The Little Ship

by Margaret Mayhew

  And then the singing began. Mama sat down at the piano and they all joined in the old Jewish songs, even Frau Neumann who was deaf as a post and yowled like a tom-cat. Anna caught Grandmama’s eye on her and they exchanged private smiles. Grandmama knew exactly how she was feeling. She was home again – back among her family where she belonged – speaking in her own language, eating her own kind of food, acting out the rituals of her own people: all the things she knew and understood. She felt safe and warm and blessed.

  The lamplight cast the same golden pools on the cobblestones of the Wallstrasse as she remembered. Anna stood in the darkness by her bedroom window. Everything was just the same, except that the shutters had been closed across the Fischers’ sitting-room window opposite, leaving only glimmers of light through the louvres. Papa Fischer, Gideon and Jacob would be all dressed up in their best suits for the Pesach Seder and Mama Fischer crammed into one of her shiny frocks, tight on her as the skin of a sausage. In the morning she would go and visit them and Frau Fischer would clasp her to her vast bosom and go on about how beautiful she was, just as she had always done since Anna was small.

  Mama came and sat on the end of her bed and they talked together like in the old times.

  ‘I want you to let me stay, Mama. I don’t want to go back to England again.’

  ‘We told you that it was only for a visit, Anna. But we may all be together again soon. Papa has decided that we should definitely try to come to England and live there. We are going to apply to the English authorities for permission.’

  ‘Leave Vienna? How could you bear to?’

  ‘I should not be in the least sorry to go, Anna. All kinds of terrible things have been happening in Vienna. Jews have been arrested for nothing. Permits have been taken away, shops looted … poor Herr Fischer’s shop had its windows broken one night and everything was stolen. Many Jews are leaving, emigrating, if they can, to England and America and France. Anywhere that will take them and where they can be safe. This evening at the Seder you listened again to the old story of our flight from Egypt under Moses. We have nobody to lead us now so we must each do as we think best. You know that Germany has taken over the Rhineland, don’t you? Adolf Hitler just walked in. He does what he wants. Takes what he wants. And the Nazis get more and more powerful. They have great influence here.’

  ‘But what about Grandmama? You couldn’t possibly leave her.’

  ‘We are trying to persuade her to come to England with us.’

  ‘What does Uncle Joseph say?’

  ‘He and Aunt Liesel are going to stay here, but they have no children so it’s different for them. Uncle Julius and Aunt Sybille are going to try and go to America with the little ones – if they can. It is not easy to be accepted anywhere. Nobody wants us. It costs money and it takes a lot of time to get the necessary emigration papers. But Aunt Sybille has a sister already in Detroit, so it may help. As for us, the good and kind Herr Ellis has promised that he will do all he can for us in England. If there is the possibility of work there for Papa then it may be much easier. It will mean leaving many treasures behind and starting all over again but it would be worth it.’ Mama put her hand on her arm. ‘We should all be together in London, Anna. Think how good that would be.’

  ‘We should be foreigners – out of place.’

  ‘All Jews are out of place, Anna. We are out of place here in Vienna. That is the curse of our people. But it is also our strength because it binds us together.’

  Mina came to the apartment. She was taller and thinner and her hair had been cut short. She was also wearing lipstick.

  ‘Where did you get it?’

  ‘I bought it in a shop. Mama said I can wear it sometimes, now that I’m sixteen.’ The bright red was like a gash in Mina’a face.

  ‘I’m not allowed to wear any yet. I have to wait till I’m eighteen.’

  ‘You can try mine, if you like.’

  They went into the bedroom and Anna sat down before her dressing-table mirror and unscrewed the gilt tube, drawing the lipstick carefully round her mouth.

  ‘Now you rub your lips together, like this,’ Mina told her. ‘Mama showed me that. It spreads it around.’ Anna stared at her reflection. The lipstick made her look quite different. She lifted her hair off her shoulders and twisted it into a knot on the top of her head. Mina gasped. ‘You look really grown-up, Anna.’

  ‘Where did you buy the lipstick?’

  ‘In the Karntnerstrasse. I can show you the shop, if you like. They’ve got all sorts of colours.’

  ‘It must be kept a secret. Mama would not approve.’

  Mina sat on the bed. ‘I have a secret, too.’

  Anna watched her in the glass. ‘Let me guess.’

  ‘Only three tries.’

  ‘You’ve fallen in love.’

  Mina looked crestfallen. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Because of the lipstick. And because of the stars in your eyes.’

  ‘Are there really? Does it show? I’m so happy, you see. Everything is so wonderful.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘His name is Felix. He is the son of friends of Mama and Papa. A student at the university. Twenty years old. He came to our apartment one evening and as soon as I saw him I fell in love – at very first sight. He is so handsome, so clever, so sophisticated.’

  ‘Is he also so Jewish?’

  ‘Oh yes, of course. All Mama and Papa’s friends are.’

  ‘And did he fall in love with you?’

  ‘Well, I think he likes me … he paid me a lot of attention all evening. I wasn’t wearing the lipstick then. I bought it since. I shall wear it next time we meet. We are to visit his parents at their home next week. I think they are quite rich.’

  ‘Then when you marry Felix you will be able to buy lots of lipsticks.’

  ‘Don’t tease, Anna. I may never marry him, but I think I shall always love him. Wait until you fall in love – if you haven’t already. Perhaps there is some English boy?’

  ‘English boys don’t notice girls. They are too busy playing cricket.’

  Mina giggled. ‘But they must notice you. What about the cousins of Lizzie that you wrote about: Guy and Matt? Are they handsome?’

  ‘Guy is very handsome – and he knows it. Matt is not really handsome but sweet-looking, only he doesn’t know it.’

  ‘Will you see them again, when you go back?’

  ‘If I go back. I argue about it with Papa and Mama every day. They are going to try to emigrate to England and I want to stay here until they do. They say I can’t because it’s not safe. Is it really getting so bad for us, Mina?’

  ‘Well, people keep calling us names … that sort of thing. And Frau Schwartz’s pickle shop was broken into and all the food spoiled – barrels of cucumbers and herrings and cabbage, all tipped into the gutters and mixed up together. You never saw such a mess. But I don’t know if that was because she’s Jewish or because she’s such a mean old witch. Anyway, don’t let’s talk about things like that, Anna. It’s so dull. Let’s go out and buy your lipstick and then go and have tea with lots and lots of lovely cream cakes.’

  ‘Something by Chopin, please, Anna. Something quiet and reflective. We have need of that.’

  Anna searched through the pile of sheet music on top of the piano. ‘The D Flat Prelude?’

  ‘Perfect.’ Grandmama sat in her chair, resting her hands along the arms. The daylight slanting through the window illuminated one side of her face, leaving the other in shadow. She sat very straight and very still, like a painted portrait. Others had grown in Anna’s absence, but Grandmama had shrunk. Her bones were more prominent, her skin looser and her beautiful white hair sparser. She had been overdoing it, Mama had said: wearing herself out with her soup kitchen and her visiting and her work at the hospital. They had been quite worried about her and begged her not to take on so much but, of course, she wouldn’t listen.

  Anna began to play. At first, she stumbled over some of the notes. But she
had known the piece well once upon a time and, as she went on, it came back to her and there were no more mistakes. At the end, Grandmama nodded her approval.

  ‘You still play beautifully. A little rusty, perhaps, but that is all. Have you been practising properly in England?’

  ‘Not at first.’

  ‘But why not?’

  ‘I didn’t feel like it.’

  ‘Foolish child.’

  ‘But then I did. And I have been having lessons at the school in England. I wrote to tell you that.’

  ‘I was glad to hear of it. Is your teacher good?’

  ‘She’s all right.’

  ‘What does she think of your playing?’

  ‘She says I have talent.’

  ‘And so you have.’

  ‘She said I should go to a music college to study.’

  ‘Is there a good one in London?’

  ‘I’d only want to study here, in Vienna. How could there be anywhere better in the world to study music?’

  ‘That is very true. But it may not be possible. We shall have to see.’

  ‘I know you are going to tell me that I must go back to England. I can tell it by your face, Grandmama. I thought you would help me. You promised me that you would persuade Mama and Papa to let me come home after one year and it’s much more than that.’

  ‘I said if you still hated it there. I don’t believe that you do. You would prefer to be at home, of course, but from your letters I can tell that you have become quite used to the English and their ways. Your first letters were blotted with tearstains; but no longer. England is not so bad as you feared, is it? There are some good things about it.’

  ‘A few perhaps. But I love Vienna so much more, Grandmama. Please make Mama and Papa let me stay.’

  ‘I cannot do that, Anna.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because what they are doing for you is right.’

  She said sulkily, ‘How can you be so sure? Mina’s parents don’t make such a fuss. Her father says that there is nothing to worry about.’

  ‘He is wrong.’

  ‘Mama told me that she and Papa are going to try to live in England. Did you know that?’

  ‘Certainly. They consulted me.’

  ‘And that Uncle Julius and Aunt Sybille might go to America.’

  ‘I think it is very wise.’

  ‘I think it’s silly to run away.’

  ‘You are too young to understand, Anna. At sixteen all you see is what you want to see. How you would wish everything to be. It’s natural. But life is seldom how we want, as you will learn.’

  ‘Anyway, they can’t leave you, so they can’t go.’

  ‘Nonsense. Of course they must go, if they can.’

  ‘You’d never leave, though, would you?’

  ‘I told you before, I’m too old to start all over again somewhere else. And I can be useful here.’ The glass-domed clock on the mantelpiece struck four. ‘We shall not discuss this any further, Anna. We shall take tea in a civilized manner and talk of other things. And we shall now speak in French.’

  The tea was poured from the magnificent Russian silver pot, the thin slice of lemon floated on the top. There were lebkuchen with cinnamon and nuts and teiglach sprinkled with ginger. Grandmama was impressed by her French.

  ‘You have made a great deal of progress. Your pronunciation is quite perfect now. Who is your teacher at school?’

  ‘Mademoiselle Gilbert. She’s very nice. I sometimes go to tea with her and we speak French all the time, of course. She has lent me some books to read – Baudelaire, Proust, Maupassant, Stendhal …’

  ‘Excellent.’

  ‘Well, some of them can be a bit boring.’

  ‘I dare say, but in time you will learn to appreciate them better. Now, tell me all about England. The house in London, the Herr Doktor and Frau Ellis, Elizabeth, the food, the weather … everything you can think of. I want to know all about it.’

  They talked for a long time and the clock had struck six before Grandmama rose from her chair. ‘Before you go, I have something to give you.’ She left the room and returned holding a flat, crescent-shaped box. ‘This is for you to take with you to England. You must hide it where it will not be found and stolen. Open it.’

  The box was covered with dark red velvet, old and worn, the clasp golden filigree. Inside it was lined with creamy satin and on the satin lay a necklace of precious stones set in delicate tiers of gold with a single large jewel suspended at the centre. ‘Emeralds and diamonds,’ Grandmama said. ‘It belonged to my dear grandmother and my mother brought it to Vienna with her from Russia. Once it belonged to a grand duchess. They are very fine stones, especially the largest emerald. It is worth a great deal of money. Let me see how it looks on you, child.’ She lifted it out of the box, fastened it round Anna’s neck and stepped back. ‘Go and see yourself in the mirror.’

  Anna imagined herself wearing it at a ball at the Staatsoper, dressed in a beautiful, full-skirted long gown with long white gloves … she swept her hair up on the top of her head as she had done with Mina.

  Grandmama smiled. ‘Exquisite. I knew how it would be.’ She undid the necklace, put it back in the velvet box and snapped the clasp shut. ‘Take it with you and keep it very safe.’

  ‘But what would I do with such a treasure?’

  ‘You may wear it one day. Who knows? Meantime it is for you to keep safe and to sell if you should ever need money.’ Grandmama placed the box into her hands. ‘It is yours, Anna.’

  ‘They’re making me go back, Mina.’

  ‘Oh, Anna …’

  ‘You’ll write to me, won’t you. All about Felix.’

  ‘Of course I will.’

  ‘Long letters, telling me everything I’m missing.’

  ‘I promise.’

  * * *

  Mama and Papa took her to the Hauptbahnhof. She had said goodbye to everybody else in the family the night before. The aunts had dabbed their eyes with their handkerchiefs but Grandmama had not shed a single tear. ‘I shall expect you to work hard at your studies, and to practise your piano constantly.’ She had laid a hand on Anna’s cheek briefly. ‘And to be a credit to us always.’

  There were soldiers in the station, milling about and making a nuisance of themselves. Some of them leered at her and passed stupid remarks. The train was very full and she took the last empty seat in her carriage. As before, she stood at the open door, looking down on Mama and Papa and waiting to wave goodbye. How can they do this to me, she thought bitterly. Why can’t they be like Mina’s parents? A guard was walking along the platform, slamming doors shut.

  A dark-haired woman came hurrying down the platform, carrying a small child in her arms. Tears were running down her cheeks. ‘Fräulein, fahren Sie nach England?’

  ‘Ja.’

  ‘Nach Harwich?’

  ‘Ja, aber …’

  ‘Please, will you look after my son? Take him to England with you? He has a ticket, papers … a letter from my sister to show that she will have him to live with her. It is all arranged.’

  ‘But—’

  The woman was lifting the boy up. ‘The English will allow a child … he will be safe. Tell my sister that I am coming too, as soon as I can. Please.’ The child was clinging tightly to his mother who tore his hands away from round her neck and thrust him at Anna. ‘Here are the tickets for him.’ The guard had reached them now. He pushed the woman aside and the train door slammed shut. The mother went on mouthing words that Anna could not hear, and the little boy screamed and struggled wildly, beating at her with his small fists. ‘Mami, Mami, Mami.’ The train had started and was gathering speed. She couldn’t wave to Mama and Papa and the struggling child blocked her last view of them.

  She put the boy down and tried to comfort him but he went on sobbing and screaming for his mother. After a while, she picked him up again and carried him into the compartment and sat down with him on her lap. The other occupants of the compartment glared with
disapproval. A fat woman sitting opposite leaned across. ‘You shouldn’t let him behave so badly. He is causing a disturbance. Can’t you stop him?’

  ‘No, I can’t,’ Anna snapped. ‘He’s very upset, can’t you see? He’s just left his mother.’

  The woman raised her voice above the rattle of the train. ‘Are you his sister?’

  ‘No. I’m no relation at all. I don’t even know his name. The mother asked me to look after him on the journey.’

  The woman looked shocked. ‘The nerve of it! A child of that age … What on earth did she think she was doing? Where is he supposed to be going?’

  ‘To England.’