Lilli's Quest

by Lila Perl

  Tim is trying to say something about his having thrown a rock at a big boy, but his mother shushes him. She tells him she will bring him some tea and a biscuit and that he should rest quietly on the couch.

  Lilli goes into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Mrs. Rathbone follows her. “Tim won’t ever be following you to school anymore,” she says. “And I think you know why.”

  “Yes,” Lilli replies quietly.

  “Which means you won’t be going to school either,” says Mrs. Rathbone, crossing her arms and pursing her thin lips. “There’s plenty for you to do around here, and you can keep a watch on Tim as well …”

  Lilli breaks in. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to go back there anyway. There’s nothing important they can teach me in a class with nine-year-olds.”

  “Ah, now,” Mrs. Rathbone remarks in a softer tone, “There’s a bit of sense.”

  Due to the outbreak of war, butter, sugar, and meat are being rationed, and farmers are being encouraged to grow winter vegetables such as cabbage, turnips, and beets, as well as lettuce and other greens, in the summer.

  Lilli is put to work helping Mr. Rathbone dig planting beds. “Now, now, my girl, you’ve got to put a bit more muscle into it,” he comments, hovering her as she bends her slim body toward the ground. Lilli’s hair has grown long, so she wears it braided and pinned up to keep it out of her eyes. She has never dug a garden before, and her palms have begun to blister. She is also very uncomfortable under Mr. Rathbone’s wet gaze.

  “Soon the rabbits will be arriving, m’girl,” he tells her cheerfully. “They won’t give you blisters and a sore back. You’ll like tending ’em, right enough.” Lilli has already been told that the Rathbones will be extending their poultry farm to raise rabbits for meat, and are even going to acquire a goat for milk that they can sell at the market. “But no pigs,” Mr. Rathbone declares at tea that evening. “I won’t have a pig, Agnes, say what you will. I know we can feed ’em kitchen waste, but who’s going to do the butchering? Not me, ma’am.”

  At night, after working all day in the fields, Lilli climbs into her sleeping loft, moody and despairing, to reread the letters from Mutti that she has been receiving regularly since the first one arrived back in January. In February, Mutti wrote that, “I am working in a beauty salon here in Amsterdam, washing the clients’ hair and other small duties. The owner is a member of the Dutch resistance and she is kind to us, letting us use the rooms in the back of the shop. Your sisters are learning to speak Dutch.”

  Lilli is pleased that her family is safe for the time being. But she knows all too well how precarious their situation is.

  A month later, Mutti writes: “I cannot understand why you have not yet received an answer from your uncle. You must write to him again. Ships sailing between England and America are being torpedoed in the Atlantic by German submarines. Their cargoes have been sunken or confiscated. So, try again. It is very important that you contact him.”

  Lilli, of course, had already written him twice. She is anxiously awaiting a reply from America when Mutti’s most recent letter arrives. It chills Lilli to the bone. “I am sending you a parcel, Lilli, of some things I have with me here that I do not need. Some small pieces of jewelry, not very valuable but pretty, a few items of lingerie, and my flowered chiffon dress. I know these things are not suitable on the farm, but perhaps you will wear them in America.”

  This letter sends a message that is disturbingly clear: The Nazi takeover of the Netherlands is imminent, and Lilli’s mother and sisters will be in danger of being sent off to one of the internment camps for Jews. Mutti’s letters will then stop, and contact between Lilli and her family will be severed.

  Lilli is lying face down on her bed in a puddle of tears, when voices from the kitchen below drift up to her.

  “I’ve made up my mind, Wilf. She’s got to go.”

  “Ah no, Aggie, no need to be so harsh toward the girl. Not her fault about Tim getting hurt.”

  “It’s not only that. She’s useless in the garden. Works like she’s some kind of a fairy princess. Comes from some rich Jewish family back there in Germany, I’m sure. And she’s getting too old.”

  “Old! How old? Twelve?”

  “More like thirteen. I’ve seen you looking at her, Wilf, with sore eyes. I know what’s going on around here.”

  Lilli leaps out of her bed. Although she’s heard every word the Rathbones have said, she still can’t believe her ears. They are sending her away! In many ways, she won’t be sorry to leave, as her eight months here have been sad and difficult. While she adores Tim and has enjoyed caring for him and returning his affection, her hopes for school and learning English amounted to nothing. As to life on the farm, the Rathbones have never asked her any questions about her former life, or her family. Lilli has also noticed their stinginess with the food they serve her. She’s never said anything when they’ve given fresh white bread and sweet biscuits to Tim, but set out a stale loaf and broken biscuits—bought cheaply from the baker’s truck—for her, or when Mrs. Rathbone gave fried bacon to Tim, but only offered Lilli the drippings. Staying clean on the farm, with only cold water available, has made bathing and attending to her personal needs difficult. Lilli always feels dirty and is nauseated by the smells of chickens and manure. And she hates digging up the soil for the vegetable planting, with Mr. Rathbone leaning his sweaty body so close to hers.

  But, despite all that, she wonders where will she go when she leaves the Rathbones?

  Early in May, a massive bombing war, the German blitzkrieg, erupts over Holland. Within days, the nation surrenders to Hitler, and its Jewish population, as well as its refugees from other parts of Nazi-dominated Europe, are ordered to register. Jews must give up their radios. They may not own arms of any kind. They must sew the yellow star onto their garments, with the word Jood, Dutch for Jew, spelled out in the center.

  Dutch citizens, like the woman who has been sheltering Mutti and the girls, are now themselves in danger. Can Mutti and Lilli’s sisters go deep enough underground to remain hidden, or will they be caught and sent to one of the concentration camps in Germany or Poland? Even if they can remain hidden, what will the family eat? How will they live? Will Mutti ever be able to write another letter to Lilli? Even if she does, will Lilli ever receive it?

  At the same time, Lilli has been told by Mrs. Rathbone that arrangements have been made for her to live on a farm hostel, some distance away in the next county.

  One morning, so early that the first roosters have just begun to crow, Mrs. Rathbone appears at the top of the ladder that leads to the sleeping loft. “Today’s the day,” she informs Lilli. “Get up and pack your things, my girl. Mr. Rathbone will be driving you to the hostel. It’s a long way, so best get an early start.”

  Seven

  Once again, Lilli finds herself bouncing through the English countryside in the broken-down Rathbone farm truck. Her eyes are brimming with tears that she tries to hide from Mr. Rathbone by turning her head toward the passenger side window.

  “Now, now, what’s all this about?” he asks in a growly but not unsympathetic voice as he reaches across and pats her knee. “I can’t reckon you’re all that sorry to leave the farm.”

  Lilli nudges her body closer to the door of the truck. “No,” she answers uncomfortably. “It’s her. I can’t believe she wouldn’t let me say goodbye to Tim.

  “How could she be so cruel to him? It’s not for me I’m crying.”

  “Ah, that’s a good girl then. But you know what Aggie is like. She didn’t want him gettin’ upset.”

  “But he will be upset when he wakes up and finds I’m gone. He was my only friend, and I was his. He’ll hate me now forever. He won’t understand.”

  Mr. Rathbone allows himself another pat of Lilli’s knee before returning his hand to the steering wheel. Lilli retreats into her own thoughts. She has no idea what this agricultural hostel will be like, though she can imagine more farm work with chickens, rabbits,
goats, probably even pigs. Where will she eat and sleep? Who will her companions be? Even greater are her worries about her sisters and Mutti. Even if Mutti is able to write to her from Holland after the Nazi takeover, will she even get her letters? And what if mail eventually comes from her uncle in America? Mrs. Rathbone promised, with a nod of annoyance, that anything that arrived for Lilli would be forwarded to her at the hostel. But how can Lilli put her trust in a woman who would deceive her own child?

  It is mid-morning now. Lilli must have dozed off after having been awakened at such an early hour. Mr. Rathbone has stopped the truck in front of a roadside pub. “Time for a bit of refreshment,” he says, raising a curled hand to his lips. “Come down, m’girl, and we’ll get you a lemonade and some crisps. Or maybe a sandwich.”

  In a half-awake daze, Lilli follows Mr. Rathbone as he crunches across the car park. In front of them sits a picturesque two-story whitewashed stone building with a slate roof. As they enter the building, Lilli inhales the stale, mixed scent of yeast and tobacco. But the room has a cozy, rustic air. Men standing at the bar drinking from large mugs eye Lilli and Mr. Rathbone indifferently for a moment, before returning to their pints.

  “M’daughter,” Mr. Rathbone says to the man behind the bar. “She’ll just have a lemonade. And,” he asks Lilli, “what’ll you have to eat, dear?”

  Lilli, who is starving, selects a cheese-and-pickle sandwich. Mr. Rathbone then walks her over to the “nook,” a table wedged between the fireplace and a small, glazed window, at some distance from the bar. Once he sees that she’s comfortably settled and has her food, Mr. Rathbone returns to the bar, where the men are lined up at their places like birds perched on a roof ledge.

  Lilli eats her meal alone, while Mr. Rathbone stands at the bar, the voices of the men growing louder and more boisterous. Mr. Rathbone has apparently made friends with his drinking companions, and orders a round of beers for everybody.

  Nearly an hour goes by before they return to the truck. Mr. Rathbone is red-faced, and his gait is unsteady. “Ah, for a nice nap in a lay-by, now,” he remarks in a deep, blowsy voice as he starts the engine. “Wouldn’t you like that, m’dear?”

  Lilli isn’t sure what a lay-by is, and she doesn’t want to find out. “Mrs. Rathbone said they’d be expecting us at the hostel by mid-afternoon,” she retorts. Although she does not know what lies ahead for her, she cannot wait to rid herself of this man. She has never felt such a strong sense of danger before, not even in the presence of the dreaded Captain Koeppler.

  With immense relief, Lilli jumps down from the farm truck, which has come to a stop in front of a long, low, barracks-like building. Mr. Rathbone has already descended and collected Lilli’s meager possessions. He stands before her, smiling. “Well, I got ya here now, didn’t I?” He moves closer to her. “Now give us a kiss for old times’ sake, darlin’, and I’ll be off.”

  In a flash, Lilli reaches down, snatches her suitcase and backpack, and dashes toward what appears to be the main entrance to the building. A tall woman with popping blue eyes and whitish-blonde hair is standing on the threshold.

  “Gracious, child, have you come directly from your billet?”

  Lilli knows that the word billet refers to her host family. She nods breathlessly.

  “I’m Mrs. Mayhew,” the women announces, “the warden here at the hostel. Come through. I want to have a look at you. I assume you’ve brought your documents?”

  Lilli digs into her backpack and produces her Kindertransport visa and her original passport.

  “Hmm. Helga Frankfurter. You’re only twelve, much too young for us here. Although you’re tall, and you do look somewhat mature for your years.”

  Lilli’s insides shrink with worry. Suppose Mrs. Mayhew refuses her accommodation and she has to go to another billet like the Rathbones? Or someplace even worse.

  They enter what looks like a sort of lobby, with two large desks and various billboards displaying names and work schedules, and some photos of the young women who presumably live and work here. Mrs. Mayhew sits down at one of the desks and gestures for Lilli to take a seat across from her. She is shaking her head. “Dear oh dear, your garments will have to be burned, all of them. And your hair, child. We’ll want to undo those braids and cut it short.”

  Lilli’s hand flies to her head. She hasn’t washed her hair in a long time because Mrs. Rathbone refused to let her use the fuel to heat the water. Most of her clothes are the ones she brought from Germany, along with a few outsize army-issue garments she acquired while at the Rathbones.

  “How often were you able to wash your clothing or bathe at your billet?” Mrs. Mayhew inquires kindly.

  Something in the tenderness of the warden’s voice brings Lilli to tears.

  “Never mind,” Mrs. Mayhew says quickly. “We’ll have you in a warm tub in no time, and issue you a new wardrobe. But what sort of assignment we can give you here, I have no idea. Our young women must be seventeen to work on the farm or with the animals. So your stay,” she finishes, “may be only temporary.”

  It’s evening now, and following a supper of baked beans, sliced ham, and hot cocoa, Lilli is sitting on her dormitory bed, admiring her new clothing. In keeping with what Mrs. Mayhew called the “land girls’” uniform, she’s received two short-sleeved shirts, a pullover, a warm jacket, breeches that can be tucked into the high rubber boots she was given, socks and shoes, and even a hat and a raincoat. Although the colors of the outer garments are a dreary greenish-gray, the wardrobe is sumptuous. Lilli has also had her promised bath, in a porcelain tub, with plenty of soap and hot water. Before that, a large-bosomed woman named Miss Plum, who is in charge of the dormitories, cut Lilli’s hair and washed it in one of the bathroom sinks.

  Lilli has also been introduced to the other girls in her dormitory. Most come from small English towns, and have uprooted themselves to work the land in place of the men who have gone off to war. The girls are a cheerful and giggly lot who tease each other gently, and look to engage in harmless pranks. They are, of course, very curious about Lilli. “Oh, I do hope they let you stay,” says freckle-faced Maude, who has just finished telling Lilli about being kicked by a cow while milking this morning. “You would be like a younger sister.”

  A large and very tall young woman named Alice, who has quite a different British accent from Maude’s, remarks, “Oh, I doubt our Helga would be up to hay-making, or bathing sheep. In any case, it would all be very irregular.”

  Lilli sighs. “I worked hard at the Rathbones, scrubbing floors, cleaning out the hen houses, digging the soil for planting …”

  “Not to worry, love,” Maude adds hastily. “They’ve given you the uniform, so they’re not likely to send you off so quickly.”

  Even though her new bed has a real mattress, clean sheets, and a soft pillow, Lilli’s first night at the hostel is filled with troubling images and memories. She sees the leering eyes of Mr. Rathbone as he attempted to kiss her goodbye. The sound of the other girls’ voices make her realize how desperately lonely she’s been for human companionship. And Maude’s mention of Lilli being a “younger sister” makes her think of her family hiding out in Nazi-dominated Holland or, worse, being transported to one of the camps.

  Breakfast very early the next morning consists of hot porridge and milky tea. The rest of the hostelers then go off to work, while the cook comes out of the kitchen to meet the new arrival. Mrs. Mayhew is present. “Turn about, girl, and let me have a look at you,” says the cook, a short round woman with a rosy complexion and carrot-orange hair. “Have you had any kitchen experience? I need a girl to help out and …” she surveys Lilli’s height, “to reach up into the tall cupboards.”

  “Always at home, I helped my mother in the kitchen,” Lilli replies eagerly.

  “Hmm,” says the cook, whose name is Mrs. Trumbull, “that doesn’t mean much. But you’re young and you’ll learn.” She turns to Mrs. Mayhew. “Well, it’s all up to you.”

  A short time late
r, Lilli finds herself in the hostel’s kitchen, wearing a cap and overalls, learning where the foods and utensils are stored, and being taught how to cook on a coal-fired stove.

  A few weeks after Lilli’s arrival at the hostel, a parcel from Mutti arrives. It was mailed just before the Dutch surrender to the Nazis, and was forwarded, after all, by Mrs. Rathbone.

  Lilli’s dormitory mates make cooing sounds of admiration as she tearfully opens the parcel and delicately removes the carefully wrapped items. Mutti’s pearls have been secreted in the package, as have several rings and a brooch set with semi-precious stones. There are also sheer, delicately embroidered undergarments, and the wonderful flowered chiffon dress that Mutti wore the day she took Lilli to the Kindertransport.

  Maude clasps Lilli, who is heaving with sobs. “Don’t cry, love. You’ll see your family again. Your mother just wants you to have some nice things to cheer you up a bit.”

  Lilli shakes her head vehemently. She knows that isn’t why Mutti sent the parcel. She and the girls are going to the camps to die, while Lilli is safe.

  Alice, with her disdainful manner and upper-class accent, replaces her glasses and kneels down beside Lilli’s cot. “Tell you what,” she says in a mothering tone. “You will come to the dance with us on Saturday. You’ll take off your grubby old work clothes, fluff out your hair, put on a dab of lipstick, and wear this beautiful dress.”

  “Yes, yes!” the others exclaim. “Helga must come to the dance.”

  “We have a wonderful band,” adds shy, pale-faced Elsie. “They play all the modern hits. Of course, we have no men to dance with, so we dance with each other. And there are refreshments.”

  Lilli shakes her head “no.” It is impossible to think of such frivolity at this time, or ever.

  Nonetheless, on Saturday evening, Lilli finds herself sharing the anticipatory fever of her dormitory mates. The young women are rummaging through their belongings for party clothes, and primping before the mirror. (Some of the girls slept the previous night in hair curlers derived from rags and hairpins.) They discard their high rubber boots and sturdy oxfords for uncomfortable high-heeled shoes in which they stagger about delightedly. Maude lends Lilli an extra pair, and offers her eyebrow pencil, rouge, and lipstick.