The Star and the Shamrock

by Jean Grainger

  ‘Our mutti is coming really soon,’ Erich said with such conviction that Elizabeth wondered if he was trying to convince her or himself.

  ‘When she can get a visa.’ Liesl was gentle, but the remark showed a maturity that should not have been there in a child so young.

  Elizabeth put her teacup down and took a chance – she put both hands on the table, palms upward, inviting the children to take them.

  Liesl looked at the hand and then at Elizabeth’s face. Erich never took his eyes off his sister. Slowly, the girl slid her hand into Elizabeth’s. Erich followed her lead, doing the same. She closed her fingers over theirs and gave their hands a squeeze.

  Years of teaching had given her a respect for children that other adults often lacked. They were just small people. They were not stupid or oblivious; in fact, the opposite was often true. Children often knew more about what was going on than adults did.

  She found that truth, or as close to it as possible, was always the best approach.

  ‘Liesl, Erich, I know this must seem so strange and difficult. I can’t imagine how sad you must be, and how hard it was to leave your mutti. We will hope and pray for her and for your papa every night. She asked me to care for you, and I will do my best. I don’t have any children of my own because my husband, Rudi, died in the last war, so I might not be very good at it.’ She gave a small smile, but both children remained impassive.

  ‘But I promise you, I will try my best. I know you wish you were with your parents, of course you do, but for now, it isn’t safe for you to be in Germany…’ She didn’t know how far Ariella had gone in explaining the rising anti-Semitism.

  ‘Because we are Jews, and Hitler hates us,’ Liesl said darkly.

  ‘Yes, he does. But he is a terrible man, and all the other countries of the world, the good countries, will not stand for him much longer. He is a bully, and you know what happens to bullies, don’t you?’ She smiled again, and this time, she got a ghost of a smile back.

  ‘They get their comeuppance in the end?’ Erich asked, and Elizabeth chuckled at his uniquely British turn of phrase.

  ‘Exactly, Erich. And nasty little Hitler will get what’s coming to him, don’t you worry about that.’

  He smiled, a proper smile this time. She was winning.

  ‘So how about once we’ve finished our tea and buns, we’ll walk to the hotel and check in. We can buy a postcard to send to your mutti on the way, just to let her know you got here safely. Then you can write properly once we are back home – I’ll give you paper and stamps. There’s a playground in the park opposite, so once we’ve posted the card, perhaps we could go for a walk? Then we’ll have dinner and a good night’s sleep, and we’ll take the train home tomorrow. How does that sound?’ She also knew that making children feel like they were part of the decision-making process was liberating and reassuring.

  ‘We’d like that,’ Liesl answered.

  They walked out of the café and straight into the hustle and bustle of the city. The children followed Elizabeth, who was carrying both of their suitcases. A policeman was directing traffic, and he gestured that they should cross the road. She felt Erich move closer to her. When she looked down at him to see what the problem was, she saw the terror in his eyes.

  Before she had time to say anything, Liesl spoke. ‘It’s all right, Erich. He’s a nice British policeman. He won’t hurt us.’

  The little boy looked to Elizabeth for confirmation. She made a split-second decision. She took Erich’s hand and led him to the uniformed bobby.

  ‘Excuse me, Officer. I just wanted to introduce you to Erich and Liesl Bannon from Berlin, and I was just about to explain that you can always trust a British policeman.’

  He met her eye and understood, and immediately, he bent down to be eye level with them. ‘Well, young man and young lady, you are both very welcome in England. And so long as you don’t try to rob any banks or blow up Buckingham Palace, you won’t get any trouble from us. You don’t have any plans like that, do you?’ he asked with pretended sternness, and Liesl giggled.

  ‘No, sir,’ Erich replied, awestruck.

  ‘Well, in that case, you will get on very well. Now, one thing I must tell you is the cars go the other way here, so be very careful crossing the road, do you hear me? You must remember to look both ways.’ His tone was gruff but his eyes were kind.

  ‘Our mother told us that,’ Liesl confirmed. ‘Thank you, Officer.’

  The policeman stood up and walked out into the traffic once more, halting it specially for the little trio as they crossed the road.

  Chapter 6

  Ariella waited inside the apartment block door. Uniformed men passed by outside. It was becoming too frightening to go out on the street these days, but she needed to eat something. The apartment was totally bare. She’d been instructed to register her home as Jewish property, and it was only a matter of time before it was taken from her. Most Jews had been evicted from their homes last year. Theirs was in Peter’s name, so she had been safe for a while, but someone had reported that Peter was gone. A local Party member – she remembered he owned a cobbler shop two streets away; he’d repaired their winter boots a few years ago – called and instructed her to report and register the property. She did as he told her. Last year, she’d complied with the decree that she add ‘Sara’ to her given name. Her identity card now read ‘Ariella Sara Bannon’ and displayed a large ‘J’. If one was found to be without the card in public, it resulted in immediate arrest, but carrying it made her feel marked. She preferred to stay indoors, but she was so hungry. She had neither a ration card nor any money, so she had no idea how she was going to eat.

  Frau Braun passed by on her bicycle as Ariella stepped out onto the pavement. She would forever remember the day the postwoman handed her a postcard eight days after she put Liesl and Erich on the train. It had a picture of the Tower of London on it, and on the back, it said in German, ‘We arrived safely, Mutti. England is nice, and Elizabeth is very kind. Come soon. We love you. Liesl and Erich xxx.’

  Each night she slept fitfully, that card under her pillow. Her children were safe.

  Ariella walked down the street, keeping by the wall, when Frau Braun stopped her bicycle and walked it back to her.

  Ariella looked at her warily. Hubert Braun was in the Party, and his wife wore a triangular National Socialist Women’s League pin on her lapel. Her only child, Willi, was in the Wehrmacht, and she was every inch the perfect German hausfrau. Hitler would love her. She had a girlish figure, despite being at least in her late forties and had hard features. Her steely gaze landed on Ariella accusingly.

  ‘What are you doing?’ the other woman demanded.

  Ariella felt her mouth go dry. She couldn’t speak. On the road beside them, several military vehicles passed, followed by a large black car with swastika flags on the bonnet.

  Frau Braun went on. ‘Your children are safe. Your husband is dead. You will soon no longer enjoy your nice apartment.’

  Ariella was frozen. Fear, hunger and grief were knotted together in the pit of her stomach, preventing her from responding. Peter probably was dead, but did Frau Braun know for sure?

  The other woman moved close, almost hissing. ‘Don’t you understand? You are a Jewess, and alone, you should not be on the street like this.’

  A single tear slid down Ariella’s cheek.

  ‘Get off the street,’ Frau Braun said as she got back on her bicycle.

  Chapter 7

  Liverpool, August, 1940

  Elizabeth tried to make the spam sandwiches look more appetising by adding some parsley she had growing on the windowsill. They were going on a picnic before school began again after the holidays to see the barrage balloons down by the docks.

  Liverpool was the largest port on the west coast of Britain and the main link to America. Naval ships and merchant vessels filled the Mersey between Liverpool and Birkenhead, and the river was a hive of maritime activity.

  She had worrie
d that all the talk of the war and seeing the military vessels would upset the youngsters further, but if anything, seeing the might of the British fleet was reassuring.

  The children were generally cheerful during the day, but as night fell, their anxiety rose. The worry about their parents was always there.

  Over and over, Erich asked what had happened to his mother and Liesl tried to reassure him, though Elizabeth could tell she was just as anxious as he was. The previous night after dinner, he’d started again. ‘What if they’ve hurt her?’ he asked repeatedly, his brown eyes filling.

  ‘Erich, I’ve told you, they won’t hurt women and children. They just want us to leave, and we have. They might have taken Mutti to work in one of their factories – remember we heard that on the news? They have factories in Germany just like here, making things for soldiers, so she’s probably there. And they won’t let them write letters because they might be giving away secrets about German guns or whatever.’

  Erich’s complete trust in his older sister broke Elizabeth’s heart, but she backed Liesl. ‘I think Liesl is right. Remember all the slogans we see, “loose lips sink ships” and “keep mum, she’s not so dumb”? Well, the Germans want to keep their secrets too, so they wouldn’t allow anyone to write letters.’

  He seemed convinced…until the next time. Elizabeth and Liesl shared a glance.

  Liesl was a tall eleven year old now, and Erich was eight, and in so many ways, it felt like they were her children. She loved them dearly, and any doubts she might have had about her ability to care for them were gone.

  Elizabeth gathered the gas masks and the picnic from the kitchen table, knowing Liesl and Erich would be in the hallway, inside the front door, waiting for the post as they had every single day since they arrived.

  There had been one letter from Ariella two weeks after they arrived, but nothing since.

  Elizabeth tried to shield them from the worst of the news coming out of Europe, but the war was all pervasive. Hitler had defied everyone and marched into Poland last September – a year ago now – and the countries of Europe seemed to be falling like dominos – Denmark, Norway, Holland, Belgium. She’d cried when she saw the heroism at Dunkirk, the flotillas of fishing boats that rescued the men. The promise she made to Erich on the first day – that Hitler would get what was coming to him very soon – rang hollow now. It looked like he was unstoppable. That puffed-up buffoon Mussolini joining him was a blow, but the fall of France felt sickening. Nothing now stood between Hitler and Britain but a narrow stretch of channel.

  Two nights ago, Erich had come into her bed, crying because he was convinced Hitler was coming and there was nowhere left to run. She tried to soothe him, but what the child said was right.

  Children from the Liverpool area had been evacuated to Wales when war broke out, but since no German bombs had fallen on the city despite the Battle of Britain raging since mid-July, many of the little ones had returned. Elizabeth had seen her class of inner-city pupils almost disappear, but slowly but surely, they were coming back with tales of milking cows and hunting for eggs and all manner of country pursuits.

  Liesl and Erich were just like Liverpudlians now and had even begun to speak in a Liverpool accent, which she found endearing. They’d made friends, and apart from the obvious heartache of being separated from their parents, they were happy.

  ‘Righto!’ She tried to sound bright. These were the last few days of the summer holiday and school would be back in session next week, so she wanted to make the most of their freedom. ‘Shall we go?’

  She didn’t need to ask if there was anything in the post from Ariella.

  ‘Elizabeth,’ said Liesl as they strolled down the street in the bright August sunshine, Erich running ahead, playing with the yo-yo Elizabeth had bought him. ‘Do you think the British should move all the ships they have here to the other coast to stop Hitler?’

  She sighed inwardly. Liesl’s thoughts should be on dolls or dresses, not troop movements and megalomaniac Germans. ‘Well, I suppose that’s a point, but do you know what I think?’

  Liesl looked at her; they were almost the same height.

  ‘I think that Mr Chamberlain did his best to try to avoid this war, but that didn’t work, so now we are being led by Churchill, and he is ready for the fight. And I trust him. Remember what he said, victory at all costs? And it was going to be blood, sweat, toil and tears, but we would prevail? I believe him, so all we have to do is support our government and do our bit, and we will win – we have to.’

  Liesl nodded slowly. ‘I hope so,’ she said quietly.

  She was a thoughtful child and very sensitive. She took her vow to care for her little brother very seriously and was initially a little reluctant to relinquish that to Elizabeth, but now she trusted her. She was well able for school, and her English was impeccable. But she was a bit of an oddity in her classroom, and because she was German, she had received a few nasty remarks. Erich too had been bullied, and in lots of ways, Elizabeth couldn’t blame the local children. Germany was the enemy, and the refugees were German; therefore, they must be the enemy.

  She asked the principal’s permission to address both Liesl’s and Erich’s classes, and she went in and explained why the children were there and how they were not the enemy, how they had much bigger reasons to hate Hitler than those British children did. And the nastiness did seem to stop after that. They’d both been invited to birthday parties and to their friends’ houses for tea, so at least there was that. Thank God Ariella had the sense to teach them English; Elizabeth could not imagine how much more difficult the transition would have been if she hadn’t.

  ‘How do you feel about starting in Mr Crouch’s class on Monday?’ Elizabeth knew her somewhat odd colleague was feared by the younger children.

  ‘Nervous. Everyone says he’s very fierce,’ Liesl admitted. ‘But I’m hoping he will be all right. Melanie Colbert said he hated the Germans so much after the last war, he talked all the time about how bad Germany was, so I’m extra nervous.’

  ‘He won’t take that out on you, don’t worry. It’s true, he is deaf in one ear and blind in one eye because of a German bomb in the last war, but he’s all right really.’ Her colleague was a bit of a tartar, and she hoped he would be kind.

  ‘I think you’re right.’ Liesl smiled. ‘Remember at the start nobody liked us because they thought we were like Hitler? But you explained, and they are nice to us now since they know we are Jews and living with you, so hopefully Mr Crouch will be like that.’

  ‘I’ll let you in on a secret, but you mustn’t tell anyone. Promise?’

  The girl nodded.

  ‘He has three cats called Twinkle, Fluffies and Snoodles. He has pink collars on Fluffies and Twinkle and a blue one on Snoodles, and he talks to them every evening like they are human.’

  Liesl giggled. ‘Is it true?’

  ‘Would I lie to you?’ Elizabeth winked.

  It was good to hear the child laugh.

  The day was a great success. The sun shone, and the barrage balloons drifted silently overhead, their long wires anchored to the ground.

  ‘Dive-bombers would get stuck in those,’ Erich said knowledgably. His friend Charlie’s father was an ARP warden and a font of all wisdom according to Charlie and, vicariously, Erich.

  ‘Really?’ Elizabeth asked.

  ‘Yes, and they force the enemy aircraft to go higher into the range of anti-aircraft guns, so we can get them that way,’ Erich explained, delighted to inform.

  Elizabeth smiled. The ‘us’ and ‘them’ were very evident in the conversation of this little German boy.

  They were awed by the ships, and they even stopped on the way home for a small bag of barley sugars to crown off the day.

  After tea and a bath in the regulation five inches of tepid water, the children sat on the couch and Elizabeth read to them. Though they were both more than capable of reading by themselves, they loved her to read a long story, a chapter a night. They were
in the middle of Gulliver’s Travels.

  As soon as the children were in bed, Elizabeth sat down with a cup of tea and read the paper. She kept the newspapers out of sight during the day – the children didn’t need to know the details of the latest atrocity – but now she read with growing despair of the progress of the war.

  Rationing made food scarce and expensive, though of course there was always the black market. She had not had to resort to using it and hoped she wouldn’t have to, but having Liesl and Erich to care for had changed everything. Rudi smiled down from his brown leather frame.

  It struck her how little time she had for talking to him these days. Before the Bannons arrived, she used to talk to him every night as she made her dinner or darned her stockings, but since Liesl and Erich’s arrival, she was so busy.

  They asked about him, and she told them funny little stories, but she realised that she’d known Rudi for such a short time. She’d been sent to St Catherine’s Primary School by the nuns in Ballycreggan. They knew going to university would not have been an option financially, and even if it was, her mother would never have paid for it. But she was bright, so they suggested she go to England to become a classroom assistant. It had all been going fine until she met Rudi. He worked in his uncle’s fish-and-chip shop, and she and some other teaching assistants she was friendly with used to stop off there for chips after the odd trip to the cinema.

  Rudi asked her out, and she remembered blushing to the roots of her chestnut hair. She was only sixteen, and if the nuns found out, there would be holy war, but something about him made her say yes. For a full year, they courted, and she realised that she’d not felt love since her daddy died. Rudi was fun and handsome and full of chat, and she loved him. He couldn’t wait to join up, and on the day of his eighteenth birthday, in February of 1918, he did. The photo on her dresser was taken the day he got kitted out. He was so proud, and so was she. Her chap was going off to fight for king and country. The naivety of it stung her still.