The Little Ship

by Margaret Mayhew

  ‘You don’t know it, so you can’t possibly judge. Not after such a short time. You don’t even speak the language. Not properly.’

  ‘It is not necessary to speak the language to know what a country is like.’

  He found himself getting enraged. ‘I happen to think it is.’

  ‘Can you speak German?’

  ‘No, actually I can’t.’

  ‘If you went to my country, you would know what you thought of it without speaking a word of German.’

  He said coldly, ‘I’ve no intention of going. It can’t be such a marvellous place if you’ve had to leave it.’ The look on her face showed that she had understood him perfectly and that his arrow had found its mark. He was rather ashamed of himself. The girl was a refugee, after all, and bound to be a bit homesick. He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Look, I’m sorry I said that and I’m sorry if we interrupted your piano-playing. You carry on.’

  ‘I do not play.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, we heard you, and saw you.’

  ‘I do not play again in England.’

  She walked past him and out of the room. Guy ran his hand through his hair again. Dash it all, he’d only tried to be friendly and decent to a foreigner and she’d been bloody rude.

  Matt found the steep stairway that led from the third floor to the attics. He knocked on the door at the top on the right. After a moment, it opened a crack and half of Lizzie’s face appeared round the edge. ‘Matt! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Guy and I have just been to the dentist. We’re supposed to meet Mother here. Can I come in?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  She opened the door wider. He’d never seen the attics before. ‘I say, this is fun up here. What a perfect place for a studio.’

  ‘The light’s not very good really.’

  ‘It looks OK to me, but then I’m no artist. Guy says you paint jolly well.’

  ‘I think he was just being nice.’

  ‘Guy wouldn’t be nice about something like that. He wouldn’t say anything much at all. Can I see what you’re doing?’

  ‘If you like.’

  It was a water-colour of the vase of chrysanthemums standing on the table. The vase was dark green glass, the flowers golden yellow; he thought it looked wonderful and said so. ‘Still life, isn’t that what you call it? How did you make the glass look transparent like that, so you can see the stalks?’

  ‘I don’t know, really.’

  ‘I never knew you could paint like this, Lizzie. You’ve never talked about it, or about this place up here. Is it some sort of secret?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘We met that girl, Anna, downstairs. She said you were up here. She didn’t want us to disturb you.’

  ‘I used to come here to get away from her when she first arrived. When she found out about it, I was afraid she’d want to keep coming up here, but she never does. She’s always writing letters home in her room.’ Lizzie fiddled with a paintbrush. ‘What did you think of her?’

  ‘I’m not sure. She was a bit angry with Guy and me.’

  ‘Whatever for?’

  ‘Well, we overheard her playing the piano in the drawing-room and she didn’t like that. Aunt Helen’s out and you’re up here, so she must have thought she was all alone.’

  Lizzie stared at him. ‘But she doesn’t play. She told us she’d given it up ages ago because she wasn’t any good.’

  ‘Well, she does and she’s brilliant.’

  ‘That’s odd.’

  ‘Yes, Guy and I couldn’t see why she got so het up about it, but still. Perhaps it’s a bit like your painting – she wants to keep it quiet. She doesn’t speak English very well, does she?’

  ‘She doesn’t try. She won’t try with anything. They’ve got fed up with her at school. Miss Foster, the headmistress, told Mummy that if she didn’t pull her socks up she couldn’t keep her. And there was an awful row over the pork sausages.’

  ‘Pork sausages?’

  ‘She can’t eat them because she’s Jewish. It’s against their religion. They mustn’t eat any sort of pig – not bacon, or ham, or sausages, or anything. It’s not clean, or something. They kept trying to make Anna eat sausages but she wouldn’t.’

  ‘If it’s her religion, they shouldn’t have done that. It’d be like trying to make Catholics eat meat on Fridays.’ Matt grinned. ‘It wouldn’t matter much with us, would it? But I expect the Jews are a lot stricter.’

  ‘Well, Daddy got the rabbi at the synagogue to write to Miss Foster and ask special permission for Anna to leave anything that comes from pigs. Miss Foster was livid about it all, but she agreed in the end. She told Anna that it was only because she’d decided it was her Christian duty to be charitable to a refugee, but that if she didn’t do better in class next term she’d be expelled, sausages or no sausages.’

  ‘Oh, lord.’

  ‘Perhaps she’ll go back to Vienna if that happens,’ Lizzie was looking at him hopefully.

  ‘Perhaps she will.’

  He heard Guy shouting from below and went down. His brother was pacing about the hall. ‘That foreign girl’s impossible. I’m sorry for Lizzie, having her around. I hope we never have to see her again.’

  Mother broke the news in the taxi on the way to the station. ‘I’ve asked them to come to us for Christmas. Aunt Helen and I thought it would be nice for Anna to get away from London and see some more of the country.’

  ‘Well, it won’t be nice for us.’

  ‘Don’t be difficult about it, Guy.’

  ‘I’m not being difficult. She’s awful and I don’t fancy the idea of having her like a skeleton at the feast. It won’t even be Christmas for her, will it? Jews don’t believe in it.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter. She needn’t come to church.’

  ‘She’ll go and spoil it for the rest of us.’

  ‘Of course she won’t. Really, Guy, you’re being extremely selfish. Matt has no objection, do you, Matt?’

  Guy dug him hard in the ribs but he thought of the headmistress and the sausages and what it must be like to be far away from home in a strange country. ‘No, not really.’ Another sharper dig from Guy. Matt shifted out of range. Guy was probably right, though: having Anna there could spoil everything.

  It was almost dark on Christmas Eve when they arrived by car at Tideways. Lizzie’s feet felt frozen from the journey even though she’d had them stuck in a footmuff, with a rug wrapped round her as well. Aunt Sheila and Uncle William came to the door, with Nereus, to welcome them and when Uncle William kissed her his sailor’s beard prickled her face. Inside the house everything was warm and bright. The hall was hung with holly and ivy, a log fire burned in the grate and carols were being sung on the wireless. Guy and Matt were decorating a huge Christmas tree at the foot of the stairs – Guy up a stepladder, arranging the lights. ‘Come and help us,’ Matt called out. He gave her a beautiful glass angel with outstretched wings.

  ‘Where shall I hang it?’

  ‘Anywhere you like,’ Matt told her. ‘You choose. Here, Anna. Would you like to do one?’ He held out a plaster snowman to her with his good hand but Anna shook her head.

  ‘Nein … danke.’

  Lizzie hooked the angel carefully over a branch. She hung some coloured glass balls here and there, the sharp needles pricking her hands. Guy had finished the lights and climbed down. ‘It needs some more round the back, Lizzie. Here.’ He passed over two more ornaments and held one out to Anna. ‘Come on, we need some help.’ When she made no move to take it, he tried to force it into her hand. She stepped back and the golden glass bell fell to the floor between them and shattered.

  ‘For God’s sake …’

  ‘I am very sorry.’

  Matt gathered up the fragments quickly. ‘Doesn’t matter a bit, Anna. There’re masses more.’ Guy went on hanging ornaments grimly. He doesn’t like her, Lizzie thought. He doesn’t want her here. And I don’t either. She felt very g
uilty, but she couldn’t help it. They gave her the star to put at the very top of the tree. She had to climb up to the highest step of the ladder to reach out to fix it on while Guy held the ladder steady and Matt hung onto her ankles. When it was all finished Guy turned on the lights and the tree came to life magically, twinkling and glittering gold and silver, red, blue and green.

  She was sharing one of the spare rooms with Anna. ‘Which bed would you like?’

  Anna shrugged. ‘I do not care.’

  They were changing for the special Christmas Eve dinner. Lizzie pulled her brown velvet frock over her head, did up the buttons at the back and tied the sash in a bow. It was a babyish frock but it was her best. She fastened her string of coral beads round her neck and instead of plaiting her hair she left it loose and wore her velvet hair-band. Anna was standing in her petticoat. ‘Please, would you help me?’ She had taken a frock out of her suitcase. It was made of rose-coloured silky material, with a round neck, long sleeves and tiny pearl buttons all down the back. ‘My mother gives this to me when I leave Wien but I never wear it before.’ She put it on and Lizzie did up all the buttons for her which took ages because they had to go through little loops, not ordinary buttonholes. They were the last ones downstairs and when they went into the drawing-room everybody turned round. Lizzie saw how they all stared at Anna in her beautiful dress – Uncle William, Aunt Sheila, Daddy and Mummy, Matt … and even Guy.

  After dinner they put presents under the Christmas tree and Aunt Sheila gave everybody a long red woollen stocking. ‘This one is yours, Anna.’

  ‘I must wear it?’

  Aunt Sheila laughed. ‘No, it’s an old custom, dear. We hang stockings up by the hall fireplace so that Father Christmas can leave presents in them when he comes down the chimney tonight.’

  Guy groaned. ‘For heaven’s sake, Mother. She doesn’t know what on earth you’re talking about.’

  Anna turned on him. ‘But I understand your mother very well. We have this person in Austria. He is coming down our chimneys also. Not in our house, of course, but in others. We do not have Christmas. We have Hanukkah. It is for eight days and we give presents, too. One for each day, and each day we light one more candle on the menorah. We call it the Feast of Lights.’

  There was a brief silence. Aunt Sheila said brightly, ‘Yes, of course, Anna. I hope you don’t mind joining in our Christmas?’

  ‘No. My mother and father would wish it.’

  Anna hung up her stocking between Lizzie’s and Matt’s. Afterwards, in the bedroom, she said to Lizzie, ‘I do not know what to do. I have no presents to give, only chocolates that my mother has sent. I give those, you think?’

  ‘Golly, yes. That’d be quite all right.’

  ‘They are Viennese chocolates. Very special.’

  ‘Gosh. Super.’

  When the light was out Anna spoke again out of the darkness. ‘Why is the arm and hand of Matt not good? What has happened?’

  ‘He was born like that. I don’t know why.’

  ‘Ach … poor Matt. He is always hiding it from me. I must tell him that it is not necessary. I do not mind it. He is a very nice, kind boy.’

  ‘Yes, he is.’

  Anna turned over in bed. ‘His brother, Guy, is not so nice.’

  That wasn’t fair, Lizzie thought to herself. Guy was nice. He could be very kind, too. As kind as Matt sometimes. Just as kind, but in a different way.

  Anna was dreaming that she was in Vienna. It was snowing and it was dark. She was walking down a cobbled street – not the Wallstrasse but another that she didn’t recognize. There were houses on each side with lighted windows but the windows were too high for her to see inside. The snow had covered the cobblestones but she could feel the bumps beneath her feet and her feet were cold – cold as ice – because she was not wearing shoes. Her hands were cold because she was not wearing gloves either. She knew that she must find the Wallstrasse and home soon but the street went on and on: more and more houses and then a lot of shops like in the Karntnerstrasse, but not quite the same. A woman in grey was coming towards her and when she asked her the way the woman answered in English and she saw that it was Miss Foster. Her face was all grey, too, even her thin lips. ‘You must try harder, Anna Stein. Or you will never find your way.’ She passed another window, lower down, and inside she could see the Fischer family, all sitting round. Herr Fischer with his book, Frau Fischer with her sewing, Gideon and Jacob studying hard. When she rapped on the window Herr Fischer came to open it, his spectacles on the end of his nose. ‘What are you doing here, Anna? You are not supposed to be here. It is no use to look for your home. It is not there any more.’ He banged the window shut and went back to his book. She was crying now and she was colder than ever and the street went on and on …

  ‘Are you all right?’ Lizzie was standing by the bed in her striped pyjamas. ‘You were making funny noises. I thought you might be having a nightmare.’ It was day, not night, and it was raining, not snowing. And she was not in Vienna, but in England – staying with the aunt and uncle of Lizzie. She could feel the tears on her cheeks and wiped them away quickly.

  ‘Happy Christmas,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘Oh … Happy Christmas. What is the time?’

  ‘It’s eight o’clock but there’s no need to get up yet if you don’t feel like it. Your eiderdown’s fallen off.’ Lizzie picked it up off the floor and then climbed back into her own bed. Anna pulled the eiderdown up round her shoulders. It was made of slippery satin and immediately started to slither off again. She was cold – as cold as in her dream. Why did the English not have bedclothes that stayed put and why did they not heat their houses properly? At dinner, the evening before, there had been an icy draught at her back and she had been frozen in her thin dress. The meal had gone on for ever and the effort of trying to understand what everyone was saying and what was going on had exhausted her. She had sat on the uncle’s left at the end of the table and when he spoke to her most of his words seemed to get caught up in his beard. The beard didn’t jut from the end of his chin like Herr Fischer’s black spade but went all round his lower jaw to his ears.

  ‘How are you enjoying England, Anna?’

  She must be polite. He was the host. Mama would expect her to show very good manners. ‘I enjoy it very much, thank you.’

  ‘Jolly good. I expect it’s a bit different from Austria?’

  ‘Yes, it is different.’

  ‘Do you sail?’

  What was he asking? ‘I do not know what is sail.’

  ‘Go in a small boat. With a sail. With the wind.’ He had held up his white napkin and blown hard at a corner so that it fluttered. Anna had stared in panic. Was he mad? Or was it some sort of English joke? They were always laughing at things that she didn’t understand or find at all funny. Then Lizzie’s father had called down the table. ‘Zur See gehen … in Segelboot.’

  ‘Oh … Nein. No. I never do this.’ Did they even know where Vienna was? The sea was miles and miles away. She had only seen it twice in her life: once on a trip to Venice and the second time when she had voyaged to England. Across the table, the cousin, Guy, had looked at her as if she had failed some test. Did everyone go in sailboats on this island? The uncle had leaned towards her again, speaking even louder than before. ‘You must come and stay here in the summer and go sailing. Matt sank the last boat we had but we’ll be getting another by then.’

  She had understood sunk: versunken. ‘I do not think I enjoy this …’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, Guy will be in charge. Won’t you, Guy?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Matt’s coming along, but he’s not quite so experienced yet. Are you, Matt?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  They had answered their father as though they were on board his ship, being issued orders.

  ‘Guy will take you out. Matt can crew. You’ll enjoy it. Jolly good fun.’

  He had turned away to speak to Lizzie’s mother on his other side. Matt, on Anna�
�s left, had whispered quickly in her ear. ‘Don’t worry, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.’

  At half-past eight she and Lizzie got up and dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. The red stockings hanging by the fireplace were bulging. The aunt, Frau Ransome, came up to her, smiling. ‘Happy Christmas, Anna. Father Christmas visited us in the night. He’s left you a few little presents.’

  Her stocking was full of a strange assortment of things: a velvet hair ribbon, a diary, a tortoiseshell comb, a box of pencils, a pencil-sharpener, a pink sugar mouse, a string bag full of nuts, and, at the very bottom, in the stocking’s toe, an orange. Everybody had different things but they all had an orange. She saw that it was another strange English custom. They were to open their other presents under the tree after lunch, Lizzie explained. And after breakfast they would all go to church. ‘But, of course, you needn’t come – unless you want to.’

  ‘No, I do not come. Thank you.’

  The church was within walking distance and she watched them go off, wrapped up in hats and coats and scarves and gloves. It had stopped raining but the sky was still dull and grey. She went into the drawing-room. There was a grand piano in one corner – a Bechstein – but she didn’t touch it. Instead she sat and flicked through some magazines. Some of them were full of photographs of people hunting on horses, or standing around at cocktail parties or dancing at dances, the rest were about sailing and sailing-boats. She put them back on the side-table and went to look out of the long windows at the river. The Danube was not really blue, as Johann Strauss had pretended, but it never looked so cold and bleak as this English river. She watched it for a while. They had told her last night that the sea was very near – the Nord See – and the river must be going there. She had travelled across that sea to come here. On the other side of it was Germany, and beyond Germany was Austria. This river was a link with home. She decided to put on her coat and go and take a closer look. The black dog with the curious name followed her out of the house and, as though he knew where she wanted to go, led the way across the lawn and down some wooden steps leading to a wooden jetty built out over the water. She walked out onto it. This must be where they sailed their boat from – the one that the uncle had been talking about and that Matt had sunk. What had happened? Had he hit a rock? But there were no rocks in sight – just banks of wet mud. The wind was coming from downstream and it blew her long hair about her face. She could smell the salt smell of the sea, and the grey and white birds wheeling and calling overhead were sea birds. She stayed there for a long while, hands thrust in her coat pockets, gazing out over water, the black dog sitting quietly beside her, his nose lifted to scent the wind.