Fighting with Shadows

by Beryl Matthews

  Sighing, Bob handed him the letter. ‘They say where she can be found, but stop and think for a minute. The chances are that this isn’t your sister. Write to her first, or let us look into it further before you rush off.’

  ‘No, I must go to her.’

  Bob knew he didn’t have any right to stop him, so he would help him all he could. It was obvious from Dieter’s attitude that he wasn’t going to listen to any advice. ‘Have you got any money?’

  ‘Very little, but I shall hitch lifts.’ Dieter put the letter in his pocket and continued stuffing things into his bag.

  ‘If you’ll just wait for a day or two, I’ll see if I can get you on a flight. It will be much quicker. It could take you weeks to make your way across Europe.’ Bob took the Sawyers’ money out of his wallet. ‘I’ll pay your airfare, but take this as well. The Sawyers would want you to have it.’

  ‘No.’ Dieter shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t be right to take their money when it is most unlikely I shall go to them as they wish.’

  ‘They would understand.’ Bob pushed the money into Dieter’s hand. ‘Pay them back one day when you are in a position to do so. Now, will you wait and let me see what I can arrange?’

  Dieter’s long fingers closed around the English money and he gave a sharp nod, looking calmer now. ‘If you can get me on a plane, I shall be most grateful, and I shall also repay you when I can.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘You will let me know quickly. I shall not wait long. Twenty-four hours at the most.’

  ‘Go to the hotel as usual and I’ll be there sometime during the evening.’

  ‘Thank you, Major.’

  When they were outside again, Hunt asked, ‘Where to now, sir?’

  ‘Templehoff Airport.’

  It was eleven in the evening before Bob arrived at the hotel. He had spent the day giving orders, making people hustle to get the necessary paperwork ready, and even pulling rank when the occasion demanded. If Dieter was going to England, then he didn’t want him running into any trouble and perhaps being delayed by bureaucratic procedures. Hunt had followed him around with a gleeful expression on his face and every so often muttered, ‘That told ’em, sir.’

  ‘It’s been one hell of a day.’ Bob slid out of the car.

  ‘Come on, Corporal, I’ll buy you a drink.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Hunt followed him into the bar lounge.

  Dieter looked up when they walked in, a question in his eyes.

  Smiling, Bob patted his pocket to indicate that he had the ticket, then sat down, ordered drinks and waited for the time when Dieter stopped playing.

  As soon as midnight struck, he closed the lid of the piano and walked over to them. ‘Did you manage it, Major?’

  ‘The flight is leaving at ten tomorrow morning.’ Bob handed him the papers. ‘It’s going to Croydon and you’ll need to catch a train to York from King’s Cross. It’s only a one-way ticket, so I’ve given you enough money to get back here if you want to.’

  Dieter’s hand shook slightly as he held the papers. ‘You have been over generous. One day I shall try to repay you for your kindness.’

  ‘I’m glad to help.’ Bob waved away his thanks. ‘I hope it is your sister, but, if not, what will you do?’

  ‘I have not thought that far ahead, but I shall return here, I suppose.’

  Bob sighed inwardly, feeling the man’s hope and pain. ‘Before you do that, I hope you will visit the Sawyers.’

  ‘I will think about it.’

  He couldn’t ask for more than that, Bob thought, as he stood up to leave. It wasn’t right to push the man when he couldn’t tell him why it was important. The poor devil had enough to deal with at the moment. But he would have to make sure he didn’t lose sight of him. Perhaps he would be able to arrange for him to meet Angie and Danny one day, even if he had to bring them over here, for he had no great hopes that this girl was Dieter’s sister. But the man wouldn’t give up and was grasping at any hope, and he could understand that. If he lost track of any of his family, he would be just the same. ‘Come on, we’ll give you a lift home, and I’ll see you’re collected tomorrow and taken to the airport.’

  The next day Bob was already at the airport when Hunt arrived with Dieter. This had been arranged in a rush and he wanted to be on hand should any snags arise.

  Everything went smoothly, and when Dieter was ready to board he held out his hand. ‘Thank you again, Major.’

  ‘I want you to write and let me know how you get on. Will you do that?’

  ‘Of course. That is the least I can do to repay you for your kindness.’ Then Dieter walked towards the plane and disappeared inside.

  The plane taxied and turned, its engines revving at full power, then headed along the runway. As it left the ground, Bob watched until it was out of sight.

  ‘Done all you can now, sir.’ Hunt pulled a face. ‘Poor bugger’s going to be pulverized if it isn’t his sister.’

  Hunt was right, Bob realized; he’d done all he could, and now he would have to write to John and Hetty to tell them that, although Dieter was heading for England to search for his sister, it was unlikely they would see him. If the girl in York was not his sister, he would probably return to Germany, but Bob promised that he would keep track of him and try to engineer a meeting between Dieter, Danny and Angie sometime in the future. The Sawyers would be disappointed, he knew.

  As the plane left the ground, Dieter remembered the many times he had taken off on a bombing raid. How sure of themselves they’d been. All young boys fighting for the Fatherland, constantly being told that the cause was just and they were invincible.

  He gazed out at Berlin below him, looking nothing like the city he had known as a boy. In victory the allies had carved it up between them. Efforts were being made to clear and rebuild, but it was taking time. And the Russians hadn’t helped with their blockade, but that had ended last month, thank heavens. It had only been by the airlift and determined effort of the Allies that West Berlin had survived. He closed his eyes, suddenly drained of all energy. Soon he would be back in England. Please be my Gerda, he silently prayed. Give me someone of my own. Some hope for the future.

  It was only when they landed that Dieter understood just how much trouble the Major had gone to for him. He had vouched for him, and an official document stated that he had a job and accommodation waiting for him in Somerset. Again he had cause to be grateful to his former commandant, though he couldn’t understand why he was helping him so much. The Major had often come to the farm for dinner while he had been working there. The man had always been polite but not overly friendly. That had been understandable, of course, for Dieter had still technically been a prisoner.

  Once the formalities had been dealt with, he headed for the station without delay, determined to get a train to York that day. When he reached King’s Cross, there was a forty-minute wait before his train arrived, so after buying his ticket he went into the snack bar. He paid for a cup of tea and a sandwich, found a table and sat down.

  Munching on the sandwich and not caring what was in it, he gazed around the busy room. The thing that struck most forcibly was the contrast with Berlin, a city cut in half by the victors. It was a grim time for the German people, with everything in short supply and their future uncertain. This country had had a tough war and made many sacrifices. The world had thought them beaten, but he doubted if they had ever considered it a possibility. They had laughed then, and were laughing still. But he knew that underneath all the joking was a stubborn race determined to hold on to its freedom, whatever the cost. And yet at the end of the war, when the prisoners were allowed out, he had found them friendly towards their former enemy. Jane had known that he had been in the Luftwaffe and had bombed London and other parts of the country, but it hadn’t bothered her at all. She had seen him as a person, and one she came to love.

  Finishing his tea, he sat back and let the lively chatter sweep over him, trying not to think too mu
ch about what he might find in York. After a while he looked at the station clock and saw that the train was due in five minutes. Leaving the refreshment bar, he made his way to the platform.

  The train was on time and he was lucky enough to find himself a seat by the window. It was a shame that the light was fading already. He would have liked to watch the countryside on the journey. It was still a green, pleasant land. The first thing he would do when he arrived in York was get cheap lodgings for the night, try to get some rest, and in the morning see if this girl was his sister. He hoped she was still at the address he’d been given, because he had a strong feeling that it would be her.

  He had done a lot of thinking while he had been on the plane. The drone of the engines had been strangely soothing, especially knowing that they were not going to find a Spitfire on their tail. In between dozing he had taken a brutal look at his life. After his capture he had spent years sharing huts with lots of other men. Then he had lived at the farm, met Jane and been included as one of the family. The villagers had also accepted him and he had played the organ in the church for many a service. He had loved doing that.

  From the time he had returned to Germany he had been alone. The only desire driving him had been to find out what had happened to his family. People had been understanding and had done their best, but the organizations dealing with displaced and missing persons were swamped with work. He hadn’t sought out friendships, or wanted them, but the Major had shaken him out of his apathy. Now he wanted – needed – someone of his own. If this wasn’t his sister – something he was loath to consider – then he must turn his back on the past and try to rebuild his life.

  It wasn’t going to be easy.

  14

  Giving a little wriggle, Danny settled himself on the cushions piled on to the piano stool, then leant forward to put a sheet of paper on the stand. Mrs Poulton was teaching him to read music right from the beginning and writing his lessons out for him. How a young child who couldn’t yet read or write knew what the dots meant was a source of wonder to Angie, but much to her amazement he seemed to know. They had made a mark on the key of middle C, and he worked it out from there. He was only playing simple exercises, of course, and the sounds meant nothing to her.

  She listened. In her opinion he was little more than a baby, but his concentration was phenomenal. A feeling of wonder ran through her. Had Jane given birth to a musical genius? There wasn’t any such talent in their family, so it could only have come from his father. Who the hell was he? The next time she saw Hetty she must ask if they had heard from their friend who was looking for him. The thought of finding the father made her uneasy, but of course it was obvious why. She was selfish! She had been with Danny from the moment he’d been born, helped to look after him, and now he was hers. Her life had changed with the desire to do what was best for the little boy. And she didn’t mind whatever sacrifice she had to make as long as he was happy. He hadn’t mentioned his father again, and she fervently hoped that it had been a passing thought and not something he had dwelt on. Sally’s Joe was a kind man and always included Danny in his games with Emma. Perhaps he had forgotten about having a daddy of his own? She hoped so, because he was far too young to understand what had happened between Jane and the man she had fallen in love with.

  She sat on a chair beside the piano and Danny didn’t even look up, completely absorbed in practising his lesson.

  When he stopped she smiled. ‘That was lovely, darling. I don’t know how you understand those dots Mrs Poulton writes down for you.’

  ‘Each dot means a note,’ he told her, ‘but I have to think hard to remember where they are.’

  ‘Well, you do it very well. Your teacher told me you have real talent.’

  The dimples flashed in shy pleasure. ‘It’s fun. Em doesn’t like music, though. Her mummy said she could have lessons as well, but she didn’t want to.’ He looked puzzled, as if he couldn’t understand someone not liking music.

  ‘Everyone’s different, Danny. We don’t all like the same things. Now I think it’s time you got ready for bed. Do you want milk or cocoa?’

  This had to be thought over for a few moments, then he jumped down and followed her into the kitchen. ‘Cocoa, please, Auntie.’

  There was a thoughtful expression on his face as he sat at the table. ‘Auntie?’

  Angie was waiting for the milk to boil and turned her head. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Do you think Mummy knows you’re looking after me now?’

  A lump lodged in her throat, and she turned the gas down under the milk so she could crouch down beside his chair. ‘I’m sure she does.’

  He nodded, very serious. ‘She always said you were my second mummy, and I was so lucky to have two mummies.’

  ‘And we are so lucky to have you.’ Angie had to go back to making the cocoa as emotion welled up inside her. He had such wisdom at times, but that didn’t make him any the less a normal mischievous child. Jane had always said that he was special, but Angie had just put that down to motherly pride. Now that she was with him all the time, she knew Jane had been right. Even at this young age he was sorting things out in his mind, making his own adjustments.

  She made the drink for both of them and watched him enjoy it, giving him a biscuit as a treat.

  After putting him to bed and reading him a story, she stayed until his eyes closed. Her heart sang. Perhaps one day he would drop the Auntie and call her Mummy.

  Dieter was lucky: he’d found a reasonably priced bed and breakfast just outside the old city walls at Micklegate Bar. The landlady had given him a map so he could find the address he wanted. It was within walking distance and that was a help. He was grateful for the money the Major and the Sawyers had given him, but it wasn’t going to last long. If he stayed here for more than a few days, he would have to find a job.

  As he walked along, through the Shambles and on up to the beautiful Minster, his heart beat in anticipation. He had told himself repeatedly that he mustn’t hope too much, as the chances of this being his sister were slim, but he couldn’t help it. It must be her! If it were, he would stay here with her. His musical talents could surely be put to use in this lovely place. He strode out, head up, and for the first time in years a tiny spark of hope began to burn in his heart.

  On reaching the Minster, he stood gazing up at the magnificent structure; he couldn’t help but wonder what the organ sounded like. His fingers itched. He would go in there tomorrow and have a look round, but for today he could only concentrate on one thing.

  He was taking deep breaths to calm his racing heartbeat. Consulting the map, he saw that he was near High Petergate, so he crossed the road into Duncombe Place. Nearly there.

  He found the house without any trouble after walking for about ten minutes. It was a rather splendid-looking place, with three floors and a front door with a brass knocker gleaming in the autumn sunlight. As he hesitated, a woman came from round the side of the house and he stopped her. ‘Excuse me, I am looking for Gerda Kramer. Can you tell me if she lives here?’

  ‘Gerda? Sure, go and knock on the side door. You’ll find her there.’ Then she bustled away.

  She was here! Dieter almost ran to the door and couldn’t keep still as he waited for his knock to be answered.

  A boy of no more than fifteen opened the door. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I wish to see Gerda Kramer.’

  ‘Oh, right, you’d better come in, then.’ He led Dieter along a narrow passage and into a large kitchen, full of warmth and tempting smells. ‘Gent to see Gerda.’

  A large woman who was obviously the cook eyed him suspiciously, taking in his shabby appearance. ‘What you want with her?’

  ‘I need to see if she is my sister.’

  The woman’s expression immediately softened. ‘Ah, you’re German, like her.’

  He nodded, his throat too tight with anxiety to speak again.

  At that moment a door opened and a young girl came in carrying a large tray; she turned her b
ack to him to put it on the draining board.

  ‘Gerda, there’s someone here to see you.’

  He was so tense that it felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room as Dieter stared at her. The hair colour was right …

  Then she turned, a smile on her face, and his world disintegrated around him. The disappointment was so cruel he moaned out loud. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t her. Everything went fuzzy around him, and he shook his head trying to clear it. All he could hear was a voice in his head shouting You fool! How could you have believed it was her?

  ‘Oh, my, Jimmy help me with him. He’s been taken real bad. Gerda, put the kettle on.’

  Although he could hear what was being said, the voices seemed to come from a long way off. He was helped into a chair and he bowed his head.

  ‘There now, you sit there quiet for a while and we’ll make you a nice cup of tea. That’ll soon put you right.’

  The English cure for all troubles, Dieter thought, as he fought for composure. This was his own fault. He should not have set his hopes so high. But he hadn’t been able to help himself.

  ‘You drink that.’ The cook placed a cup in his hands.

  The tea was hot, strong and sweet. He drank it gratefully and gazed at the young girl he had come to see. She was the right age, but there the resemblance to his sister ended. At first glance she was pretty, but a scar down her left cheek and neck marred her looks.

  Finishing his tea, he put the cup on the table and gave the cook a tight smile. ‘I apologize for reacting so badly.’

  ‘No need. Gerda isn’t your sister, then?’

  He shook his head, feeling more in command of himself again and looked at the girl. ‘I hope I did not frighten you, Fräulein?’

  She spoke for the first time. ‘I understand. What made you believe I might be your sister?’

  ‘Your name, age, and the fact that your home was Dresden.’ He grimaced. ‘Not much to go on, but I had to see you. Were you there during the raids?’