The Star and the Shamrock

by Jean Grainger

  Daniel never replied to her letter, and she’d given up hope that he would.

  ‘Are you going to come to the dance?’ Bud interrupted her reverie.

  ‘Sorry?’ Elizabeth had no idea what he was talking about.

  ‘The dance, Elizabeth, on the base. Remember I told you all the girls from the farm are going, and all the locals too. It’s going to be wonderful. I wish I were old enough,’ Liesl sighed wistfully.

  ‘Well, you are definitely not old enough, and I’m much too old, so we’ll keep each other company while the rest of them go dancing.’ She grinned.

  ‘You’re not too old, ma’am,’ Bud said respectfully. ‘I know lots of our officers would love to see a pretty lady like you at the dance.’

  Elizabeth blushed and shooed him away. ‘Go on out of that with your American sweet talk. I’ve no intention of going anywhere near a dance at this hour of my life.’

  ‘Talia said that lots of ladies are going…’ Bud tried again. ‘I’d like a dance with you.’ He winked at Erich, who giggled.

  ‘Now Corporal Johnson, I think you might have your dance card full with a certain Viennese beauty, so you’d better keep your attentions there and not be worrying about old ladies.’

  ‘You’re not an old lady!’ Erich was indignant. ‘Mrs Morris is old and Mrs Ashe, but you’re lovely and you are really young.’ He placed his arm around her, and she squeezed him affectionately.

  ‘I’ll tell you what, Erich. Let’s wait until you’re old enough to go to a dance, and then I’ll go too and you can dance with me. Is that a deal, as the Americans say?’

  ‘All right,’ he said doubtfully, taking her suggestion seriously, ‘but by then you really would be an old lady. But I’ll still dance with you.’

  Word about the dance spread, and the excitement around the village was palpable. There had not been a dance in years, and it was something to lift the young people out of the gloom and drudgery of war.

  When word got out at the farm through the ever talkative Erich that Elizabeth was handy with a needle and thread, Ruth, Talia and two other girls arrived one afternoon begging for help. Armed with only a bag of mismatched work clothes, they had pitifully little to potentially turn into a party frock.

  Abandoning the bag of rags they had brought, Elizabeth went rooting in the overstuffed cupboards upstairs and found some dresses. They were in a very old style as they’d belonged to her mother, but the material was good and hardly worn, and if she could take them apart, she could remake them into more fashionable dresses. The girls were thrilled, and Elizabeth was happy to bring some joy into their lives.

  All evening, she had them carefully unpicking seams, then she remodelled the outfits, pinning them to fit and instructing the girls to sew them up in a different style. Liesl was her tailor’s assistant, and eventually all four girls had something new to wear.

  ‘Have you heard from Daniel?’ Talia asked. She was standing in Elizabeth’s bedroom in her underwear as she was fitted into her new dress. It was a lovely dark-red crushed velvet. Elizabeth could never have imagined her mother wearing something so decadent, but it accentuated Talia’s dark features and curvy figure. She’d made a red lipstick with beeswax and cochineal, and the overall effect was lovely.

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ Elizabeth said as she straightened the hem. She wondered if she should mention that she’d written. When she collected the children after Shabbat the previous week, she asked the rabbi for news of him. Rabbi Frank said that Daniel was doing all right, considering. He had no idea, though, when his case was going to be heard. It would almost certainly be held in private, and he feared that the next news could be that he had been executed.

  She did not mention to him that she’d written. The rabbi never raised it, so she wondered if Daniel ever got her letter. If he had, he may not have mentioned it to the Orthodox rabbi, in case he was scandalised. The old man admired her, she knew that, and was grateful for the help she gave the children at the farm, but he would not have approved of a gentile and a Jew being involved in any way.

  To say she and Daniel were ever involved would be to overstate the case anyway. A possible near kiss weeks ago hardly constituted a romance, but she found herself still thinking about him and worrying for him. The new Treachery Act enacted by Churchill in May was necessary, she supposed. Foreign spies could not be charged with treason because they weren’t British, so this measure had to be introduced to deal quickly and effectively with enemy agents operating on British soil. The fact that anyone found guilty of treachery against Britain was executed was something she could not dwell on.

  ‘Have you?’ she asked as nonchalantly as she could.

  ‘No. Nothing since that last letter. He just wants to be left alone, I think. His fate is sealed now anyway.’

  Talia sounded sad but resigned. Elizabeth didn’t want to be drawn on the subject.

  ‘There, you’re done.’ Elizabeth led the younger woman to the full-length mirror on the huge mahogany wardrobe door. ‘You look lovely.’

  The two women stood, side by side, staring at their reflections.

  ‘Thank you, Elizabeth. I…’ Talia was pleasant and friendly but emotional exchanges made her uncomfortable. ‘I…I’m grateful to you for this dress. It’s the best thing I’ve ever worn. I…’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry that things didn’t work out for you and Daniel. You would have been good together.’

  Elizabeth was surprised. She knew Talia had feelings for him – it was obvious from the start – but she was now willing to concede that perhaps Daniel’s affections lay elsewhere. They had never had a conversation about it, but she knew from others that Talia liked to make out that she and Daniel were more intimate than they were. But now that he was facing death, perhaps she was less inclined to peddle that notion. Elizabeth admonished herself for thinking so badly of Talia, but it did strike her as odd how easily the girl had put aside her affection for him.

  Elizabeth did not acknowledge her remarks about her and Daniel but said instead, ‘I don’t think he’s guilty, Talia. I don’t know why, as I don’t have any evidence, but I just don’t believe he’s a Nazi.’

  The younger woman didn’t flinch. ‘I know how you feel, but whether he is or he isn’t doesn’t matter, though, does it? Nobody but him could have done those drawings, and he doesn’t have anyone to vouch for him. He’ll be tried and most likely convicted and sentenced to death. Everyone on the farm hates him, as they all believe he’s guilty. And if I say anything to defend him, they’ll think it’s just because I have feelings for him.’

  ‘What does Rabbi Frank say?’ Elizabeth asked.

  ‘I don’t know. He’s not very… Well, he doesn’t say much.’ Talia sighed. ‘I just wish this was all over. I’m so sick of it all.’

  It was so unlike Talia to react emotionally. Elizabeth tried to comfort her. ‘It’s been hard, and I know you loved him,’ she said gently.

  ‘I did. I do. But he doesn’t want me. We both know that.’ The younger woman sighed again, and it sounded like it came from her toes. ‘It’s hard to keep going, you know? I don’t really have friends. Daniel was the closest person to me, and now…’

  ‘That’s not true. The girls downstairs are your friends, and the children in school love to see you coming, and Bud is crazy about you, as he’d say himself. You have your art… You have a lot going for you.’

  Talia gave a small smile. ‘I am selling some paintings, so that’s nice.’ She’d explained a few weeks ago that she had approached a gallery in Belfast and they were stocking her watercolours. She’d only sold a few – money was tight and frivolities like art were low on people’s list of priorities – but it did allow her a little money, and she was generous with it. She bought sweets for the children, and even a scarf for Elizabeth.

  ‘There you go. And you have a fabulous dress and a handsome American on your arm, so it’s not all bad, is it?’

  Talia gave what Elizabeth thought was a sad smile, turned and went downstairs. As
Elizabeth was packing up her things, Liesl came into the room.

  ‘She’s gone, is she?’ Liesl was talking about Talia; only one person caused the girl to be so bitter.

  ‘Liesl, why do you dislike her? She likes you and Erich very much.’

  The girl snorted. ‘Talia likes me? No. Definitely not. She can’t stand me and the feeling’s mutual. She knows I can see through her. She pretends like she’s like the rest of the Jews, but she’s not. And she complains all the time about having to do the chickens, but everyone has to take their turn. She thinks she’s so much better than everyone else.’

  Elizabeth was taken aback. She knew Liesl didn’t like her, but she’d never realised there was such animosity between them.

  ‘I don’t know, Liesl. I think she’s all right. She loved Daniel, you know. This is hard for her too.’

  ‘She didn’t love him, or you or us – she only loves herself. She wanted people to think she was with him, but she wasn’t. Daniel loves you and me and Erich. This is where he belongs, not with her.’ It was all very simple to Liesl.

  Elizabeth let it go. The child was hurt and grief-stricken about everything. Admonishing her about her feelings for Talia wouldn’t improve anything.

  Chapter 20

  Elizabeth and the children cycled along the coast road in the hot August sunshine. She had a picnic lunch in her basket, and Liesl had a blanket, towels and their swimsuits on her carrier. Erich insisted on balancing buckets and spades on his handlebars. They were so excited to go on their first beach picnic of the summer. The RAF had taken pity on the local children and allowed a small section of the public beach to remain open. It was a tiny section and more shingle than sand, but it was better than nothing. School was out for holidays, and four more weeks of freedom stretched in front of them.

  Liesl’s bat mitzvah had gone off very well, and she and several other boys and girls were now considered adults in their faith. The event was conducted at the farm in the little synagogue they had created, and a feast was held afterwards. Seeing the look on Liesl’s face as she earnestly said her prayers in Hebrew and English filled Elizabeth with such pride.

  She had offered a now-familiar silent prayer to Ariella and Peter as she sat on the hard seat listening to Liesl’s confident tone. She’s a wonderful girl – they both are such special children. Thank you for trusting me, for giving your most precious gifts to me to care for. I hope and pray you will see them again one day, in this life or the next. In the meantime, I will do my best.

  The adults laid on as good a spread as they could after the ceremony. Liesl explained what would have happened back in Berlin if the war had not changed everything; there would have been a big party, and friends and neighbours would have come and celebrated the day with her family. The Jews understood how hard it was for the children – their parents should have been there, aunts, uncles, grandparents – but they did their very best to provide nice food and a cheery atmosphere.

  As they turned down the road to the beach, they spotted Talia and Bud. He was sleeping on the beach, and she was sketching him as he slept. It was his first day off in two weeks. The children waved and Talia beckoned them over.

  ‘Why didn’t you say you were coming here?’ Erich asked. ‘We would have brought enough picnic for you.’

  ‘Thank you, Erich, you are so sweet, but we must get back. We just came out for a swim, as it’s such a lovely day.’

  Bud stirred as Talia put away her art things. Their wet swimsuits were drying on a flat rock beside them.

  Talia had remained true to her word and had done a portrait of Ariella and Peter that now hung in the hallway. Erich loved it, and Liesl said a polite thank you but never looked at it like Erich did. She did it from their descriptions of their parents, and apparently it was an excellent likeness; she really was gifted.

  ‘What did you paint?’ Erich asked as Talia rolled up the sketches and put them in her leather satchel that seemed to never leave her shoulder.

  ‘No, you can’t, nosy!’ She tapped Erich on the nose playfully. Then in rapid German, she said, ‘Es ist ein Geschenk,’ and glanced quickly in Elizabeth’s direction.

  ‘Oh…’ Erich grinned.

  ‘Hey, lil’ man,’ Bud drawled sleepily as he stretched. ‘Hi, ladies. You’re both looking beautiful today.’ He smiled and got to his feet, agile as a panther. He planted a kiss on Liesl’s head, and she blushed.

  ‘So you can’t join us for a picnic either?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘We can share what we have.’

  ‘No thanks. We’d better get back. I’m back on duty at thirteen-hundred.’ Bud groaned.

  They stood watching as an army vehicle passed by on the narrow road above the beach. The surface was pockmarked and uneven now, as so many vehicles passed there daily on the way to and from the RAF base.

  ‘It’s really busy there now, isn’t it?’ Elizabeth mused.

  ‘It sure is, ma’am, and I better get myself back there toot sweet.’

  ‘What?’ Talia looked at him in puzzlement.

  ‘Liesl taught me – it’s French for “right now”, ain’t it?’ He looked to Liesl for confirmation, and the girl blushed to the roots of her hair again.

  ‘That’s right.’ She smiled shyly.

  ‘Anyway, I better go,’ Talia announced. ‘There’s a pile of peas to be shelled and it’s my turn, but at least it’s not the bloody chickens!’

  Liesl and Elizabeth shared a glance.

  ‘See you all soon!’ Talia called as they walked off the beach.

  The day passed quickly. Liesl and Elizabeth spent most of it lying on the warm sand reading their books, while Erich watched the various military vehicles and even a few aircraft. He had been given a book by Mr Morris of all the various planes and was studying the shape and features of each one. For boys like Erich, these were just big exciting machines, and of course Bud filled his head with all kinds of stories of heroics. But Elizabeth saw the bombs and the bullets and the destruction they could cause. She tried not to think about her house in Liverpool. It was gone, along with everything in it she held dear. Still, they were only things. Liesl and Erich were her priority, keeping them safe and well.

  She never allowed herself to think beyond the end of the war. It was too complicated. If, by some miracle, Ariella survived, then she would obviously want Liesl and Erich back. And that would be a joyous day, for them and for their mother, but the thought of letting them go tore at her heart. She loved them every bit as much as a natural mother would, but she would have no claim to them, and rightly so.

  At around five o’clock, they began to pick up their belongings. The bread and jam had been devoured, the end of last year’s blackberry and crab apple jelly spread on soda bread Elizabeth made with flour she bought directly at a small mill on the Donaghadee road. She used sour milk to raise it, and though she couldn’t spare any butter or eggs as the recipe called for, it wasn’t too bad.

  They had strawberries from the greenhouse and pears from the tree her father had planted when she was small. She noted with relief that while neither child was heavy, they didn’t look gaunt. Many of the children in school did, as the rations were barely enough to survive, but because her parents had the sense to plant fruit trees and her mother had a large greenhouse, they were able to supplement the ration with home-grown produce.

  They cycled back, happy and tired from the sun and swimming, and she didn’t notice the letter on the mat as she went directly to the kitchen to unload the remains of the picnic lunch and hang out the wet towels.

  ‘Elizabeth, there’s a letter here for you,’ Liesl called, handing it to her.

  It was handwritten and the envelope felt flimsy.

  ‘Who is it from?’ Liesl asked hopefully. The stamps were familiar, so it didn’t come from abroad.

  ‘I don’t know, pet, but it’s local.’ She hated to dash Liesl’s hopes it was from her mother.

  She sat at the kitchen table and opened it, extracted the single sheet and began to read.


  Dear Elizabeth,

  Thank you for your letter. It was wonderful to receive it. I hope you and the children are well and are managing as best you can in these troubled times.

  I have something to say to you, but I need to say it in person. Because of my circumstances, I cannot come to you, so if it is possible, could you come to visit me?

  The address is at the top of this page. If you feel like you can come, you will need to write to the governor for permission. I think he will allow it, as I asked him before I wrote. This is why my response took so long.

  If you do not wish to see me, I understand, but please know that I hold you in the highest regard always.

  Yours faithfully,

  Daniel

  ‘Who’s the letter from?’ Erich asked, peering over her shoulder.

  ‘It’s from Daniel,’ Elizabeth said. Her initial reaction was delight – he had contacted her – but the familiar doubts that plagued her at three a.m. came crashing in.

  ‘Is he coming home?’ Erich asked eagerly. He really missed Daniel.

  ‘No, darling. He’s still in prison.’ She hated to see Erich’s sad little face.

  ‘Can I visit him then?’

  ‘I don’t think the prison authorities will allow children in.’ She was lost in thought.

  ‘But they’ll let you?’ Liesl asked, reading the letter over her shoulder.

  ‘Yes, I suppose so, but I don’t know…’ She wished she’d opened it in private.

  ‘But you have to go. You said that you didn’t think Daniel did anything wrong. He’s not a Nazi, Elizabeth – he hates them.’ Liesl burned with passion. ‘He does, he told us he does. He couldn’t be like he was with us and be a spy for Hitler at the same time.’

  ‘I don’t think so, either, but the police would have let him go if they thought he was innocent, and they’re not doing that. He’s going to stand trial.’