by James Hume
‘But that’s outrageous, grandma.’
‘May be, but that’s the new rules, darling.’
‘Says who?’
‘Says the Russians. They’re the ones in charge now. And there’s nothing we can do about it. Our lawyer agrees.’
‘Who’s your lawyer?’
‘Milan Prchal. He has an office at the local Dejvice Centre on the main road.’
‘Well, I want to go and see him. I mean, do you still own your house?’
‘Yes, I think so. But the Russians have taken it for as long as they need it.’
‘But it’s just wrong.’
‘I know, darling. But Mr Prchal has told us if we kick up too much of a fuss, the Russians will take over the house completely, and we’ll lose all rights to it. And just let me say, it used to be a great deal worse.’
‘What? How could it be worse?’
‘Under the German occupation, they confined me to one bedroom in my own house, and I could only use the kitchen and bathroom at set times. A German family took over the rest of the house. I hated that.’
Jane shook her head in frustration. She glanced over at Andreas and the boys, who all looked confused by the conversation in Czech. ‘I’ll tell you later,’ she said to him in German. God, she’d had no idea that had happened. They’d had no contact during the war years. She felt helpless and angry, but realised, even if she had been here, she probably couldn’t have done much about it. Occupation forces could do what they liked, take it or leave it.
Grandma Bilova tried to lighten the atmosphere. ‘Let’s have a cup of tea.’ She busied herself, then knelt and talked to the boys. Jane interpreted for her.
Jane needed to think about the practicalities of their visit. She’d thought they could’ve stayed with her grandma, and hadn’t booked a hotel.
‘Is there still a hotel at the Dejvice Centre?’ she asked.
Her grandma nodded.
‘Right. Andreas and I will go and book rooms. We’ll leave the boys here. Okay?’
Her mother said, ‘Yes, it’s fine. Off you go.’
Jane and Andreas walked back to the main road and crossed to the main shopping and commercial centre for the area. At the hotel, they booked two rooms for three nights. Each room contained a double and a single bed. She presumed, if her mother agreed, she and Andreas would share one room, with her mother and the boys in the other.
As they strolled round the Centre, they passed the office of Milan Prchal, Legal Advisor. Jane decided she wanted to talk to him, to establish where her grandma stood legally with respect to her property.
He had a very pleasant and concerned manner. He confirmed her grandma still owned the property, but the Russians had moved lots of staff into Prague, and passed local laws to maximise the use of property by moving single owners together.
‘Do they pay for the use of her property?’ Jane asked.
‘Well, they should pay her a hundred Koruna per week, less than half its value, but no one’s been paid yet. It’s stupid. It just stokes up even more resentment. But they’re not bothered. It’s the same all over, and there’s nothing we can do about it. They’re in control now. We Czechs don’t matter any more.’
Jane and Andreas went to a tea room and chatted about the situation. They concluded, in the circumstances, they shouldn’t create waves about it. There already seemed plenty of local resentment that had to run its course.
They talked about what they’d do for the next two days. Grandma had said Aunt Eva, her mother’s sister, would host a lunch for the extended family at her place on Saturday. Jane had picked up a local newspaper, and checked the forecast. The dry, cool weather would continue for the next few days. She suggested they take the boys to Prague Zoo. The boys had never been to a zoo, and Prague had one of the finest in the world. She’d loved to visit it as a child. Andreas thought it a great idea.
That night, they had a drink in the bar next to the hotel after her mother took the boys up to bed. They eventually headed up to their room.
She put an arm up around his neck and kissed him. ‘Thank you for being with me today,’ she whispered.
He smiled. ‘It’s my pleasure.’
***
Next morning, Jane, Andreas and the boys caught a tram and bus up to Podbaba, and then the ferry across the Vltava river to the zoo. Inside, she spread a map of the zoo across a table. ‘Right, boys. It’s a huge place, and we won’t see it all today. What top three things do each of you want to see?’
The boys studied the map and asked questions. After a few minutes Stephen said, ‘I want to see the gorillas, the lions and the elephants.’ George piped up, ‘I want to see the giraffes, the kangaroos and the penguins.’
‘Good. We’ll see them and lots of other things too.’
Andreas worked out the best route to follow and to capture the feeding times, and they set off, with the boys full of excitement.
By late afternoon, on the way back on the ferry, Jane savoured the day. For the first time ever, she’d felt part of a proper family outing, walking arm-in-arm with her man, watching the wonder in the boys’ eyes, and answering their interminable questions. She had a tear in her eye. She wanted this, permanently.
That evening, her mother said she’d look after the boys if Jane and Andreas wanted to go into the city. They took her up on her offer and caught a tram down to the Old Town.
Jane showed Andreas the sights of her home city. They wandered the cobblestoned streets of the Old Town, admired the fine architecture, the unique Astronomical Clock, the Powder Tower; strolled round Wenceslas Square; popped into a couple of bars along the way for warming drinks, and ended up at the magnificent Charles Bridge, with its fine statues along each side, and Prague Castle looming above them. Her favourite spot in the city.
‘God, such a perfect day,’ she said. She put her arm up around his neck. ‘Thank you,’ and kissed him. ‘Love you so much.’
‘Yeah, it’s been great with you and the boys. Just great. Love you too.’
She began to shiver in the cold winter air. ‘Let’s get back, shall we?’
They strolled back towards the Old Town and joined the small crowd at a tram stop. Two women, about her age and a bit tipsy, joined the crowd and stood in front of them. The women cackled together. Up to now, Jane hadn’t heard laughter in the streets. There had been some laughter at the zoo, particularly at the penguin parade, and in the bars, with some raucous men, but people didn’t seem to laugh much in Prague now. Maybe, with the occupation, there wasn’t much to laugh about, she thought.
Then, she recognised one of the tipsy girls as her best friend, Valentina, from her teenage years. They’d lived two houses apart, and were forever in each other’s houses, playing music and admiring magazines. She hesitated a moment, then leaned forward and touched the girl’s shoulder. ‘Val?’
The girl turned, with a puzzled expression, her eyes glazed.
Jane smiled and held out her hands. ‘Val, it’s Jana. Jana Weissmann. How are you? It’s great to see you.’
The girl examined Jane’s face, and slowly recognised her. Then her expression suddenly changed and she sneered. ‘Hah, you’re back, then?’ She waved to her friend and the other people at the tram stop. ‘Look at this selfish bitch. Ran away with her family to England ten years ago. Never a goodbye. Never a letter. And now she’s back, with her fancy hairstyle and her fancy clothes and her fancy boyfriend, to take pity on all us poor Czechs that had to suffer under the Germans and now with the Russians. Selfish bitch.’
Jane stared in horror. Why did she say such thing? Andreas had come closer and held her tight. ‘That’s not true,’ she said to the girl. ‘It’s just not true.’ She felt tears well in her eyes.
The girl snarled, ‘It is true. You bloody selfish bitch.’
Jane turned to Andreas. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ she said, in German.
‘Oh, that makes it even better,’ the girl shouted. ‘Her boyfriend’s bloody German. Can you believe it?
A bloody German, for Chrissake. Selfish bloody bitch traitor!’
Jane grabbed Andreas’ arm and hurried away from the tram stop. They turned up a side street and came to a taxi rank. ‘Let’s get a taxi,’ she said, jumped into the first one, and gave the name of the hotel. The taxi drove off.
Andreas leaned over. ‘What happened?’ he asked, in German.
She glanced at the driver, who seemed to be listening to them. ‘I’ll tell you later.’ She sat back and fumed. She now regretted talking to the girl. The sneers and calls of ‘selfish bitch’ echoed through her head.
She realised the taxi had arrived at the hotel, and Andreas seemed to be arguing with the driver. She tuned into them. The driver spoke in fractured German, and said, under council rules, he had to double the fare if the journey took more than four kilometres. Sorry, it had nothing to do with him. That’s the rule.
Jane put her arm out in front of Andreas, leaned forward, and snarled in Czech, ‘Don’t try to con me. There’s no such rule.’ The meter indicated 3.85. She counted out four Koruna from her purse. ‘That’s all you’re getting. And you’re lucky to get anything at all. I should report you to the authorities.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you’re local.’ He took the money. ‘Don’t say anything, please. Life’s tough, and I’ve got a wife and children.’
She got out of the taxi and slammed the door. At least the notorious rip-off tactics of Prague taxi drivers towards foreigners seemed to have survived the war.
Andreas suggested they go to the bar, and over a drink, she told him what had happened. They talked it through, and he encouraged her to try to forget the incident, but she couldn’t forget Val’s sneer and snarl. Worst of all, it had spoiled such a perfect day.
That night, she cuddled into him, but it took her a long time to get to sleep.
***
Next morning, Jane took her mother aside and told her about the incident with Valentina. Her mother wasn’t surprised. She’d spent the previous day with grandma Bilova, who had mentioned at one point, that some of the extended family had refused to come to the lunch because of lingering resentment at them going abroad. Grandma advised, if they talked about life in England, they should stick to facts, and not crow about it.
In the light of this, Jane thought the lunch passed off reasonably well. Aunt Eva did her best to inject a happy note, and Jane thought most of the questions and discussions about life in Britain had been polite and interested, rather than accusatory. But it hadn’t been the warm welcome she’d expected.
On the train back to Nuremberg on the Sunday morning, Jane and Andreas discussed the visit. Jane said, ‘I’m glad we went, but if I’m honest, I’m glad it’s over. I loved seeing grandma Bilova again, and hopefully we can talk with her on the phone now, but I’m not bothered if I don’t see Prague again.’
Andreas smiled. ‘Yeah, I think it’s difficult to go back to your roots, once you’ve been away for a while. If you’ve been successful, some people will resent you. If you’ve not, they’ll gloat. Either way, it’s not pleasant. That’s why I don’t go back to Basel too often.’
The next day, New Year’s Eve, Andreas came round and joined them for their evening meal. Jane and her mother had become devotees of Hogmanay traditions from their time in Scotland, and so, they cleaned the house from top to bottom, cleared the rubbish out at ten minutes to midnight, and sent Andreas out just before midnight to come back in as their ‘first foot’ just after twelve. He carried a piece of coal, to represent heat; a box of shortbread, to represent food; and a small bottle of whisky, to represent drink. Jane had brought the latter two with her from Scotland. The fact Andreas was tall, dark and handsome, would bring them extra good luck in the new year. They opened a window to let the old year out and the new year in. Jane relished these traditions in her new location.
The three of them toasted the new year with a tot of whisky, and went through to the boys’ room, where they toasted them, and wished their sleeping heads every success and happiness in 1946. Jane’s mother went to bed shortly after, and left Jane and Andreas by themselves in front of the fire. They cuddled together on the sofa, and clinked glasses. ‘Happy new 1946,’ she whispered. ‘Hope it’s a good one for you,’ and kissed him.
‘Hope it’s a good one for us all,’ he said, and returned her kiss.
‘Wonder what this year will bring,’ she murmured.
‘Well, I wanted to talk to you about that.’
She turned and smiled at him. ‘Really? What in particular?’
He cleared his throat. ‘I’m leaving Nuremberg in a few months.’
She eased away from him and frowned. She didn’t want to lose him. ‘Oh, no.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Nooo.’
‘But I want you to come with me . . . as my wife.’
Her eyes widened, and she bit her finger. ‘Oh, my God. Yes. Yes. Yes.’ She threw her arms around his neck, hugged him tight and started to cry. ‘To where? When?’
He smiled. ‘Thank you. I hoped you’d agree.’
She hugged him again. ‘Of course, I agree. I don’t want to live without you.’
He nodded. ‘I feel the same.’
‘So, where are you going?’
‘Geneva, in Switzerland. Once my contract runs out here at the end of April.’
‘To do what?’
‘There’s a new organisation just started a couple of months ago. It’s called the United Nations, and its aims are to get all the countries of the world to work together to maintain international peace and security, and to protect human rights. They’ve already got fifty countries signed up for it, and hope to include all the others in time.
‘They’ll need huge translation and interpretation services, and they’ve been very impressed with how we use the new simultaneous interpretation here in Nuremberg. They want to use it at all their meetings and conferences, and offered me the job of Global Head of Interpretation Services, based in Geneva. Their letter came when we were in Prague. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity, and accepted, and hoped you’d come with me.’
She laughed. ‘It sounds fantastic. Of course I’ll come with you.’
‘And I’d like you to head up the German / English group as well.’
‘Oh, my God.’ She laughed and cried at the same time. ‘That’s fantastic. And I accept. But what about my contract. That’s not up till the end of August.’
‘I know. Let’s just see how it develops. If we can’t change it, we’ll live with it. We’re in this for the long term.’
She cuddled into him. ‘What’s Geneva like?’
‘It’s a beautiful city on the shores of Lake Geneva. It’s in the French-speaking part of Switzerland, but it’s a truly international city. There’s a great international school there for the boys. I think they’ll love it. And the UN pays very well, so we might even afford an apartment near the lake.’
She lifted her head and kissed him. ‘It sounds fabulous, darling.’
They huddled and cuddled until the fire began to die.
She kissed him again. ‘Shall we go to bed?’ she whispered.
His love making was so gentle and tender and loving and satisfying, all the things her ex-husband’s wham-bam style was not, and she gloried and relished it. Life looked rosy. 1946 would be a good year.
***
Jane thrilled that they spent New Year’s Day as a family, games with the boys in the morning, out to a play park in the afternoon. She told her mother about Andreas’ proposal, and that she’d accepted. Her mother seemed pleased.
Then, on the Wednesday, back to work after the holiday. Josef picked her up as usual at eight twenty. ‘They’ve changed the traffic arrangements at the Palace to avoid gridlock. All the drivers got briefed on Friday. There’s a note for everyone when they get in this morning.’
‘Oh? So what have they done?’
‘In the morning, you can’t drive straight into the courtyard. You’ve got to go to a staging area across the s
treet, and wait to get called over. The courtyard now has five lanes facing the building – France, UK, Russia, USA and Local/Others – and you can only go over when your lane has a space. Our car ID is UK08,’ He held up a large white card with the ID in large black letters.
‘Well, at least they’re now doing something.’
‘In the evening, you have to call the transport office and book a slot for your car to arrive. Each slot is for one minute, and if you’re not there on time, the car moves out, and you have to rebook another slot.’
She laughed. ‘You’re kidding me. Who thought that one up?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know, ma’am, but it’s a woman called Astrid in charge, and Porritt and Baker and the others all signed off on it.’
She wondered how all the self-important lawyers and judges would handle it, but if Porritt had signed it off, he must have confidence it would work.
They pulled into the staging area, and Josef put the ID card on the right hand side of the windscreen. A few cars waited with US and RU cards.
He wound his window down. ‘Morning, Marta.’
‘Morning.’ She spoke into a large handheld radio. ‘UK08 arrived.’ She listened for a moment. ‘Okay, go straight across.’ She waved two waiting cars to move also.
Josef drove across into the courtyard, turned sharp left and then right into the second lane marked with the UK flag above it. Jane got out of the car. ‘I’ll see you later once I know my slot,’ she laughed.
He smiled. ‘Yes, ma’am. See you later.’ He drove off.
Jane walked under a temporary shelter down a walkway to the front door. A woman walked up and down, with an eye on the lanes, and talked into her handheld radio, She wore a long grey Kleppermantel. My God, thought Jane, when had she last seen one of them? Her mother used to wear a raincoat like that years ago. She presumed that was Astrid. Well, she had to admit, the traffic arrangements had worked for her. And the cars flowed through, dropped their passengers, and moved off freely. It sure as hell had got rid of the gridlock. Full marks to Astrid. Let’s hope it flowed as well in the evening.
