The German Girl

by Lily Graham

  They were still laughing when they heard a strident voice calling their names inside the apartment.

  ‘Twins! Come here, now!’

  They immediately stopped laughing, and started hatching an excuse, something that would explain where they’d been. ‘Shall we say we were set upon by robbers again, Küken?’

  ‘No, we used that with the cook and it got so complicated last time, I didn’t even blame her for telling on us.’ They shared a laugh. The lie had indeed got so convoluted that it was like an adventure tale – pirates, robbers, missing gold… it had been thrilling. Until the cook lost patience and chased them around the apartment with her rolling pin. Jürgen started to giggle. ‘If I catch you I will put you in my pie!’

  Asta’s eyes danced. ‘Frau Fisher is not like Mother, who is too smart to be fooled for long. We’ll need something simple. We’ll say Tookie escaped and Herr Wilhelm offered us a reward to find him.’

  Jürgen shrugged. It was boring, but it would probably work. He frowned. ‘And we rolled in the mud—?’

  ‘Because… he had a paw stuck in some ropes by the river…’

  They nodded together. It would do. Well, until their mother asked after Herr Wilhelm’s toy poodle.

  They shuffled inside, towards the sound of their mother’s voice, the perfect excuse ready in place.

  ‘Where have you been?’ she demanded. She was a small woman, with dark blonde hair, and fierce black eyes which seemed almost to snap at them.

  ‘We – you see, Herr Wilhelm’s dog—’ Jürgen began.

  Their mother held up her hand. ‘On second thoughts, I don’t want to hear it – especially one of your long, winding tales. Not after what has happened today.’

  Asta and Jürgen shared a look. Had Polgo found out who they were – had he phoned their parents?

  ‘We can explain, Mutti… um, we didn’t mean to take your brassiere,’ said Jürgen.

  ‘Well…’ hedged Asta. ‘I mean, we did, but it was an old one – it had a hole this size,’ she said, making one as big as her head with her hands to emphasise, never letting a chance to exaggerate escape, despite the fact that her mother wasn’t exactly a heavy-breasted woman.

  ‘And we found it in the rag bag,’ lied Jürgen. They’d used one of her good ones – thinking Frederick deserved to look his best.

  Mutti blinked. ‘My brass— no, it’s not about that,’ she said. ‘Though I wish the two of you would stop and think about what you’re doing – you can’t get away with this sort of thing anymore. It’s far too dangerous.’

  ‘What’s dangerous about it? I don’t think he minds that much. I know he says he wants to skin us alive, but we have seen him laughing – even when he chases us – and the punters love it.’

  Mutti stared at them, realising they were each speaking of different things. ‘What on earth are you two talking about?’

  ‘The stuffed gorilla. What are you talking about?’

  ‘The stuffed gorilla?’

  They tried to explain, but it was hard with her frowning so fiercely.

  Mutti pinched the skin between her eyes. ‘God help me,’ she said, and she looked so crushed they both felt an overwhelming stab of guilt. ‘Come into the sitting room, your father is home early – we need to speak to you both, it’s important.’

  They followed after her in surprise. Papa was never home early. ‘Is he sick?’

  It was funny but as a doctor he was always the last person to look after himself when he was ill, always too busy looking after everyone else to take time off.

  ‘No, he is fine. He came home early because of the news.’

  ‘The news?’ asked Asta.

  Their mother nodded. Her face was grave as she made her way to the sofa where their father was sitting. The twins paused in surprise. Their dapper father, always so well-groomed, with his perfectly styled hair and starched shirts, looked dishevelled. His hair was a mess, from where he’d been rubbing his hands through it, his clothes were wrinkled and there were deep shadows beneath his eyes. But it was the look in them that caused both twins to swallow in sudden fear.

  ‘Sit down,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s something we need to tell you.’

  Jürgen closed his eyes. This had happened to his friend, Hans. He was sure of it. Now he had two fathers. His real one and someone he now had to call ‘Uncle’.

  ‘You’re getting a divorce,’ he accused them, his blue eyes wide.

  Asta gasped. ‘No!’

  To their surprise, their parents smiled for a moment. ‘I wish it were that simple, in a way,’ said their mother.

  The twins blinked at each other.

  ‘No, my dears. It’s much worse than that… and for people like us – Jews – as Hitler has been made chancellor,’ said their father.

  The twins shared wide-eyed looks. They knew about him, of course. The leader of the Nazi Party who had been making promises that he was going to turn things around for Germany. The man who blamed the Jews for everything that had gone wrong since the First World War – instead of the actual war that had caused mounting debts in reparations to many countries, not to mention the stock market crash that had occurred just four years earlier. Yet, for some reason, people believed that the Jews were to blame. When the twins had heard these claims they had always thought he seemed like a crazy, angry man, looking for someone to be crazy and angry about, and that people would see that. But maybe not.

  Jürgen frowned. ‘But—’ He looked at their mother. ‘He doesn’t mean us, though – I mean, we celebrate Christmas.’

  ‘We aren’t even really Jewish, are we?’ asked Asta. ‘It’s not like we ever go to synagogue with Granny. Surely he just means to make life hard for those Jews who don’t really see themselves as German? I mean, it’s not nice, but maybe they just need to adapt a bit more…’

  Mutti shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

  Asta wasn’t alone in that prejudice – it was a feeling shared by a lot of the more westernised Jews, that the problem was a case of not blending in enough. She’d heard her parents talk about it before – even her neighbours too. About how the very Orthodox ones were different to them… Later, they would realise how wrong that was and in time Asta would grow intensely ashamed of this prejudice, but at that moment it was just something she’d been taught – and she took comfort in the idea that Hitler’s dark plans and ideas for the future might not apply to them.

  Their father looked at them, and shook his head. ‘Somehow, I doubt we’ll seem more German to him even if we nail the Nazi flag with a cross on our door.’

  That night Jürgen lay in bed, listening to the sounds of their parents as they spoke long through the small hours. Their voices were anxious, and the mood inside the flat was tense. He couldn’t sleep. It was past two in the morning when he called out to Asta in the bed opposite. ‘You still awake?’

  ‘Yes,’ came her quiet voice. ‘Can’t sleep.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  ‘Want to play cards?’

  ‘Now?’ Asta sat up to look at him in surprise. She could just make out his tousled dark head.

  ‘I don’t know – maybe.’

  ‘Mutti and Papa will murder us if they find us up.’

  ‘I doubt it. They’re up too.’

  Asta swung her legs out of bed. He was right, of course. ‘Okay,’ she said, switching on the small bedroom light that sat on a low table between their beds. There had been a time, after they’d turned nine, that their parents had suggested that perhaps they should have their own separate rooms now they were growing up.

  ‘You might want some privacy,’ suggested Mutti delicately. ‘You know, for when you undress and that sort of thing.’

  ‘We turn our backs, Mutti, what more privacy would we need than that?’ Jürgen had asked.

  ‘Well… when you’re older things might change and you might need a bit more than that.’ Then she sighed, muttering something about why was Papa never home to explain boy things to his son, while her face turned
a bit red.

  But the suggestion had only made them upset. ‘But, Mutti, what if I wake up in the middle of the night and need someone to talk to?’

  ‘Yes, and how will I sleep without listening to Asta’s snoring. I couldn’t!’

  ‘Besides, who needs privacy from their twin?’ demanded Jürgen.

  ‘Exactly,’ agreed Asta.

  ‘Well, maybe one day you’ll change your mind…’ their mother had said. ‘It’s not a bad thing to have some space to yourself, it doesn’t mean you love each other any less.’

  ‘Course it does,’ Asta had cried, clutching Jürgen with tears in her eyes, while the boy sobbed and said he would just break the wall between them down…

  Mutti had sighed. ‘I give up – have it your way, but we will revisit this matter when you are twelve, all right?’

  ‘No!’

  She’d sighed again, and left muttering about being ganged up on… and needing a drink. ‘You two are worse than all my patients combined.’

  Mutti was a head nurse at the University Hospital Eppendorf. She organised a team of over a hundred staff. Their father was an orthopaedic surgeon and he worked in the same building. He fixed people’s bones for a living.

  The twins played cards until dawn that night, listening to the sound of their parents speaking in the front room and the noises they made when putting the kettle on for yet another cup of coffee.

  As Jürgen uncovered a Jack and an ace, giving him the winning hand to Asta’s three, seven and two, he called, ‘Siebzehn und vier.’

  As he looked up at her the dawn sun was painting the sky the colour of apricot. The wintry air was cold and crisp and the clock on the bedside table struck five thirty; they were already late for Polgo and the gorilla.

  Asta looked at the clock too and frowned. Then she picked up the cards and shuffled them. ‘Another round?’

  Jürgen nodded, feeling a deep ache inside for something he couldn’t put a name to. Something had shifted since they’d returned home the day before. It would only be many years later when he realised it was the moment they’d begun to put their childhood behind them.

  They never did dress the gorilla mascot in Polgo Hausman’s water taxi again.

  6

  At school, the Jewish teachers were seen huddling together and speaking anxiously. There were a few children whose parents were in the Nazi Party, who had begun to walk around the place as if they owned it. Like Udo Van der Welt, who told his friends that the teachers would soon be out of a job.

  The end of the school day couldn’t come fast enough for Jürgen. After he left the boys’ grammar school, he waited for Asta outside the girls’ secondary school, a five-minute walk away. They took the long route home, walking past the canals, their breath fogging the air in front of them. Neither of them noticed the cold as Jürgen told Asta all that had happened.

  ‘Of course, that wimp, Udo, never dared say that the Jewish teachers were out of a job to their faces. Just told a few of us at break – he was looking at me when he said it, though, like he was hoping for a fight.’ Jürgen balled his hands into fists. ‘I was close, I’m not going to lie – but I thought I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. So I just whistled, as if I knew something he didn’t, and said, “We’ll see,” like I knew better. I could tell it made him furious because he kicked over the rubbish bin. Luckily the biology teacher saw and he made him pick up all the rubbish by hand – and it was full of grotty things from lunch!’

  ‘Good,’ said Asta, shortly. But she had a faraway look, her face turning hard and cold. She crossed her arms, hunching over in the wind.

  ‘What’s with you?’ asked Jürgen.

  She looked at her twin and her violet eyes glittered. ‘Karen told me that she can no longer be my friend. Apparently, her parents are friends with Udo’s and they were told that the time had come to choose a side.’

  Jürgen’s eyes widened in shock. Karen had been her best friend since kindergarten – well, besides Jürgen.

  Asta nodded, looking glum. ‘Her mother said continuing a friendship with “those twins” would be “unwise”.’

  Jürgen grinned. ‘Well, it’s never exactly been wise to be our friend. Not unless you enjoy visiting the head teacher every few weeks.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Asta, who didn’t return his smile for once. ‘But this time it’s because of who we are – not for what we’ve done.’

  ‘That’s worse.’ Jürgen kicked a stray bottle out of their path; it rolled onto the street and made a satisfying crash. They couldn’t help who they’d been born.

  At school, Udo had become insufferable. His smug face was there whenever Jürgen crossed the threshold, and he was always speaking of how things were about to change – how soon they wouldn’t be allowing Jews into ‘his’ school. Jürgen did his best to ignore him but it was hard.

  He bided his time, then one day, during a biology lesson, he found his moment.

  It had meant using the last of his savings but it was worth it to buy Hennie.

  He hugged the glass jar to his side, as he unscrewed the lid, creeping softly from his seat, while the teacher’s back was turned. Then he upended the jar with Hennie inside straight onto Udo Van der Welt’s hair.

  Jürgen was already back in his seat by the time Udo had begun to scream and claw at his hair, jumping off his chair so fast it crashed onto the floor.

  ‘Get it off, get it off!’ screamed Udo.

  No one made a move. Not even the teacher.

  When Udo started to cry, Jürgen finally stepped forward, to scoop up Hennie into his outstretched hands.

  ‘All that fuss over a spider,’ he tsked at Udo.

  Udo’s fear-filled eyes flashed to hatred as realisation dawned.

  ‘They’ll expel you for this. I’ll make sure of it – I know it was you.’

  ‘They’ll have to prove it was me first,’ said Jürgen.

  ‘Who else would have brought a tarantula to school?’ he shot back.

  Despite Udo’s threats, none of the other boys snitched on Jürgen, even though one of them must have seen him with the jar. There are few things worse in the schoolroom than a snitch.

  Still, he was called into the head teacher’s office, and of course they found the jar which held the spider he’d recaptured. He wasn’t expelled, but he soon wished that he was.

  The head teacher, Herr Weimar, closed the door, then leant against his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  ‘I’ve just had a visit from Frau Van der Welt, who is most distressed about this stunt you played on Udo. She wants me to expel you… is that what you want?’

  Jürgen shook his head. His school fees were expensive, and his parents made a lot of sacrifices to send him here. They would be livid.

  The head teacher sighed, then took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

  ‘Then, I have to ask you, boy, are you stupid?’

  Jürgen blinked.

  ‘It is not a rhetorical question.’

  ‘Um, I—’

  ‘I must surmise that you are indeed stupid or woefully naive,’ said the head. Then he picked up a file. Jürgen could just see his name on top. It was worryingly thick.

  The head teacher opened it and sighed. ‘It’s full of pranks – mischief… dressing up the school cat.’ He gave a small snort. ‘I remember that. Stealing the janitor’s keys… ah, and yes, how could I forget the day your sister came disguised as the new pupil, “Anton”. It seems you had a few of the teachers fooled for most of the day…’

  Then he slammed the file shut. ‘These things, Jürgen, these pranks, need to exist in the past, do you understand me?’

  Jürgen shook his head.

  ‘You seem to not be getting something that is rather obvious.’

  ‘What?’ Jürgen asked.

  ‘Things are changing and I can tell you one thing,’ he said, touching the file, ‘time’s up.’

  ‘Time’s up?’

  Herr Weimar let out a big sigh. ‘For act
ing like an idiot. There’s zero tolerance for people like you in this country – for Jews. You’d have to be a blind idiot to try and make it so easy for people to come after you.’

  Then he put his glasses on his nose. ‘So, I ask you again, are you an idiot?’

  Jürgen swallowed. ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Good. Your detention will consist of cleaning the school bathrooms.’

  Jürgen’s eyes widened.

  ‘Every day for a month.’

  ‘It’s probably the only way he could get away with not expelling you,’ said Asta, wisely, on their way home from school.

  Jürgen looked at her. ‘That’s not true! I’m sure there’s a lot of things I could do besides cleaning toilets – you have no idea how filthy those boys can be. And when they find out it’ll be even worse – they’ll make it unbelievably disgusting!’

  ‘Probably,’ agreed Asta. ‘But I don’t think giving you lines or making you stay behind would have mollified Udo or his mother – they want to see you either humiliated or expelled.’

  ‘I don’t see how they have the power to do that – not yet anyway.’

  Asta nodded. ‘That’s the problem – there could still be a “yet”.’

  Jürgen balled his fists. ‘It makes me want to get back at Udo all the more for this. The little wimp. You know that he smashed an egg into Hans’s hair and called him a “filthy Jew” the other morning? There was no punishment for that. Or when he tripped another boy whose mother is married to a Jew down the stairs?’

  Asta nodded. ‘A month – two months ago – he would have been given the cane, now they’re frightened of him – and his parents.’

  Jürgen nodded. ‘I wish I’d been expelled instead.’

  Asta shook her head. ‘Don’t say that – that’s when Udo wins.’ Then she looked at him with a grin. ‘So, tell me again about how he screamed? Did he wet himself?’