Lizzie’s Daughters

by Rosie Clarke

  *

  Alone in her room, Betty turned her transistor radio up so that the music of Bill Haley blasted out, reverberating against the walls. In a burst of fury, she flung the expensive Box Brownie camera Sebastian had bought for her last birthday at the wall; following quickly on its heels went the silver compact and the René Lalique glass figure of a swan that had been two of his Christmas presents to her. As the beautiful glass swan shattered, her tears fell in an angry torrent and she flung herself on her knees and tenderly picked up the pieces of the delicate glass figure she’d loved so much. Damn him! Why had he made her do it? She hated him. She hated him! He was always away and she knew that hurt her mother – but she’d hurt her too, and she hadn’t meant to. It was Sebastian saying that she had no talent and was too vulnerable to be trusted – too much like her real father, as if that was something bad…

  She’d come in from meeting Pierre in time to hear her father telling her mother that she didn’t have her talent and was too like her real father, not capable of producing original work, and her anger had mounted so that she hardly heard the rest of his words. Why did he think so little of her? Sebastian had often given her more expensive presents than he gave his own daughter, which made her suspect that he was doing it to make up for the fact that he couldn’t love her as he did Francie. Why would anyone love her with her quick temper and her selfish ways when her sister was everything she was not?

  Who would ever truly love her? She couldn’t see why anyone would want her – except that Pierre said he did and when he smiled at her and caressed her bare arm, she’d believed him. Pierre wanted her to go back to Paris with him. He’d told her that this morning when they met at the coffee bar as arranged. He’d come to England on an exchange visit of mature students, because he was twenty-five and studying to be an architect, but his course had finished, his visa had run out, and he was due to return to France any day now – and Betty adored him.

  She’d known she was being foolish to let him go all the way that night in the back of his car, but she’d done it in a mood of recklessness. She’d been unsure after that, because she didn’t know if Pierre truly cared for her, but he’d told her that morning when they met at the café, that he couldn’t bear to part with her and begged her to go to France with him. Betty had been uncertain, afraid of making such a reckless move – but now rebellion flared in her heart. Why shouldn’t she go? Pierre loved her and her parents didn’t care…

  Betty suddenly made up her mind. Why should she stay here and be told what she could and couldn’t do? Pierre wanted her and she loved him. She was old enough to live her own life with someone who cared for her. She would leave now, while her mother had gone to visit Romany and discuss some new designs for the workshops. Had her father not told her he would fetch her back, she would’ve gone to Aunt Miriam and worked on her mother to let her start at the workshops. Mum wasn’t against it – it was only him and he didn’t care about her, because she wasn’t his daughter. So, since she couldn’t go to her real father’s aunt, she would go with Pierre. He had begged her to leave with him that night, and told her he’d bought a ticket for her on the late flight to Paris.

  Betty hadn’t confirmed that she would go, because it was such a huge step and she rather enjoyed living in her parents’ house and she’d wanted to work with Ed, because he was always so kind to her – but now things were different. She was going to be made to go to a college she would hate and be a secretary or something equally boring. So why shouldn’t she go with Pierre?

  It was shocking of course, and Mum and Aunt Miriam would be upset – but her father would be angry and that would give Betty pleasure, because she wanted to hurt Sebastian.

  Betty threw some of her favourite jeans and tops and long skirts into a suitcase then added her sketch pad and box of pencils and took her passport from the chest of drawers that contained her undies. She’d had the passport for a school trip to Austria when she’d first gone to the grammar school.

  Betty’s excitement grew as she thought about the future. In Paris she might find work for one of the famous designers of haute couture clothes. She might not be as good at designing hats as her mother, but she’d made some lovely clothes for both her and Francie.

  Taking her savings from the drawer, she counted all fifty pound notes with glee. She had a small fortune of her own, so she wouldn’t be dependent on Pierre and her grasp of the French language was sufficient to enable her to find work.

  In the kitchen, Betty hesitated about leaving her mother a note to explain where she’d gone, because she didn’t want her to worry too much – but if she gave them too big a clue, Sebastian would fetch her back.

  She tore a page off of one of Lizzie’s sketch pads and scribbled a few words.

  I’m going to someone who wants me. Don’t look for me because you won’t find me. When I’m rich and famous I’ll come back and say hello. Love you, Mum. Betty.

  She added a couple of kisses at the end so that her mother would know she loved her and it was just Sebastian she resented.

  She tucked the note inside her mother’s sketch pad, because she was sure to find it as soon as she opened it, but Betty would be with Pierre by then and on her way to France. She picked up her case and ran to catch a bus that would take her to Oxford Street, knowing that Pierre would be waiting for her at the café they liked …

  Chapter 3

  Sebastian looked at Marianne Gutiere and felt the pain of his failure strike him. He’d promised he would find Gretchen for his friend’s wife, but although he’d visited ten orphanages in West Germany, that they had thought might have some knowledge of the girl, he’d drawn a blank.

  ‘She wasn’t there?’ Marianne asked, tears glistening in her eyes. ‘It’s a hopeless task, isn’t it? She would be eighteen now and I’m not sure I would know her, because she was only six years old when I left. When I escaped from Eastern Germany after the war, Karl promised he would follow with her the next day… but they arrested him and she was taken somewhere to a children’s home; he was told she would be quite safe. Karl was able to send only one letter, but he was sure that she would be cared for… ’ her voice caught on a sob.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Sebastian said and touched her hand in sympathy. ‘You know that Karl and I were very close before the war. I wanted him to get out before it started but he had a good job at the University in Berlin and he didn’t believe that Hitler would kill the Jews, even though he was stripping them of money, property and dignity…’

  ‘Did anyone believe it?’ Marianne asked sadly. ‘We none of us expected what happened, but Karl was right; his work was necessary to our masters and they kept us as hostages to ensure he worked for them – and so we lived, but when the war was over Karl sent me away. I was carrying another child. I begged to take Gretchen with me, but he said if we all went it might arouse suspicions and we weren’t sure about the Russians then. We thought they might be our friends. Neither of us thought they would accuse him of war crimes and execute him…’

  ‘Karl was a decent man and a brilliant physicist. Whatever the Nazis made him do I know he wasn’t a criminal by choice, Marianne. Whatever he did was to keep you safe and I shall not condemn him – but you were innocent of any crime and so is Gretchen, and I promise I will find her, Marianne.’

  ‘But you’ve been searching for three years, ever since I first spoke to you – just before I got that letter to say that she was in an orphanage and alive…’

  ‘It was a such a pity that whoever sent it didn’t sign it,’ Sebastian said. ‘Had they done so we might have got more information – as it is, we just have to keep looking.’

  ‘I know there were so many displaced children after the war,’ Marianne said regretfully. ‘I wrote to everyone I could contact; some replied but no one knew where Gretchen had been taken. I should’ve come to you sooner, but I might never have had the courage had we not met by chance on that railway station in Western Germany and you recognised me…’

&
nbsp; ‘It was meant to be,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you asked for my help. I intend to do all I can for you, and not just for Karl’s sake.’

  ‘I’m not the only one you’ve helped, am I?’

  ‘It’s something I can’t talk about, even to you,’ he said and frowned. ‘We have a different kind of enemy these days. Lives depend on secrecy, and not even my wife knows what I do when I’m away… you should understand the political situation out there better than anyone.’

  ‘I do, of course, and I shan’t ask. I know you love your wife very much and sometimes I feel guilty for taking up so much of your time.’

  ‘Lizzie knows I love her.’ Sebastian stood up and glanced at his watch. ‘I must leave I’m afraid. I’m so sorry not to have better news, but I have many friends who have contacts both in Germany and in other countries where Gretchen might have gone and I shall go on looking until we discover something… one way or the other…’

  ‘You are so kind, but your family need you. I must not ask too much of you…’

  ‘Karl would have done the same in my place. I could not leave you alone in Germany, Marianne. It took a while to arrange passports and permissions, but I got you here to London and I’ll find you a better job than waitressing – and I’ll do my best to find Gretchen.’ He frowned. ‘You need some decent clothes – no, I know you can’t afford them, but I can. I’m going to take you to the shop of a friend of mine. She will give me a discount and I’ll make sure you have what you need to look the part when you apply for a job.’

  ‘You’ve done so much already. I can’t let you do this…’

  ‘I want to help – and I feel bad that I let you down again. Let me do this one small thing, please?’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said with quiet dignity and Sebastian left the flat he’d rented for her when she first came to England two years earlier. He’d hoped then that she would soon have her daughter with her, but his efforts had so far been in vain. He might have to talk to someone who could help, though he was reluctant to involve Jack and the department, because it would only draw him deeper into their arms when he knew it was time for him to think of his own life and his family…

  As he walked from the building and hailed a passing taxi, Sebastian thought about what he’d learned from his inquiries in Western Germany – the things he hadn’t told Marianne. He believed that if Gretchen was still alive she was in East Berlin and it was notoriously difficult to trace children who’d been separated from their parents during the troubled time just after the end of the war; some were placed in orphanages in the Russian sector, others had simply disappeared. The child would be a young woman now. If she’d imbibed the anti-West doctrine that had undoubtedly been fed her these past years since the Cold War had started to escalate, she might not want to come to England to meet her mother and if she hadn’t… it would still be very difficult to get her out. The Russians had no intention of letting the East Germans escape to the West in large numbers– and there were unbelievable rumours about what they were planning to prevent it.

  Sebastian wasn’t sure whether his informants were just talking to earn the money he paid them on behalf of the service, or if there were really people who were considering building a wall between East and West Berlin. Or was it just rumour and the tit for tat politics that went on continuously; a part of the Cold War that was affecting relations between Russia and the USA and its allies? It seemed ridiculous to Sebastian that anyone would even consider dividing Berlin by a wall, but with Russia demanding the withdrawal of all foreign troops from the city, it was entirely possible they might step up measures to prevent people escaping to the West. He’d heard whispers of a recent flurry of Russian activity, which meant if they wanted to get a few important people out, it ought to be set in motion sooner than later.

  The situation was more dangerous in Sebastian’s opinion than the general public was aware. It was communism versus capitalism, and with the threat of the Atomic bomb hanging over the world it was deadly, because if one country decided to use it there would be so much destruction the world would never be the same again. Marches against the nuclear threat had taken place in London and other capital cities, but it was a shadow that many people considered with growing concern.

  Sebastian frowned as he pushed Marianne’s troubles to the back of his mind and thought of the quarrel with Betty and Lizzie earlier that day. He shouldn’t have slapped his daughter, even though she’d been very rude and insulting to both him and her mother, but she’d made him angry, causing so much fuss about another few terms at school or college, when he’d so recently returned from searching for the daughter of the woman he’d just left. Marianne had had so much to bear: fleeing from East Germany in fear of her life, losing the child she carried and living in deserted ruins or on the streets until a Catholic nun had taken her in. She’d found a way to live, working as a waitress and waiting for her husband and child to join her, but it had never happened. So much suffering - and Betty was creating hell because he’d told her she must go to college. When he thought of Gretchen’s likely childhood, as the daughter of a disgraced Jew who had been executed for crimes the Nazis forced him to commit… well it had made him feel sick and impatient with his impetuous daughter. Yet he knew he’d had a hand in indulging Betty and he wished the harsh words unsaid.

  Sebastian shook his head.. He would apologise to Lizzie and explain to Betty that he thought she would do better at an art college where she could learn to draw the things she was good at, and perhaps to learn the craft of dressmaking. He’d been looking for the right place but wasn’t sure yet that he’d found it. Perhaps her hats didn’t have the style of Lizzie’s, but her clothes certainly did… and he should not allow his own worries to cloud his judgement. Betty had always been a little vulnerable. She needed his love, which was why he’d tended to spoil her, and by letting her hear those awful things he’d said in anger, he knew he’d hurt her badly – and if she did something reckless because of it he would never forgive himself.

  *

  Lizzie entered the kitchen carrying flowers and a basket of fresh food. She loaded the meat, cheese and vegetables into the refrigerator and cupboards and then filled the kettle. The house seemed very quiet and she went to the foot of the stairs and called out.

  ‘Come down, darling, I’ve got an idea we’ll put to your father…’

  Lizzie waited but there was no answer. She frowned and went upstairs, knowing that sometimes Betty was prone to sulks, but when she opened the bedroom door she was shocked. Her wardrobe was open and drawers had been pulled out. She went to the wardrobe and saw that Betty’s suitcase had gone. Surely she wouldn’t have gone to Miriam’s after what Sebastian had said?

  Seeing the broken glass swan, Lizzie frowned. Betty must have been really upset if she’d deliberately smashed something she loved so much.

  It didn’t enter Lizzie’s head to look for her daughter’s passport immediately. Betty had been angry and upset, but she wouldn’t have gone far – and she would probably come back when she cooled down.

  Sebastian would be furious, of course. Lizzie was still a little upset that he had been so cold with her earlier, wondering what she’d done to deserve it except try to calm the situation and point out that Betty was better at doing things than at the schoolwork she hated.

  Returning to the kitchen, she made tea. Should she ring Miriam and ask if Betty was there? Sebastian probably wouldn’t believe her even if Miriam said no – he would go round and look for her himself. Besides, it might be best to give Betty a chance to calm down and talk it over with her aunt.

  Sipping her tea, Lizzie opened her sketchbook and Betty’s note fell out. What was this? Recognising Betty’s handwriting, she felt relieved at first but when she read the scribbled message, she began to feel worried. It didn’t sound as though she’d run off to her aunt’s as she had once or twice in the past in a childish fit. Lizzie felt a flicker of anxiety as she realised this was different. Betty was no longer a child and this n
ote seemed to suggest she’d gone with a friend – who? As far as Lizzie knew Betty didn’t have a boyfriend but the tone of this note was almost like a challenge, as if her daughter was going to a close friend – or a lover?

  Surely that couldn’t be right! She was too young…and yet in a month or so she would be eighteen and Beth had fallen in love at that age… she’d had her twins soon after her nineteenth birthday. Oh no, it couldn’t happen to her Betty! Lizzie’s eyes stung with tears and for a moment she was tempted to telephone her best friend and pour it all into her ears, but she couldn’t trust herself not to burst into tears.,

  Dropping the note and the pad, she ran from the kitchen and back upstairs, hunting for Betty’s passport. She searched every drawer, all the pretty bags she’d bought her daughter and all her coat pockets. It wasn’t there… Betty was planning on going further afield…

  As she dashed back down the stairs, the thoughts were whirling in Lizzie’s head. Where could Betty have gone? She didn’t have much money, although she’d been saving up for a better record player, because she wanted one of the new high fidelity sets and liked to collect records. She surely hadn’t saved enough to go very far? If she was alone…but supposing she wasn’t? A ripple of fear trickled down her spine, because her impulsive daughter could be in trouble… As she went into the kitchen, she saw that Sebastian was back and he’d found the note. He looked annoyed as he glanced at her across the table.

  ‘I suppose she’s gone to Miriam’s?’

  ‘I don’t think so, not this time,’ Lizzie said and the fear rushed through her. ‘Sebastian, I think she has taken her passport…’

  ‘The silly girl,’ he said but looked stricken. ‘I shouldn’t have lost my temper with her, Lizzie. I was angry and worried about something, exhausted too if I tell the truth – and I thought she was making too much fuss over a small thing, but I never thought she would run away…’