us and what we would do or say, and of how society would outcast her, that kept her away and made her have to endure this terrible ordeal. Edith has helped many a young society girl keep in contact with the child she had out of wedlock; and yet she has, all this time, been separated from her own.’ Wiping away a tear, Eloise continued. ‘It is us that should be sorry. Not Edith. And now it is up to us to make this time as simple for her as we can. Tell us how you want to manage this, Edith darling, and we will help you achieve that.’
‘Thank you, Eloise. Thank you so much, my darling.’
As she came out of the gentle hug Eloise gave her, Edith swallowed hard and gave herself a moment to compose herself. Her hesitation stemmed from the fact that she still hadn’t revealed to anyone, except Laurent, that Albert had taken his own life. And so, after being open and honest with them, she now had to lie. It hadn’t been her intention to do so, but revealing the truth, she now realized, could take away the little respect they still had for her. She had gone against the ethics of her profession and had not reported a death. Her lie, if revealed, could be a fatal blow to her career – to her life, as she knew it.
Laurent had agreed, and Elka and Marianne were in accord with what she was about to say, as they had already discussed it by letter.
‘We want the girls to be seen as belonging to me and Laurent.’ As Edith said this, Laurent, who had been by her side the whole time, took hold of her other hand. The gesture helped her to continue: ‘You see, it is known that Laurent and I met during the time I was missing, so the age of the twins fits with that. We also think it best to perpetuate the lie that I lost my memory, as I have always maintained that when I met Laurent and fell in love I didn’t know who I was. This was to cover up the real reason why I did not come home, or ask Laurent to help me to return to England. Now I will say that Laurent and I lost touch, but then found each other again, but by that time our children had been taken; and that this has been just as painful for Laurent as it has been for me. Which it has as, knowing the whole story from the beginning, he has suffered along with me.’
‘Well, that is a relief to me, I must say. I couldn’t bear the thought of
having to tell people that you went with a common—’
‘Janine! Edith didn’t go with that scoundrel – not willingly anyway. Have you any concept of what that means? Even to her, it is too painful to admit that Albert is the father of her children. For heaven’s sake, show some compassion.’
There was silence after this outburst from Douglas, during which Edith felt again the acute shame she had experienced in the days of her pregnancy. She wanted to reveal the truth, no matter what they thought. No, she hadn’t wanted to allow Albert to take her as he did, not at first; but once he had, she gave herself as willingly as she did now to Laurent. But she accepted that this had to be a private shame – like her lie about Albert’s true fate – which she would have to carry with her to her death.
Janine, though, was not in the mood to let them off the hook. ‘Why didn’t you report her as a missing person, Laurent?’
‘I didn’t know that she was. Janine, this is all very painful for me and Edith. The finer details of what really happened are not important, though I am sure you must realize that someone who is hiding from her family, and life as she has known it, is not going to tell anyone she meets who she really is.’
‘Oh, I was just wondering. The main thing is that we have a good cover story. Though what will we say, if we are asked why none of us have ever said anything about the twins in the past?’
‘We will just say that Edith and Laurent kept it to themselves. There was nothing they could do to find their children. Where would they look? And so, to save us all suffering, they dealt with it in their own way. Now that we do know, we are very happy to welcome the girls.’
‘I just cannot understand how you can simply accept it all, Douglas. Edith hits you with this awful scandal and you help to find excuses, without any recrimination whatsoever.’