The Little Ship

by Margaret Mayhew

  The young man bowed and flourished one hand. ‘Dieter Rach. Ich stehe zu ihren Diensten, liebes Fräulein. Wie heissen Sie, wenn ich fragen darf?’ Naturally, she had no intention of telling him her name. Mama would be very angry if she knew she had spoken to him at all, especially in her nightdress. He stepped closer, still smiling, teeth gleaming, eyes shining in the lamplight. His companion tugged his arm impatiently. ‘Come, Dieter, what are you thinking? You don’t want anything to do with her. She’s a Jewess, can’t you tell? They’re all dirty Jews in this street.’

  The smile faded and vanished. He stared up at her. ‘Ach … natürlich. Of course, I see now. So she is. Stupid of me.’

  They strolled on down the Wallstrasse. Anna would have thrown something at them if there had been anything to hand. Cretins! Pigs! She stuck out her tongue as far as it would go. How dare they speak of dirty Jews! How dare they! It was they who were dirty to speak in such a way. She was trembling with outrage. Well, that was nothing new either. On her first day at school she had discovered that to be Jewish was to be hated and despised. The other girls had either teased her or snubbed her and the teachers had picked on her. Mina, her one true friend there, was Jewish, too, and neither of them was ever invited to Gentile homes. Nobody could explain properly why it was so – not Papa or Mama, or Grandmama, or Aunt Liesel or Aunt Sybille, or Uncle Joseph or Uncle Julius … nobody. The Jews had always been blamed for things, was all they said, driven out, hounded, and that was why they kept together. It was safer and better. Mama’s mother and father had fled from persecution in Russia and come to Vienna where, it seemed, nobody much wanted them either. Grandpapa had died long ago and she couldn’t remember him at all but how could anyone hate Grandmama who was always helping the poor and doing good works?

  The heat was worse, the bedroom like an oven. She switched out the lamp and collapsed on the bed, fanning herself with a book. The English were leaving. She listened to them making their polite farewells in the hallway, the door closing after them, their steps ringing on the stone stairway and then in the street below, walking away in the same direction as the two young men. After a while she heard her mother playing the piano – something slow and quiet. Liszt? Or perhaps it was Schubert? Yes, definitely Schubert – his last sonata, the one in B flat. Mama loved Schubert. The notes hung on the air, each one separate, like pearls on a string. Mama is sad tonight, she thought. Very sad. Something is wrong. After a time the playing stopped. She heard Papa going to their bedroom and then the soft click of her own door as Mama opened it a little way.

  ‘Anna … are you asleep?’

  ‘It’s too hot, Mama. How can I sleep when it’s like this?’

  ‘You must try, or you will be tired tomorrow.’

  ‘What does it matter? It’s the holidays.’

  ‘There is still your piano practice – you need to work hard on that Impromptu – it’s very ragged. And there is studying that you should do if you want to do well in school.’

  ‘I hate that school. All the girls are horrible, except Mina.’

  Mama came into the room and sat on the end of her bed. Anna could only see the shape of her in the darkness, not her face, but she knew for sure that she was sad. She sat up, hugging her knees. She loved the chats she sometimes had with Mama – just the two of them, talking about all sorts of things together. Perhaps Mama would tell her what had made her feel sad.

  ‘How would you like to go to another school, Anna? A very different one?’

  ‘With all Jewish girls?’

  ‘No …’

  ‘Then it wouldn’t be any different, would it? They’d still hate me.’

  ‘Papa and I were thinking of a school in England.’

  ‘In England! What are you talking about, Mama? Is it a joke?’

  ‘No, it’s not a joke. What would you think of going there to school – just for a while?’

  ‘I wouldn’t go. What a strange idea, Mama.’

  ‘Papa and I have our reasons. We have been talking about it with the English guests.’

  ‘With them? What has it to do with them?’

  ‘They have been telling us all about England and the schools there. Their daughter goes to an excellent one in London, they say. A private day school, like yours. We think, Papa and I, that it would be good if you went there – for a time. Frau Ellis has been most kind and said she would have you to live with them. You could come home in the holidays.’

  It wasn’t a joke. Mama was quite serious. They’d been plotting to send her away. Planning it all behind her back with the English visitors, talking away in English so she wouldn’t understand. They’d arranged it all and that was why Mama was sad. She felt sick with horror. ‘I refuse to go. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t! I’d sooner die. I will die if you make me go … I’ll kill myself!’

  ‘Sssh, Anna. That will do. Please, control yourself and listen to what I have to say.’

  ‘I don’t care what you have to say. I’m not going. How could you be so cruel, Mama!’

  ‘Please, Anna, you must understand that Papa and I are only concerned with what is best for you. Best and safest.’

  ‘Safest? What do you mean, safest? Those stupid girls at school can’t do me any harm.’

  ‘I’m not talking about schoolgirls; there are others who might. You know how it is for all Jewish people – you have experienced it yourself – and lately it has been getting worse. People are turning against us. Papa has fewer and fewer patients. They do not want to be treated by a Jew. Old patients have left, new ones do not come. It is the same for other Jews in other professions and trades. And Papa believes that it will get even worse. Much, much worse.’

  ‘I don’t mind if we’re poor.’

  ‘If that were all, Anna, we would not be worrying like this. We should endure, just as Jews have done for centuries and been made all the stronger. But there is more. Think of the terrible assassination of our Chancellor – brutally murdered by the Nazis, the very people who most hate us. The Nazi Party is in power in Germany. They parade through the streets with burning torches, and they chant and shout like men possessed by the devil. Their Führer, Adolf Hitler, detests the Jews. He burns books by Jews, his soldiers beat and kick Jews. Jews are forbidden to work for the civil service. Forbidden entry to places. All kinds of difficulties are put in their way. The Nazis are our deadly enemies.’

  ‘But that’s in Germany.’

  ‘Many people believe that Austria may soon unite again with Germany and become Nazi as well. If that happens every Jew here will be in danger too. It is impossible for us to hide ourselves; impossible to conceal what we are. We can never be only Austrian; we will always be Jews as well.’

  ‘How do you mean, danger? What sort of danger?’

  ‘We don’t know exactly …’

  ‘What could they do? They can’t put us in prison if we have done nothing. It would be against the law. There is no crime in being Jewish.’

  ‘The law is not saving the Jews in Germany from persecution. It did not save them in Russia and it will not save us here. That is why we want you to go to England – just for a while, at least, until we can be more sure of things. We don’t want you growing up where there is such hatred.’

  ‘I won’t go. I won’t leave you. If there is danger, then what about you and Papa?’

  ‘It is not so easy for us to leave. Papa’s work is here in Vienna and my place is here with him. But we will come and visit you whenever we can and perhaps we will try to come to live in England as well. Papa was talking with the English doctor this evening and he thinks it may be possible for Papa to work there. Did you like them – our English guests?’

  She shrugged. ‘They were all right. Very dull, though. I think all the English must be dull. And wear dowdy clothes.’

  ‘Nonsense, Anna, that’s not so. They are a very civilized people and their country is one of the most beautiful in the world.’

  ‘One of the girls at school went there once. She said it
rained every single day and that it was all grey.’

  ‘Perhaps in winter, but they have nice summers.’

  ‘How do you know? You’ve never been there.’

  ‘From what I’ve heard. Anyway, the weather is not important. They have good schools – that is well known – and you will be able to go with their daughter. She is called Elizabeth, but I believe they call her Lizzie.’

  ‘She’s only twelve.’

  ‘She’ll be thirteen in January.’

  ‘She’s still a baby. I’d hate being with her. And I’d hate going to England. I don’t speak any English. I wouldn’t understand a word.’

  ‘You’d very soon learn, and it’s a wonderful, rich language. The language of William Shakespeare.’

  ‘It sounds stupid. And ugly. And when that Englishwoman laughed it was like a horse neighing. Her teeth were like a horse’s, too.’

  ‘Anna! That will do. You’re being extremely rude and very silly. Frau Ellis is a charming person and it is most kind of her to offer to have you.’

  ‘They’re not Jews, though, are they?’

  ‘No …’

  ‘So, they won’t know about us, will they? They won’t understand.’

  ‘The English are very understanding and tolerant people. Many, many refugees have made their homes there. Your faith will be respected.’

  How could they even think of doing this to her? Sending her off like a parcel to live with strangers. Foreigners. They must want to get rid of her. They couldn’t love her or they would never want her to go. Mama was still talking, still trying to win her over. ‘… it will be a wonderful new experience for you. You will learn a new language, make new friends, see another country—’

  ‘Stop it! I don’t want to hear any more. I won’t listen to another word. It’s all lies …’ She stuffed her fingers in her ears and flung herself face down on the pillow, sobbing. Mama stroked her hair but she buried her face the deeper. After a while, the stroking stopped and she knew that Mama had gone away, leaving her alone. She cried into her pillow until she could cry no more and lay exhausted in the darkness. Outside in the Wallstrasse there were footsteps again – the sound of heavy boots on the cobblestones and men’s voices, harsh and mocking. And then, suddenly, the sound of breaking glass. Anna jumped off the bed and ran to look out. A group of soldiers were throwing stones up at the Fischers’ lighted sitting-room window and there was a big hole in the broken pane. Papa Fischer had leapt to his feet, his book fallen from his hand, the wire spectacles from his nose. She saw Frau Fischer’s shocked and frightened face, sewing clutched to her bosom, and Jacob and Gideon looking up from their books with mouths agape. There was another stone thrown and another hole in the glass. Herr Fischer grabbed at the wall switch and the light went out.

  ‘Schmutzige Juden, schmutzige Juden.’ The soldiers chanted as they moved off down the street. ‘Dirty Jews, dirty Jews …’

  ‘Papa, you don’t really mean to send me away to England, do you? Not if I don’t want to go?’

  Her father looked up from his writing-desk. He took off his spectacles and laid them beside him. ‘We don’t want you to go either, Anna, but we think it’s wise. Mama told you why.’

  She sat down in a chair beside the desk. ‘And I still don’t understand. What does it matter if a few people don’t like us here?’

  He smiled at her. ‘Why should you understand, Anna? You are much too young, too trusting, too innocent. You have not yet encountered real evil, so, of course, you don’t believe that it actually exists. Do you remember when I went on that visit to Hamburg last month? To meet with some other doctors?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘The German Chancellor, Adolf Hitler, paid a visit to the city while I was there. I walked out into the streets to see for myself how they received him. The pavements were lined with thousands cheering him all along the route, waving Nazi flags, applauding … When he spoke later from the balcony at the Rathaus the square in front was packed with people. You could hardly move for the numbers. They listened to him speaking of the new and mighty Germany that was being born again, of how he would lead them to greatness once more.’

  ‘But that has nothing to do with us.’

  ‘I’m afraid it has. He began to rant and rave against the Jews. To blame Jews and Jewish financiers for defeat in the last war and for everything else that has gone wrong for Germany since. He is making us his target. His scapegoat. He spoke of Jews as parasites, feeding on the blood of industrious Germans; of the need to expel the Jewish bacillus out of the national bloodstream, and all around me people were nodding in agreement. At the end they cheered and clapped as though he were a great prophet. Their saviour.’

  She said curiously, ‘What was he like? Did you see him close up?’

  ‘He passed very near in his car and I could see him easily when he was on the town hall balcony. He is small, dark and very ordinary-looking. You wouldn’t glance at him twice in a crowd. And yet he has this extraordinary power over people. They believe what he says and they believe in him. And hatred for Jews is spreading all over Germany. I saw placards being carried in the streets telling people not to buy from the Jews. Deutsche kauft nicht bei Juden! Shops owned by Jews are boycotted, Jews dismissed from their jobs, and in many occupations proof of Aryan ancestry is demanded. I was told of Jews being attacked and beaten by ordinary citizens; of towns in parts of Germany with signs saying Jews enter this place at their own risk and where there are notices posted outside restaurants and hotels: Jews Not Wanted Here, Entry Forbidden to Jews. They speak of being judenrein – Jew free.’

  ‘But Adolf Hitler has no power in Austria. He can’t harm us here.’

  ‘Not yet. But my doctor friends in Hamburg believe that he would like to take over our country too. To reunite us with Germany. There are many people here in Austria who would be sympathetic to that.’

  ‘If he’s so wicked why isn’t anybody trying to stop him?’

  ‘Some brave people are, but the Nazis get rid of anybody who speaks against the Party. Anyone merely suspected of being opposed to them is threatened and some are arrested by the Sturm Abteilung, the Nazi troops, and put in prison or in special camps.’ Papa shook his head. ‘I have said enough, Anna. We do not want you to be frightened. We only want you to be safe – to go to England for a while – where such things do not happen.’

  ‘We’ll put Anna in the empty bedroom next to you, Lizzie, and I think it would be a good idea to make the old playroom into a sort of sitting-room for you both. You won’t mind that, will you?’

  She did mind – rather a lot – but it seemed awfully mean to object. It had all been explained to her, after all. This girl, Anna Stein, was coming to stay for a while because it wasn’t very safe for her in her own country. She was Jewish, and some people in Austria didn’t like Jews. It sounded very peculiar but that was how it was.

  ‘What is she like, Mummy?’

  ‘I only saw her for a short while, when we went to dinner at the Steins’ apartment in Vienna, and she hardly speaks any English. Her parents are delightful. Charming. The father is a psychiatrist, just like Daddy, and Frau Stein teaches the piano. She plays brilliantly herself. I expect Anna plays too.’

  She was probably brilliant as well. ‘What does she look like?’

  ‘Very pretty. Green eyes and long dark hair.’

  ‘In plaits?’

  ‘No, she wears it loose. But then she’s two years older than you, Lizzie. She seems rather more than that, in fact, but I’m sure you’ll both get on very well. It may be a bit difficult, at first, because of her not knowing English, but she’ll soon pick it up and I know you’ll help her to learn quickly. Her French is very good, apparently, so that will help.’

  ‘Mine’s not very good.’

  ‘Well, you know quite a lot of words and how to say simple things, so you can try speaking it sometimes. It will be excellent practice for you.’

  The more she heard about Anna Stein, the less sh
e liked the idea of her coming to live with them. ‘When will she be here?’

  ‘Not until the autumn – in time for the new term.’

  ‘How long will she stay?’

  ‘We don’t know that yet. If things settle down in Austria she may go home quite soon.’

  ‘If they don’t, though?’

  ‘Then she might be here for a long time. Several years, even. Daddy and I hope she will be company for you, Lizzie. Like having a sister.’