by Rikke Barfod
“I know. I don’t quite understand it myself. I just felt lucky every day I woke up and Inga was there. I am sure, Inga feels the same about you. Every day was a gift even if it was difficult to understand her sometimes. She had an invisible friend. The nurse told me that it was normal for children at that age to have invisible playmates.”
I smile. “They are not invisible, Granny. They really exist.”
Darn, why did I say that? Now when things are just going so nicely and Granny is telling me all these things.
Granny huffs and falls quiet. The silence is broken by Mum coming in.
“Did you just get back from Sweden?” I ask.
“You’ve been over to Sweden?” Granny inquires.
“Didn’t Claire tell you we’re going to Germany?”
Granddad brings in the tea. “Inga, how nice. I’ll bring another cup.”
Granny looks confused. “How pleasant. Going for a holiday?”
“But what has that got to do with Sweden?” Granddad asks.
“I went to see my aunt to get the address of my father’s friend, Doctor Heinz.”
The room suddenly becomes very silent.
Granddad breaks the silence, “Your father’s friend, but …”
“We are going to find my father and persuade him to come back with us to meet Ursula.”
Granny fists her hand over her heart.
“Inga, I wish you wouldn’t pretend about Ursula.”
“Mother, do stop acting like an ostrich.”
Granddad clears his throat, puts his pipe down, but before he can say anything, Mum cuts in. For the first time ever, I see Mum really angry. Her words cut like a thin nerve from a wielded sabre.
“Mother, stop it. Both Claire and I see Ursula.”
Granny’s voice sounds uncertain like she is searching for the words. She sips her tea: “Inga, I know you think you can see this Ursula, but do you have to make Claire pretend too?”
“Mother, didn’t you listen to what Claire said the other day? Didn’t you hear her speak about Ursula? Don’t you understand? We can both see her. I’ve been seeing things all my life, but you never would believe it. Actually, it doesn’t make any difference whether you believe it or not. We’re going to help this poor child – who incidentally is my older sister – and who has just found out she is dead, and that her mother too has died. The only thing that keeps her going on – is the hope of seeing her father. Isaac is going to come with us.”
“Isaac?”
“My cousin Isaac. And don’t you think that I too, would love to meet my real father. I’ve known for years he was alive. Isaac told me when I was twenty. Why did you never tell me, when Auntie Hannah wrote to you? Mother, didn’t you wonder why I read all those books about the Holocaust? Come Claire, we’re going!”
Mum pushes me out the door. I cast a guilty look back at Granny and Granddad, and follow her. They sit like stone statues. This is the second time in a week we have walked walk away from them like that.
We don’t talk on the way home. Mum is still angry. The air is fizzling around her head. Her hands are fisted.
“I’m sorry, Claire. This is what I’ve wanted to protect you from. Other people’s prejudices and unbelief.”
“But Mum, they can’t see Ursula, why should they believe us?”
“Maybe not believe, but at least respect that we see ‘things’ that they don’t. Claire, my whole life I’ve been pretending to be someone I’m not. I don’t want to do it anymore – or that you should end up like me.”
I chew on that. I like Mum. Everybody does. She actually looks beautiful with her short black curly hair and wide smile. I always thought she was happy.
Ursula is not around when we get home. I go over to see Ellen.
Fortunately, she has twisted her father round her little finger again and is not grounded anymore. Ellen’s father, Dr. Birk, is really nice. He almost looks like a big teddy-bear. He grunts a bit when she’s done something stupid, and then he starts laughing. He’s a very good doctor. At least with children. We grab our bikes and head for the forest as usual. It’s funny, when I’m with Ellen I don’t miss the fairies. There’s so many other exciting things to do, like riding the bikes down the hills with no hands on the handlebars (I am still learning), jumping across small streams, climbing trees. All the things Ellen is so good at. I tell Ellen what Ursula told me about climbing trees. Ellen wants us to try immediately. So, we try. I like it. It feels like the tree is vibrating under my hands. I get scared when I can’t feel the next branch and open my eyes. Then shut them again and climb down. “That was awesome,” Ellen says. “We must do it again some other time.”
When I come home from school the next day, Granddad is waiting for me outside our house. We go into the kitchen, and I put the kettle on.
“I want you to understand something,” he says, fiddling with his pipe as usual. “Don’t be too hard on us. It is not easy living with something you don’t understand.”
Or accept, I think.
“I know. It’s not easy for me either. I really like Ursula, but the whole thing is just too weird. Actually, it is not fun seeing ghosts all over the place,” I say.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how liberating it is to be able to call a spade a spade.
Granddad pats me awkwardly on my cheek. “Don’t worry, Claire, I know you’re as sane as everyone else.”
“The water is boiling,” I say, just as Mum comes home.
“Father, how nice.”
Granddad gets up: “I’ve come to apologize, Inga. It’s time …”
Mum gives him a hug, “It’s Okay, Father. I know it must be difficult for you to understand.”
“I know you told us the whole story, but shouldn’t you consult a priest, maybe?” Granddad looks sheepishly at Mum.
Mum starts laughing. “Father, you’re incredible. It has absolutely nothing to do with exorcism. It’s simply a very unhappy girl who needs peace, so she can stop lingering in this world. Don’t forget she didn’t even know she was dead, until a couple of days ago.”
Granddad’s voice shakes a bit as he says, “Inga, you were such a gift to us, so maybe we never really tried to understand you, we were just so happy having you.”
Mum hugs him again, “Father, as long as you try it’s fine. But you know there are books you could read.”
After he leaves Mum tells me we’re going to Germany in two days.
“Do I really have to go?”
Mum doesn’t answer just nods. She is busy putting her shopping away.
“I don’t want to go. And Dad will get angry.”
“That’s what I’ve been fighting against all my life – suppressing my gift to avoid either confusing or hurting other people.”
“But what if I prefer to suppress it? Maybe Dad won’t leave then.”
Mum throws me one of those looks: “What makes you think it will be that easy? And what about Ursula?”
Oh bother Ursula. I feel anger building up inside like black sludge. “Why does my whole life have to be disrupted, why don’t you just go with Isaac? It really has nothing to do with me.”
A tiny vein throbs at Mum’s throat. I know that one. But her voice is level when she says: “Claire, there are things one just has to do, even when they seem unpleasant or upset your other plans.”
“Yeah, you have to. Not me.”
I rush out the door, grab my bike, and tear off to Ellen. She has been grounded again, and sent off to her grandmother in Elsinore. The one Ellen calls the ‘Drill Sergeant’. (Strange isn’t it that my father has turned out almost normal, with a mother like that!”). Instead, I bike to my secret place in the forest. I used to play with the elves there. Nowadays, I just wave when I see them. It drives Ellen nuts.
I am a bit embarrassed about it now. Alicia told me she understood I was growing up and not wanting to play so much anymore. I wonder whether Karin feels the same way as me? Must remember to ask her. Anyway, these days
, I mostly use the hiding place to think.
I’m so angry I tear at the leaves, and drum my heels on the tree trunk. The hiding place is inside a lot of bushes. You have to crawl to get in. Alicia showed me how to get there. Even Ellen doesn’t know about this place. Alicia appears. I think she must be a willow-tree elf, she is always dressed in green. I have never actually asked her. When you play with elves many things become very unimportant. Sometimes she looks very tall, but today she looks smaller than me. She leaves again saying: “There’s a big thunder inside of you today.”
I sit for many hours, the thoughts tumbling about. Birds chirp, squirrels run around. The whole forest breathes, but today I don’t notice it. Dad, Mum, Ursula, Jacov. Yes, of course, I want Ursula to ‘see’ her father – but can’t they do it without me? And can’t this business of seeing ghosts stop now? And seeing pictures from inside other people’s heads. It’s too much.
“I want to be normal,” I screech.
I am still seething when a movement catches my eye.
“Aunt Clara.”
“That was some shout.”
“I’m so confused,” I say picking up a leaf from the ground.
“You are not really. It’s part of growing up, Claire, taking responsibility.”
I tear at the leaf, “What do you mean? I am not responsible for Ursula.”
“No, taking responsibility for yourself.”
A squirrel runs up the tree sharply pursued by another. I watch them for at bit and say: “Well, I am. I don’t want to go to Germany. I want to be normal.”
Aunt Clara smiles, “You are normal.”
“Tell that to the stars. What do you mean by responsibility.”
“To your heart.”
“Hrmff.” The leaf is in shreds now. I take another one.
“Claire, Inga is right. It is a gift. Like being able to paint or make music.”
“Yeah, but I get teased and sometimes I don’t know if what I see is really there.”
Aunt Clara looks serious, “I know. But how do you think Inga feels. She didn’t have a mother to support her. Only her grandmother, Ingeborg.”
She cornered me there. I close my eyes and remember what Ursula said about seeing colours inside. It’s true that right now I am black inside with anger. I begin to understand that it means a lot to Mum that I come along to Germany.
I sigh and turn to aunt Clara. She’s gone.
I sit for a while, not thinking, watching two dragonflies. They are so very beautiful. I wonder whether dragonflies become fairies. A thrush starts singing and a fox slowly walks by.
I decide to go home and face the music.
Chapter 30
Claire
Germany
Sunday, 17th April 1983
Mum is rather excited about going to Germany. It must feel weird, going to meet her real father for the first time. She is brushing up on her German. We’re having an uneasy truce. I am still resentful, but I keep it inside most of the time. I don’t like being dragged along on this journey. At least, hopefully, I won’t meet any ghosts on the way.
I talk a bit with Isaac while Mum reads her newspaper.
“I’m not feeling too good,” he confesses with a rueful smile. “You have no idea how much I am not looking forward to meet uncle Jacov.”
“That I understand. It must be terrible. How was he when you all lived together?”
“I was a teenager, and very busy with my friends. But he was okay. Not like Auntie Leah who fussed too much. She was scared all the time. Uncle Jacov was actually nice. He helped me a couple of times when I was in trouble. He was a good ally.” Isaac smiles, remembering. “I won’t go into the circumstances now. And he had a keen sense of humour.”
“How was he with Ursula?” I ask. I really want to know about this grandfather.
“He adored her. He wanted her to be strong and face whatever came her way.”
Isaac is really easy to talk to. “So, did you have a nice time then, in Denmark?”
“Oh, yes. I had a good childhood, even after the German occupation. I had many friends, I was into a lot of sports. And I did come to love my little cousin. She was so strong. She wanted to overcome barriers. She didn’t want the fact that she was blind, to be a limitation.” He sighs.
Mum interrupts: “Claire, are you hungry? We can get something to eat soon, on the ferry.”
“No, thanks.” I don’t mean to sound upset. Fortunately, Mum doesn’t say anything.
I am still not happy about going. I try not to show it. And this grandfather, what will he be like? Will he shout at us to go away, like he did with Isaac’s parents. Oh, do I wish Ellen could be here too.
To while away the time, I read a bit in the book Kirsten had given me. It is just too sad. It’s written by someone who did not survive a concentration camp as a child. It is ghastly. How can people treat other people like that? I don’t understand wars. I stop reading and look out the window. The view is rather boring. It’s dark and the German landscape looks just like Denmark.
We have to change in Hamburg to get the night train late in the evening. I have never tried to sleep on an overnight train before. I climb up in the upper berth whilst Mum and Isaac talk. I hear Isaac asking Mum, “Sarah, why didn’t you go to Germany long ago to find Jacov?”
“You know how it is. I have heard other adopted children say the same. Something about being scared that your biological parents don’t want to meet you. And Mogens too, dissuaded me the same as you did. Oh, Isaac, you can’t begin to imagine how thrilled and excited I am now.”
Isaac mutters something, I don’t hear. The rattling of the train has almost lulled me into sleep. But I wake up when Mum says:
“And you know I had noticed Claire’s ability to see things. Mogens was so against talking about it. I really didn’t dare go to Germany without her, in case ... I don’t know. Maybe that he would get mad at her. He got really angry, when I allowed Claire to visit Clara when Clara was dying. You have no idea, how it helped Clara to hear Claire telling her what she saw.”
Mum sighs and falls silent. I try to think about what she says. The wheels of the train rock me to sleep.
Monday, 18th April 1983
Mum wakes me up far too early in the morning. We have to change trains to go to that Heidelberg place. I am half asleep when I follow Mum and Isaac out of the train and onto a new platform. In the new train I fall asleep again. Not for long. We have arrived in Heidelberg.
Isaac has found out how we get to the doctor with the tomato ketchup name. The one Ursula talks about. We walk there after a nice breakfast at the station. The town looks very old and beautiful with ancient houses. It’s warm here. Much warmer than at home. I have to take off my jacket. It is still very early in the morning, but the doctor is not in, only his wife. A thin, grey old woman wearing an apron. She looks at me with a start, then tells us where Jacov lives; so back to the station, where Isaac hires a car.
It is a beautiful drive up to the village in the mountains. We roll down the windows to smell the different scents from the flowers. All the trees and hedges are blooming. The road zigzags upwards. Isaac is a good driver, so I don’t get scared – even if the drop down the side looks rather frightening.
Mum sits very still. I say something to her. She doesn’t answer. I turn around and see that her eyes are closed. She doesn’t even answer Isaac when he asks her how she is feeling.
Half way up the mountain Isaac veers off to a small village and finds Jacov’s house. I will call him Jacov. It feels too strange to call him my grandfather. Gustav is my grandfather. The house is yellow and looks rather nice; it is set apart from the other houses in the village. A lot of wood and tools lie around in the yard. A large pink rosebush growing against the wall is already flowering.
Isaac sits for a few moments after stopping the car. He takes a deep breath, clenches his hands, gets out, and walks to the front door. Mum and I stay in the car. Mum sits with folded hands pr
essed into her chest. Her knuckles are white. I feel sick in my stomach from the suspense. Isaac knocks at the door. An old, bent man with floppy clothes and grizzled, grey unkempt hair, comes out. Isaac says something. Mum leans forward. The man shakes his head and shouts at Isaac, then slams the door.
Isaac gets back into the car. His face looks very sad.
“I tried to tell him who I was; he didn’t even listen to what I said. Let’s go and talk to Doctor Heinz, and see if he can help persuade Jacov to meet us.”
Mum lets out a deep breath as if she has been holding the air in for a long time.
The doctor still isn’t in.
“Can’t we go and see the house where Ursula used to live?” I ask.
“We can,” Isaac says. “As far as I know it’s just around the corner.”
“But maybe it was bombed.”
Isaac smiles a wry smile. “Wars,” he says bitterly. “Even in war they have gentlemen’s agreements not to bomb historical places.”
“How weird.”
Isaac stops outside a white house in a street of large villas and a few doctors’ and lawyers’ signs affixed to the front gates. Tall trees line both sides of the street.
Mum looks eagerly at the house and asks: “But where is Jacov’s antique shop?”
“Must have been converted.”
I look at the house. At the back is the garden with the big apple tree Ursula has talked about. Now I understand why she likes it so much. It looks a bit like an old lady. Where the branches bend down to the earth, they look like her big petticoats. Her arms spread out all over the place. Some reach upwards and form a beautiful crown. The bark looks old and wise. The tree is full of fragrant blossoms. It’s a peaceful tree.
Two small blonde children play on the grass, talking to a third person. I suddenly realize who they are talking to.
“Mum, Ursula is here.”
Mum looks. “You’re right. Let’s go and talk to her,” she says.
We walk into the garden. Ursula is sitting on the grass, her back against the tree. “You’re back,” the smallest child, a little girl, says.
