They nodded.
‘And so they would want someone strong for lifting heavy things, I’d imagine.’ Elizabeth was improvising here, and she hoped Liesl didn’t see through it.
‘So the truth is, we don’t know where they are, but I do know that your parents love you two so much that if there is any way on earth they can get back to you, they will do it. Things are so topsy-turvy these days, nobody really knows what’s going to happen. Your mutti and papa wanted to keep you with them, I’m sure, but Ariella sent you to me so you would be safe, and I’m so glad that she did. I love you both so much.’
She had never said those words out loud before, and was worried for a second that she’d gone too far, but Liesl’s smile reassured her.
‘We love you, too, Elizabeth. Thank you for taking care of us.’ Liesl’s voice cracked with emotion.
Elizabeth tightened her arms around them and held them close. ‘We’ll be all right. I promise you, you will be fine.’
Chapter 10
Daniel Lieber woke to the familiar sensation of wet feet. As he sat up, he realised his whole sleeping bag was soaked. The tent had leaked again. He was too big for the tent anyway, but it was all they had. He crawled out and stretched to his full height of six feet one, releasing the tension from his muscular shoulders that ached from sleeping on the hard ground.
Back in Vienna, the trees would be at the end of their summer bloom, the leaves beginning to fall, but it would still be warm enough to drink morning coffee outside. But here in the Ards Peninsula in Ireland, some days it felt very much like winter. For all that, though, he thought as he struggled out of the wet fabric, he was so grateful to be there and not in Vienna.
He tried to remember his beautiful home city as it was before Hitler came, before the people he considered friends, colleagues and neighbours showed their true colours. Before the scarlet flags with their black swastikas hung from every building. Before Kristallnacht.
Since his arrival at ‘the farm’ as it was optimistically called, people had been so busy trying to make it habitable and trying to keep the children’s spirits up that the adults rarely talked about their own worries and fears for their families back in Germany or Austria. Everyone dealt with it themselves because it felt wrong to unburden your fears onto others who were experiencing the same thing. If someone had asked him before how human beings would react against such adversity, he would have assumed they’d be united in their trauma, but in fact, the opposite was proving to be true.
He wondered about Lydia. All the pain he’d felt when she broke off their engagement was long gone. She’d met and married Hans within months of the breakup. It was hard for a long time, but he was over it now. The happy couple moved to Hanover; Hans’s family had a nice Aryan business there.
He tried not to dwell on the dark memories of the night they came. He and Lydia were just about to go out when a Nazi official arrived at the door.
The official was insistent that Daniel was in breach of a directive that all Jews must register. Daniel had explained there must be a mix-up as he was Catholic, but upon further investigation, it seemed the Nazis were right. His parents were, in fact, Jews. They’d moved from Salzburg to Vienna in 1900, the year before he was born, and had decided to become Catholics on the way. They were both dead, so he couldn’t ask them why, though he knew of the anti-Semitism that existed long before Hitler came to power, so he could guess. He and his brother had no idea they were Jewish. It had never occurred to them that their parents were anything but good Austrian Catholics. They went to mass; he and Josef went to Catholic school – first Holy Communion, confirmation, the whole thing. He and Lydia would have been married in a Catholic church if she’d not found out he was Daniel Liebermann, not Daniel Lieber, and that he was, in her words, ‘a filthy Jew’. Her venomous racism still shocked him to his core. He’d thought he knew her.
Shaking those dark thoughts from his mind, he dressed outside quickly in his only dry clothes, stored in an old flour sack hung from the crossbar of the tent, then made his way to the dining hall. It was really just a byre, but they’d managed to set up some trestle tables and some benches. The steaming kettle on the two ring gas cooker perched on one of the tables was hissing out water to make tea – coffee was not on the menu in Ireland, it seemed – and Daniel helped himself to a bowl of the grey pasty stuff called porridge that the Irish liked to eat for breakfast. It was kind of tasteless, but at least it filled him up.
‘Not exactly the Pfarrwirt, eh?’ Talia sat down beside him. She was Viennese too, and they had gravitated towards each other though she was twenty years his junior. He felt protective of her.
‘I could never afford to eat there anyway.’ Daniel smiled.
‘Me neither,’ Talia agreed, grimacing as she took a spoon of porridge. ‘This stuff reminds me of the glue my papa used to wallpaper our apartment.’
‘Any news of them?’ he asked gently.
‘Nothing.’ She changed the subject quickly, it was too hard. ‘So a new group of kids arrive today, I believe?’ she said brightly, changing the subject.
Daniel scratched his stubbled face. He really needed a shave and a wash, but the boiler that was supposed to heat the water in the tank was broken again. His dark hair was longer now than he usually wore it, curling over his collar. ‘Yes, and at least now we have a teacher for them, so that’s great.’ He drained his cup of weak tea and stood up.
‘I’d better see how Levi is getting on with the boiler. It was freezing in the tent last night, and I can’t imagine that where the kids are is much better. If we can get it going again, then at least there will be heat and hot water.’
The old boiler had been donated from somewhere else, and it wasn’t one Daniel had ever seen before. He had the unenviable task of taking it all apart, trying to see how it worked and putting it back together. He drew diagrams of each section as he disassembled it so he would be able to rebuild it as the manufacturer intended. It was a long way from the mechanical engineering of his past, but he was the designated fixer of the farm.
‘I’m in the kitchen today, so be prepared for dinner.’ She rose too, and Daniel nodded. She was no more than nineteen or twenty, and she was tiny and dark haired, with pale skin and hazel eyes flecked with amber. She could be any race. She’d told Daniel once that her mother was Jewish and her father a gentile. She’d escaped when both her parents were executed by the Nazis for opposing the annexation of Austria. They had been putting up posters encouraging people to vote against the annexation. In the end, there was no vote, and the Germans walked all over Austria without a single shot being fired.
‘I’ll look forward to it.’ He smiled, knowing whatever it was would be less than he needed and a far cry from what he was used to.
He crossed the yard to the large sheds where the children slept. The older ones were helping the younger ones to dress. Though it was summer, there was a chill in the damp air.
Daniel hated to see their innocence gone. These children became adults the moment their parents put them on the train and they had to fend for themselves.
‘Good morning, everyone!’ he called as he entered the large dormitory. Despite few of the children being bilingual, the language of the camp was primarily English. It was felt they would need it for the duration of their stay, so any adults who could speak it were encouraged to do so.
‘Good morning, Daniel!’ they chorused. Initially, they tried to call him Herr Lieber, but these were extraordinary times and this was an extraordinary situation, so he felt better when they called him Daniel. He was like a big bear to them, and the little ones liked to climb all over him. He kicked a football with the older kids, and to see their faces light up when they scored a goal, to see them behaving as children again if even only for a few minutes, did his heart good.
‘Are you taking us to school today?’ Viola asked him, a tall Polish girl with almost-white hair and pale-blue eyes.
‘I will, but I’m going to try to get the boiler
going first, so you all go have breakfast and get yourselves ready, and I’ll meet you at the bus at 8:40, all right?’
He looked around. They were worried, sad and lonely, and his heart broke for them.
‘I’ve met your new teacher, remember? Some of you were with me? She seems really nice and kind, and you’ll all be fine.’ He smiled. ‘And if she’s not,’ he whispered, ‘tell me, and I’ll put a spider in her tea.’ He winked and they all giggled.
He had studied at the university in Vienna and had his own engineering business that was doing well. At least it was until he was denounced as a Jew. Within weeks of the Nazi visit – and Lydia’s departure – his shop was requisitioned, and his apartment too. He was lucky; he got out. An old college friend sponsored him. The friend was in the British Foreign Office, but Daniel had written to him at his address in Bristol.
Stephen Holland had studied in Britain but had come to Vienna for some post-graduate work in the area of hydraulics, and Daniel had been writing a paper on Blaise Pascal. The two young men hit it off and enjoyed all that Vienna had to offer together. Stephen had reluctantly returned to take over the family business in Bristol, but they’d maintained the friendship by letter. It was a relationship that saved Daniel’s life. Technically, Stephen was to be responsible for him, but he’d explained that he was overseas so Daniel would have to make his own way. He was happy to do that.
On the boat from the Hook of Holland to Harwich, he met a frazzled woman who seemed to be in charge of lots of children. Daniel offered to help, and in the course of the conversation, she offered him a position with them in Ireland setting up a farm for the children of the Kindertransport. He had no better ideas, and anyway, doing so could salve some of the guilt he felt at getting out when so many didn’t. If he was helping their children, at least he was doing something.
Days on the farm were long and supplies were scarce, but the Jewish community in Belfast were wonderful, and the Dublin Jews and the Quakers and some Christian groups were kind too, so he didn’t complain. He did his best to get ancient rusted machines going, and so far, so good.
He turned his attention to the recalcitrant boiler.
Levi arrived soon after, and Daniel rolled out the large diagram he had made of the various component parts. Levi had been a general labourer at a large country house near Baden-Baden before the war, so he was good with his hands.
‘I’ve taken this apart and put it back together twice, and I can’t see where the problem is. But we need to get this going, so will we take it apart again?’
Levi shrugged and nodded. He was not one for chat.
Reading the diagram, they took each piece and placed it on the floor. Daniel used a piece of charcoal to mark the parts and filled in the corresponding number on his diagram. Finally, the entire thing was laid out on the floor.
‘Now what?’ Levi asked.
Daniel stood back and observed it. ‘Well, this is a gravity-fed system, so we need to use gravity and convection to move water around the circuit. The tank is above us… Hot water has a lower density than cold, so it will rise up through the pipes…’ He paused and ran his hands over his stubble.
‘Thanks for the physics lesson,’ Levi muttered, rolling his eyes, and Daniel suppressed a smile. ‘There was a Bulex gas heater in the house where I used to work, but it looked nothing like this.’
‘Hmm. I know. This is unique.’ Daniel picked up his large diagram, explaining the valve and pump system to Levi and how he thought it should work. They discovered a hairline crack in the pump. Daniel repaired it, hopeful that would solve the issue.
An hour later, leaving Levi to clean all the parts and begin the reassembly process, he went down to drive the children to school.
Daniel cursed under his breath as he turned the key in the ignition of the old bus but the engine remained silent. The children were so excited, but if he didn’t get the bus going, there was no way of transporting them there. They needed to get to school, to learn and to behave like children, not worker bees.
The first harvest was ripening nicely, and chickens, sheep and even a herd of cattle had been sourced, so while the farm was not totally self-sufficient, it was well on the way. The children all helped out, and it really was a case of many hands making light work. But now it was time for school.
He looked back at the stricken faces. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll see to it!’ he said, and a few of them relaxed. They saw him as a parent figure, and he took that responsibility seriously. If Daniel said it was going to be all right, then it was.
Some of the children had been reunited with parents who had managed to get out of the occupied areas of Europe, but the majority of them were alone and had heard very little from home. Letters were infrequent, but when the parents did manage to write… Well, there was just something so pathetic about adults begging their children to keep trying to find a way to get them out of Germany or Poland or Austria. Of course the children felt the pressure to do something, but there was nothing they could do. They were living on a remote farm in Northern Ireland.
He went under the bonnet of the vehicle. It had been donated by someone, but it was on its last legs. He dried off the spark plugs, sprayed a little oil and tried again. Nothing.
‘OK, you might as well get off for a bit. Go back inside and tell the ladies I said you can have some cocoa. Leave this with me, and I’ll call you when I get it going.’
There were cheers at the extra cocoa, and it worked in a small way to ameliorate the disappointment.
He fought the urge to kick the stupid vehicle, choosing instead to smoke one of his precious cigarettes. He leaned against the wall of the yard, going over what he knew about the internal combustion engine in his head. He was missing something, obviously.
‘Hey, I thought you were supposed to be fixing the bus. They told me it won’t start.’ Talia emerged from the kitchen and leaned on the wall beside him.
‘I’m at a bit of a loss, but I suppose I’ll have to figure it out.’ He exhaled a long plume of blue cigarette smoke.
‘Well, everyone knows you are a genius with your hands.’ Talia was flirting again.
Daniel knew she had taken a shine to him, though why was anybody’s guess. He had nothing to offer anyone – the clothes he stood up in were all he owned, and he had the same uncertain future as everyone else on the farm.
Talia was a nice girl, and she was pretty, but Daniel just didn’t see her like that. She was too young, and anyway, romance was not on his mind. He got along with everyone, and the children liked him, and that was enough. At first, he was sure it was just Talia joking around, but of late, he noticed how there was always a seat for him beside her in the dining room, or if they were going to pray, how she fell into step beside him.
He was a Jew by birth, but he’d never gone to a synagogue or eaten kosher. He was learning, though. Something about the faith fascinated him, and he’d asked Rabbi Frank to teach him. In the evenings, they had lessons, and the rabbi was patient and generous with his time.
It helped that life on the farm was very much in tune with the Orthodox Jewish way of life, and he found he liked it and was learning every day. The way they lived at the start, in tents and makeshift dwellings, was compared to Sukkot, the festival remembering the tabernacles the Israelites erected in the desert on their flight to the Promised Land. It seemed particularly poignant now. For some strange reason, it all made sense to him. He was a Jew, and he was happy to be one.
The community observed shabbat, from sunset on Friday until Saturday night. Daniel joined in, following the others’ lead; he listened to the Rabbi as he recited the Kiddush and ate the blessed challah. He wondered what his father and mother would say if they could see their rebellious son, conforming so completely to the religion they abandoned.
He stamped out the butt of his cigarette and changed the subject. ‘You got a letter two days ago – you want to talk about it?’
She sighed. ‘No, not really. It was just a letter from my
grandparents – well, my grandmother. It was to tell me that my grandfather had died. I loved him, so it was very sad, but he was old… The news of my father’s death really finished him, as my papa was his only son.’ Her voice cracked as she spoke, and her eyes shone.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly, and opened his arms instinctively. He liked her as a friend and hated to see her sad. She stepped into the circle of his embrace, and he held her as she cried.
Her sobs subsided, and she gazed up at him, her face tear-stained. ‘Do you have anyone? You never say.’
‘No, my parents are dead, my brother also, killed in a road accident. I had a girlfriend, but she left me for someone else, and she’s now a good hausfrau in Hanover. I’m lucky, I suppose.’ He shrugged. He was honest about not being a practising Jew up to that point – so many of those deemed Jewish by the Nazis had never set foot in a synagogue – but he kept his parents’ deception to himself. It wasn’t anyone’s business.
He smiled down at her, and she reached up and placed her hand on his face. Suddenly, as she went to kiss him, Daniel realised what was happening. He released her gently.
‘Talia, stop. I’m sorry, I…’ he began. She was a kid, and she didn’t want him, not really, he knew that. It was just that he was familiar and from home.
‘What? Don’t you think I’m pretty?’ she asked, and he hated to see the vulnerability there.
‘It’s not that. I… You’re too young, and I’m too old for you, and besides –’
‘I don’t care about that, Daniel. I really don’t…’ she interrupted him.
‘But I do. And I’m not the one for you, Talia, I swear I’m not. I’m an old man and you’re a beautiful young girl. So let’s just survive this, and hopefully, life can go back to normal and you’ll meet someone the right age and have lots of babies.’ He tried to bring a little levity. He didn’t want her to feel rejected, but he needed to make clear once and for all that he had no interest in her that way.
The Star and the Shamrock Page 6