‘Excuse me,’ she called.
He turned. The man was in his fifties, unshaven, and his dark-brown wavy hair needed cutting. He wore simple black trousers – shiny with wear, and the seam on one of the pockets had burst – a home-knitted cardigan the colour of a puddle and a black shirt without a collar. He walked slightly stooped, something she’d noticed some very tall people did, and his hands were like shovels.
‘Yes?’ His face was kind and his brown eyes were warm.
‘I wonder if you can help me. I came from Fallersleben. I don’t have anyone left there, but my aunt and uncle lived around here. Hans and Marine Froegel, do you know them?’ She hoped she was convincing enough. Maybe he would take pity on her and offer her some food at least.
‘No, I’m afraid I don’t,’ he said, his brow wrinkling as he tried to place the name.
‘They lived at 332 Budapester Straße…’ she went on, knowing that was right in the middle of the bombsite.
A look of pity crossed his face. ‘All of the buildings from 290 to 350 on that street were hit a while back, and they were destroyed. I don’t believe there were any survivors.’ He delivered the news as kindly as he could, and Ariella tried to look crestfallen.
‘Oh, I see…’ She managed to let a tear fall, feeling like a complete fraud.
‘Come inside. Let me get you a cup of, well, I don’t have coffee, but I make a tea from something growing in the garden, so I can offer you that?’
At last. Someone to help. Even if it was just a cup of tea, it was so welcome. ‘Thank you,’ she said. This time the tears were genuine.
He led her into the sacristy and offered her a seat. The place smelled strange, of sweet incense and dust, but it wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, it felt safe.
He made her a cup of tea that tasted of mint and something else, and she sipped the warm drink gratefully.
‘So what made you think coming to Berlin was a good idea?’ He smiled to take the accusation out of his tone.
‘I had nowhere else to go. My parents are dead, my only brother was in the Luftwaffe and has been missing since 1940, and our house no longer stands, so I thought I would come to my Aunt Marine and Uncle Hans. But now, well, I truly have nobody, and nowhere to go.’
‘And were your aunt and uncle part of this congregation, to say you looked for them here?’
‘Yes, they were Catholics. So am I,’ she said, hoping he wouldn’t cast one of the faithful out on the side of the street.
He looked at her and nodded. ‘And you have nowhere to go? Have you a ration card?’
She nodded and extracted her card, worn on the creases and with several stamps clipped off it. She handed it to him.
‘I can get you some bread perhaps, though not much else, and you can sleep in here if you don’t mind sleeping on that.’ He pointed to a hard wooden bench. ‘I can get you a blanket.’
‘I’d be so grateful, and if you need anything doing, cleaning or anything, I’m happy to repay you. I have a little money, not much, but…’ She reached into the purse and extracted the small bundle of notes.
‘Keep your money, you’ll need it.’ He held his hand up. ‘I am Father Dominic, by the way. It’s nice to meet you, Marta.’
‘It’s nice to meet you too.’ She smiled.
Chapter 9
July 1944
Daniel was unusually sombre. He’d hardly said a word all evening, and even over dinner while the children were brim-full of plans for the upcoming school holidays, he barely spoke. The children were in bed now, and Elizabeth was knitting by the fire. Though it was summertime, there was a chill that evening, so she’d put a match to the fire Daniel had set a few days ago. She glanced over at her husband. He had a book in his hand but had not turned a page for ten minutes. She wondered what was on his mind. He would tell her in his own time; she wouldn’t badger him.
Daniel Lieber was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she loved him deeply. His love was like a strong tree, growing in the centre of the family they had cobbled together. Liesl and Erich loved him too, and in the absence of their own father, Daniel was an excellent substitute.
To break the silence she said, ‘The children got a card from Bud today. It was sent weeks ago, but he’s doing well and is in Italy apparently. Erich was proud as punch taking it to school this morning. He still sees Bud as his own private Yank.’ She smiled.
Bud, a native of Biloxi, Mississippi, had joined the RAF before America entered the war as his mother was British. While stationed at the RAF base up the coast, he’d made friends with Erich and Liesl. He wanted to learn some German, so Erich had ostensibly taught him, but in reality, it was Liesl who had the aptitude for teaching. The result was that he became their friend, and they loved him. He was just a boy really, and brave as a lion despite his tender years. Elizabeth prayed each night for his safe return to Biloxi.
‘I’m glad,’ was all Daniel said.
‘Will I put on the wireless?’ she asked, and Daniel started. He was miles away.
They normally turned on the wireless to get the ten o’clock news before going to bed. The progress of the war was all that was talked about. She noticed the reports were more detailed now, knowing that the Germans were on the back foot, she supposed, though undoubtedly they were still not being told everything.
The Allies had landed last month on the beaches of Northern France, and after terrible fighting, it seemed now like they were driving the Germans back. The last German base in Soviet territory had fallen to the Russians, so they were losing on both fronts as the Americans were pushing up through Italy. But it wasn’t all plain sailing. The fighting for the cities of Caen and Saint-Lô was fierce, and the Germans seemed to have redoubled their efforts with those horrible flying bombs. London was being evacuated once more, with women and children moving back to their country billets where it was safer. But the war was going to end with an Allied victory for definite now, everyone was saying it, and the sense of optimism and determination was palpable, even in the little village of Ballycreggan.
Like everywhere, the village had had its losses: young people, whose whole lives were ahead of them, snuffed out like a candle and their parents and families left with a lifetime of grief. Elizabeth knew it was probably wrong to pray that someone would have a slow and painful death, but she wished that on the evil Adolf Hitler and his followers. Such misery they had caused, such pain in millions of hearts that would never be eased.
She thought of Liesl and Erich, asleep upstairs. She loved them with all of her heart, and while she wished for nothing more than the safe return of their mother, she couldn’t imagine her life without them now.
‘Not tonight, if you don’t mind. I… There’s something I need to talk to you about.’
Daniel looked pained and she felt the panic rise. What had happened? Daniel was not one for dramatics. Whatever he had to say, it wasn’t good news.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
He placed his book on the sofa beside him and gestured that she should join him. Wordlessly, she stood and crossed the room, cuddling up beside him. He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
‘Rabbi Frank called me in today. He’s just back from London, you know?’
She nodded. He’d been gone for two weeks, and the place wasn’t the same without him. The children were so excited that he had returned.
‘Well, while he was there, he met up with some people. One man in particular, who had managed to escape from one of the Nazi camps.’
Elizabeth waited.
Daniel exhaled raggedly. ‘It seems that it’s not just rumours or propaganda. The Nazis really are killing all the Jews. This man, he’s Czech I think, somehow escaped and got to London, but he saw, with his own eyes, huge chimneys where they were burning bodies. They were taking people off trains – women, children, everyone – and sending them to be gassed, and then burning the bodies in this big incinerator. He seemed to think this was happening in more than one place
too. Like it’s a plan of theirs. I…I had heard – of course we did – but part of me just couldn’t believe it. But it seems it’s true…’ He couldn’t go on.
‘Oh my God.’ Elizabeth’s thoughts immediately went to Liesl and Erich, and then to the children at the farm. Could this be the fate of their families? It was inconceivable, even with all that was being said about the Germans. Surely they couldn’t really be doing that?
‘There were articles and things, but I suppose we just…’ She had no words.
‘The rabbi is so shaken, he doesn’t know what to do. Should he tell everyone here what he knows? Or would it make it worse? He wanted my advice, but I had no idea. I said I’d talk to you, that you would know better than us what would be best for the children, and he agreed.’
Elizabeth was glad at least that the rabbi didn’t reveal this new horror without consultation. The rabbi was a very good, kind man, but he was so invested in the afterlife, that sometimes he didn’t see how important people’s feelings were in this life.
Elizabeth recalled how, two years ago, Daniel had been arrested and accused of spying for the Nazis. The punishment for espionage was death, and she remembered how circumspect Rabbi Frank had been as she fought tooth and nail to have Daniel exonerated. As it turned out, the real spy, a young woman called Talia Zimmerman, was arrested before Daniel was charged. She committed suicide in custody, but before she died, she did ensure Daniel was set free. Elizabeth recalled Rabbi Frank’s response to her outrage over Daniel’s potential execution during that whole nightmare. The rabbi was not sad, because to him, death was going home to God. He was a deeply devout Jew and a kind leader of the community, but he seemed incapable of understanding the loss of a loved one. Love of life was central to Jewish philosophy but the events of the last few years seemed to have made the rabbi less concerned with this world, choosing to focus instead on the next.
‘What do you think?’ Daniel asked her.
Despite her good relationship with the Jewish community at the farm and their respect for her as the children’s teacher, she was surprised the rabbi was consulting her, albeit through Daniel. The Jews were a self-contained group, and while they worked well with the people of Ballycreggan, all pulling together to deal with everything the war brought, the adults on the farm took their responsibility for those children very seriously and tended to deal with things internally. They felt they were in the position of the children’s parents and so acted accordingly.
‘I suppose they will have to be told something, but the idea of it, trying to explain something that defies explanation, I don’t know, Daniel,’ she said. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think let them have as long a childhood as they can. Maybe I’m just too soft to tell them the truth, but Levi agrees with me. He thinks there is no point in telling them before we have to. But then, as Ruth says, they are hearing things on the news, seeing newspapers, sensing the war is ending sometime soon hopefully. And they talk about going home, seeing their families, going back to their schools, and we all know that nothing like that is going to happen. Maybe other Jewish children are more aware, but we kept it from ours inasmuch as we could. They have an idea, of course. They know that the Germans have killed some Jews. But the scale of it, the sheer bloody numbers…’
She heard the catch in his voice and turned her face towards him, laying her hand on his chest. His handsome face was creased in pain. Not for himself, she knew. His parents were dead before the Nazis came to power, and his only brother had been killed in a road accident, so he didn’t have anyone of his immediate family sent to the camps. But the pain that would be inflicted on these children, the little boys and girls he had come to see as his responsibility, was very hard on him. He loved them and they loved him.
‘Viola even – I mean, she’s Liesl’s age – told me she was knitting a sweater for her father because she was afraid they might have lost their house. They lived in Warsaw. I couldn’t respond, Elizabeth. I just couldn’t say anything. How do you tell a lovely young girl, on the brink of life, that her parents were most likely herded into a ghetto, and after that, taken to a camp and killed there? How do you tell a child something that unbelievable?’
‘You don’t.’ Elizabeth was as sure of this as of anything in her life. ‘We don’t know the scale of this or which countries are worst affected or anything really apart from what this man said. I’m not doubting him, and God knows it’s hard to comprehend, but we have no idea what happened to the children’s families. So until such time as we do, we just need to reassure them. Liesl said to me that they were all worried they were going to be put back on trains, unceremoniously dumped back onto the railway platforms they left from. So our job is not to explain the unexplainable, but to reassure them that they have a home here and that we’ll take care of them for as long as they need us to. And that when the time comes, we’ll help them to find their families. Nothing more than that. That is the most important thing, that they know they have a home, forever if need be.’
‘But how can we assure them of that?’ he interrupted. ‘The Jewish communities of Dublin and Belfast have been more than generous – they have opened their wallets and their hearts, as have the people of Ballycreggan – but we can’t expect that to go on indefinitely. The land is rented, the rent will have to be paid, and even if we could manage that, what about the running costs – food, clothes, schoolbooks? We can’t keep the farm going on fresh air, and we certainly can’t expect the Irish Jews to support us forever.’
She thought for a moment. He was right of course, but keeping the farm afloat was not her main concern. They would come up with something – they had to.
‘Look, there is absolutely no way on God’s green earth I am letting one of those poor little mites out of my sight until it is into the arms of their family. I don’t care what anyone, government or anyone else, has to say about it. So that’s what they need to know. We can’t tell them what we don’t know anyway. We have no way of telling what each individual situation is, and maybe it will be a long time before we have any information. The rest of it – who is going to pay for it, or the farm or whatever – are all details, and we’ll deal with one thing at a time, shall we?’ She placed her hand on his face, feeling the day’s stubble there. He should by right have grown a beard by now – adult Jewish men were expected to – but she liked his face clean-shaven so he didn’t. He was such a handsome man and turned heads wherever he went, but she was so secure in his love, she never worried.
He smiled, turned his head and kissed her palm.
She smiled back at him. ‘We’ll go up and talk to the rabbi and the others,’ she said, ‘explain that we can’t terrify the children with half stories. If their families have perished, then we’ll deal with it when we know for sure. But for now, we must make them feel secure and loved.’
‘I love you, Elizabeth. You are an amazing woman, you know that? I don’t know what any of us would do without you.’ He held her close.
Chapter 10
Ariella had spent almost three months in the sacristy of the church at night, and while she might have, in another lifetime, found the experience a little creepy, she had no such feeling now. She usually got up early every morning and left. The local primary school had been bombed and was closed, so she sometimes hid there, and if there was activity around there, she walked, staying out of the main streets, only returning at nightfall. Father Dominic had explained that it would be best if people didn’t see her. There were so many destitute, and he and the other priests were doing their best, but if he were seen to help one over the other, it would be difficult. She understood completely. She was profoundly grateful to Father Dominic for his hospitality.
One morning she’d slept late, something she’d never done before, and she only woke as the priest arrived for early Mass. He asked her if she would like to attend. She had been to Peter’s father’s funeral Mass and a few funerals for other friends, and she and Peter went to a wedding once, a colleague’
s daughter. However, apart from those few instances, she had never attended a Catholic ceremony. Peter’s father wasn’t practising, but when he died, Peter thought he would like to be buried in the faith of his childhood. Peter himself was agnostic but had no objections to her raising Liesl and Erich as Jews.
She had lied and said she was Catholic, so it would be odd for her not to attend Mass. A young local boy appeared and donned vestments too, just as Father Dominic did. He knew exactly what items were needed, and man and boy busied themselves with the preparations. She took the mantilla he gave her, a square of lace, and let herself out into the church, vacating the sacristy to allow him to prepare.
She slid into a seat behind a group of middle-aged women, planning on following their every move. It was crucial to her survival that she pass as a Catholic now.
The Mass was a series of movements – stand up, kneel down. Father Dominic spoke in Latin with his back to the congregation. She had been so heartbroken the day her father-in-law was buried that she had taken no notice of what people were doing.
Father Dominic chanted in his deep sonorous voice, and the gathered faithful responded accordingly. She tried to mumble along but didn’t know the responses.
Then it came time for everyone to go up to the priest for communion. He placed the host on their tongues, and each took a sip from the chalice. She recalled reading something about transubstantiation, where Catholics believed that a miracle happened at each Mass when the wafer and wine were transformed into the body and blood of Jesus Christ. She thought quickly. It was probably against every rule for her to follow the other people up to receive, but not to do so would attract attention, so she slipped out into the aisle.
She took her place in the line behind a woman in a torn and dirty coat and tried to see what was happening. As they approached the altar, people knelt down at the rail and opened their mouths. The boy held a golden platter under each person’s chin as the priest placed the bread on their tongue. When it came to her turn, she did as the others had done. Did she imagine it, or did Father Dominic catch her eye? She closed her mouth, allowing the wafer to dissolve on her tongue, crossed herself as she had seen Catholics do in the past and returned to her seat.
The Emerald Horizon (The Star and the Shamrock Book 2) Page 6
