‘Well, I could meet you on the corner of that street and Leopoldplatz. There is a church there, Saint Anthony’s? I could meet you outside that?’ She prayed it sounded like she was looking forward to it.
‘That’s perfect, Fräulein Weiss. My name is Herman Glos, by the way.’
‘Herr Glos.’ She shook his proffered hand.
‘Please, call me Herman.’ He smiled.
‘Marta,’ she replied, noting the pressure of the handshake.
‘Until tomorrow, Marta. Take care now, those bombers are on the run, but old Winston is trying one last attempt to break the Reich. It won’t work, of course, but I would hate for someone as pretty as you to be hurt.’
Ariella blushed. Was this really happening? In the midst of the chaos and destruction, did men ask women out to lunch? Perhaps they did if they thought that the war was being won in their favour. Who knew?
‘See you tomorrow, Herman.’ Ariella waved and walked on, her heart rate slowly returning to normal.
Chapter 11
Rabbi Frank walked around the classroom, admiring the art projects the children were working on. He always called on Wednesday afternoons, and that was when they did art. Elizabeth was anxious at first that he would realise she taught mathematics and English as well as the other subjects, but he was quick to reassure her that he thought she was an excellent teacher and that the children from the farm were in great hands.
‘So, Mrs Lieber,’ he began after she finished up the lesson and allowed the children outside for lunch. ‘I wanted to talk to you about something.’
The rabbi was distinctive-looking. He was small and wiry and wore peyot, ringlets that hung from his temples. He habitually dressed in black but wore a white shirt when he was ministering to his flock. He was seen in the village of Ballycreggan often and greeted everyone warmly. He was a Chassidic Jew, from a very traditional and conservative branch of Judaism, but he had mellowed a little in what he thought was acceptable given the expediency of the situation. He could also be full of fun, and when he danced, he did so with enthusiasm. Daniel explained that in his tradition dancing was a way to purify the soul and to promote spiritual joy. Unlike the Catholic priests, he seemed much more concerned with this life than the next, and the care of his flock was his reason for living.
He had never, for example, expressed disappointment that she wasn’t a Jew, though in his eyes, a Jewish man marrying a Gentile would not be acceptable. He never suggested she convert or even follow Jewish teachings in her classroom. Instead, he called occasionally and taught the children a little of the ways of their faith, and she always felt some of the tuition was directed at her. At the farm, he did more in-depth study with the children, and Liesl and Erich attended too.
‘Of course, Rabbi, how can I help?’ Elizabeth knew what was coming.
He began, his low resonant voice never changing tone. ‘Daniel told me what you said.’
She nodded, then waited as he paused. Did he want her to answer? Since having heard the harrowing stories of those who got out of Germany, he’d been even more fatalistic than normal.
He fixed her with a look, and she suppressed the urge to smile. The rabbi never asked for anyone’s advice – he was the undisputed leader of his group and was completely sure of his divine right to rule.
She knew from Daniel that the others got frustrated when he didn’t seem to share their horror and outrage about what was happening. He would merely shrug as the latest atrocity was discussed and say something enigmatic, such as, ‘It was always thus.’
Death, to him, no matter the circumstances, was to be welcomed. It was how one returned to God, and that was the ultimate aim of all Jews. He was circumspect about the war, explaining that Jews had always been persecuted and always would be. He explained to his flock how they were the chosen people and God chose them to suffer in return for eternal salvation. His seeming acceptance of the behaviour of the Nazis as part of God’s plan drove the others mad, but it was how he saw it.
He was traditional in his views on other matters as well. The roles of men and women were, in his book, very clearly defined and should not be tampered with. That he was asking the opinion of a woman, and a Gentile on top of that, would certainly cause some eyebrows to raise at the farm.
‘Please elucidate your thoughts.’
For a man who didn’t speak English when he arrived, he had mastered the language wonderfully.
‘Well,’ Elizabeth began, ‘I know what you found out, unbelievable as it is. But I think, as I said to Daniel, the most important thing is that the children feel they are secure and loved and that, no matter what, they will be cared for.’ She tried to gauge his reaction.
As usual, he remained impassive but was listening intently. ‘I am glad you have been thinking about this too. It has been on my mind, on all of our minds, what should be said. Please, go on.’
‘Very well. I’ve been thinking. We need to explain that once the war is over, it won’t happen right away that anyone will go anywhere. That the entire continent is in chaos and communications will be basic if they exist for civilians at all, so they shouldn’t expect their parents to make contact immediately. I know it is likely that for many of them, there will not be a family reunion, but that is something we cannot say for sure nor do we know anything about individuals, so I think our focus should be on making them feel secure and happy and allay any concerns that they will be put back on a train.’
The rabbi nodded slowly, and Elizabeth knew she would have to say the difficult bit next.
‘And while, of course, the fact that many Jews are in heaven will certainly give them comfort in time, I think children are more immediate and think only in the now. It is the way of the young, so I think it would be important to acknowledge their worries for the future, and to make sure they feel that Ballycreggan and the farm are home for as long as they want them to be.’
She hoped he would not take offence. She was essentially suggesting he would need to tone down the divine plan line of preaching and try to see them as frightened little boys and girls worried about their families.
Rabbi Frank waited a long time before responding. She had grown used to this trait of his over the years – he had no concept of an awkward silence.
‘Faith is important at all junctures of life, Mrs Lieber, a knowledge that this, no matter how sad now, is all part of God’s plan. Surely that is comforting?’ His intelligent eyes bore into hers.
‘It is,’ she agreed, but she was determined for the children’s sake that he understand her point. ‘But it is also important to understand that this life, the one we are living here and now, is valuable, and that we are the adults in charge and that everything is going to be all right, whatever the outcome. It seems inevitable that some of these children at least will face a dark realisation in the future, but for now, we just need them to know they are safe. If they have to face loss in the future, then we will help them through that as well, but let’s not preempt what we don’t know.’ She was sailing close to the wind, she knew. Nobody ever contradicted him.
‘You have known loss yourself?’ he asked.
‘Yes. My first husband was killed on the last day of the Great War. The armistice had been signed, but they wanted to have a symmetry to the peace accord, have it signed on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. I’m sure they thought it would look better in the history books, but my husband, a Jew from the North of England, was shot and killed at nine thirty. The deal had been struck for Germany to surrender at 5 a.m. that morning, it seems, but he died four hours later. For nothing. So some generals could make an historic statement. I was so angry for so long. I lost the child I was carrying. So I lost him and our baby, and it almost killed me too.’ Her words were barely a whisper now. Even after all these years, and after finding love again with Daniel, she still felt that loss.
‘Could anyone have helped you? Given you comfort in those dark days?’ he asked, and she felt a rush of admiration a
nd love for the old rabbi. He wanted to help them when they faced the inevitable truth, but he didn’t know how.
‘No. Not really. But the best way to support someone who is grieving is just to be there. To not try to make it better or explain it away, but just to be there and let them cry, let them endure the pain. Just be beside them so they know they are not alone.’
He nodded slowly once more. ‘You are a good woman, Mrs Lieber. God knew what he was doing when he sent you to us.’
‘I’m glad you feel like that. I certainly feel very blessed at how my life has turned out. I don’t have the answers, and I’m just trying to do the right thing, as you are. We worry – we have come to love these children as our own. For many of the little ones who came here as toddlers, this is the only home they’ve ever known, and so what is said will have to be tempered to be appropriate for them. But the older ones, they have heads full of memories and hearts full of longing to be reunited with their families. They read the news and they’re worried. We need to try our best to make them feel secure.’
‘My wife died young, we had no children, I should have remarried I suppose but, I couldn’t bring myself to replace her, and now I lack that – I don’t know what is the word – empathy, I think, that comes from having a family of your own.’ the old rabbi said sadly.
‘I disagree.’ Elizabeth smiled. ‘You have led and held that place together through all of this. You were the one to bring the people from the farm to patch the village up when it was bombed, you reached out to the priest and the vicar, and now you’re friends. You share the produce from the farm with the village, and they in turn share with you all. You’re the reason that happens. Those children see you as an anchor in a life that has been cast adrift, and they know you love them. When you were in London, they were counting the days until you got back. They love you too.’ She hesitated to use that word as he’d never said it to the best of her knowledge, but his actions showed how much he cared for each one of them. ‘You have a strong sense of connection to them, and you want what’s best –’
‘But sometimes,’ he interrupted, holding his hands up to stop her speaking, ‘I don’t let them feel what they feel. I try to explain that this is temporary.’ He waved his hand about. ‘All of this, it is nothing when compared with the world to come! But yes…now that I have spoken to you, I can see how that might not be helpful.’ His shoulders fell. ‘My job as a rabbi is to ensure my people keep the commandments, their afterlife is for them and God to deal with, but when this life is so…I don’t know…so difficult to rationalise, to explain, I fear I am failing them.’
‘You are not. I just think we need to deal with their immediate worries first, but when the time comes to talk to them, afterwards, if they get bad news, then they will need your comfort. Knowing for sure that their loved ones are somewhere beautiful and safe and free from pain will reassure them, of course it will. But yes, the initial conversation has to be a reassuring one. You are a human being, trying your best under such incomprehensible conditions, like us all, you can’t explain this. Nobody can, it’s insane. We’ll do this together, all of us, and hopefully they will feel our love and support.’
Chapter 12
Ariella waited until ten thirty to be sure. The meeting with the policeman had rattled her – and she had no intention of keeping the date – but at least she knew her papers would pass inspection. She would need to lie low because if that was his beat, then he would presumably look for her in the days after her non-appearance at the rendezvous. She’d tried to think of another way out of it, but even half an hour after the event, she couldn’t see what she could have done differently. She had taken the only course available to her and accepted his invitation.
Quickly, she crossed the street, skirting around a tangle of metal that once was a tram. A group of children stood on the corner eyeing her, and she tried not to glance in their direction. She went down a narrow alleyway that led to the back of the houses where Nathaniel and Gretel lived. She and Peter had been down that way once before, when they lent Liesl’s crib to their friends for Kurt… It was hard to equate the swaggering Hitler Youth with that sweet little baby. They’d brought it in round the back way as that door was wider. Ariella tried not to think about Kurt.
She let herself into the backyard. There was a nice patio area that caught the afternoon sun there. How often had she and Gretel sat there sipping coffee while the children played in the sandpit?
Before she could raise her hand to knock, the door opened and a terrified-looking Gretel pulled her into the back hall behind the kitchen.
‘Ariella, I thought you’d… Look, never mind, did anyone see you?’ Gretel hissed.
‘No…no, I don’t think so, but –’
‘Nobody would recognise you anyway, even if they did.’
Ariella noted that the same was true of Gretel. She now was thin and drawn. Hard lines had worn into her face and deep grooves ran between her nose and mouth. She had a few-days-old dark-purple bruise on her cheek.
‘Gretel, I need your help. I’m sorry to impose again, but…’ Ariella began, but the other woman stared incredulously.
‘Ariella, I can’t help you. Of course I can’t! If Kurt knew, if he said anything…’ A look of sheer terror crossed her face.
‘Well, perhaps Nathaniel?’ Ariella was desperate.
‘Nathaniel?’ Gretel sounded bewildered.
Ariella wondered if she’d gone a bit soft in the head. Some people’s nerves couldn’t take the bombing.
‘Gretel,’ Ariella spoke slowly and gently. ‘Is Nathaniel here?’
To her horror, she saw Gretel blink back tears as she shook her head.
‘Where is he?’ Ariella asked, afraid of the answer.
‘Gone. They came for him. He had a radio. I begged him to get rid of it, but he wanted to hear the BBC. He was reported and arrested and sent somewhere, I don’t know where, and I can’t ask because Kurt… Oh, Ariella…’ The final words were lost in a sob.
Without thinking, Ariella took a step towards her old friend and put her arms around her. ‘Oh, Gretel, my dear…’ She had no other words of consolation.
‘It was Kurt – he reported his own father. He’s one of them, our own son. I’m afraid, Ariella. I can’t believe I gave birth to him. He’s a monster, and the girls are terrified of him too. He hits them, and me too sometimes.’ She touched her cheek. ‘And he taunts me, saying that Nathaniel is dead, that he was a traitor, an enemy of the Reich.’ The words tumbled from her in a torrent of fear and emotion.
How could this have happened? A beautiful sunny boy, one of them, denouncing his father, a man who loved him so much?
‘If Kurt thought for a moment you survived, that you were still here, Ariella… You must get away from here, get out of Berlin!’
‘But what about you? Isn’t there something you can do?’ Ariella, despite her own dire situation, wanted to help her old friend. ‘Couldn’t you go to Lena and Martin’s in Dresden?’ She and Peter had met Nathaniel’s sister and her husband several times over the years.
‘Martin was sent to the Eastern Front – he’s gone. And Lena caught typhus and died last winter. I wanted to take their boys in, but Kurt refused. I don’t know where they are now. I wish he’d have allowed it – they are his little cousins – but Kurt only has one family now and it is not us. It’s like they’ve possessed him.’
It was clear that all Gretel felt was loss and pain. No matter what he had done, she still loved her boy, or at least the boy he had been.
‘Oh, Gretel, I’m so sorry.’ Ariella released her.
‘So you see, Ariella, you must go, and don’t come back here – it’s too dangerous. Everyone spies now, everyone. Nobody trusts anyone else… That is what they have turned us into.’ Gretel pulled her thin cardigan around herself. ‘If it weren’t for the girls, I would end my life. For me, there is no life without Nathaniel, and he isn’t coming back…’
‘You don’t know that…’ Ariella pro
tested.
Gretel smiled, the saddest smile Ariella had ever seen. She shook her head. ‘No, Nathaniel isn’t coming back, nor is Peter, and the chances are one of those bombs will get us too. I hope you don’t get killed – Liesl and Erich might still be out there somewhere. But there is nothing for me. My girls either. What will be left when all of this is over? Nothing. Nothing at all.’ She sighed, and it sounded like it came from the depths of her soul. Ariella could see her exhaustion; she looked like she was to the point of collapse. ‘They say the Russians will get here first, and what to do with two pretty young girls then, eh? How will I protect them?’
Ariella had no answer. And Gretel didn’t expect one.
‘So go, my friend, and good luck. I hope you see your children again, and I hope that for mine, the end is at least quick.’ Gretel went to an almost empty cupboard and took out a can. She gave it to Ariella. ‘It’s not much, but it might keep you alive that one extra day you need. It’s all we have.’
‘I can’t take your last food. The girls might –’
Gretel shook her head and pushed the can at her. ‘My children work for the führer now and eat at the barracks. Even the girls. They are in the girls’ brigade, and all day, they stay with those people, believing their lies, and I cannot say a word. Kurt has got to them too, so they would denounce me just like he did with their father.’
Ariella was shocked.
‘I don’t recognise my own children any more. I’m afraid of them. They have been so indoctrinated…’ She pointed to her temple and whispered, ‘They get inside their heads, the teachers, the youth leaders. Parents don’t matter, nobody matters but the führer and the Fatherland. Thank God you got Liesl and Erich out, Ariella. It was such a lucky day.’ Gretel shook her head. ‘I wish we’d sent ours too, but they have been trapped. They might be perfect Aryans, but believe me, they are every bit as enslaved as yours would have been if they’d stayed.’
The Emerald Horizon (The Star and the Shamrock Book 2) Page 8