“Hans!”
Mutti said sharply.
“Well,
getting a new passport now, you know—”
“Ssh!”
her mother said.
He just
shrugged his shoulders, then looked a bit more serious and said “You take care
now.”
Renate
had had her passport for two years now, since she went on a school trip to
Italy. She remembered going with her father to get it.
“But the
birth certificate is wrong,” he’d argued with the official. “The fool of a
priest who christened her was drunk at the time. She is supposed to be Renata
Clara – Renata ending in ‘a’, not ‘e’ and Clara with a ‘C’ after both of her
grandmothers. Not Klara with a ‘K’. Renate with an ‘e’.”
“Well,
you should have found a priest who wasn't drunk,” said the young official.
Renate
remembered his eyes: blue and lifeless. He’d looked beyond them, not at them.
“She was
born in a thunderstorm, six weeks early. We didn’t think she would live,” her
father replied in a raised voice.
The
younger man hesitated for a moment. Then he slapped the application form down
on the table. “Oh, go round the corner and get her an adult passport. She’s old
enough anyway.”
“One of
Hitler’s trumped-up youths,” her father had mumbled as they joined another
queue in the passport office.
When
they were eventually shown into the office, Vati recognized the official. He
was Herr Müller, one of his old school friends.
“But
Hans,” said Herr Müller slowly, “even if the birth certificate is wrong, we
must put on her passport exactly what it says there. Of course, in the privacy
of your own home and amongst your own family and friends, you can call her what
you like.”
“Yes,
you’re right of course.” Vati sighed. “But I just can’t stand the attitude of
Hitler’s young bully boys.”
“Yes, I
know, I know,” said Herr Müller. “But we still have to obey the rules.” He
turned to Renate and winked. “Now, the passport will be ready very soon.”
Three
weeks later he personally handed the passport to Renate. “There,” he said.
“Your very own grown-up passport. That should last you quite a long time.
You’ll be a pretty young woman by the time you need a new one, I’ve no doubt.”
Then
Herr Müller had looked at her father and said quite seriously. “You know, I
think it was a good thing to get her an adult passport. You never know how
useful that might be one day.”
Renate
hadn’t understood what he’d meant then, and still didn’t now, though she supposed
it was useful for this trip.
“That’s
the biggest we’ve got that you’ll be able to carry,” said Mutti. They were
putting the last of her things into the suitcase. Renate was wearing her best
dress under two extra jumpers.
“Surely
it won’t be that cold there?” Renate said as she pulled on even more layers.
“It is a
damp place, surrounded by water,” explained Mutti. “Not that all these clothes
will keep out the coldness.”
“I’m not
really Jewish, am I?” asked Renate.
“Wear
your blue sweater on the boat,” Mutti said. “Even with your thick coat on you’ll
be cold.”
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