The Star and the Shamrock

by Jean Grainger

‘But you don’t know for certain?’ Liesl’s brown eyes were pools of worry.

  ‘No, my love, I don’t know for certain,’ Elizabeth had to concede.

  ‘I don’t think Daniel did anything wrong – I know he didn’t – I don’t care what the police or anyone else says,’ Liesl said with quiet determination.

  The following days were heavy on her hands, and she knew the people in the village were talking about her. Small places like Ballycreggan thrived on gossip and hearsay, and the idea that the local Catholic black sheep, who married a Jew, maintained a rift of two decades with her mother (a walking saint by everyone’s reckoning) and then turned up out of the blue with two German kids in tow was enough to set all the tongues wagging, leaving aside entirely the prospect of her being somehow connected to a German spy. She tried to ignore the looks and the sudden silence whenever she entered the grocer’s or the butcher’s.

  A German plane had been shot down two nights ago by the RAF, who scrambled at a minute’s notice, but not before it managed to drop bombs very precisely on the fuel silo. It also hit a hangar and destroyed a lot of expensive equipment. Two British airmen were killed. A local girl who was on her third day there as a typist was injured so badly she would never walk again. The word around the village was that they knew exactly where to drop the bombs. Where the Luftwaffe got such information seemed to be common knowledge – Daniel Lieber was to blame.

  She tried to keep busy, and she tried to find out what was happening at the farm, but she didn’t want to just turn up there. While she was the Jewish children’s teacher and Erich and Liesl’s foster mother, she had no real place at the farm in her own right. If she showed up there, it would look odd. She and Daniel were not a couple, and she wasn’t Jewish, so she had no grounds on which to go there, no matter how much she longed for information.

  The impression she got from the older children, however, was that the Jews too had put two and two together and made five when it came to Daniel. She was fearful that her association with him, however innocent, made her guilty, but she dismissed that thought. If that was the case, everyone he came into contact with was a potential accomplice.

  She was so torn. It seemed impossible that the man she’d come to know so well, the person she’d become so close to over the past few months, would be a spy for Hitler’s hateful regime. She just didn’t believe it.

  So often, once Liesl and Erich were asleep, she and Daniel discussed the war, and the way he spoke about the regime in Germany and Austria – and increasingly, every country in Europe, it would seem – made her believe he hated the Nazis for what they’d done to his homeland. He had such compassion for the little Jewish children who’d come on the Kindertransport…and his dedication to the farm…and his Jewish faith – none of it made any sense.

  But then, a voice in her head spoke. Why would he have done such drawings of the RAF base? And why hide them? He was the only one with the training to do such technical drawings. They looked very professional, and the detective assured her that the notations were something that all engineers would understand. She wished she could speak to him. She’d started so many letters but hadn’t posted any.

  The little voice in her head that kept her awake at night insisted that there could be no other possible reason. She desperately didn’t want to accept it, but if everyone on the farm believed the police and there was no evidence to the contrary, only one conclusion could be drawn.

  And if Daniel was a spy, it meant he was a supporter of Hitler, and he would, by that token, support Hitler’s treatment of Jews. Did Daniel look at Liesl and Erich and the others and want them dead? She shuddered.

  She watched each day for the bus, and to her relief, one day it was Talia behind the wheel and not the taciturn Levi. She went out to greet her young friend; Talia had not been in school or called to the house since Daniel’s arrest.

  ‘Hello, Talia.’ She smiled as she approached the bus. The children were playing in the yard, knowing Talia wouldn’t mind giving them a few extra minutes. When Levi collected them, they went straight to the bus, as he had no patience for idling around. The June sunshine was warm, and watching the children having fun together, one could be forgiven for thinking all was right with the world.

  ‘Coffee?’ Elizabeth offered. She knew, as with Daniel, it was Talia’s weakness. The little bag Daniel had managed to get his hands on was almost gone. Suddenly, a thought struck her – did he really get coffee from a grateful shop owner in return for work, or did he get it from somewhere else?

  ‘You have some?’ Talia’s face lit up, and Elizabeth had to smile. She looked so young.

  ‘I do, a little.’

  ‘Ooh, Elizabeth, I would love a cup of coffee.’ Talia jumped out of the bus and followed her into the school. The classroom was deserted and had a holiday air. There were a lot of finishing-up and clearing-away projects happening to make space for the new school year. It struck her how the children just assumed they’d be back in September. The prospect of the war being over any time soon wasn’t to the forefront of anyone’s mind now.

  They made idle chit-chat as Elizabeth brewed some of Daniel’s coffee; she managed to find a biscuit to go with it.

  Talia sipped her drink gratefully. ‘Mmm…that is so good. It tastes like Austrian coffee – I could almost be in Stephansplatz.’

  ‘Well, it actually belongs to Daniel. He left it here.’ Elizabeth was glad of a way to move the conversation around to him. The voices of the chatting and playing children wafted in through the open window. The older girls were sitting on the grass outside making daisy chains.

  ‘Well, he won’t need it now, I suppose,’ Talia said with a sigh.

  ‘Do you think he did it?’ Elizabeth asked her straight out.

  Talia shrugged and took a bite of the plain biscuit. ‘Look, I don’t know what went on, but the police don’t just go around arresting people, do they? I mean, what does anyone really know about him, Elizabeth? He hasn’t any family, it seems, not one person here could verify he was who he said he was, and he doesn’t even look very Jewish…’

  Elizabeth tried to hide her frustration. ‘But lots of Jews don’t look Jewish, whatever that means, and there are many people scattered all over the globe on their own with nobody to vouch for them – it’s the nature of the thing – so I don’t think that’s very fair.’

  ‘Look, Elizabeth, do yourself a favour and let the police handle it.’ Talia fixed her with a gaze. ‘You don’t want to look any more guilty.’

  Elizabeth was nonplussed. Did the people at the farm think she was somehow implicated? ‘What do you mean, “not look any more guilty”? Why would anyone think I was guilty of anything?’

  She froze. Liesl was standing in the doorway.

  ‘Elizabeth isn’t guilty of anything and neither is Daniel!’ the girl blurted, and Talia spun around, all colour draining from her face.

  ‘And you were supposed to be his friend, and now you’re saying he’s a spy when you know he isn’t!’ Liesl’s chest was heaving and her cheeks were flushed. Elizabeth had hardly ever seen the girl so angry.

  ‘Liesl, I was just –’ Talia began, walking towards the girl.

  ‘Get away from me! I hate you!’ Liesl ran outside, leaving the two women standing in the classroom alone.

  ‘I didn’t mean that, Elizabeth. It’s just we are all suspects, I suppose, anyone who had anything to do with Daniel, so…’

  ‘Do the Jews think I’m involved?’ Elizabeth asked directly.

  ‘Look, it’s hard. We all loved and trusted Daniel, and now it seems he’s one of them. And you and he were close, so…’

  Talia didn’t need to say any more.

  ‘I need to go to the farm. Can you take me in the bus?’ Elizabeth cut through the younger woman’s attempts at reconciliation. If the refugees thought she was somehow involved in some wrongdoing, she needed to clear her name. Her career, Liesl and Erich’s future, their friendships and membership in that community all depended on
it. This was getting out of hand.

  ‘Of course, but I don’t think…’

  Elizabeth glared at her and Talia stopped.

  ‘Let’s go,’ the younger woman said with a sigh.

  Elizabeth sent Liesl and Erich home and got on the bus with the children. Somehow, she managed to chat with them and hoped she gave no indication of the turmoil she felt inside. If the Jews thought she was involved, then so would Mr Morris, the people of Ballycreggan, and even the police. She needed to nip this in the bud.

  As the bus pulled in, she spotted Rabbi Frank. He was dressed as a farmer, and his small wiry frame was moving quickly. She got off the bus and followed him.

  ‘Rabbi, please, I must speak to you.’

  Daniel had explained that the rabbi escaped from Germany and his English was virtually nonexistent, but he had been eager to learn and within a matter of weeks was having rudimentary conversations. Soon after that, he was conversing freely.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Klein. You have spared me a journey. I was going to call on you later.’ His blue eyes were small and penetrating, and there was a serenity to him that belied his lean, sinewy body.

  She assumed he wanted to talk to her about Daniel. She gave him a moment to collect his thoughts.

  He had been assaulted by thugs on the street in Germany in 1938 and as a result was physically frail, but somehow he managed to pull his weight like everyone else on the farm. He was an inspiration to them all.

  Apparently, he had family in Scotland, but he ended up in Ireland because he heard of the farm community and decided he would be more use there. He had tried to get more children over – he was a personal acquaintance of Florence Nankivell, the woman who organised the first Kindertransport out of Berlin – but all borders were closed once war broke out. Some Czech children did get out of the Netherlands towards the end, before that country fell under the Nazi jackboots, but despite their best efforts, the fate of the millions of Jewish children and their families still left in Europe was precarious to say the very least.

  Rabbi Frank thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers. He still wore his hat and had his curly peyot tucked behind his ears, but in his work clothes, he looked less imposing than when she’d seen him for Shabbat.

  ‘I have some news for you. And it is not good. It concerns your cousin, Peter Bannon.’

  Elizabeth felt her mouth go dry. ‘Go on,’ she managed.

  ‘It is difficult to be certain, but it seem this man was arrested along with another gentile friend of him, and they both taken away. But these men, both is Roman Catholic, but only one, he comed back and telled that this Peter Bannon is dead. I don’t know more details. Someone tell this man when he goes to the Bannon’s house that the children are in the Kindertransport, so he pass it on to the organiser in Berlin. I only get this now. Maybe it happen long time ago, I don’t know.’

  Elizabeth tried to remain composed. How could she tell the children this? ‘And his wife?’

  The rabbi looked blankly at her.

  ‘Peter’s wife? Did he pass that information on to her?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged sadly. ‘But I think maybe he don’t find her, if he try to get message to children by Kindertransport.’

  Elizabeth felt tears sting her eyes. The idea that she would have to inflict such pain on Liesl and Erich by telling them what she knew was horrible. For the time, all thoughts of Daniel Lieber were gone.

  She paused and looked into the rabbi’s blue eyes. He was no more than five feet tall and looked ancient. Erich said once he thought the rabbi looked like a tortoise, and she could see why. It was hard to tell what age he was. He had several teeth missing and many scars on his head and neck.

  ‘Should I tell them?’

  He nodded sadly. ‘Yes. You must. Then take them here and we will say Kaddish for him. His son is not yet bar mitzvah, no?’

  ‘No, not yet… Erich is only nine. Liesl is eleven. She will have her bat mitzvah in two months’ time,’ Elizabeth replied.

  The Rabbi didn’t comment on that but nodded. ‘Well, we will all say it for him, all the men, and his boy. So many now, we say Kaddish for so many.’ He nodded his head slowly again. ‘This prayer, you know it?’

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I’m not Jewish…’ she began.

  ‘Yes, but you know what is this prayer?’

  ‘Well, it’s a prayer for the dead?’ she answered, unsure if that was what he was after.

  ‘Yes. But don’t say dead. Only to praise God. When you tell this to the children, say this. Their father is with God, and he is safe.’

  Elizabeth envied him his pure, simple faith. The dead are gone to God, that was all there was to it. They were relieved of the suffering of this mortal world to enjoy the presence of God. There was comfort in it, if you believed it.

  Did she believe? She hadn’t practised any religion for most of her adult life. Rudi’s faith didn’t make any demands on her – he practised, but it was nothing to do with her – and her mother could practically say mass herself, so Catholicism just meant long boring hours in the draughty chapel with the priest wittering on in Latin and old people rattling their rosaries.

  So she had no religion, but did she believe in God, heaven, all the rest of it? Did she think Rudi was somewhere else? She spoke to him often – less so, admittedly, since she’d come home – so on some level, she must believe the dead go on, mustn’t she? She didn’t know.

  ‘Do you want I come to children with you?’ The rabbi’s eyes were kind, and she knew he meant well, but she needed to do this on her own.

  She wished Daniel were here. He was of their faith and culture, and he’d be so much better at explaining than she would be.

  Suddenly, not caring how it looked, she blurted out, ‘Do you think Daniel Lieber is a German spy?’

  He gave her a slow, sad smile. ‘No. I do not think this. But…this world, I don’t understand it. All this murder and suffering for why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  There was nothing more to say. They stood in a silence of mutual understanding and empathy. Eventually, the rabbi placed his hand on her shoulder, patted it and walked away.

  Chapter 17

  Liesl and Erich were on the village green when she returned. She’d walked all the way back – she needed to clear her head and try to compose the words that would crush their little hearts.

  She called them and let herself into the house.

  They burst in the door full of a story about how a dog had run into the schoolyard when everyone else was gone and how Mr Morris had to chase it and how the little Jack Russell did a wee in the hall. Erich was in fits of giggles describing the puffed-out principal and the puppy’s antics, and she let him finish.

  ‘What is it, Elizabeth?’ Liesl knew by her face something wasn’t right.

  ‘Sit down. I have something to tell you.’ She tried to keep her voice even as she patted the sofa on either side of her.

  ‘Do we have to leave you?’ Erich asked, stricken.

  ‘No, darling, of course you don’t. I told you, I won’t ever let someone take you away, except your mutti.’ She swallowed.

  ‘Or Papa,’ Erich added for clarity, relaxed now that his worst fear was not to be realised.

  ‘My darlings, the rabbi gave me some news today about your papa.’ Oh God, how was she going to say those words? She offered a silent prayer to Rudi. Please help me.

  ‘What about him?’ Liesl asked, almost physically recoiling from her and her news.

  ‘He is dead, my loves. Your papa is gone to heaven, and he is with God now.’ The words dropped like stones.

  ‘Did the soldiers kill him?’ Liesl asked quietly, her face ashen.

  Elizabeth nodded and whispered, ‘They did, my darling girl. I am so, so sorry.’

  ‘No!’ Erich’s high-pitched sob broke the silence. ‘No, my papa is strong! He could fight them! He would not leave me and Liesl and Mutti! He wouldn’t do it, Elizabeth, he wouldn’t. You are
wrong, and the rabbi is wrong… It’s a lie!’ He pummelled her with his fists, sobs racking his body, and she just held him tight and waited for the grief and anger and confusion to subside. Liesl was like a statue beside her.

  ‘Did someone tell our mother?’ Liesl asked, her voice leaden.

  ‘I don’t know, my love,’ Elizabeth answered, dreading this line of questioning even more.

  ‘But how did the rabbi know…and you… How did he find out?’

  Elizabeth exhaled. ‘There was a man with your father when he was arrested, and he was released or escaped or something, I don’t know. He brought the news to someone involved with the Kindertransport. He must have known somehow that you two came on that, I suppose.’

  ‘But did he tell our mother? Did he go to our apartment and tell her about Papa?’ Liesl’s voice was rising, the shock wearing off and panic setting in.

  ‘I don’t know, darling. I swear if I did, I would tell you…’ Elizabeth tried to comfort her, but the girl shook her off.

  ‘He must not have told her, because if he had, Mutti would tell us, not the Kindertransport people?’

  Elizabeth had shielded the children from the worst stories coming back from Europe, but even they knew that life was close to impossible for Jews now. What should she do? Was it best to prepare them? They’d not heard from their mother, and they both seemed convinced the reason they had not received a letter was no letters were allowed in or out of Germany. That was probably true to an extent, and it was the best way for the children to come to terms with the silence. Nonetheless, they wrote religiously every two weeks. Surely if Ariella was there, she would find a way to get in touch?

  ‘You would think so, Liesl, so I’m not sure, but I think he may not have been able to make contact with your mother. We’ve written often, telling her we’re here, and we’ve not had a reply, which must mean your mother is no longer at your apartment.’

  ‘So where is she?’ Erich asked, his cheeks tear-stained and his breath ragged. ‘Where is Mutti, Liesl? Where is she?’ He began to sob again.