She tried to picture the farm, the kitchen where she’d cut up vegetables for Kitty, the dinner table with Stella and Tamar and all the boys around it laughing at the German policemen they’d fooled. The images flared up for an instant and were gone. It was hard to think about anything except how slowly she was going on wheels without tires, how painful it was to hold the handlebars tightly enough to keep herself from falling off when the wind slammed into her, how many hours she had ahead of her on this desolate road, in this cold wind and the snow when it started again.
There was a small chapel in the cemetery, and she sheltered for a few minutes in the portico to catch her breath and blow on her hands to warm them. Around the gravestones were the stumps of trees that people had cut down for firewood. Every branch and twig had been taken so that, where the wind had blown the snow away, the ground was as clean as if someone had swept it. Nobody would be buried here until the ground thawed. That would be in the summer, if there was one.
Past the village, she slid down the embankment onto the wind-still path along the railroad track. The rails had been pulled up to get at the wooden beams under them. She could bike easily on the frozen sand, sit up and look ahead. There was no way to judge how far she’d come or how far she still had to go, no way to tell how may hours she’d been traveling. When a bridge over the tracks appeared, she pedaled faster. It was a good place to shelter, eat the only food she had and ease the pain in her legs. Nobody would see her there.
It was going to be all right. In this snowstorm, even the police wouldn’t be out on the country roads. She could come back along the tracks tomorrow, it was what Hendrik had advised, and so far he was right. He was a good man, and it was more than luck that had given her Elsie and Hendrik, Dirk and Jan. More than luck that she and her parents had survived all these years, because Elsie had taken them in. Papa said God’s ways were mysterious even when you saw the work of his hands. Elsie and Hendrik, their guardian angels, they were the work of God’s hands.
She took her lunch out of her pocket. Elsie had told her that the bread they ate in her church was a piece of Jesus’s body. When the Jews were wandering in the desert and had nothing more to eat, God gave them bread, the manna they found every morning lying on the sand. Now that thousands of Dutch people were starving, maybe God would work in his mysterious way again. She took a small bite, chewed it slowly and ate the rest one tiny bite at a time, making it last and tasting every crumb. Then she took hold of the handlebars and walked on.
Hours later, she looked up and saw a station building and the sign for the village she wanted. The benches that had stood along the wall and the shutters that had hung either side of the windows had been stolen. Peering into the empty room, she saw a clock, its hands stopped at a little after nine, too early and too late.
It was the end of the afternoon, too dark to see through the fine snow falling like a curtain between herself and the road. On the way to the farm with Stella, she had noticed a row of shops, a garage and two gas pumps. The name on the garage had stayed with her, because she’d once imagined that people chose jobs that matched their names. Mr Sweat built chimneys, Mr Woodcutter was a carpenter and here was Mr Oil tending cars.
She had stopped to look around for a road she would recognize, when someone suddenly appeared in front of her. ‘What are you doing out here? Who are you?’ he asked and leaned over the handlebars to look more closely. When she didn’t answer, he reached out and pulled her hat off. ‘Hey,’ he exclaimed, ‘I know you!’
‘No!’
‘Yes ,yes, I do! You’re Stella’s cousin. I saw you there. Don’t you remember? Gunther?’ He pulled a flashlight out of his coat pocket and shone it first on her face and then on his. It was the young policeman Stella had flirted with. He had looked like a schoolboy when he smiled, too young to be wearing that menacing gray uniform. ‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘We can’t stand out here talking.’ When she drew back, he said, ‘I want to talk to you. Come!’
Was he arresting her? If the police had found the boys hiding there, they would have taken Kris and Kitty and the whole family away. And now she would be arrested and sent to Germany. Steadying her bike with one hand, he laid the other on her shoulder and guided her toward a building behind the garage. With the front wheel, he pushed opened the door and went ahead of her into the hall.
She stopped in the doorway, though she knew there was no point in running away and no place to hide, and he would only become angry and suspicious if she tried.
‘Come inside,’ he ordered, ‘and shut the door.’ Propping her bike against the wall, he walked ahead of her into a room lit and warmed by a wood stove. ‘That’s better,’ he said, ‘let’s sit down,’ and he pulled two chairs closer to the stove.
Jo took off her gloves, unwound her scarf and took a few steps forward with her hands held out to the fire. When he tugged her sleeve, she jumped back but he only pulled her gently onto a chair. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘See? I don’t anymore wear a uniform. And look, no gun and no boots!’ He opened his jacket to show her his blue woolen sweater, the thick kind sailors wore, and he held one foot out to show her his heavy brown shoe.
‘I don’t understand,’ she began, but he waved his hands in the air to interrupt her.
‘Of course you don’t, so now I will explain it to you, if you can be quiet and listen? Is the war over where you come from? Here it was already weeks ago. My boss, you met him, packed up and ran away home. He told me to come with him but I decided no, I would not go back to Germany. Never! Never again!' He took a deep breath and laughed. ‘He said you Dutch would shoot me if I stayed, but Cal said no they wouldn’t, and he found me this place to hide until my boss was gone. So here I am still. Gnädige Frau, what’s your name?’
‘Jo.’
‘Jo, yes. Gunther Becker, a pleasure to meet you again,’ and he put out his hand to shake hers. ‘Ah, you are getting warm, that’s good. You know Cal, he’s a good guy, isn’t he, his family are good too. I like them, well, more to the point, they like me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I still don’t understand. You’re a soldier. Don’t you have to go home?’
‘I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. No more orders! I’ve been following orders all my life, and I won’t anymore! Wait,’ he said, ‘let me show you something,’ and he got up, pulled a wallet out of his back pocket and took out a photograph. ‘See that boy? That’s me.’
Jo took the photo and tipped it so that the firelight shone on it. She could see four people, a man and woman standing either side of a tall young soldier and, a little apart, a younger boy half-turned away from the camera, as if he didn’t want his picture taken.
‘Is that you, the soldier?’ No, of course not, she remembered, he’d told Stella he had an older brother, he was the baby of the family.
‘No, that soldier, that’s not me, that’s Heinrich. That’s me in my Hitler Youth uniform. Hitler Youth, you know, you have them here too.’
She looked at Gunther frowning at something outside the frame of the picture, at his smiling brother and at the parents, standing very stiffly erect and looking solemnly at the camera.
‘That’s bloody brave Heinrich just before he went off to Russia to die for Hitler. See how unhappy my father looks? He knew Heinrich was never coming back, he knew it already before he left.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Yes, well, I suppose I should be too.’ He stared into the fire for a minute or two. In the silence they heard the log in the stove crack open and saw flames leaping up from under it. ‘But I’m not,’ he said, ‘because I hated him. Do you understand that? I hated my brother all my life.’ He took back the photo. ‘I don’t know why I still have this.’ He opened the door of the stove to throw the photo in, then turned and put it on the table behind him. ‘He was a bully, not just with me, he was just practicing on me. No, he lorded it over the whole school, the arrogant bastard! He thought he was better than everybody else and, do
you believe it, they all agreed with him. The girls hung on him, and the stupid farmers’ sons took off their hats to him on the street as if he were a prince.
‘When the party told the school to form a youth group, of course they made him the leader. My mother was so pleased! Well, she adored Hitler, and he said big boys must be tough on small boys, because it made them stronger and better soldiers, and nobody could do that better than her Heinrich. And he looked so wonderful in his uniform, so dedicated, so determined, so Aryan, so ready to give his life for the führer. Her son!’
He took a deep breath and said, ‘Why am I telling you this? I haven’t talked about Heinrich for years. I haven’t thought about him even. But you know, my dear lady,’
‘Jo.’
‘Jo, yes, thank you Jo. Is it all right? May I talk?’
She nodded.
‘I think I am thinking about him so much now because the war is over and I’m still alive. Isn’t that wonderful? I mean, here I am safe and sound and there he is, lying in a ditch somewhere in Russia in his bloody muddy SS uniform. Someone will have stolen those once shiny boots of his, of course, good for them!’ He took in a deep breath and grinned at her. ‘That’s enough, I am finished.’
She was glad when he stopped talking. She didn’t want to hear anymore about Heinrich who had been an SS officer. She understood why Gunther hated him. That day at the farm, he had come downstairs and told his boss he hadn’t seen anybody, and then he went off, looking back at the three of them as if he wanted to stay with them in the kitchen. Stella had said he was just a baby, not a soldier and never would be.
‘We had this motto, something Hitler said about the kind of men he wanted us to be. We had to be as fast as a greyhound and as tough as leather and, and something else, what was it? Oh, yes, as hard as Krupp’s steel. Do you know who Krupp is? He’s one of the millionaires who helped Hitler get elected. He thought the Nazis would make sure nobody could take his millions away from him and give them to the poor.’ He got up suddenly. ‘You don’t need to hear this, it’s over. We lost, and now we can celebrate it.’
‘Are you really going to stay here?’
‘You mean, will I be arrested? Probably, but they’ll let me go again. Cal will speak up for me.’ He pushed aside a corner of the curtain and looked out. ‘The snow’s stopped. Are you warm enough? I should get you to the farm before they lock up and go to bed. Come, put your coat on.’
The snow soft under their feet, they walked for an hour without speaking, the bike between them. At the end of the road to the farm, Jo saw the house and behind it the big barn. Everything was dark but Gunther pointed to the dog lying on the doorstep and said, ‘They’re still up. See? They haven’t taken Baldur in yet.’
Jo hung back behind the bike, not sure what the dog would do, but Gunther patted his head and spoke softly to him until he got up to let them pass. ‘He knows me,’ he said proudly, as though that confirmed his right to be there, and they went in.
The hall was dark except for a thin line of light under the door to the kitchen. Jo could hear people laughing. ‘Go on, go in,’ Gunther said, and he turned and went out. From the threshold, she saw people sitting in a semicircle a few feet away from the fireplace.
‘Shut the door, Cal, there’s a good boy,’ someone said.
‘Who’s that? Oh, my goodness! Jo, where did you come from?’ Kitty jumped up, hugged her and then stepped back to look at her. ‘You must be frozen! Did you come all by yourself?’ Too tired to speak, Jo nodded. While Kitty put her on the nearest chair, Stella went to the stove and came back with a cup of warm milk. ‘You look exhausted. Take off your coat, it’s soaking wet.’
In a few minutes, she was wrapped in a blanket, the cup in one hand and a plate of bread and butter on her knees. The boys got up and left and then Stella went away too. There were no more questions. She had done it, she hadn’t been caught, Gunther had helped her and she was safe. When Kitty took the cup and plate from her, she leaned back and sighed. She would just rest for a minute and then, and then.
When she awoke, the room was dark except for two candles on the table and blue flames flickering along the top of the half-devoured log. Kitty was sitting on a bench on the other side of the hearth. ‘I’m going to put you to bed now. I suppose Elsie sent you to get food? Kris will sort that out in the morning. Come on.’
‘Where’s Tamar? Is she still here?’
‘Tamar? Yes, of course she is. She’s upstairs, quite safe, Jo, thanks to you and Elsie. Come on, you’ll see her tomorrow. Oh, and her name is Merel now.’
Tamar was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed when she awoke. The little girl Jo had brought to the farm three years before was growing up, but she still had eyes too big for her face and the same solemn expression.
‘Good morning, Merel,’ Jo said.
‘Are you my mother? Kitty said my mother would come and get me. Are you?’
Jo shook her head. ‘No, I’m Jo. I brought you here when your mother asked me to.’
‘I don’t remember that, at least I don’t think so.’
‘It was a long time ago.’
‘I was just a baby, wasn’t I? I know how to read now.’ She held up the book. ‘Shall I read to you?’
‘That would be nice, but shouldn’t we have breakfast first?’
Tamar nodded, slid off the bed and watched while Jo pulled on her skirt and stockings. Hopping down the stairs, she called out, ‘Kitty, she’s coming!’, and Jo saw how happy she was. Taking her away from her mother had been the right thing to do. But if Tamar asked every woman who came to the farm who she was and it was never her mother, when would she stop asking? How old does a child have to be to accept that someone who once loved her wasn’t going to come back and love her again?
Standing next to the table, Jo closed her eyes and thought of her mother, asking her to wait, not to die yet, not until she was there with her. She would sit on the bed and hold her mother’s hand for as long as it took, and her father would hold her other hand. They couldn't go with her, but she wouldn't be frightened, because they would be holding her hands.
She felt Kitty’s arm around her shoulders and straightened up. ‘I’m all right, just a little tired.’
‘Of course you are, you’re so thin! People have been knocking on our door all winter, not many, we’re too far from the main road, but we’ve heard stories from other farmers. Hundreds of people and not enough food to help all of them. It must be terrible! We’ve talked so often about going to the city to help you, we’ve got enough, thank goodness, more than enough, but people told us it was against the law, and they didn’t know whether we’d get past the police.’
‘I came along the railroad tracks, and I didn’t see anybody until,’ she hesitated. She couldn’t tell Kitty about Gunther, that he was still in the village, hiding. He might not want anybody but Cal to know.
Busy at the stove, Kitty said, ‘Sit down and eat. I hope you can stay until I’ve fattened you up.’ Handing Jo a bowl of porridge and a spoon, she sat down opposite her and said, ‘You need taking care of.’
‘They expect me to come back, they’ll worry if I don’t. I have to take them food, Kitty, whatever you can spare.’
‘All right, but not today. Tell me about the family.’
‘We’re all right. Hendrik brings home wood, and Elsie and I get bread almost every day and sometimes soup.’ No point in telling about her mother dying or Dirk hiding in his bed.
‘Sometimes! What about Jan, what’s he doing?’
Jo put a spoonful of porridge in her mouth while she thought about how to answer. ‘He might be in Haarlem on the boats, but we don’t know.’
‘Oh, poor Elsie! Thank goodness we still have our sons, you know how close we’ve come to having them deported? When you’re ready to go, Cal can go with you.’
‘No, Kitty, he mustn’t. There are police all along the roads.’
‘You are not going alone,’ Cal said from the doorway. ‘I know this
country better than you do. I’ll find a way to get us around the roadblocks. I heard most of the Germans are gone, so who’s out there playing cops and robbers?’
‘Dutch police?’ Kitty suggested.
‘Well, if that’s all it is, I can handle them.’
‘No, it’s Germans too,’ Jo said. ‘They’ll arrest you, they’re on the lookout for men to work for them, worse now than before. They aren’t so interested in a girl on a bike.’
‘I can handle them,’ he insisted.
‘All right, all right,’ Kitty laughed. ‘You’ve convinced us. But not today and, Jo, if you want to go back to bed, I’ll give you a good lunch when you get up.’
Climbing the stairs, Jo realized Kitty was right, it was too late to start out and she was still too tired. She would stay one more day, but tomorrow, if Cal woke her early enough and nobody stopped them along the way, they could be back in Amsterdam before dark.
She slept through lunch, only once half-waking to hear a child’s voice asking anxiously, ‘Is she all right, Aunt Stella?’ When she came downstairs, they were just sitting down to supper, and Kris jumped up to kiss her. There were only six around the table, Kris, Kitty and Stella, Cal, Alf, the youngest son, and Tamar. ‘Where are the other boys?’ she asked. ‘What happened?’
‘Oh, they’re all right, they’re safe,’ Kitty said. ‘They’re in Muiden trying to get into the house their family owned. The people who moved in after their parents were sent away don’t want to get out, but the boys won’t give up until they do. Toby said they’ll burn the house down rather than let those thieves stay there.’
When Jo sat down, Stella piled potatoes on her plate, poured gravy over them and handed Jo a platter of pieces of chicken. ‘There’s lots, Jo, go ahead.’
It was too much, far more than she’d eaten for days, and after a while she put her fork down and laughed, ‘I wish I could take it home with me!’
The Time Between Page 30
