It Was That Night

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It Was That Night Page 20

by Rikke Barfod


  What a nuisance. I want to go to school. Now that I am friends with Ellen again, it would be exceedingly nice seeing Prissy-Lissy’s face when she realizes that Ellen sticks up for me once more.

  I rise. My legs do feel a bit wobbly. Mum’s probably right. Bother.

  When I come down to the kitchen Mum says, “I’ve just been talking to Kirsten.”

  “And?”

  “Kirsten said to tell you that she is giving the whole class a week to write an essay about the Jews escaping Denmark. It might be a good idea for you to write about why we went to Germany.”

  I stare at Mum. “Are you stupid or what?”

  “Language, Claire.”

  “But honestly, Mum they’ll never stop bullying me. I might as well wear a sign on my forehead saying: ‘freak’.”

  “Put one on your back, too.” Mum grins. “I really think it would be a good idea.”

  Jacov interrupts, “Liebschen, think of what you have done. Without you, I would not be sitting here in this beautiful kitchen …” He stops embarrassed. I give him a hug. He is very sweet sometimes. And equally important, his table manners are changing for the better. And he doesn’t fart so much. Maybe it doesn’t matter how you eat when you live alone. Jacov has told me how they fought over the food in the camp.

  “Ach ja, I still remember looking at a person who had just grabbed half a piece of bread from a small boy. The man looked utterly ashamed. But he still gobbled it down.”

  “Do people really get like that?” I ask, bewildered.

  “Some do. But there were also the few who would rather give than take.”

  Mum says, “To return to the essay, I think it might help the other children to understand how – even if a war has ended – it still has far reaching ramifications.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mum draws up her chair, “Think, Claire. You heard Jacov tell about all the people walking around after the war.”

  “Yeah.” What’s mum getting at?

  “Not only that but thousands of children never found their parents again, and vice versa.”

  “Well, what’s that got to do with me?” I ask rather grumpily.

  “Some people will not forgive the Germans and will carry that hate around with them. Even in the state of Israel, which should have been a sanctuary of peace, they seem to think that because of the Holocaust they have the right of revenge. It is so very strange that people do not seem to have learned from the war.”

  Mum gives me a hug, “Also, it might make you proud of your gift.”

  “Hah.” I’m going to scream next time somebody calls it a gift. It’s a curse. I twist my hands together and look at them to avoid saying something very rude.

  “Seriously, if it wasn’t for you, I would never have met my father – nor would you know your grandfather. And Isaac would not feel forgiven.”

  I chew on that a bit. I don’t want to be someone because of that cursed ability of being able to see things others don’t.

  “But Mum, Ursula has not returned.”

  Mum sighs, “Maybe she’s finally left her strange existence.”

  “I wish she would come back. Everything is so unfinished.”

  “You’re right. So will you write the essay? Mogens also thinks it’s a good idea.”

  I jump up: “Have you talked to Dad?” Happiness spreads through me. “Is he coming home?”

  “Not yet. Stay in bed today and get well and use your days writing that essay, then we’ll see.”

  I think about it. I like writing, but ... I’ll have to tell a lot of personal things and ... will I be bullied again?

  “Okay, I’ll try. But where do I start?”

  Mum smiles.”The beginning would be a good place.”

  “Yeah but …”

  “Begin with the day you saw Ursula for the first time.”

  I do. It is difficult. It is not easy getting started. I am saved by Ellen who pops by. She also thinks it’s a shame I got ill.

  “I don’t know why you think it would be better to sleep on the ground than in your bed,” she says, sounding exactly like her strict grandmother.

  Later, Mum tells me another reason for the project: “We can’t risk having the children making fun of Jacov. It could so easily happen, you know.”

  Do I know! He trots around muttering to himself, and doesn’t always know where he is. Most of the time he calls me Ursula. He sighs a lot, and swears to himself for not going to see Ursula when he had the chance. Other times he shouts at me and Mum: “You have cheated me. Ursula doesn’t exist anymore.” After a while he will calm down when Mum points out that without me seeing Ursula we would not have set out to find him.

  Other times we sit and talk normally. He tells me about the time he was young and met Leah.

  “Ach, she was so beautiful. First, of course, it was Hannah, but Ruben got her. I lived in a small village in Poland. You understand, I just couldn’t stand sitting there in that dark cobbler’s room, repairing people’s threadbare shoes. One day I just left, without a penny to my name.”

  “But how did you get food?”

  “Some times I didn’t. I worked as a casual labourer whenever possible. It was very common to do that. When I arrived in Heidelberg and was walking around looking for some work I passed a furniture shop.”

  Jacov’s eyes light up at the memory. “You can’t imagine the workmanship of those pieces of furniture. “This is what I want to learn,” I said to myself, walked in and persuaded Rosenstein to apprentice me.”

  I see happy pictures from his head and ask: “Who is Rosenstein?”

  “Leah’s and Hannah’s father, of course.”

  He is silent for a long time. Stares back into the past.

  “What was I saying? Yes, Rosenstein. He didn’t really want to apprentice me, and stipulated a trial period of just one week. It was like entering heaven. My hands knew exactly what to do.”

  Jacov drinks a swig of coffee – almost without slurping. “You wouldn’t believe it, would you, when you look at these, now.”

  He holds out his gnarled brown-spotted hands. “But with a piece of furniture they still know exactly what to do. So, Rosenstein kept me on, and Leah and I got married and had Ursula. Kleine Ursula...”

  Again, he stares at nothing for a long time.

  “What then?” I ask.

  “Was is das? Oh yes, the shop. I took it over as well as the house. Rosenstein, he moved back to Poland. We were very happy. And Ursula was born. But then we had to escape to Denmark. Also there the war came. But slowly, it started to turn. Hope was flowering in my heart again and Leah and I dared to start another baby.”

  He looks searchingly at me, “Claire, you shouldn’t sit here and talk to an old man – you have to schreiben – to write your essay.”

  Sighing resignedly, I walk upstairs and read the first line – which is all I managed to write yesterday: “The whole thing began in class, the first day after the Easter holidays. A new girl …”

  It is not that difficult once I get going. But it will be a long essay.

  

  Chapter 40

  Claire

  Monday 30. May 1983

  I am so nervous I almost wet myself when Kirsten says:

  “Claire has not been in school for a couple of days”

  “A couple of days!” Lissy hisses loudly.

  Kirsten trails her fingers through her hair and pretends not to hear the interruption.

  “You have all had to write an essay about the escape of the Jews to Sweden. I have also asked Claire to write about why it has been impossible for her to attend school.”

  I get up. Normally, I am very shy but when I begin talking it isn’t hard at all. I start reading:

  “War never ends, my mother says. After war, too many people carry scars. This is a story about my family, and what the war did to us. We are not the heroes. We are the victims.”

  Prissy-Lissy whispers something to Karen. They both snigger, bu
t I continue: “When a war is over …” I stop. Where is that scent of apples coming from? I stare open-mouthed towards Peter.

  “She really can’t take her eyes off Peter, can she?” Karen whispers loudly. The whole class bursts out laughing, apart from Ellen who is staring at me.

  “Ursula,” I gasp. “Where have you been?”

  The class goes dead silent. I walk over to Ursula and take her hand. “Ursula, please come home, Jacov is waiting in my house. He is getting ill from longing to see you.”

  I walk out the door, holding Ursula’s hand. Kirsten doesn’t even try to stop me. When we reach the bottom of the stairs Ursula disappears.

  I run home faster than I’ve ever run before. “Dear God or whoever you are, please let her be there. Don’t let her disappear again. And please, please, make Jacov be able to see her.”

  I run into the house, totally out of breath. Is she here? I open a couple of doors until I find her in the living room.

  “Where is he?” she asks.

  I sniff. Yes, a smell of scones comes from the kitchen. “The kitchen, I think. That’s where he normally is.”

  I open the door. Jacov sits in the armchair reading. Mum has put this chair in the kitchen, because Jacov prefers sitting there. Ursula hesitatingly takes a step towards him.

  “Pappi, is that really you?”

  “Ursula, Matoki, sweetheart,” he mutters, tears suddenly streaming down his cheeks. His face is lit by the biggest smile I have ever seen. I wait nervously at the door. Will he also be able to see her?”

  He does. He holds out his arms and Ursula flies into them. “You’re old,” she cries.

  “Liebe, liebe Ursula.” His words are being sucked out like they can’t bear to leave him.

  I silently close the door and rush into the living room to phone Mum. When she throws her bicycle against the hedge I open the door.

  “They’re in the kitchen,” I say.

  We wait. I can’t sit still. Neither can Mum. She straightens the pictures, removes dead leaves from the plants, looks at the newspaper, puts it down again. It’s worse than waiting for Christmas morning.

  Finally, we hear Jacov opening the door. His face is wet from tears, but it shines like a full moon.

  Mum hugs Ursula. “I’m so happy you’re here. I’ll phone Isaac and ask him to come over.”

  “That’s a very good idea,” Jacov says as he sits down again.

  Ursula crawls onto Jacov’s lap. She too looks radiant – I dare not say other-worldly. “My Pappi,” she whispers. He sits, stroking her awkwardly with his stiff fingers.

  “Can you see her?” I blurt out.

  He doesn’t get offended. Simply answers, “Yes.”

  For a while I sit and stare at them. Suddenly I feel anger boiling up inside for all the doubt and heartache we’ve been through.

  “Why in the name of all the heavens didn’t you come before?”

  Ursula hangs her head. “I wasn’t sure. I needed to think and try to understand. I’m sorry.”

  She looks so forlorn that my anger melts away.

  “You know, it’s not easy to accept that I’ve been dead for so long – and that I have to leave you all again.”

  I guess not. Hey, what does she mean with ‘leave you all again?’

  Nobody says anything for a long time. The only sound is Mum’s off-key singing, and the sizzling from the frying pan.

  “What will you do now, Ursula?” I ask when the silence becomes too long.

  “Soon I’ll go to Mutti. First, I’ll be with Pappi. I’m so happy that he will stay here with you.”

  I have been thinking about something for a long time. It seems now is the time to ask – even if it is a bit embarrassing:

  “Ursula, how come you didn’t know you were dead when you couldn’t eat or smell or go to the toilet? And were you not surprised that you could see?” As soon as the question leaves my mouth, I become mortified. My face goes scalding hot.

  “Oh, no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Forget it.”

  Mum turns around – the last note stuck in her throat. Jacov looks as if a brick has knocked him on the head, but Ursula actually laughs:

  “I don’t really know. You see, I just drifted off without thinking. I can’t really explain it. Like when I first met you in school it didn’t really feel strange to tell you my story. I sort of just knew you were there. I haven’t really thought about it before, so I am glad you asked. And seeing things – of course, I knew my eyes couldn’t see, but it still felt natural to see again.”

  The embarrassment lingers until Mum says: “Dinner is ready.”

  After dinner Ellen phones, and asks if I want to come over. I tell her no.

  “Too much is happening here.”

  “Okay. Have fun with your ghosts.”

  I go upstairs looking for my biology book: It’s time I did something about homework. When I rake it out from my bookshelf I notice the box Doctor Heinz gave me in Frankfurt. Wow, I’d better bring it down to the kitchen so we can all look at the contents.

  Jacov’s face is pale when I begin taking things out of the box. Ursula shouts with joy, “All my picture postcards.” She flicks through them. Jacov picks up a photo album. Mum sits down beside him; they leaf through the album.

  “How beautiful she looks,” Mum whispers. I join them and look at the wedding picture of Leah and Jacov. It is true. Leah looks very beautiful in her old-fashioned wedding dress. She has a radiant smile – and she does look a lot like mum.

  Ursula keeps bringing things out of the box. “My teddy bear,” she wails and hugs an old teddy bear close.

  By now the kitchen table looks like a table at a flea market. Things all over the place. Ursula looks with shining eyes at a porcelain angel and holds it tight. “I want that with me in the coffin,” she says.

  Jacov chokes on his coffee and Mum puts her cup down with a clang. But they don’t say anything. And I don’t ask.

  

  Chapter 41

  Claire

  31st May 1983

  I’m tired; we have been up very late talking. Isaac came after dinner. I wonder what he thinks. He can still only hear Ursula. When he enters the room his whole body looks apprehensive with drooping shoulders. But then Ursula says:

  “I talked with Pappi. He reminded me how much you used to look out for me – and also that you too were a child at the time. But you were my Isaac who had promised to help me.”

  Isaac looks stricken. Ursula continues, “So now I have found Pappi, I forgive the boy you were.”

  His whole face lights up. He stammers, “Thank you, Ursula.” And God help me if the tears don’t start falling again.

  “I know,” he says, seeing my face. “But this time I cry with happiness.”

  Jacov says, “I understand. One can’t carry so much guilt around.”

  Good thing Dad isn’t around. For a psychiatrist, he really has some strong ideas about men not crying. It is still very difficult for Jacov to understand that Ursula is a ghost. None of us actually feel she is any different. She acts and looks so normal.

  Isaac is staying over, and when we go to bed Jacov asks: “But Ursula, where will you sleep?”

  Before closing my door, I overhear Isaac saying to Mum: “Now I can finally start living again.”

  I don’t want to, but Mum persuades me to go to school.

  “Mum, they are all going to laugh. They’ll tease me from here to the moon and beyond.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Keep your head high, and be proud.” Mum pats me on my back.

  “Proud!”

  “Yes, proud of your gift. Off you go.” She kisses me and opens the door.

  It’s so easy for her to say. I time it so I arrive just as the bell rings. Fortunately, some of the others have to read their essays before it’s my turn.

  It’s not easy. The whole class is already sniggering when I get up. Peter squirms in his seat. Everybody glances in his direction.

  I look de
sperately at Ellen. She nods that ‘you-can-do-it’ nod. Instead of starting from the beginning, I say loudly – is that my voice? – It sounds something between a shout and a croak.

  “I know you don’t understand what happened yesterday when I began telling you my family’s story. It probably looked very odd when I left.”

  Prissy-Lissy’s whisper is very loud, “It definitely did, Freak. They should have taken you straight to the asylum.”

  Kirsten turns and gives Lissy one of those looks, daring her to say anything more. I choose to ignore Lissy and continue:

  “My real grandparents were Jews and lived in Germany. During Kristallnacht their only daughter, Ursula, was blinded by falling shards of glass. She was only eight years old..”

  It is easy now. I see the whole story in my head. I tell them about Jacov’s life in the concentration camp. Many of the others hold their hands in front of their eyes. Jens puts his fingers in his ears:

  “I can’t bear hearing about it,” he wails.

  “When my grandfather told us these things my mother said: “If you could survive living there, we can survive hearing about it.”

  Jens looks desperately at me, but removes his fingers.

  “So, when Jacov refused to come to his former house, where Ursula sat waiting for him in the garden, Ursula could not understand it. She got extremely sad. I don’t know where she’s been for the past two weeks, but do you know that she spent most of the last forty years in our cupboard?”

  Everybody looks at the cupboard. Maybe they expect Ursula to pop out.

  “The cupboard had jammed severely. Her family thought she’d left with everyone else. It wasn’t until they reached Sweden that they realized she was missing. When our classroom was made, Ursula’s skeleton was discovered.”

  A collective gasp fills the class. But I continue: “She had a favourite place under her apple tree in her old garden back in Heidelberg. A family with two small children lives in the house now. Those children can see Ursula. They often play with her when she is there.”

  I continue telling about how we found Jacov.

  “It was very hard for all of us when Ursula disappeared again for such a long time. I am so happy that she came back and that Jacov too, is able to see her. I know it sounds very weird to you, but for me she looks as real as you guys.”

 

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