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The Search Page 21

by Maureen Myant


  “Fourteenth of September, sir.” The guard gives him a funny look before continuing to sweep the platform.

  Right time, right date. What’s going on? Maybe they got an earlier train, but he isn’t sure there is one. He chases after the guard. “Excuse me, is there another train from Berlin today?”

  “The only other train is the overnight train. It was a bit late; due at seven, but didn’t arrive until seven fourteen.”

  “Did you see any boys on it, any Hitler Youth? I’m meant to meet them here.”

  The guard shakes his head. “Sorry, sir, I’m not sure.” He frowns, thinks a bit. “There might have been one. No, I can’t remember, sorry.”

  Damn. He doesn’t know what to do. There might have been one on the early train, on the other hand there might not. And there isn’t another train today. Nothing for it, he’ll have to go home and hope they’re there. If not, he’ll have to come back tomorrow.

  Gisela is in the kitchen when he gets back. She looks round as he opens the door.

  “Well, where are they?”

  Friedrich tells her what happened. She puts down her rolling pin. “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to go back again tomorrow. It’s a damn waste of time. I really hoped they’d been on the earlier train and somehow found their way here. There’s so much to do just now. I can’t spare the time, there’s a fence to be mended, hay to be put in the barn. And they’re supposed to be a help to us. Bloody hindrance, more like.”

  “I suppose I could go,” says Gisela.

  “Mmm. Well, we’ll see what tomorrow brings. Is there anything to eat? I’m ravenous.”

  Gisela serves him with some soup. He eats it quickly, then gets up from the table. “I’m off to try to get some hay into the barn. I’ll have to salvage something from this wreck of a day.”

  Friedrich stands outside the house and wonders what to do first. He rubs his forehead. Barn, he’ll go there first. He sets off up the hill.

  The sun is blinding. Friedrich squints up at the barn. Is that a figure there? He looks again, yes, there’s definitely someone there. Someone slipping inside. Looks like a child. Could it be his missing Hitler Youth? He quickens his step and trips over a stone. When he looks up there is no one there. Perhaps he’s imagining things. Wishful thinking, hoping the boys have appeared, for he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s met the train, and they weren’t there. Someone shouts, and he looks round. It’s Gisela running hand in hand with Helena. They are hurrying to catch up with him, Helena’s golden hair glinting in the sun.

  “What is it? Have they arrived?”

  “No, not yet. I was just wondering Friedrich, whether I should go and see… you know.” She stops there. Neither of them mention Wilhelm by name. Helena has stopped asking for him now, but they can’t take any chances.

  “Why do you want to see him? You saw him two days ago, and you’re due to go the day after tomorrow.”

  “I know, it’s… I don’t know, I’ve got a bad feeling about him.”

  Friedrich frowns. He hates talk like this. Gisela had a bad feeling the day Helga died, and the day the call-up papers came for Wilhelm. He knows she sets store by it, but he thinks it’s superstitious nonsense and won’t encourage it.

  “You’ve missed the bus,” he says.

  “I’ll walk. You could watch Helena.”

  “No,” he’s decisive. “I won’t have it. You’re tired enough as it is. Go back home and rest.”

  “Please.” She holds out Helena to him.

  He turns away from her and walks on up the hill, leaving her behind. He counts to thirty before looking back. She’s set off back towards the farmhouse, her shoulders drooping.

  There’s a pile of hay beside the barn waiting to be put inside. It’s enormous, the sight of it makes him yawn. Damn those boys; in spite of what he said to Gisela about being able to manage, he could do with some help. Friedrich looks inside the barn to try to work out where it should all go. There’s a hayloft up above, but he would need help to get the hay up there. He looks up at it, trying to imagine how he could do it alone when he sees movement.

  “Who’s there?” he shouts.

  Not a sound. He listens carefully. It’s most likely rats. He stamps his foot, that usually gets them scurrying off. Nothing. That’s suspicious. He looks around for a weapon, picks up a pitchfork and starts up the ladder to the hayloft.

  There’s a small pile of hay left over from last year. He stands in front of it. “I know you’re in there. I’ve got a fork, and I’m going to start prodding if you don’t come out.” He waits, but nothing happens. Strange, he’s sure he saw something. He doesn’t want to plunge his fork into the hay, but he’s made the threat so he makes a half-hearted stab, then another.

  “Ow.” The cry of pain makes him step back, he almost misses his footing and falls over the edge of the hayloft. A face appears in the hay. A white, terrified face. The rest of the body appears, a boy of about twelve. One of the Hitler Youth. He knew he’d seen someone when he was coming up the hill. The boy holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

  “Come out of there you idiot.” He grabs the boy by the ear and pulls him out of the hay. “Is your friend there too?”

  The boy doesn’t answer. Friedrich shouts at him, enraged by his long wait at the station, and the boy’s unresponsiveness. He gestures with the pitchfork. “Do I have to use this? Where’s your friend?”

  A shrug. “Only me.”

  “Right,” says Friedrich, “follow me.” He goes down the ladder followed by the boy. At the bottom he waits for him. “What’s your name?”

  A mumble, it could be anything, but it sounds like Johann. The boy is clearly terrified. Friedrich doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone quite so scared. He takes pity on him. “Right, Johann. Let’s get you to the farmhouse. Is that all you have with you?” He nods at what Johann is carrying.

  The boy nods, holds on to his belongings more tightly.

  They walk back to the farmhouse. Friedrich keeps a tight grip on him for he looks like a runner. Now that he’s found one of the missing Hitler Youth he’s not going to let him go. He’s a peculiar specimen, though. Friedrich thinks of the posters of arrogant young men and women that advertise the Hitlerjugend and the Jungmädelbund. They show spotlessly clean youth with well-brushed hair, shiny cheeks and gleaming teeth. This is a poor-looking child, filthy with torn clothes and the dirtiest face Friedrich has ever seen. Things must be bad in the city for a mother to send her child away looking like this.

  “Gisela, heat water for a bath. I’ve found one of them.”

  Gisela comes running to the door. She looks at Johann and shakes her head. “Terrible,” she says, “just terrible. Look at the state of him.” She looks at the boy and tries to catch his eye, but he is staring behind her. She turns round to see what he is looking at, but there is only Helena, playing with her doll in the corner.

  ‌26

  Jan can’t stop trembling. He’s warm now after the bath he’s been given, but it’s all too much for him: the long walk to find the farm, hiding in the barn only to be caught by a madman waving a pitchfork. He honestly thought he was going to die when it was plunged into where he was hiding, and his shin hurts like hell where it grazed him. The madman seemed to think he is someone else. He didn’t understand everything that was said, but the man is obviously a raving Nazi; he kept going on about Hitlerjugend. Jan is almost sure that means “young Hitler”, and he was terrified at the thought of being in the same house as someone who talks so much about Hitler.

  But all that was forgotten when he saw Lena; he didn’t know it was her at first; she’s grown so much, and her hair is longer, but then he saw it. The dress the doll was wearing, made from cotton with a pattern of tiny pink roses. It was the same pattern as Lena’s nightdress, the one she’d been wearing on that awful night. He had stared and stared at her, willing her to turn round, but when she did, there was no recognition in
her eyes. She gave him a slight smile, the sort of smile you give to someone you’re meeting for the first time.

  The woman is less scary than the man, but neither of them are friendly. Their faces are stern. They seem to be angry that he is there, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t think they’re going to hand him over to the police, they mentioned something about “arbeit” – he knows this means work. He thinks they’re going to make him work. Not that he cares, he’s just glad to have found Lena, can’t believe his luck.

  “Johann, hast du gegessen?”

  She’s speaking to him. She’s asked him whether he’s eaten. That’s easy enough to answer: “Nein.”

  A bowl of soup is put in front of him. He’s ravenous, shovels a spoonful into his mouth and yelps with pain. He waits for it to cool before trying it again.

  After he’s eaten he’s shown to a room, which has one bed and one mattress in it. Both have been made up. He chooses the bed and climbs in. He’s planning to try to find where Lena is sleeping and to talk to her. His heart beats faster at the thought of speaking to her, telling her who he is, how happy she’ll be. I’ll give it half an hour after the old people have gone to bed, then I’ll go and find her, he thinks. He closes his eyes to imagine what he will say to her, how he will tell her they’ll run away together to find their mother and Maria too, of course. With a smile, he pictures her cuddling into him. His smile fades, he can’t keep these images going; there are other, nagging thoughts in his mind: how small she is, how will she manage to walk any distance, how will they get food. He makes a huge effort and pushes them all away. Something will come up; he knows it will. Jan doesn’t feel sleep steal up on him; not until he is awoken in the morning by Gisela shaking his shoulder, does he realize he’s missed a chance of seeing Lena on her own.

  “Her name is Helena, not Lena,” says Gisela for the fifth time. Jan ignores her; he wants to shout no it’s not, you stupid woman, but of course he can’t. He’s not managed to speak to Lena alone in the two days he’s been here. During the day the man takes him away with him to work on the farm, hard work that tires him out. When he gets back at night, the woman is always hanging around Lena, never more than a few feet away. He despairs of ever being alone with Lena.

  Jan’s managed to piece together that the couple were expecting two boys from Berlin, sent to help with the harvest. Somehow they think he’s one of them. And they think he’s stupid. Well that suits him fine. He’ll have to make his move on Lena soon, though, because the real boys could turn up at any moment and blow his cover. Amazingly they haven’t asked to see any papers, nothing at all. Jan doesn’t understand why, but his presence seems to make them very edgy.

  Gisela has gone back to making bread. Jan continues to try to engage Lena, to get her to recognize him. “Lena,” he whispers, “it’s me, Jan.” He reverts to speaking Czech. The words lie oddly on his tongue. She doesn’t even look at him. He tries again, this time in German. “Helena, es ist mich, Jan.” This time she does gaze at him and smile, and with a pang he realizes that she no longer speaks or understands Czech. For a moment he wonders if he’s made a mistake, perhaps this is not his sister, but no. No one could mistake those huge blue eyes. He smiles back at her.

  “Johann, Friedrich will be waiting for you. Run along now.” Gisela frowns at him.

  He picks himself up from the floor and dusts down his trousers. Moving slowly he goes to the door. Gisela hits him with her rolling pin. “Get a move on, you stupid boy.” He looks at her. She seems really to dislike him, and he doesn’t know why, for she’s clearly very fond of Lena. Lena is always being picked up and cuddled, given extra bits of food, while he is kept hungry. Before closing the door behind him, he turns back to look at them. Gisela is beside Lena, showing her how to knead some dough. The scene reminds him of his home, when his mother used to show Maria how to cook, and he has a wave of longing to feel his mother’s arms round him, hear her voice, even if it were only to shout at him. Quietly he shuts the door and sets off up the hill to the barn.

  Friedrich is nowhere to be seen when he gets there. Jan wanders round the outside of the barn gazing out across the fields. There is no one in sight. For a moment he wonders about going back to the farmhouse, but the thought of Gisela’s rolling pin is not attractive. Anyway this was where he was told to come, so he’d better stay put. It’s getting chilly. Summer has turned to autumn, and he is glad of the jumper that Anatole gave him. Even so, it’s too cold to stay outside, so he goes into the barn. There’s hay all over the floor. It’s a right mess. Maybe he could get into favour with Friedrich if he cleared it up a little. Jan looks round to see if there’s a broom, but the only piece of equipment to be seen is a pitchfork, the one that gave him the nasty graze on his shin the other day. It’s not ideal, but he decides to try it anyway. He picks it up and starts to drag it across the hay on the barn floor, drawing the hay together.

  The damn boy has disappeared. Friedrich has been waiting beside the fence that is to be mended for over half an hour. The wind is chill, bites into him, and he shivers. Gisela has been nagging him all day; she went to see Wilhelm yesterday, but, far from easing her mind, it’s made her worse. She wants to bring him back, says the Hitler Youth boy is clearly stupid and wouldn’t notice anything. She wants him close by to keep an eye on him, and if that’s not possible she’s going to visit him more often. But he has all this work to do and Wilhelm is safe with Hans. He’s thought of a possibility, though. Maybe Johann could look after Helena, to let Gisela go into town. He’ll put it to her tonight and with luck that will appease her. Johann seems very fond of Helena, and she likes him. She’s friendlier towards him than anyone else apart from him and his wife. But then he’s still a child. Maybe all those do-gooders were right; maybe they should send her to kindergarten. He’ll talk to Gisela about it, that would give her more free time too. Where is that bloody boy? He can’t hang about here all day, he’ll need to find him. Friedrich sets off towards the house.

  “I sent him to the barn, isn’t that what you wanted?”

  Friedrich rolls his eyes as he leaves the house. His wife is not her usual self. She’s tired-looking, depressed. Even Helena’s presence is not enough to liven her up. He plods up the hill; each step is painful, he’s so tired. As he reaches the top he sees that Johann is in the barn. What the hell is he doing? He narrows his eyes to try to focus better. Shit, he’s dragging the hay across the barn floor; he could discover the hidey-hole at any moment. As a Hitler Youth, he’ll be encouraged to spy on everyone, report on anyone behaving in a suspicious manner. Friedrich knew it was bad news to have to have them here. He quickens his step.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Friedrich’s roar startles himself as well as the boy. Johann drops the pitchfork and stumbles back onto the floor. Friedrich comes into the barn, sees that Johann has fallen on top of the false floor. If he looks down, he’ll see the air holes, and that will make him suspicious. What to do, what to do. He’ll need to divert him. Friedrich storms into the barn pointing at the hayloft. Johann follows his gaze. He yanks Johann to his feet, shouting, “Did you see that?”

  “S… s… see what?”

  “That rat! It was enormous.” Friedrich is using his foot to sweep some hay across the trapdoor that leads into the hiding place. Even though no one is hiding there, the mere fact that he has an unexplained hiding place would raise suspicions. And after the rumours about Wilhelm’s desertion… well, it wouldn’t take much to piece it all together.

  Johann is still trying to see the rat. Friedrich risks glancing down to see if anything is visible. It’s not. He breathes more easily. “Put that thing away,” he says. “I want help with the fence.”

  Johann’s face is sulky. “I was just trying to help.”

  Friedrich relents, no point in being confrontational. “I know, son. Come with me, and I’ll show you what to do.”

  It’s great sleeping in a bed once more. Jan loves it. He’s so comfortable he could stay here f
or ever, but one thing nags at him: he’s thirsty. He doesn’t really want to get out of bed, and he’s a little worried about Friedrich shouting at him – he seems to shout a lot and for very little reason – but he has to have a drink. The ham they had for supper was salty, and it’s parched him. Nothing else for it, he gets up and creeps downstairs. He’s almost at the bottom when he hears his name. This is too good an opportunity to miss; he has to hear what’s being said. Already he’s learnt that the third step from the bottom squeaks, so he misses that out and creeps to the door.

  “What’s happened to the other boy, do you think?”

  “I’ve no idea. I’ve asked Johann several times, where’s your friend, but all he says is nur mich. They must have decided just to send the one.”

  “He’s a strange boy, but seems to like Helena, and she likes him,” says Friedrich. “You know he gave me a real fright today.”

  “What happened?”

  “He started clearing the hay away from the floor. He’d uncovered the trapdoor, but I managed to divert him and get him out of there.”

  “Dear God, if he’d found the hiding place…”

  “I know. It would have been a disaster. These Hitler Youth, they’re deadly little spies the lot of them.”

  Jan listens, puzzled, what is this young Hitler? Do they think he’s like a young Hitler? He doesn’t like that. Maybe he’s misunderstood. He’s trying to understand everything, but it’s hard.

  “I don’t think he saw anything, though.”

  Ah, so that’s it; they think he saw something. What could it be? Something in the barn. Friedrich was so angry when he found him there, all that stuff about a rat. Jan thinks hard… Where was he? What have they said? It comes to him, something about a Tor; that means door. No, it’s too hard; he doesn’t get it.

 

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