Remember Me

by Irene N. Watts

  Mrs. Kohn said, “You are a kind good man. Thank you.”

  They shook hands.

  Mr. Evans helped them onto the train.

  “Diolch yn fawr – Thank you very much, Mr. Evans,” said Marianne.

  The train was packed with men and women in uniform. A soldier got up and offered Mrs. Kohn his seat, and went to stand in the corridor beside Marianne. Every few minutes she checked to make sure her mother was still there, that she hadn’t imagined the last hour. When the train stopped at Cardiff, several people got out, and at last Marianne could sit with her mother.

  “I brought some sandwiches. You must be hungry.” Mrs. Kohn unwrapped a small neat package.

  “Mother, how do you expect me to eat? I’m bursting with questions. I want you to tell me every tiny detail right from the beginning – how you got to England, how you found me, and what took you so long,” Marianne said.

  “First, eat. We have plenty of time,” Mrs. Kohn said affectionately.

  That was the moment Marianne knew she hadn’t been dreaming. Her mother was really here!

  There were government signs in the compartment: CARELESS TALK COSTS LIVES, AND HITLER WILL SEND NO WARNING – SO ALWAYS CARRY YOUR GAS MASK.

  A sailor in the corner was fast asleep. Three young nurses were laughing and talking to each other. Mrs. Kohn looked around nervously.

  “It’s alright, Mutti,” said Marianne. “Please don’t keep me in suspense any longer. It was a delicious sandwich. I’ll even eat another one.”

  “Oma and Opa are well, and send their love. The house was requisitioned. We expected that. They were moved to another part of the city, to a room. I got my visa stamped after I’d almost given up hope. It was on August 31st.”

  “That was the day I looked for you at the station. I’d dreamt about you coming to England. I was so sure you’d get there.” Marianne squeezed her mother’s hand.

  Mrs. Kohn continued, “I finally arrived in London on Saturday, September 2nd – one day before war was declared. I was so excited knowing I’d see you.”

  “By then I was already in Wales,” Marianne interrupted.

  “If I’d only known that,” her mother said. “When I got to 12 Circus Road, the house was closed up. There was no one next door to ask what had happened. I found my way to the school. The sign on the gate read: EVACUATED TILL FURTHER NOTICE. Marianne, I can’t begin to tell you how I felt.” She looked away.

  “Go on,” said Marianne.

  “I could do nothing more that day. Mrs. Davy was expecting me. I had another train to catch.”

  “Do you like her? What’s the house like?” Marianne was eager to know all about her mother’s new life.

  “Mrs. Davy is a wonderful person. I enjoy working for her. The house has a beautiful garden. It was full of roses when I came. I have two small rooms for myself, a bedroom and a little sitting room. I can’t wait to share them with you.

  “One day Mrs. Davy came into the kitchen. I was baking an apple cake, and Mrs. Davy said to me, ‘How your family must miss your cooking, my dear, and your wonderful coffee.’ I couldn’t speak for a moment.”

  “Admit it, you cried, didn’t you, Mutti?” said Marianne.

  “Yes. She made me tell her everything. How terrible it was not knowing how to find you. She said, ‘Mary Anne must have made some friends. Surely their parents would know where the girls are?’

  “I ran upstairs to get your letters. I did not have Bridget’s address, but you had written her name, and that her father was a doctor. The rest was easy. Dr. O’Malley contacted Bridget in Canada, and Mrs. Davy came with me to the police station to explain to the sergeant why I needed another travel permit.”

  “I don’t understand, Mutti.”

  “Aliens over sixteen are not allowed to move more than five miles away from their homes without permission. It’s a sensible precaution in wartime. Before I left, Mrs. Davy said, ‘Be sure to bring Mary Anne back with you. It will be so nice to have a child in the house again.’ ”

  “I’m not a child,” said Marianne. “I’ll be thirteen next year.”

  “You haven’t changed a bit. You still have an answer for everything,” said her mother lovingly.

  Why haven’t we spoken about Vati? Marianne looked at her mother. There were lines on her face that hadn’t been there a year ago.

  Marianne took out the card that her father had sent her just before the outbreak of war. She gave it to her mother to read. Mrs. Kohn looked at the brief message and then sat quietly for a moment, just holding the card.

  “It’s only good-bye until after the war,” Marianne said. “It’s not forever. We’ll see him again, won’t we, and Oma and Opa and Ruth?”

  The train lurched to a stop.

  The all clear sounded, welcoming them to London.

  AFTERWORD

  Remember Me is a work of fiction, set against the backdrop of events that surrounded the beginning of the Second World War (1939-1945).

  History is unalterable, and the facts are true, though Marianne’s story is imaginary – one that children like her might have experienced.

  The last Kindertransport left Berlin on August 31, 1939. The rescue operation had continued since December 2, 1938 and saved 10,000 children from Germany, Austria, Poland, and Czechoslovakia before international borders were closed.

  Typical foster parents, who opened their homes to the young refugees, were average English people who did not speak German, and whose knowledge of the terrible events that were taking place in Europe was gleaned from occasional newspaper reports. Many of the homes were non-Jewish.

  In 1945, the end of the war revealed that countless Jewish families had not survived, and many of the Kinder did not see their parents and relatives again.

  Irene Kirstein Watts arrived in England from Berlin on December 10, 1938 by Kindertransport. On September 1, 1939 the eight year old became one of thousands of evacuees sent away from London and the threat of aerial bombardment to the protection of strangers in the country.