by Rikke Barfod
“Hi, Ursula,” I say.
Ursula doesn’t look at all surprised when she sees us. “This is my tree. Do you remember it, Isaac?”
Isaac shakes his head.
The children look wonderingly at us. “Who are you? Why are you here?” the bigger one, a boy, asks.
“We want to talk to Ursula,” I answer.
A woman comes out of the house. “What are you doing in my garden? Please leave immediately.”
“Is this your house?” Isaac asks.
The woman looks confused and angry at the same time when she answers: “Of course.”
“But it belongs to my uncle. He fled from here in 1938.” Isaac sounds super polite.
“I know nothing of that. My parents used to live here. We bought it from them five years ago,” the woman says in a voice reeking of insolence and maybe a little fear.
“I would be interested in knowing who your parents bought it from.” Isaac is still polite. You can hear that funny way of talking people have when the air comes out through their clamped teeth.
“Go away or I’ll call the police,” the woman shouts.
Isaac turns to where he thinks Ursula is, “Will you come with us to Doctor Heinz?” he asks.
The woman seems to make herself broader, arms akimbo: “My children aren’t going to no doctor; I don’t know what you’re on about.” The woman is very indignant.
“I’m not talking to your children.”
“Who then?” the woman sniffs.
The oldest child smiles and says, “He’s talking to that girl under the tree.”
The woman snorts. “There’s nobody there,” she says and herds the children inside. She turns, arms still akimbo, making sure we leave.
Ursula smiles, waves goodbye to the children, takes my hand and walks with us to the street. Then she disappears. I look back. The woman is staring after us, with her jaw hanging down. The air almost vibrates with her anger.
“Mum, Ursula didn’t say if she was coming to the doctor.”
“I know. We’ll just have to see what happens.”
We walk back to Doctor Heinz’s house.
This time, Doctor Heinz is in. His face has nice laughter wrinkles at the mouth. He stoops a bit. He doesn’t look as old as that strange grandfather of mine. He has nice twinkling eyes. And a good handshake. I feel that hand-shakes are very important. Some people’s handshakes are like putting your hands into soft dough. Doctor Heinz keeps looking at me and Mum.
“Leah, Ursula?” he asks and shakes his head. “No, that can’t be.”
Isaac tells him who we are and why we have come.
Doctor Heinz asks us into his study. His wife comes out from the kitchen and he tells her who we are.
“Ah, now I understand. You look so much like Leah,” she says to Mum.
She brings coffee and cakes into the study and sits down with us. The study looks a bit like Dad’s study, full of books, but it has nice easy chairs.
“How is the good Doctor Birnstein? And your mother?”
Isaac smiles his lopsided smile, “Not much doctor about him now. Spends his time sorting oranges.”
Doctor Heinz tut-tuts. “Oh dear. He was such an eminent surgeon. We used to work together you know. He came here with your mother to see Jacov. When was it? 1963? It was not a good visit.”
“Yes, and that’s why we’re here.” Isaac quickly tells the whole story.
Isaac speaks in German, so I don’t understand very much. I know the story anyway.
“Ach, nein,” Doctor Heinz says, after Isaac tells him about the cupboard and Ursula being shut in.
When Isaac finishes, Doctor Heinz says: “Ach so, Jacov’s daughter and granddaughter. I can’t believe it.” He gives Mum a hug. “Sarah,” he says, “you look so much like Leah. If only they had told him then. But I dissuaded them not to. Ach, ja.”
“Told whom what?” Isaac asks.
“Your mother did tell me about the baby, when she and doctor Ruben were here.” Dr. Heinz says to Isaac. He looks at Mum. “But I didn’t think that Jacov could handle any more news at the time. Your mother told me that the baby had been adopted – and maybe they wanted to bring Jacov with them to Israel. I asked him later if he wanted to go. He just swore at me.”
He sighs. “But what is it you want me to do?”
Mum clasps her hands hard together and asks: “Could you go with us to see Jacov? He might talk to you.”
“Gott im Himmel,” Doctor Heinz says. “Of course, I will come. But don’t get your hopes up. Maybe he won’t talk to me either.” He bustles around finding his car keys. “Jacov has been through so much. What exactly do you want me to say?”
“Persuade him to talk to us,” Mum says. “It’s so important for Ursula to see him.”
“Ursula!” Doctor Heinz looks around in an effort to see whether Ursula should be hiding behind us.
“But Ursula, where is she?”
“Floating around,” I say.
Chapter 31
Claire
Heidelberg
Monday 18th April 1983
We have lunch with Doctor Heinz and his wife, Helene. Their dining room looks a bit like Granny and Granddad’s dining room: Old fashioned. Heavy furniture. Helene serves us strange German bread and cold meat tasting like cardboard. Mum has that look daring me to say anything about the food. Afterwards, the Doctor drives us up to Jacov.
“Why couldn’t Ursula come with us?” I whisper to Mum.
“I think she can only float or materialize or whatever she does – to places where she’s been before,” Mum answers.
“But don’t you remember, she told us she’s been at Doctor Heinz’s lots of times before.”
Mum shrugs her shoulders.
The Doctor drives much faster than Isaac. I have to shut my eyes at the bends. This time Mum talks continually, as if she is scared her words will dry out.
“Stay in the car until I’ve talked with him,” Doctor Heinz says when we arrive at Jacov’s house. He knocks at the door. Jacov comes out, scowling. It’s easy to hear what’s being said. The air is so still.
“Oh, it’s you. Too many people come today.”
Heinz beams at him: “Jacov, I bring you a fantastic gift. A daughter and a granddaughter.”
“Daughter!” Jacov’s voice sounds incredulous.
“Yes, Sarah, your daughter.”
“She is dead.” Jacov spits at the ground. “They couldn’t even take care of a pregnant woman and a blind girl.”
“No, not Ursula. Sarah. You never listened, when Hannah and Ruben were here.”
Jacov spits again. “Them! They only looked after themselves.”
Doctor Heinz makes a sweeping gesture with his arms: “Jacov listen. Leah gave birth to a daughter, Sarah. She survived.”
“Ursula?”
Heinz’s voice is full of tears. “No, Jacov old friend, I’m so sorry, Ursula did die during the escape.”
Jacov sends another big gob of spittle to the ground. “They just looked after themselves.”
“Jacov, thats not what this is all about. It is about the living.” Doctor Heinz’s voice sounds a bit irritated.
Mum gets out of the car. So do I.
Jacov mutters: “Why are all these people here? And who is that girl? She looks like Ursula. Why is she wearing trousers? So is the woman.”
“Jacov, they have only just found out.”
Jacov lowers himself with difficulty to the bench outside the house.
“Who has just found what out?” he asks.
Heinz starts to say something and sits down besides Jacov.
It looks like Jacov is getting up again. “I don’t want to…,” he says.
I hear Mum take a deep breath. She looks very pale. She takes a step forward, stops – then walks over and sits beside Jacov. Heinz gets up again.
Jacov looks at her. “Leah?” He asks. His voice sounds like an eagle taking off in blinding sunshine, so full of
hope. I feel tears gather in my eyes. I can see him properly now when he is sitting down and not hunched over. His face looks old and wrinkled. He has a large scar on his forehead. Most of the time I can’t see it. His long unkempt hair hides it.
Jacov stares at Mum. “But, Leah is dead. Who are you?” His voice gets shrill. “Go away, all of you.”
Mum takes his hand. “Pappi,” she says.
A spasm goes through Jacov. “But, but are you really Sarah? Or are you Ursula? My little Ursula.”
“I am Sarah.”
“It can’t be. They said you both died.”
“I didn’t die. I am Sarah,” Mum says, tears running down her cheeks.
“Pappi, I have longed to see you for such a long time. But they told me not to come. They said you did not want to see anybody.”
Jacov sits still as a stone. “But, Leah?” he asks.
“She died after giving birth to me,” Mum says. “I am so sad I never knew her, Pappi.”
‘Pappi’, why does she call him that? That’s what Ursula always says. Jacov looks at her for a long time. He shakes his head again, as if he does not understand what’s going on.
“Pappi,” Mum says again. “I need to tell you a long story about Ursula.”
His face crumples in confusion. He nods.
As quickly as she can, Mum tells the story Ursula told us about the escape. I stay in the background near the car with Doctor Heinz. Isaac is still in the car. I look at Jacov – I just cannot think of him as my grandfather or Mum’s father. His face looks like crumpled paper. As I look, tears silently begin to silently drip from his eyes. When Mum finishes talking, Jacov sits very still. He trails a hand through his old hair.
“I don’t understand. Ursula? Why didn’t she go to Sweden with the others?”
Once more Mum tells him about the cupboard. How Ursula only recently has realized that she is dead.
Jacov looks around. “Where is she?”
“We don’t know. She comes and goes. She wants so desperately to see you.” Jacov peers at me. I walk over to the bench.
“Ursula?” he mumbles.
“Nein, ich bin Claire.” That much German I do know.
“But ... Ursula? Why didn’t she come too?”
Mum explains again, ending with: “She so much wants to see you.”
“Aber, she is dead, jah?”
“Her spirit is here in her form. You can see her and speak to her.”
He growls: “Too many ghosts. I see them all the time.”
So, he can see ghosts. I had thought a lot about it. What if he wouldn’t be able to see Ursula or hear her. Okay, one problem less. Now they just have to meet – and we can go home.
Jacov looks at Isaac and asks:
“Who is that other man? He was here this morning too.”
“That’s Isaac,” Mum says.
I look at Isaac. He squares his shoulders, gets out of the car, walks to the bench and with his hands outstretched kneels down in front of Jacov. It looks weird like he is acting in an old film.
“Forgive me, Uncle Jacov. I have carried this guilt for so many years.”
Then he cries. It’s very strange when grown-up people cry. It’s super sad, like they’d never ever cried before and pretend they are not crying. It’s almost embarrassing. They sort of try not to cry, which makes it worse. Totally weird.
Jacov stares at Isaac. “Why didn’t you save her?”
Isaac sobs even more, “I was so scared.”
Jacov lifts his arm and thrusts it threateningly at Isaac. “Go away, I don’t want to see you.”
Isaac walks back to the car with drooping shoulders. His face is scarlet. He looks utterly defeated. I start feeling sorry for him, but I agree with Jacov. He should have made sure that Ursula was out of the cupboard.
Doctor Heinz sits down besides Jacov.
“Jacov, old friend, your daughter tells you a strange story, and stranger still is the fact that she wants you to come with us to your old house, in the hope that Ursula might be there. There is nothing Ursula wants more than to see you.”
Jacov gets up shouting: “To that house! Never.”
Mum tries, “I think I know how deeply you must feel about seeing your house and …”
“They stole it.” He spits.
“I know,” Mum says. “But Pappi, we hope Ursula might be there. She was there three hours ago.”
Jacov’s face is a study in confusion: “But you tell me she is dead,”
“She is. But we – Claire and I can see her and talk to her. Isaac too can hear her voice.”
“I don’t know.” He sighs. “Kleine Ursula. She was so full of spirit, even though they destroyed her eyes. Well, I am not going back to that house, I cannot.”
Jacov collapses back on to the bench. “I don’t know. I’m tired. So much to think about.”
Doctor Heinz interrupts. “Jacov, I have to go home now. But I might come up with an idea to get the people out of the house. I will come later to fetch everybody.”
Jacov laboriously gets up. “I’m too tired. Why don’t you all come back tomorrow?”
“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay? I can cook something,” Mum says.
“You cook tomorrow. Not tonight.”
With that we leave him. Jacov turns back into the little house.
In the car Doctor Heinz says, “It has not been easy for Jacov.”
Nobody comments. Everybody has enough in their own thoughts. Isaac’s face is swollen from crying. He sighs several times.
Doctor Heinz drops us off at a hotel near his house. It’s the first time ever I have stayed in a hotel. We get two rooms, one for Isaac and one for Mum and me. Our room is a bit boring: Two beds, some chairs and a wardrobe. On the wall, an old fashioned picture of a forest.
“Mum, let’s go and see if Ursula is in the garden,” I suggest
“Eat first, then we’ll go,” Mum says.
Ursula is not in the garden. Somebody peers out from the windows. The curtains are quickly drawn. Mum and I go for a walk in the town, looking at things. We end up eating at a fancy restaurant.
That was that day.
Chapter 32
Claire
Heidelberg
Tuesday 19th April 1983
We arrive at noon. Isaac drives us there. He remains in the car when we get out. I feel really sorry for him. He looks so sad. Jacov comes out and sits down on the bench. Then he calls Isaac over.
“Heinz came back last night and talked to me. He reminded me that you too were only a child at the time. And that if you hadn’t gotten in touch with Sarah, all this might not have happened. I’ll try to forgive you. As they say: Only God can judge.”
Isaac kneels down and lays his head in Jacov’s lap. Like he did yesterday. Totally freakish. I mean, he’s not a child, is he? He is a grown-up. But maybe that’s the right thing to do. They stay like that for a while both crying. We could fill a small lake with all these tears.
I don’t know what to do. Where to look. I end up looking at my Converse shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.
It’s strange. I feel torn in two. He is so gross, this new grandfather of mine. He is very old and extremely thin. He shakes and spills his food. His clothes just hang from him. And he smells and farts a lot. He has hardly any teeth left. It is difficult to walk around in his house. Tools, jam jars, and old bits of papers on tables and chairs. And a musty and sour pong from unwashed clothes and smelly socks permeates the house. It’s much worse than Ellen’s room – and that’s saying a lot. He does talk some Danish but often he changes back to German, so it’s difficult to understand; and he will keep on calling me Ursula. When I first looked into his eyes, they looked completely dead like cod’s eyes. He begins talking and crying at the same time, and life comes back into them, and I forget all the other things. There is something about him that makes you forget his appearance. Like there’s another being, peeping out through this decrepit facade.
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At first, I talk more with Isaac than with Jacov. Isaac tells me about when he visited his maternal grandparents in Poland before the war. He wasn’t very old. He was only six years old in 1934 when they moved to Denmark. He doesn’t remember much from the visit, only that they had masses of blueberries.
Mum’s eyes run a lot. Must be weird for her, suddenly having this old tottering man as her father. But she looks happy and throws smiley glances at Jacov.
Mum bought groceries on the way and cooks us all a meal while Isaac talks to Jacov. They want me to call him granddad, Opa, in German. It sounds a bit stupid. Like a children’s song.
Isaac and Jacov speak. Suddenly, I see the pictures from Jacov’s head of what he is talking about. It can’t be true! People don’t do that to each other. Only in films. It seems my grandfather has forgiven Isaac for not getting Ursula out of the cupboard. Isaac is holding Jacov’s hand and talking and talking. It’s all in German, so I don’t understand much. They talk very fast. Mum understands. I notice that she stops chopping vegetables and just listens.
Mum has a yearning expression. I think I begin to understand. Mum’s life must have been strange, not knowing who she was. And then all this Jewish business. I am going to ask Isaac about it. If I can get to him through all these tears he’s shedding! I don’t really understand it though. You would have thought it would have been much easier not to keep all their queer rituals, so they wouldn’t have been persecuted.
I feel exhausted. I don’t know why. I am not doing anything. Maybe because it feels like everyone’s feelings are running though the house like electricity. I wish there was something I could do. Go for a walk, maybe. When we have eaten, we will all go back to Doctor Heinz in Heidelberg.
I have to avert my eyes, not to look at Jacov while eating. It’s worse with my ears. How do you close them? Anyway, afterwards Mum asks Jacov:
“Will you … Could you … I mean, how did you end up here?”
Jacov scowls, “That’s all Heinz’s fault. Didn’t he tell you anything?”
“Not really,” Mum answers looking at him expectantly.
Jacov is silent for a long time. I shiver. From his mind comes pictures of dark forests, soldiers shooting and shouting, tottering skeletons in rags.