The Star and the Shamrock

by Jean Grainger

  Gaughran said nothing, but she could tell he was absorbing every word.

  ‘The fact that the latest bombing was just after the base was heavily restocked, and while Daniel was in jail, it must mean he is innocent even if Talia isn’t guilty?’

  ‘Not necessarily. There are too many ifs, buts and maybes for me, Mrs Klein. Thank you for your time and your cooperation. I realise it has been gruelling. I’ll be in touch.’ He tipped his hat and let himself out through the garden gate.

  Elizabeth could feel the net around Talia tighten. Where was she?

  Chapter 25

  That night, Elizabeth couldn’t sleep, and she sat up when Erich pushed her bedroom door open.

  ‘Can I come in, Elizabeth?’ he whispered.

  ‘Of course, darling.’ She pulled the covers back for him. He got in beside her and snuggled up to her.

  ‘Do you think the Germans knew we were here? Is that why they sent the bombers?’ he asked quietly.

  She held his little body close to hers and kissed the top of his head. ‘No, I don’t. I think they were aiming for the base and they dropped their bombs on the village as well by accident.’

  ‘But do you think if they knew there were lots of Jews here, they’d try to kill us?’

  Elizabeth’s heart ached. Why any little child should believe that a group of people were trying to kill him was so hard to comprehend.

  ‘I don’t. They don’t want Jews in Germany for some stupid reason that we can’t understand, but they wouldn’t have let so many go if they wanted to go after them in other countries, would they?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ he said, and she felt him relax.

  ‘So you’re safe, my love.’

  ‘I wish Daniel was too,’ he whispered.

  ‘So do I, Erich. Believe me, so do I,’ she said into his dark silky hair.

  After a few moments, she felt his rhythmic breathing and knew he was sleeping. Still, she couldn’t drop off; everything was just going round and round in her head.

  She wondered what the consequences would be. The people of Ballycreggan were as welcoming as she could have hoped for, but beneath a friendly façade, she knew they were still very suspicious of the Jews. Would they interpret the decimation of the village as an attempt to hit the farm as much as the base?

  Morning came eventually, and she got up and dressed early, hoping to go out and offer whatever support she could to her neighbours. Erich and Liesl were still asleep, so she left them a note on the kitchen table saying where she was.

  The relief effort was being coordinated from the village hall, and as she entered, she overheard Jenny Foster’s mother saying, ‘The sooner we’re shot of those Jews or Germans or whatever they are, the better. Drawing Hitler on us, they are, and some of them are helping him into the bargain. I don’t know – send them packing, I say…’

  Mrs Bridges, the butcher’s wife, caught Elizabeth’s eye as she entered the hall and immediately blushed pink, knowing Elizabeth had overheard the remark.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath and walked over to the gathered women. ‘Those refugees, Mrs Foster, are children who have lost everything – their homes, their schools, their families – all at the hands of Hitler, and what is the point of winning this war if we can’t take the moral high ground?’

  The three other women in the hall studiously examined their shoes.

  ‘What we as a village are doing is offering sanctuary to those in dire need. Please don’t let the Nazis divide us, I’m asking you, as a mother yourself. If it were reversed and it was our country that was behaving despicably, would you not pray that someone would care for Jenny and Kitty?’

  The silence hung heavily in the air as Elizabeth waited for an answer.

  These were good people, and it was natural they should become mistrustful after everything they had was destroyed in one night, but she needed them to find their compassion again. If she could win back the mothers, the fathers and children would follow.

  She looked at Madeline Taylor, the chairperson of the local women’s institute and the boss of the village.

  Madeline sighed. ‘It’s not the children’s fault, I suppose.’

  There seemed to be general agreement, and Elizabeth took that as a positive step. The next hour or so, they made lists of who needed what and decided to put notices up so that anyone who had anything to spare could drop it off. A kitchen was set up as well, providing soup and freshly baked soda bread to anyone in need. Over the next hour, everyone from the village appeared, bringing what they could, making lists of what was most needed. The entire community, Protestant and Catholic, united in unprecedented cooperation.

  Amid all the activity and a little after ten a.m., the door opened and Rabbi Frank entered and approached her. The level of conversation in the hall dropped to a murmur.

  ‘Hello, Rabbi,’ Elizabeth said, conscious that several people thought as the women she’d spoken to did.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Klein. I wonder if I could have a word?’

  ‘Of course. Would you like to stay here or…’

  ‘Actually, I wanted to speak to everyone, if that is all right?’

  ‘Um…yes. Yes, of course.’ Elizabeth looked around; all eyes were on her.

  ‘Rabbi Frank would like to say something,’ she announced in a loud, clear voice, the one Erich called her teacher voice, the one he said he wished she would leave at school.

  The gathered people of Ballycreggan turned expectantly to the rabbi. They’d seen him, of course – he was distinctive with his dark suit, hat and peyot – but he rarely interacted.

  He waited until everyone was gathered around, silent and waiting for him to speak.

  ‘Shalom aleichem. Good morning. I apologise for interrupting your work, but I wanted to come to say something to you all.’

  Elizabeth was used to him calling into the school – he visited once a term, and she knew how much the children loved to see him coming – but this was a different crowd.

  At school, the children beamed at his praise as he took in all the artwork on the walls. He strolled around the room, examining each piece in detail and asking the child whose masterpiece it was all about it. They answered him enthusiastically, and while she knew back in their home countries, a rabbi was someone to be admired and respected, they were often at a distance. Necessity had brought this Orthodox rabbi much closer to his flock, and Elizabeth observed how both he and his people benefitted. She watched as he spoke to each child in turn, looking at their exercise books, praising their neat handwriting, their pages of mathematical sums.

  Today, however, there was suspicion and animosity; it could almost be felt in the air.

  ‘I have brought with me some food and furniture and clothing from our farm. I hope it will be of use. We are at your disposal for whatever you need. Our people are outside, and they want to help you rebuild your village. I hope you will accept our help.’

  The people of Ballycreggan looked surprised, and one or two shared a glance. The rabbi went on. ‘You all know why we are here?’

  A few people nodded.

  ‘We are here because we have had to leave our homes on account of Hitler’s policies to rid Europe of Jews. We are the lucky ones, and we will survive, we will go on, we will keep our faith alive. Not just for ourselves but for all of our families and friends. Some of our community will not survive this war, some of us have lost loved ones already, and I fear the same fate awaits many more of us. It is through your kindness and your generosity that we are alive. We will never be able to thank you, but I can assure you of one thing – your hospitality has not gone unnoticed, either by us or by God.’

  ‘Every time we pray, I say to the community, especially the little ones, in the face of all of this evil, we must remember those who help us. We remember them, and more importantly, God sees their selflessness. And when the time comes, they will be rewarded for their labours, often against terrible dangers. The people who organised to bring us here, the people who co
ntinue to help Jews to escape secretly out of Europe, the people of Ballycreggan who have shown such goodness, we remember you in our prayers.’

  The entire group was transfixed.

  ‘And while it is hard, we must trust in God. It may seem like the world is against us all, but this is not true. All around us are good, kind people who have opened their hearts and their homes and their schools to us, and we must remember that. Even back in Germany, Austria, Czechoslovakia, Poland, wherever we come from, there are good people fighting to stop this terrible regime.

  ‘And so I came to your broken village today to bring you what we have, to offer our help in every way we can and to tell you that for Shabbat tomorrow night, we will pray for you a very special prayer. This is a prayer of thanks. Usually this prayer, Birkat HaGomel, is said after a journey or an ordeal, but we want to say it to thank God for all of you here. I know your children are the friends of ours, and that makes us all a community. This miraculous integration happened because of one very special person. That special person is the teacher, Mrs Klein. I know how much she does to take care of our children and help them feel not alone, so today, we will pray for the people of Ballycreggan and for Mrs Klein.’

  Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat.

  ‘Mrs Klein is an example of what I am talking about. She is love.’

  Movement at the back of the crowd caused everyone to turn around. Father O’Toole and Reverend Parkes made their way to where the rabbi stood. The priest in his soutane and the Protestant vicar in his dark suit with pink shirt and clerical collar stood beside the rabbi, the whole village watching to see what would happen next. Reverend Parkes and Father O’Toole had ministered to their respective congregations for many years without a cross word, but neither had been seen with the rabbi before this.

  ‘Thank you, Rabbi Frank, we appreciate it,’ Father O’Toole began. ‘And I know I speak for the community here in Ballycreggan when I say you are all welcome here. We have been through a terrible ordeal, and so have all of you, so we must not let this divide us. We must make sure it cements us.’ The two men shook hands, and there was almost a collective exhale of relief.

  ‘Maybe we could say your prayer together?’ Reverend Parkes suggested.

  The rabbi smiled and nodded. ‘We say the prayer in Hebrew, but can someone here explain to everyone what it means?’ The rabbi addressed all of the Jewish children who’d come in from outside. He scanned the room. Liesl’s friend Viola raised her hand.

  ‘Yes, Viola, can you translate the prayer for us?’

  Viola stood and turned to Elizabeth, her blue eyes locked with her teacher’s. ‘It means blessed are you, oh Lord, who rewards the undeserving with goodness, and who has rewarded me with goodness.’ She paused. ‘And then we reply, “May he who has rewarded you with all goodness, reward us with all goodness forever.”’

  ‘Very good, Viola, excellent in fact.’ The rabbi smiled. ‘This beautiful prayer can be recited for many reasons, such as when one survives a great ordeal or makes a long journey, and it also can be used for women when they become mothers.’ His eyes rested on Elizabeth. ‘Today we will recite the prayer for all of you who have taken us to your hearts.’

  The rabbi began to chant the prayer in the singsong way Elizabeth had become used to on her visits to celebrate Shabbat on the farm.

  ‘Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, ha-gomel l’chayavim tovot sh-g’malani kol tuv.’

  The Jews, from the youngest to the oldest responded enthusiastically. ‘Mi she-g’malcha kol tuv, hu yi-g’malcha kol tuv selah.’

  Elizabeth stood and absorbed their love. Each child turned towards her, and she realised that never in her life had she received a gift so precious.

  ‘Thank you. Todah,’ Reverend Parkes said. ‘We face a challenge – to rebuild our village. Though our communities have been divided along sectarian lines for a long time, Ballycreggan has been spared the worst of that hatred and mistrust. Let us offer the hand of friendship now as we try to rebuild, not just to our Catholic or Protestant neighbours, but also to our Jewish ones. Together we are stronger than anything Hitler can throw at us.’

  ‘We are happy having you all here, and thank you for your prayer,’ Father O’Toole added.

  The group relaxed and moved off in various directions to begin the process of providing for those in need. The Jews carried in boxes of farm produce, as well as clothing and blankets, and Elizabeth found herself directing operations. All of the men, locals and refugees alike, divided into work details, and each group took on a house to assess the damage and decide what was needed. The women organised food, temporary accommodation and clothing.

  She overheard Levi talking to Pat Gordon, the local publican. ‘There are others, some of the older children, working on some basic furniture back at the farm – tables, chairs, beds. But if you let us know what is most in need, we will try to produce it quickly.’

  ‘That’s great, thanks very much.’ Pat instructed some local children to help bring in the generous contributions from the farm.

  The three clerics stood by, surveying their congregations working together.

  Elizabeth explained to the children how to man the various stalls, and how to arrange donated shoes by size. She sent Viola for Erich and Liesl with instructions to bring all the spare hangers from her house. David, one of the older boys from the farm, set up rudimentary rails on which to hang clothes.

  The rabbi approached her and gently led her away from the noise and activity. ‘You know the police came looking for Talia? I spoke to Inspector Gaughran. They need to interview her, but she is not here. When he left, I had some people I know check up on her – I know some Viennese Jews who are taking refuge in England. Nobody in the Jewish community or in the political world of resistance to the Anschluss in Vienna has heard of anybody by her name. She told us her mother was Jewish and her father a gentile and that both were actively resisting the annexation. We took her on face value, but it seems that may have been a mistake. Perhaps Talia is not what she seems. But then, everything is so chaotic, it is hard to know.’

  ‘You seem surprised?’ she remarked, wanting to draw him further.

  ‘Yes, well, she came to me often, like the others. She spoke of her family, the loss of them, her grief. I tried to console her, but…’ he shrugged, his palms open, ‘words do not help I usually find. She was truthfully, very sad. It is hard to believe it was all an act, but then…’ he shrugged again.

  Elizabeth nodded. ‘What does this mean for Daniel, do you think, Rabbi? Surely they cannot think he is still guilty now?’

  The rabbi shrugged. ‘Who knows?’

  Elizabeth tried to hide her frustration. It was as if the rabbi had resigned himself to Daniel’s execution, and because he was a man of such faith, he believed completely that Daniel was going to heaven, so there was no problem. Elizabeth had no such serenity.

  ‘So if the police don’t find and convict Talia and exonerate Daniel in the process, he could still hang.’

  The rabbi nodded. ‘That is true. And even convicting Talia, if they do, will not mean that Daniel is automatically free.’ He gave a slow, sad smile. ‘You love him.’ It was a statement, not a question.

  Elizabeth didn’t know what to say.

  The rabbi went on. ‘He feels the same about you. He told me.’

  This news shook Elizabeth, and while the revelation filled her heart with joy and relief, the situation seemed hopeless. ‘I do,’ she said.

  ‘He is a good man, and he is worthy of your love.’ Rabbi Frank’s air of resignation made Elizabeth want to shake him. In any other circumstances, she would have been pleased at his endorsement. She knew he admired her, but supporting the relationship between a Jewish man and a gentile woman was new for him.

  ‘Will you tell him?’ she asked.

  ‘If you want me to, then of course I will,’ he replied.

  ‘Yes. Please tell him.’ She wanted to say more, to have him convey to Daniel all
he meant to her and the children, but she couldn’t.

  ‘Of course. Goodbye, Mrs Klein.’

  ‘And thank you for coming today, for the prayer and the food and everything… It meant a lot,’ Elizabeth added.

  ‘The Lord will watch over you, Mrs Klein, and over Daniel. You are in safe hands.’

  She watched his black-clothed back move off in the direction of some boys who were manoeuvring a makeshift bed, and he helped them carry it.

  Daniel loved her. She loved him. It was wonderful news, but her heart was breaking.

  Chapter 26

  Elizabeth tried to contact Inspector Gaughran in the days that followed, but he seemed to be unavailable. Erich and Liesl were agitated and bickering much more than usual, and she knew it was all the upheaval: Daniel’s fate, the sudden disappearance of Talia, Bud being moved overseas, the devastation that greeted them every time they went outside the front door. The village green where they played had become a huge crater, their beloved cherry trees cut down to use for timber. All of this made them feel lost, and whatever stability she had managed to achieve for them was being eroded on a daily basis.

  She wondered if the rabbi had told Daniel how she felt. She’d written to him, telling him herself, but she had no idea if he received her letters. He didn’t or couldn’t reply. She’d requested a visit from the governor, but again, got no response. The lack of information was so frustrating.

  She went through the motions of life, cooking and cleaning, helping the neighbours who’d lost everything in the raid to get their lives back together. The people of Ballycreggan, with the help of the men and women from the farm and those either too young or too old to be in uniform, worked tirelessly to rebuild. Everyone worked on every property until each was some version of habitable again. At least it was summertime, with long evenings and warm days. What was lost were only things, and everyone went about with the same mantra on their lips – ‘Thank God nobody was killed. Things can be replaced.’ But she knew what it was like to lose everything.