The Girl With No Name

by Diney Costeloe

  ‘What is it?’ Mary asked gently.

  ‘I send letter to my family,’ Lisa said flatly. ‘It comes back.’ She scanned the note from Cousin Nikolaus which had come with it.

  Dear Lisa,

  I forwarded the letter to your parents, but it has since come back to me marked as you see, ‘Gone Away’. I’m afraid I do not know where they have gone and have no way of finding out. I hope you are well with your London family. If I hear more I will write again.

  Nikolaus Becker

  Pain flooded through her, the pain of despair. Fighting a lump in her throat, she managed to say, ‘He says he has no news of my family. They are lost. Now I have no one.’ With that she scooped up both letters and ran from the room, upstairs to her bedroom.

  Naomi and Mary looked at each other in dismay. ‘Poor child,’ Naomi said softly. ‘Poor, poor child. As she says, now she has no one.’

  ‘She has you,’ replied Mary firmly. ‘You and Dan. You’re her family now. Her parents.’

  ‘Poor substitute for her own mum and dad,’ Naomi sighed.

  ‘But alive and well and the ones to take care of her from now on,’ Mary answered briskly.

  ‘I suppose...’ Naomi said, adding, ‘I wish Dan was here.’

  ‘He’ll be back before long,’ Mary said, ‘and in the meantime I think you should go up to her. She needs you.’

  Naomi nodded and got to her feet. Quietly, she went upstairs, pausing outside Lisa’s room. She could hear the girl sobbing and hesitated. Should she leave her alone to come to terms with her loss, or should she go in and try to offer comfort? She looked back downstairs and saw Mary at the bottom, gesticulating her into the room. She turned again and, tapping on the door gently, pushed it open and went in.

  Lisa was sitting on her bed, clutching the letters, tears streaming down her cheeks. Naomi said nothing, simply crossed the room and kneeling down beside her, gathered her into her arms. She had become very fond of her foster daughter in the few months since she’d been with them and now she was probably the only mother the child had. Neither of them moved, Naomi holding her close, Lisa clinging to her, sobs racking her body.

  When at last the sobs subsided and she pulled free, Naomi pulled her hankie from her pocket and Lisa blew her nose. ‘It says “Gone away”.’ She pointed to the smudged black ink on the envelope. ‘Where would they go? Not to Cousin Nikolaus. He don’t know where.’

  ‘They may just have had to move house,’ suggested Naomi, ‘to a new address.’

  ‘If they went they would tell Cousin Nikolaus. He is, how you say? He is between us in Zurich.’

  ‘Well, they may have written,’ Naomi said, trying to sound encouraging. ‘He may not have had their letter yet.’

  She stood up and taking Lisa by the hand helped her to her feet. ‘Come on, me duck,’ she said, ‘we have to make Uncle Dan some tea.’

  When they got down to the kitchen, it was getting dark outside and Mary had disappeared.

  ‘She’s gone back to the Duke, I expect,’ Naomi said as she wrestled the blackout screen into place before turning on the light. Bending down she put a match to the ready-laid fire and immediately the room was more cheerful. ‘After all, it’s nearly opening time. Tom will be needing her.’

  ‘She very kind,’ Lisa said with a glance at the dictionary still perched in readiness on the mantelpiece. ‘He not like me.’

  ‘Who? Tom? Course he likes you.’

  ‘No, I meet him in the street and he turn away with bad face.’

  ‘Expect he was going somewhere in a hurry,’ said Naomi. ‘Never saw you.’ But in her heart she knew Lisa was right. Tom had been taken prisoner by the Germans in the last war and had nearly starved to death in one of their POW camps before being released. She knew only too well that Tom hated anything and everything German. She had seen him scowl at Lisa and it’d made her angry. Lisa was only a child and had nothing to do with what was happening in Germany. She was a victim of this war as he had been a victim of the last.

  It was with great relief that Naomi saw Dan coming in the front door that evening. She had managed to calm Lisa down, settling her by the kitchen fire with the mending basket while she herself peeled some potatoes. She knew that Lisa had to be kept occupied so that she didn’t brood on the news she’d received, but she, herself, needed Dan’s company and his solid reassuring presence.

  ‘Now then,’ he said as he quickly closed the door behind him against escaping light. ‘Hive of industry going on here.’ He kissed his wife on the cheek and patted Lisa on hers. ‘You mending the potatoes in my socks again?’ he asked. ‘Glad of that cos me feet was getting cold.’ He turned back to his wife. ‘Any tea on the go, love?’

  Naomi set the kettle to boil and put out a clean cup and saucer. Dan settled himself in his chair and looking across at Lisa said, ‘Had a good day, Lisa?’ It was a question he asked every evening when he got in. It had become almost a game as Lisa searched for the right words to tell him of her day, but this evening she did not look up and smile, she kept her head bent, apparently concentrating on her mending.

  ‘Lisa’s had some bad news today, Dan,’ Naomi said softly. ‘Her letter to her parents has been returned “Gone away”. She don’t know where they’ve gone and her cousin don’t know neither. As you see she’s very upset.’

  Dan reached over and rested his hand on Lisa’s. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that, duck,’ he said, ‘but whatever happens, we’re here, Aunt Naomi and me. We ain’t yer mum and dad, we know that, but you do have us.’ Lisa dropped the sock she’d been darning and grasped his fingers. Looking at both her foster parents watching her anxiously, she remembered her mother’s admonition to be a good and grateful girl and though the tears were welling once again in her eyes she mustered a tremulous smile.

  ‘Thank you for your kindness,’ she said. ‘I thank you and my mother thank you also.’ Her careful English sounded a little stilted, but the Federmans knew it came from the heart and Dan felt tears prick his own eyes as he gave her an awkward hug and damned himself for being soft.

  5

  Lisa didn’t sleep well that night. She was haunted by dreams of the Gestapo raid and woke in a cold sweat, certain that the man in the long black coat was coming up the stairs to find her. Once she was awake, she couldn’t go back to sleep. She tossed and turned, still hearing Nazis on the stairs. Determined not to wake Aunt Naomi and Uncle Dan, she stifled the sobs that rose in her throat. They had both tried to keep her spirits up all evening, but it had been almost impossible to respond. When it began to get light Lisa finally gave up trying to sleep and, easing the blackout screen from the window, she sat looking out into the street, watching the colour creep back into the houses opposite. And as she sat there, she made up her mind. She would meet Harry in the park later and she would go with him ‘up west’. She’d tell Naomi that she was going to Hilda’s, but she knew it wasn’t Hilda she wanted or needed, it was Harry, because he knew what their life had been ‘before’. He had lost his family to the Nazis. He would know how she felt. No one who hadn’t lived in fear of the Nazis could begin to imagine what it was like, day after day, never knowing if the Gestapo would come and take you away. Seeing them striding the streets, their arrogant sneers directed at you simply because you had a Jewish parent. So many had fled, but her father had left it too late. She needed to be with Harry, doing something different, something daring, something to obliterate, if only for a few hours, the desperate loneliness that was consuming her.

  She was already downstairs when Naomi appeared in the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

  ‘Oh, well done, Lisa, I see the kettle’s on. Lay the table, can you?’ And Lisa laid out plates and cutlery while Naomi busied herself at the stove.

  ‘Aunt Naomi, I go to Hilda today, please?’

  Naomi looked round and smiled. ‘If they’ve asked you,’ she replied.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Lisa lied. ‘To go for whole day.’

  ‘Then certainly you can,’ Naomi s
aid. It’s a good idea, she thought as she scrambled eggs and made toast, it’ll give Lisa something to do, help take her mind off her letter.

  Feeling a little guilty at having lied to Aunt Naomi but determined to go, Lisa set off to meet Harry in the park. He was waiting on a bench tossing pebbles into the pond.

  ‘Knew you’d come,’ he said with a grin, but his grin faded when he saw her pale face.

  ‘Hey, kid,’ he said, ‘what’s up?’

  Lisa flopped down beside him on the bench. ‘Had a letter,’ she said.

  ‘From your family?’

  ‘No, they’re not there any more,’ she answered, her voice breaking on a sob.

  Harry listened as she told him what Cousin Nikolaus had written. When she finally came to a stop he stood up and, taking her hand, hauled her to her feet.

  ‘We still got each other,’ he said, ‘us orphans. You and me. So, let’s go up west and see what it’s all about.’

  Lisa wasn’t sure what reaction she’d expected from Harry, but it wasn’t quite that.

  ‘Up west? Today?’

  ‘You got to make your own life now,’ he said. ‘I learned that the hard way, too. Got to look after number one. We ain’t kids no more. So, we get on with it. And today we’re going up west to see the sights. Come on, Lisa, today’s going to be special.’

  Still uncertain, Lisa allowed him to drag her along to the bus stop outside the park gates.

  ‘We can get the bus from here,’ he said and within minutes he had his hand out, hailing a number 22. ‘Follow me.’ He led the way up the stairs to the very front of the bus. They sat side by side looking down on the London streets as Lisa had on her way from Liverpool Street. They were still busy, but Lisa had got used to them and she looked out with interest.

  ‘You get a good view from up here,’ she said as she peered through the window. ‘I’m glad we came upstairs.’

  ‘Best to be upstairs,’ Harry agreed. ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘You got the money for the fare?’ she asked him softly.

  ‘Nope, but it don’t matter, you’ll see.’

  About two stops later the conductor appeared at the top of the stairs and gradually made his way along the gangway, taking money and issuing tickets until her reached them.

  ‘Fares please,’ he said.

  Harry looked up at him and then felt in his pocket. He got to his feet and felt in the other pocket, then shook his head. ‘My money,’ he said in his heavily accented English. ‘Where is my money? It is lost!’ He made a great show of feeling through his empty pockets, but the conductor wasn’t deceived.

  ‘Off!’ he roared. ‘Down them stairs and off!’

  ‘Yes, yes, we go. So sorry!’ Harry’s accent was still heavy and he grabbed Lisa by the hand, hurrying her along the gangway and down the stairs. The conductor rang the bell and when the bus pulled into the next stop Harry and Lisa jumped off. As it drew away again, leaving them on the pavement, Harry said, ‘There you go! Easy!’

  ‘Harry, haven’t you any money?’ asked Lisa.

  ‘Not to spend on bus fares,’ replied Harry, cheerfully. ‘Come on, here’s the next bus.’ And he stuck out his hand again.

  It took them six buses before they were disgorged into Piccadilly Circus, but Harry’s system worked and once Lisa knew what was happening, she simply followed his lead, giggling as they were turfed off the buses by the angry conductors.

  It was a beautiful December morning, with a clear blue sky and pale winter sun, but the air was bitterly cold. Lisa shivered despite the winter coat her mother had managed to buy for her before she left. Harry, with only a jacket to keep him warm, seemed impervious to the cold, simply standing, taking in everything around him, the bustle, the traffic, the noise.

  It was the Saturday before Christmas and people were hurrying along the pavements, in and out of shops finishing their Christmas shopping. Despite the war, everyone was determined that Hitler shouldn’t stop the usual celebrations. There might be fewer things in the shops and more unusual presents to be bought, but if you simply glanced at the pre-Christmas streets, you might well think everything was normal. Of course it wasn’t; it was all too clear that the country was at war. Uniformed servicemen, home on a few days’ Christmas leave, were among the shoppers laden with parcels. Everyone carried a gas mask, slung over the shoulder, signs directed people to public air raid shelters and a huge sign across the front of Swan and Edgar’s urged everyone to DIG FOR VICTORY!

  In the middle of Piccadilly Circus, where Eros should have stood, brave atop a fountain, there was a strange, sandbagged cone. Eros had been removed for his own protection and his fountain boarded and sandbagged. Around the base of the cone was a banner cautioning: Keep them Happy! Keep them Safe! Christmas Treat Fund.

  Christmas was nearly here, but it would be an entirely different Christmas. For many children it would be a Christmas away from home; children who’d been evacuated for fear of the bombing. There had been none and parents were beginning to bring their children home again, something the government was anxious to discourage. Even so, too many families would be apart this Christmas and the Treat Fund had been established to distribute extra treats to those children who were spending Christmas without their parents.

  Harry and Lisa stood at the side of the road, watching the traffic driving round the sandbagged fountain, awed by the perpetual busyness of the famous Piccadilly Circus.

  ‘You wouldn’t think there was a war on,’ Lisa said, ‘not really. Look at all that traffic.’ Petrol was rationed, she knew that, because Uncle Dan had only a limited amount for his taxi, but there seemed no fewer vehicles on the road here. Horns hooted, men shouted, engines roared, a man on a bike wove his way through the congestion.

  High above them were huge advertisements for Bovril, Coca-Cola and Wrigley’s gum, things that were now almost impossible to come by, still advertised on great signs; and ticking away the minutes of that busy Saturday morning was the famous Guinness clock. Above it all floated huge barrage balloons, silver whales wallowing in the ice-blue sky.

  ‘D’you think them balloons’ll stop the bombers coming in?’ Lisa wondered as she looked up at them.

  ‘If they come in low they will,’ Harry said. ‘None today, anyway.’

  ‘P’raps they won’t come at all,’ said Lisa hopefully.

  ‘Oh, they’ll come,’ Harry assured her. ‘Hitler ain’t going to say “Thanks for Poland, now I’ll stay put,” is he?’ He turned and began walking towards Piccadilly.

  ‘Shall we go in the shops?’ asked Lisa. She longed to go inside one of the tall, gracious buildings and see what they had on display. She moved towards Swan and Edgar, pausing outside to peer in at the window.

  ‘OK,’ Harry sighed, ‘not for long, mind.’

  They went inside and wandered through the different departments looking at all the goods displayed. Lisa wished she had some money. She would have liked to buy something for Aunt Naomi and Uncle Dan.

  Harry was quickly bored with window shopping and edged them back out into the street. ‘Come on,’ he urged, ‘let’s go this way. P’raps get something to eat.’

  He strode along Piccadilly with Lisa almost having to run to keep up with him.

  ‘What’s the hurry?’ she panted. ‘Slow down.’

  Harry did slow down, eventually, and when he did he pulled a silk scarf out of his pocket and knotted it about his neck. ‘You were right,’ he said with a grin. ‘They had some good stuff in there.’

  ‘Harry! You stole it!’ cried Lisa.

  ‘They had plenty more to sell, they can spare this one for me...’ he reached into his pocket again, ‘and this for you.’ He handed her a string of blue beads. ‘Happy Christmas!’

  It was a day to remember. They continued to walk up Piccadilly, pausing outside the Ritz to watch the wealthy going in for lunch. Ladies wrapped in furs on the arm of officers in uniform, sleek gentlemen in camel-hair coats handing their ladies out of taxis.

  ‘T
offs,’ said Harry dismissively. ‘Snobby toffs. Just like the Nazis.’

  Comfortable in the anonymity of the crowded streets, Harry had been speaking in German. As he spoke a hand dropped on his shoulder, holding him in a vice-like grip.

  ‘You should be careful what you say, young guttersnipe.’ A tall man dressed in immaculately tailored civilian clothes towered over him and was addressing him in German. ‘You should be careful what you say about people who’ve taken you in and given you a home.’

  ‘You don’t know nothing about me,’ Harry answered with more bravado than he felt.

  ‘I know that you’re a refugee, young man. Speaking German; but anyone would know it. Just look at you! Look at your clothes! Ungrateful street kids like you should be sent back where you came from.’ The fingers tightened their grip on Harry’s shoulder, making him yelp with pain.

  ‘You let him go!’ shrieked Lisa. ‘He ain’t done nothing to hurt you.’

  ‘Well, little madam, you’re another of them! Out to pick our pockets, were you? Thieving?’ He eyed Harry’s silk neckerchief with suspicion. ‘I should get out of here pretty damn quick if I were you, before I call the police.’

  At this moment the commissionaire stepped forward and said, ‘Is there some problem, Sir Edward?’

  ‘No, just some rude German children making nuisances of themselves.’ Sir Edward Marshway let go of Harry’s shoulder and, giving him a cuff round the ear that sent him staggering off the pavement, turned and walked into the hotel.

  ‘You kids better scarper,’ hissed the commissionaire. ‘Go on! Get lost.’

  Harry picked himself up and the two of them edged away.

  ‘Typical Teddy Marshway,’ drawled a woman’s voice. ‘Likes to forget his mother was German.’ She had been speaking English, but both children understood most of what she’d said and turned round. A tall lady, wearing a black fur coat with a matching fur hat perched on her smooth fair hair, had paused beside them.