The House on Schellberg Street

 

Renate, 28 January 1:00 p.m.

 

She was still standing on the station platform, waiting for the train that was supposed to have left just after eleven. It seemed as if the weather knew what was happening and sympathized. The bright sunshine had gone. She shivered as she looked up at the black clouds that blotted out the sun and threatened rain, not snow. It was bitter. At least it meant she was glad of all the extra layers of clothes under her thick winter coat. She still thought that at any moment she would wake up and find this was just a horrible nightmare.

At last, a train pulled into the station and stopped next to the platform where they stood.

“You all have your identity cards or passports, don’t you?” asked Fräulein Gottlieb. “Remember, if any officials get on to the train don’t say anything unless they speak to you. If they ask any questions, answer as simply as you can, and of course, politely.”

Oh yes, thought Renate. I wouldn’t be without it.

She’d had to say goodbye to Mutti and Vati in the waiting room as they weren’t allowed on the platform. The SS guards had told them that there was to be no hugging or kissing and no crying. Oddly, she hadn’t felt like crying. She’d done plenty of that over the last few weeks. Now it didn’t feel real. She wondered whether Mutti and Vati were still watching. She couldn’t see as there were too many other children on the platform.

Fräulein Gottlieb and the other escorts started shuffling the children on to the train. Renate found herself in a compartment with an older boy, a pair of twins – one boy and one girl about her age – and a couple of little girls.

“Jakob, you’re in charge,” said Fräulein Gottlieb. “And you two older girls please help Christa and Irmgard if they need anything. Please all make sure your tags are visible at all times. And if anybody asks you about the violins, Adelinde and Erich, remember to tell them that you have passed grade eight.” She scuttled off to the next compartment.

The twins had very small suitcases with them. That must have been to make up for the violins. She wondered whether she would go to a family that had a piano. She didn’t play all that well, certainly not grade eight, but she would like to keep on trying.

Jakob stood up and opened the window. “Everyone’s on now,” he said. “I expect we’ll be going in a minute.”

Suddenly a young woman rushed up to him. “Please take her,” she said, handing a bundle to Jakob. “My sister will pick her up when you’re in Holland.”

“But—” Jakob went to protest.

It was too late, though. The train was pulling out of the station.

“What is it?” asked Adelinde.

“It’s a baby,” said Jakob.

Renate’s stomach did a somersault. Somebody had given them a baby to look after: a baby who was not supposed to be on this train. “We’ll have to hide it,” she said.

“Under a coat,” said Erich.

“But make sure she can breathe,” said Adelinde.

The baby was good and slept peacefully. Jakob kept her on his lap but carefully covered by his coat.

“Would you like me to hold her for a while?” asked Renate.

Jakob shook his head. “The mother told me to take care of her.”

The train was beginning to pick up speed. It didn’t seem that anyone wanted to talk. She was glad: she needed to think about all of this. It was too ridiculous. She couldn’t be Jewish. Neither could her mother or her grandmother. Besides, being Jewish shouldn’t mean that she and her mother had to move to a country where they didn’t even speak the language. Then she’d remembered what had happened back in November to the synagogue and all those shops and other businesses owned by Jews.

No, she didn’t want to think about that. She closed her eyes. The motion of the train soon made her fall asleep.

 

It was dark when she woke up. The train had stopped and Jakob was staring ahead looking rather worried. The baby was still asleep but making little whimpering sounds as if she would wake any moment now.

“We’re almost at the Dutch border,” said Erich. “I expect they’re making sure we’re not taking anything valuable out of the country.”

“If the baby starts crying, will one of you two start making a noise?” said Adelinde to the two little girls. Christa nodded then whispered something to Irmgard.

The compartment door suddenly opened.

“You will all show your papers at once,” said the official. “And open all cases and bags.”

Renate a shuddered as she saw the sinister black uniform. She avoided looking directly in his eyes.  

They took their suitcases from the luggage rack. Erich handed Jakob his.

“Can’t you get your own case?” the official asked Jakob.

“I’ve hurt my wrist,” said Jakob.

The official raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “What is in those cases?” he asked, pointing up at the luggage rack.

“Those are our violins,” said Erich.

“Show me,” said the official.

Erich took the two cases down and he and Adelinde opened them.

“They must be worth a mark or two,” he said. “Do you play them?”

“Of course,” said Adelinde. “We have both passed our grade eight exams. We hope to join an orchestra in England.”

“Show me,” said the official.

Adelinde and Erich exchanged a glance.

They took the violins out of the cases and carefully tuned them.

“Bach’s double concerto?” suggested Adelinde.

Erich nodded. “One, two three.”

They started playing. Soon the notes were dancing around each other. They were brilliant.

How did they get those notes out their violins? Renate had tried it once. It had sounded terrible. If she should be lucky enough to have a place with a family that had a piano she would practice for at least an hour every day.

Even the SS officer watched the twins open-mouthed.

Unfortunately, though, the baby also heard the music and wasn’t so impressed. She began to whimper more restlessly. Renate nudged Christa.

The little girl began to howl. “I want my Mummy, I want my Mummy.”

It worked. The music and Christa’s whining was louder than the sounds the baby made.

“All right, all right,” said the official. “That’s enough noise. You may keep your violins.” He scowled at them and moved on to the next compartment.

It was easy enough to stop the music, but the baby was another matter; Christa wouldn’t be able to keep up the noise for much longer.

“Try putting your finger in her mouth,” Renate said. She’d often seen mothers do that to crying babies and it seemed to sooth them.

Jakob pulled a face but did as she suggested. It calmed the baby a little but she still grizzled quietly.

Some children were made to get off the train and carry their suitcases into one of the waiting rooms.

Renate hoped the officers weren't going to make them stay here. She wanted the train to start moving again now. She wanted to get out of Germany.

At last, though, the children came back.

“They’re all there,” said Adelinde. “I counted – twenty went out of this carriage and twenty came back.”

“I wonder if they’ve been allowed to keep all their stuff, though,” said Erich.

“Get in quickly, scum!” shouted one of the SS officers.

Renate held her breath as she saw one of the girls drop her suitcase. It came open and her clothes fell all over the platform. She stopped to pick them up. The SS officer kicked her.

She yelped.

“Get on with it, you piece of filth,” said the officer. “Or you’ll have to stay here.” He pushed the girl on to the train.

The suitcase and most of its contents remained on the platform. The officer picked up the case plus a handful of the contents and threw them into the carriage. The doors were shut and the train started to pull out of the station. A broken doll was left behind.

“At least they should be friendlier at the next stop,” said Jacob. “We’ll be in Holland in a few moments.”

The door of the compartment opened again. It was Fräulein Gottlieb. “Well, done,” she said. “You all handled that very well. How is the baby?”

“You knew all along?” said Jakob.

“Of course,” said Fräulein Gottlieb. “I told the mother to give her to you, but I forgot to give you her milk and spare nappies. I’ve been so busy with some of the smaller children who have been very upset. Some of them don’t travel so well either. But here they are now. Can you try and get her cleaned up and fed before we hand her over to her aunt?”

 

The incident with the violins and the crying baby had really broken the ice. It turned out that Adelinde and Erich had left a baby brother behind and knew all about nappies and feeding babies.

“At least she’s a girl so she won’t pee in your eye while you’re changing her,” said Erich.

“True,” said Adelinde. “But this nappy is not too nice.”

“Give it to me,” said Jakob. He opened the window and threw it outside. “I hope it lands on  some Nazi scum.”

They all giggled.

In no time, they were chatting away with the baby gurgling contentedly. It turned out that Adelinde and Erich were also very good at singing and soon had them all joining in. Renate didn’t know the words to some of the Yiddish songs but she soon picked up the tune.

“So you’re not really Jewish?” said Jakob.

Renate shook her head. “I’d always thought I was German and Catholic.”

“But the Nazis didn’t,” said Jakob. “Because you have Jewish blood.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me that you’re not kosher.”

“No, we’re all in the same boat,” said Erich.

“We soon will be, quite literally,” said Adelinde.

Half an hour later, the train stopped again.

“I expect it will be the Dutch officials now,” said Jakob.

Renate’s stomach did another flip.

“I expect they’ll be kinder than the Germans were.” Jakob pointed out of the window. “Look, we’re actually at a station. I’m going to get out and find this little one’s mother.”

Then he and the baby were gone.

Renate heard the doors of the compartments opening one by one. She could hear women talking softly rather than the harsh voices of border officials.

Theirs opened. A lady appeared with cups of hot chocolate and another held a tray of little cakes. A third carried fluffy blankets and a fourth had some cute teddy bears. The four ladies made a fuss of them, handing them the drinks, cakes and blankets and a couple of the teddy bears to Christa and Irmgard. They seemed so kind and friendly, although Renate couldn’t understand a word they were saying.

The chocolate was delicious. The cake was like nothing she had tasted before – so sweet and spicy – making her realise how hungry she was. She was glad of the blanket, too. It wasn’t that she was cold with all the layers, it was rather that the softness of it was so soothing. However, she couldn’t stop the tears pricking at her eyes.

It had all been such a shock. Finding out she was Jewish and that she had to go away. Then realising that she wasn’t all that Jewish. Yet there were people being kind to her: the Dutch women and Adelinde, Erich and Jakob who had had to leave parents and brothers and sisters behind. At least her uncles would meet her in England and her mother would come over later. But what about Christa and Irmgard? Would they be allowed to stay together? They were so young to be away from their parents.

The Dutch women collected up the mugs and waved cheerily to them. No Dutch officials at all got on. The train began to pull out of the station even though Jakob had not got back.

The tears began to flow freely. Renate could not stop them. Adelinde put her arm round her, Christa held her hand and Irmgard patted her arm.

The compartment door opened and Jakob was there.

“Hey, Renatechen,” he said. “You didn’t think I’d deserted you did you?” He held up a bag bursting with fruit and sandwiches. “She wouldn’t let me go and she’s given us enough food for an army.”

“It’s all right, Renate,” said Fräulein Gottlieb, now standing behind him. “It’s good to cry. You’ll probably feel better.”

She really began to sob now.

“On the other hand, I could tell you one of my jokes,” said Erich, “and that might make you laugh.” He frowned. “Or perhaps not.”

Now she was alternatively laughing and crying. Fräulein Gottlieb was right. It did make her feel better. In no time she was only laughing and the rest were joining in.

YOU THINK A BABY AND A COUPLE OF VIOLINS WILL SAVE YOU? DO YOU THINK WE’RE IMPRESSED? TCH! FILTH. YOU’RE ALL FILTH. GO ON. GET AWAY WITH YOU. ALL OF YOU. GO. AWAY FROM THE FATHERLAND. GOOD RIDDANCE.

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The House on Schellberg Street

 

Renate, 28 January 1939 9:00 a.m.

 

Hans Edler suddenly roared with laughter. “Well, well. That spotty little Hitler-fan might have actually saved your life by being so pedantic. Or maybe even our dear Father Brandt, the old soak.”

“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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The House on Schellberg Street by Gill James

 

Renate, 22 December 2:30 p.m.

 

“What’s going on, Wilma?” said Renate. “Why was Mutti crying this morning?”

“I expect she’s just worrying about the packing,” said Wilma. “You know what a tizzy she gets into when she has to pack.”

“I suppose so,” said Renate.

“And I expect she’s bothered about leaving your father on his own,” said Wilma. “It’s not very nice, families being split up at Christmas.”

“Vati’s not coming to Stuttgart?” said Renate, alarmed. She had been looking forward to spending time in Oma’s rambling house on Schellberg Street, and the few days before staying with Hani. Christmas without Vati?

Before Wilma could answer the door opened. It was Mutti.

“Renate, I need to talk to you,” she said.

There was something about the tone of Mutti’s voice that Renate didn’t like.

“You may have wondered, perhaps...” her mother began. “You may have noticed …” She folded her hands and closed her eyes and then started again. “Have you ever wondered if we might have Jewish connections?”

Renate couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What did Mutti mean? They couldn’t possibly have anything to do with Jews could they? That would mean … that would mean they would have to give up all sorts of things.

“Yes, my dear, I’m afraid it’s true,” her mother continued. “I am Jewish, and so is Oma – but not your father. You and I and your Oma will have to leave Germany after Christmas and go and live in England. A lot of very kind people have done all sorts of things to make it possible for us to go there. You will have to go first.”

“What? On my own?” cried Renate.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. But I shall be following very soon. Your uncles are waiting for you in England and will take care of you. But Vati won’t be able to come too – he won’t be allowed to leave Germany.” Her mother’s voice broke and she added almost in a whisper. “Go and think it over in your room. I… I want to be alone for a bit.”

Renate couldn’t move. She stared at her mother. They were Jewish? She and Mutti were Jewish? She knew that it was very difficult for Jewish people living in Germany and was getting worse all the time. Everything had been just the same as normal, except perhaps for Mutti’s strange moods. But they didn’t look at all like the Jews they’d seen down in town. Those men with the big hats and the long sideburns and the women always dressed in black. Mutti just looked like any other German woman.

“Renate, I told you to go,” said Mutti. “I need to be on my own.”

Somehow, she managed to will her feet to move. She left the lounge and set off for her room. As she crossed the hallway, she caught her reflection in the long mirror but she could see nothing different. She was not a racial disgrace or a contamination. That’s what they said the Jews were, didn’t they? She pushed her shoulders back and held her head up. “I’m just the same as ever. I am not a disgrace. I am going to England and I shall like it,” she whispered.

Her father came out of his study and stood beside her. He put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s for the best,” he said.

“But I can’t speak any English,” said Renate.

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The House on Schellberg Street by Gill James

 

Hani, 22 December 1938 11:30.a.m.

 

“It looks bigger now that all that junk’s gone,” said Rikki. “I suppose there will be room for the trundle-bed. You’d better put some of the spare curtains up at the side window. You don’t want anybody looking in. And I think I know where there are some extra blankets.”

“But nothing at the sky-light,” said Hani. “Because we’ll be able to look up at the stars then. It’s going to be so  lovely.”

“I hope you two girls won’t catch cold sleeping out here,” said Rikki, frowning slightly.

“Oh, Rikki, you worry too much.” Hani put down her pile and gave her former nanny a hug. “Nobody’s going to catch cold. We’ve got feather beds, haven’t we? And that little stove is quite efficient. It’s going to be so cosy.”

“I don’t know,” said Rikki. “You do get some funny ideas. Wanting to sleep out here when you’ve got such a lovely room.”

“Yes, but it’ll be such an adventure,” replied Hani.

“If you say so,” replied Rikki, with a sniff. “Now, I’ll just go and get young Wilhelm to clear this lot up. Then he can go and get the trundle bed.”

“Nice cosy little den you’ve got here,” said Wilhelm a few minutes later, after he’d brought in the bed and she’d helped him to straighten it out. “You two’ll be set up just fine.” He pushed his wild blond curls from his forehead and wiped the sweat from his face.

“It’s great, isn’t it?” said Hani. She’d always liked Wilhelm. He always seemed more like an older brother than one her father’s workers. But now she just wanted him to go away, so she could get on with the room.

“Anything else I can do?” he asked.

“No, no, not at all, thank you,” replied Hani, gently stroking the curtains and blankets Rikki had sent down. Why wouldn’t he just go away? She couldn’t wait to get started making the garage room the cosiest of places.

Rikki had already swept the floors clean, done away with all the dust and polished the small window and sky-light until they shone. All there was left for Hani to do now was to make the room look pretty.

In no time, the bright yellow curtains framed the little window. On top of the normal bed-rolls she stretched out two red blankets. There were so many cushions she didn’t think she would be able to use them all, so she put three on each bed and dropped the rest on the floor.

This is really comfy, she thought. We can use the cushions as seats. It’s going to be so good.

There was nothing more she could do now. It really was perfect.

The smell of cooked chicken coming from the kitchen was making her hungry. Fantastic!

Must be about half past twelve, she thought. And she’ll be here by two. I wonder whether Rikki has made some strudel. If not we could go to Kellerman’s on the way back from the station.

She really wasn’t sure whether she could bear to wait the extra hour and a half, but at least lunch might take her mind off it.

“Your mother says you’re to eat downstairs in the kitchen with me and Wilhelm,” said Rikki as Hani came out of the bathroom from washing her hands.

“Why?” asked Hani.

“She and your father have something to discuss,” replied Rikki.

“Do you know what?” asked Hani. Why didn’t they involve her in their discussions? She wasn’t a child anymore. Besides, she wanted to find out more about what was going on, because she knew it was something not so nice.

“Now take that frown off your face, young missy,” said Rikki, frowning herself. “You know your mother and father work really hard, and they don’t often have time to sit down and talk, let alone have a meal together.”

Hani sighed. “I suppose so,” she said. “Anyway, what are we having? It smells delicious.”

“Chicken casserole and dumplings,” answered Rikki.

“Now that sounds good,” said Wilhelm as he came through the back door.

“Yes, but not until you’ve washed that muck off your hands, it won’t be,” said Rikki.

“Look, I’m sorry if I was a bit impatient earlier,” said Hani. “Only, you know, I wanted to … well.”

“No problem,” replied Wilhelm. “I had work to do in the garden, anyway. Look.” He held up two muddy hands.

“Bathroom. Now!” hissed Rikki.

“Heil Rikki!” cried Wilhelm, raising his right arm stiffly out in front.

Hani shuddered. Rikki looked as if she was about to faint. Her face had gone quite white.

“Don’t you joke about that, young man,” she said quietly.

“No, sorry,” replied Wilhelm, darting out of the kitchen before Rikki could say anything else.

They ate in silence, all three of them looking down at their food. Hani felt strange. December was such a lovely time. The weather was just as it always was at this time of year – cold, but clean and fresh. Everything seemed so normal. Yet it wasn’t. There was something about to happen and Hani couldn’t be sure exactly what.

“That was great,” said Wilhelm as he wiped his plate clean with a slice of bread.

“Yes, there’s seconds,” said Rikki. “Though I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to say that.”

Wilhelm looked at Hani and winked.

“She’s coming round,” he whispered. “She likes me really.”

Hani watched Rikki ladle more of the sauce on to Wilhelm’s plate. She would have loved some more herself but she didn’t have Wilhelm’s excuse. He’d been working in the garden all day. She’d done very little – unless you counted the prettying up of the garage room, although Wilhelm and Rikki had done all the heavy work. Besides, if she didn’t lose a bit of weight soon, she would get another lecture from her mother.

The doorbell rang.

“I’d better go and get that,” said Wilhelm. “They won’t want disturbing.”

Rikki sat very still, just staring into space. Hani didn’t know whether she should say anything.

“It was the telegram boy,” said Wilhelm ten minutes later. “A telegram for upstairs.”

Rikki flinched.

“I don’t think it was anything too important,” said Wilhelm. “They didn’t look very worried when I gave it to them.”

“Ah, well, we’ll see,” said Rikki.

Hani hoped it wasn’t to do with Renate. Perhaps she was sick? That would be awful.

Oh, stop worrying, she told herself. It’s probably only something to do with one of their meetings. But the uncomfortable feeling would not go away. It was no good pretending things were all right. Things were just not all right at the moment.

She saw Rikki and Wilhelm exchange a look.

“What’s the matter?” she said. “Do you think there’s something wrong?”

They didn’t have time to answer before they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Hani’s mother came in, holding the telegram in her hands.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she said. “Renate won’t be coming.” There were tears in Frau Gödde’s eyes.

Hani’s heart sank. “What is it?” she cried. “What’s the matter with her?”

“It’s ... it’s nothing too serious,” her mother stammered. “She’s perfectly safe. Just come on upstairs, will you? Vati and I need to talk to you.”

If it’s not too serious, why is she crying? thought Hani.

It seemed to take forever to walk up the stairs to the main lounge. Her mother didn’t look back once, and it reminded Hani a bit of being shown into the dentist by Herr Schröder’s assistant. She never looked at you nor did she ever smile. At least mother smiled occasionally, but obviously not today.

“Sit down, Hani,” said Herr Gödde. “We need to talk to you about Renate.”

“She’s not ill, is she?” cried Hani. “What does the telegram say?”

Her mother raised her eyebrows and mouthed something at Hani’s father. He nodded. Frau Gödde put her hand to her mouth and handed Hani the telegram.

 

Renate unable to come stop chicken pox stop

 

Hani felt the relief as a great stone being lifted from her chest as she read the telegram. Renate was ill, but it was nothing much. So she would be coming soon – when the spots had gone. She couldn’t very well go on a train all covered in spots.

“Well, she will come when she’s better, won’t she?”

Her parents didn’t answer. They just frowned. Why were they so bothered? It was just chicken pox, wasn’t it?

It was only later, when she was back in the garage room turning the telegram over in her hand and looking sadly at her cosy den, that she remembered. They’d both already had chicken pox. Here, when they were seven. You were only supposed to have chicken pox once.

Suddenly the winter had lost all its charm.

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