Mendelevski's Box

by Roger Swindells

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Right we’ll take the barrow from the cellar, the one I use for crates. Can you get it for me while I tell this lot they’ll have to go to the bar and get their own drinks and can we go through Kromme Palmstraat? I’d like to see the place.’

  They walked down Palmstraat, the barrow rattling on the cobbles. ‘It’s just down here, it turns to the left halfway down and it’s in the second part of the street.’

  ‘Let’s have a look then.’

  ‘Look, there’s someone! There’s a car and a man just closing the doors. He must be the one who rents the stable. Quickly, let’s speak to him before he leaves.’

  ‘Hang on there, lad, we don’t know who he is or why he’s here, let’s just watch.’

  The man, in his mid forties, smartly dressed, slim with dark hair and a moustache, snapped the padlock closed on the doors and, carrying a small bag, got into the car and drove away, turning right onto Lijnbaansgracht.

  ‘But we could have challenged him, we’ve missed our chance.’

  ‘What exactly were you going to say to him? No, not yet, lad, not yet. Did you see the number of his car? No? Well, I did. Old Jos knows a lot of people and has a lot of contacts, leave it with me.’ He smiled, tapping the side of his nose with his index finger.

  They walked across the bridge on Brouwersgracht, across Haarlemmerplein under the railway line and into the Spaarndammerbuurt. It was his first time in that neighbourhood and he was impressed by the clean open streets, the smart blocks of red brick apartments and the modern architecture. It wasn’t like the city he knew at all. He remembered Grietje’s ambition to move there from her run-down Jordaan address, a dream shattered by Jaap’s death.

  A large woman in her late forties with bleached hair, bright red lipstick, a plunging neckline and smoking a cigarette answered the door at 81 Knollendamstraat.

  ‘Mevrouw Visser? Goedemiddag, I’m Jos van Loon and this is Simon Mendelevski. Is Theo at home? He’s expecting us.’

  ‘He’s still not back from the office, probably out drinking somewhere with his mates from the crew the bastard, but he said you were coming for the box. Come in.’

  They went into a small dimly lit hallway. The place smelled of tobacco smoke, fried food and cheap perfume.

  ‘I’m pleased he’s found you, young man. I’ll be glad to see the back of the bloody thing. It’s been in the cupboard under the stairs since Liberation Day when his sister palmed it off onto him. I told him he had to get rid of it, but he wouldn’t. I asked him to open the thing, it might be a body or something for all we know, but he wouldn’t do that either. I said it had to go when he got back from this last trip to the East or else.’

  ‘Thank you for keeping it for me.’

  ‘I’m just glad you and your family have come back to claim it.’

  ‘We haven’t I’m afraid, it’s just me, my parents and sister are dead.’

  ‘Whatever, just get it out of here. I ought to charge you rent.’

  ‘I’ll see your husband gets a drink or two and I’m sure we’ll do something for your sister-in-law, won’t we, Simon?’

  She sounded disappointed. ‘He gets enough to drink already, and all his sister did was to ditch the thing here. Just get it loaded and out of my house. It’s in here, you’ll have to get it out, I can’t move it.’ She threw open the cupboard door and stood back, indicating a brown wooden chest.

  ‘Bloody hell, I thought Theo said it was a box.’

  ‘It’s my father’s travel trunk, he always called it ‘his box’. Look, his initials A.M. are on the side. He brought it from Lithuania with him after the Great War. It was in his workshop and then at Dijkstraat, but I don’t know how it got to the hiding place. I don’t remember us taking it with us.’

  Together they manhandled the crate out of the front door and onto the barrow as the woman, without another word, slammed the door shut behind them. It was heavy as Theo had said, and it was secured with two large padlocks.

  Jos laughed loudly. ‘No wonder poor old Theo goes to sea, she makes my wife look almost friendly. Come on, let’s get this back to the bar.’

  The bar was still crowded when they got back and Maaike was on her own with no sign of Jos’s wife.

  ‘You help Maaike, it looks like there are a lot of glasses to wash and tables to clear. I’ll put this in a safe place down the cellar for now.’

  ‘But I want to open it Jos, I must see what’s inside. Please, it’s all that’s left of my family.’ He was almost pleading.

  ‘We can’t do it now, it’s too busy. First things first, there’s work to be done and money to be made. We’ll do it tomorrow when the bar is closed.’

  ‘Can’t we just break it open now?’

  ‘You don’t want to break it open, you’ll damage it if you prise the hasps off. I’ll get a hacksaw tomorrow and we’ll cut the padlocks. There are two locks on the trunk itself, if they are locked we’ll have to get help if we don’t want to force it.’

  He reluctantly agreed, but he didn’t know how he was going to contain himself until the next day.

  Jos kept the bar open until midnight and he and Maaike stayed on for the extra hour on the promise of overtime. It was later than usual therefore when they started to walk home.

  They sat on their bench talking. He had so much to tell her, especially about seeing the well-dressed man with the car leaving the stable. It was nearly two when Grietje, woken by a noise, looked out of the window and saw them kissing in the street below.

  Sunday 14th October 1945

  It had been another disturbed night but for totally different reasons than the one before. He was so excited about opening his father’s box that he was awake before dawn. His mind was racing about the events of the last few days. Who was the man they saw leaving the stable, and was he the one who was renting the place while he was hiding upstairs with his family?

  He dressed and went down to the kitchen to wash. Grietje and Irene were still asleep, and he tried not to wake them. Once again he was bursting to update her but it was still very early. He made his own breakfast, anxious to get to the bar, but Jos hadn’t suggested a time and as it was his day off, and that of his fearsome wife, he was afraid to arrive too early.

  He slipped out into the street. Dawn was breaking and the Jordaan was still asleep, the normally bustling narrow streets were deserted. It was the first time he had seen the area at such an early hour and he found it captivating. The smell of autumn was on the air and the surfaces of the canals were increasingly carpeted with fallen leaves. Resisting the temptation to go to Kromme Palmstraat again and the even stronger temptation to go to the Café van Loon, he wandered slowly and aimlessly around the maze of streets. He reflected with sadness that so many canals had been filled in only to emerge as featureless wide roads. Those that remained, especially the smaller ones in the Jordaan, were especially beautiful at this early hour and he wished Maaike was with him. How she did her ‘canal walk’ on crutches he didn’t know, by the time he got home he felt exhausted and he realised that, although he had put on weight, he had still not fully recovered his health and strength.

  Grietje was eating breakfast with Irene as he came inside.

  ‘Good morning Grietje, good morning Irene, what a beautiful day, it’s wonderful out there.’

  ‘What are you so cheerful about?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say cheerful, every morning when I wake up I remember my parents and sister, it’s always there, it never goes away, but there is some better news. Jos and I found my father’s box yesterday. It’s at the bar, we’re going to open it today.’

  ‘Where have you been anyway, why were you out so early? You were very late last night.’

  ‘Jos didn’t close until midnight. I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk and for a think.’

  ‘About your beloved Maaike I suppose?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I saw you. I saw you kissing her last night.’

 
; ‘I like her very much. We’re good friends, similar people I suppose.’

  ‘It looked like you are more than good friends. How can you be attracted to her, a one legged girl, what is it she’s got that I…’

  ‘Please, it’s not like that, she’s just lovely, that’s all, we get on.’

  ‘You and I get on, at least I thought we did.’

  ‘We do, Grietje, we do. You are very, very special to me, I’ll never forget what you have done for me and your love for me, just not…not like that.’

  ‘I suppose you’re taking her to the grand box opening ceremony?’ Her sarcasm was evident. ‘I was hoping you and I would spend the day together, it’s my only day off and I was going to cook. I have a Texel lamb joint, at least he said it was from Texel, with vegetables and potatoes.’

  ‘I have asked her, yes. Can’t you cook this evening instead of lunchtime? You know how important my father’s box is to me, whatever is in it is all I have left of my family, all I have left of my life.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ She looked at him, then grudgingly said, ‘Ask Maaike to join us, if she can manage the stairs that is. Now, breakfast?’

  ‘I’ve already eaten, thank you.’

  ‘You’d better go and call for her then.’

  He collected Maaike and they set off for the bar. ‘I was out walking at dawn this morning, the canals looked beautiful.’

  ‘Why didn’t you call for me? I would have loved to have come.’

  ‘It was so early. I couldn’t sleep but I thought you would be tired after last night. Grietje saw us kissing by the way.’

  ‘Oh no, is that going to cause a problem?’

  ‘Im not sure, she was a little strange about it, but she’s asked you to come for a meal this evening after we get back.’

  ‘But won’t it be difficult?’

  ‘I hope not, after all we all have to live together. You could ask her about the train service. Tell her the food’s good, it’s Texel lamb apparently. Whatever that is.’

  ‘I love Texel lamb, it’s the best. It’s from the island of Texel which is just off the coast of Friesland, we used to have it a lot when I was a child.’

  They arrived at the bar just after ten. Jos was up and about, cleaning up after the late session the previous evening. ‘Hello you two, beautiful morning. Thank you for working late last night. If you go in and sit down, I’ll make coffee and bring up the box.’

  They went up the steps to the raised area where the tables were larger. He took Maaike’s coat and crutches. Jos brought coffee and disappeared down the cellar, reappearing with the box on his shoulder.

  He put it down on the floor next to the table and turned to Simon. ‘What are you expecting to be in here?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue, I thought my father would have disposed of the box with everything else from his workshop when it closed down. Grietje remembers putting some of his workshop things in it with him. When we left the house to go into hiding we just took clothes and a little money as far as I am aware. I didn’t even know father had taken the box.’

  Jos produced a hacksaw. ‘We’d better get started then, over to you, young man, it’s your box, get sawing.’

  He’d never used a saw before in his life and after a few minutes of making no impression on the first lock and cutting his hand when the saw slipped, Jos took over.

  ‘Give it to me, you’re hopeless. I can see I’ll have to teach you a lot more than changing a barrel of beer. Look, you make the saw do the work.’

  He sawed smoothly and quickly, and the lock fell away to be followed soon after by its partner.

  ‘Well, here we go, if its closed with those other two built-in locks we’re in trouble, I’ll have to get a contact of mine.’ He winked. ‘If he’s not in jail, that is. Go on then Simon, open it.’

  He prised the hasps free of the staples and tried to lift the lid. His face fell as it refused to move but with one extra effort the stiff hinges creaked and the lid opened.

  Covering the contents was what appeared to be a beautiful piece of gold and brown silk cloth wrapped in tissue paper and a piece of black and white striped cotton cloth.

  He lifted them out reverently, his voice trembling. ’Mother’s best dress, she only wore it on special occasions. I remember her in it at my Bar Mitzvah. They were obviously keeping it for after the war. She’ll never wear it again. And this is father’s tallit, his prayer shawl, it was so precious to him.’

  He began to sob and Maaike put her arm around him. ‘Look, if this is too much for you we don’t have to do it today, do we, Jos?’

  Jos shook his head. ‘We can take as long as you need.’

  ‘No, it’s alright, I want to carry on. I should have realised it might be upsetting, I just didn’t know what to expect and seeing Mother’s dress…’ He broke down again. ‘I’m sorry, I’m being stupid.’

  Jos put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Not at all, lad, you’ve been through hell.’

  He reached into the box, removing a layer of old newspapers to reveal a large flat metal box about twenty centimetres deep and virtually the same dimensions as the outer trunk.

  His eyes lit up. ‘I know what this is, it’s father’s work box, it sat on his bench or his desk, it used to have all his delicate tools in it. He must have been using it up in the attic when we were hiding. I thought he’d sold it all when he closed the workshop. He must have tried to keep the business going so he kept these tools.’

  He tried to lift the box out, but it was a tight fit all around and heavier than he expected. His fingers kept slipping in his excitement.

  ‘You help him Maaike, I’m no good, my fingers are too big to get down the side.’

  Between them he and Maaike lifted it far enough for Jos to get hold of one end and together they lifted it out and put it on the table.

  Simon opened it to find all his father’s tools; hundreds of small implements, minute screwdrivers, drills, a stand for holding watches and hundreds of parts, wheels, springs and other pieces of metal he didn’t even recognise. At the end of the box was a thick pile of paperwork, letters and invoices and another flat, wooden, highly polished box. It was locked but the key lay beside it and with his fumbling fingers he unlocked it and lifted the lid.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Jos stared with an open mouth. ‘I’m so sorry about the language Maaike, but just look at those.’

  ‘That’s alright, I’ve heard worse, mostly from you.’ She laughed and joined them, staring at four gold pocket watch cases and three complete gold pocket watches.

  ‘Were these your father’s or was he repairing them for people?’

  ‘I don’t know, I presume the cases were for watches he was making but as for the complete ones I’ve no idea. I always thought the watches he made went into silver or base metal cases. Perhaps they’re repairs.’

  ‘They’re yours now, lad, don’t worry about it, they belong to you.’

  ‘They must be worth a lot of money,’ said Maaike.

  ‘You’re right there, thank God your father didn’t sell them and put the money in that Nazi bank like he was supposed to, Simon.’

  ‘I was sure he sold some things for cash, this isn’t all of his stuff. It must have been the first time in his life my father broke the law when he kept this lot back.’

  ‘He obviously wasn’t going to let the Nazis have everything he’d worked for.’ Jos pointed down into the trunk, indicating at least two more inner boxes. ’And there are those yet.’

  ‘I recognise that one, it’s more of father’s tools.’ He indicated a polished wooden box with an arched hinged lid. ‘That’s the one with a slot for each item and a watch holder in the centre.’

  Jos opened the lid. It was just as he had said, forty or fifty specialist tools, each in its own place. ‘No gold watches in this one.’

  He reached in and lifted out a cardboard box. Much lighter than the others, it appeared to be full of papers.

  ‘Our identification cards.’ He held up four cards, ea
ch headed ‘persoonsbewijs’ and stamped prominently with a letter ‘J’. ‘This is little Esther’s, and this is mother’s.’

  Maaike reached out her hand. ‘Can I see them, please? She looks a lovely, kind lady and what a beautiful little girl...’

  ‘Look, here’s a copy of my birth certificate, and Esther’s. Mother’s and father’s from Lithuania are here too. At least now I can prove who I am and where I was born.’

  He unearthed two albums of family photographs and a huge bundle of letters in an elastic band. He clutched the photographs tightly and began to cry again.

  ‘These are so precious, more than the tools and the watches, they’re a record of my family and our life, and I think these are love letters from mother and father to each other.’

  ‘You won’t be needing these bloody things anymore.’ Jos reached into the box and brought out a sheet of yellow cloth stars inscribed ‘Jood’. ‘You know your father actually had to pay for these. It was compulsory to have them on all the clothes you wore outside. You were allowed four per person, they cost four cents each and you had to use your clothing coupons as well.’

  He recoiled, not wanting to touch them, ‘Mother had one on each of her coats, so did father. I had one on my jacket, that must be what was left. Mother wasn’t like you Maaike, she was no seamstress, she must have only cut out and sewed on as many as she absolutely had to. They only became compulsory a couple of months before we went into hiding, so we wouldn’t have needed many. I think it was the main thing that finally decided my father that we had to hide, that and our identification cards being stamped with a letter J. We were too easy to identify and anyone with a star was being arrested.’

  Jos lifted out some more official looking papers. ‘Look here.’ He opened them out. ‘An insurance policy on your father and documents about a house in Dijkstraat.’

  Maaike smiled and squeezed his arm. ‘It might help you to get your home back, Simon.’

  ‘You need to go through all these papers and the ones from that first box very carefully. Your father was obviously a very methodical man, not just trying to hide all this but keeping lots of documents he thought important, you just don’t know what might be here.’