GIlr ina Smart Unifrom

 

23 March 1932 : food fight? 

The doorbell rang. I didn’t want to get up and answer it straight away. I was too absorbed in my history project. Whoever was there rang again and again. Then they kept their finger on the bell. It got louder and louder and started to hurt my ears. All right then. I opened the door, and there was Thomas standing on the step.

“Will you do something for me?”

“What? Why?”

“My mother’s expecting a parcel and I‘ve got to go out.”

“Why can’t you wait for it?”

“Because we’re going on a hike, and we’re going to build a campfire and cook on it.” His eyes were shining.

“Well I hope you don’t mess up your lovely new uniform.” I felt a bit mean as soon as I’d said it.

“You could join the Jungmädel.”

Hmm. Herr Silber kept saying he would buy me the uniform and Kurt thought it would be a good idea. Bear, though, said I would have plenty of time for those sorts of things later. Mutti just smiled and shrugged her shoulders every time the subject came up. Anyway, back then, I wasn’t sure I was thant keen on creepy crawlies and sleeping outside. I wished, though, that I could enjoy things like Thomas did.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Well, can you take this parcel or not?”

“Yeah, I guess. Just leave a note on the door.” 

“Well I hope you don’t get the hook-nose.”

“Hook-nose?”

“He’s a Jew.”

“So?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Don’t you know anything? You know. Jesus-hater. Home-wrecker. Work-stealer.”

What was he talking about? “Oh, just put a note on the door and tell him to come here.”

      Thomas jumped on the spot and clapped his hands. “Thanks.” 

I shut the door and returned to my project. What an idiot! Getting so excited about going out into the countryside with a load of other idiots. 

Soon I was once again trying to work out who German people were really supposed to be. Herr Lindemann was always going on about how we should be proud to be German and we should look at all the history books to see how great Germans really were. But we’re not. We’re poor and we keep losing wars.

Then I heard Bear coming down the stairs.

“Hey, Giselchen. Are you doing your homework on a nice sunny day like today? You should be out getting some fresh air.”

I smiled to myself. I knew why he was in such a good mood. He’d come back on leave last night and he’d gone for a walk with Helga Brassel. Maybe they’d kissed. I was a bit jealous in a way. Maybe when he came home now he wouldn’t have so much time for me. Never mind, though, I was glad he was happy. He was so nice, my big Bear brother. Especially when he was cheerful. And that always made it nicer for me as well.

He leaned over to see what I was writing. “Oh, oh, oh. The glorious German people. Do you think so, really?”

“It’s what Herr Lindemann says.”

 “Well, if it’s what your teacher says, I suppose it must be true. Or at least you’d better pretend to agree just in case.”

As if I’d ever not do what my teacher told me. What was he thinking?

The doorbell rang again. Before I could get up out of my seat Bear had rushed to the front door and opened it. It was the parcel man. I could tell by the conversation.

“That right Giselchen? You’re to take in a parcel for Thomas’s Mutti?”

Did he have to call me that in front of other people? I quite liked it when we were at home together as a family. But I was growing up now and ought to be called by my proper name. “Yes,” I called.

A few moments later he came back into the kitchen with a large brown box. “I wonder what they’ve been buying? It’s not very heavy.”

“Was it the hook-nose?”

“What?”

“The hook-nose.” What else had Thomas said? “The Jesus-hater?”

“Now then.” Bear’s eyes were flashing. I’d never known him be angry before. Well not with me, anyway. Sometimes when he and Kurt argued perhaps. “Do you mean was he Jewish? Yes he was – is. They’re just people, Gisela. Remember that. Just people.”

I felt my cheeks burning. I didn’t know what to say. 

Bear made himself some breakfast and sat reading the newspaper. He was really cross with me and I didn’t really understand what I’d done wrong. Okay, so Thomas had been a bit cruel in what he’d said but hadn’t Herr Lindemann said almost the same thing? That the German people were good and it was others who were making life difficult for us. Didn’t that mean the Jews?

About an hour later Bear stood up. “I’m going for a walk.”

I would have liked to go with him but something about the way he looked at me told me that that wasn’t an option this time. 

 

Not long after I’d done as much as I could on the history project. I was getting confused, anyway. It didn’t really make sense. Nobody seemed to like the Germans because of the war but Herr Lindemann had kept telling all of us in our class how great the German people were. And the Germans didn’t like the Jews but the Jews were some of the cleverest people around – good business men, doctors and lawyers. I was worried as well that Bear might still be cross and that he wouldn’t want to spend time with me – especially now that Helga was on the scene. Is that where he had gone now? Was that why he hadn’t wanted me to go with him? What could I do to get back into his good books?

I saw his boots standing in the shoe rack. They were pretty dirty. That was it. I could clean them for him.

I put out newspaper and organised the shoe-cleaning things. I brushed off the loose mud and rubbed the polish into the stiff leather. Then I brushed the boots vigorously until they began to shine, finally polishing them really hard with a duster. Goodness, they really gleamed now. I was enjoying this. There were other shoes that needed cleaning as well; Mutti’s working shoes, the ones I wore for school, an old pair of Kurt’s and even some that Vati had left behind. I polished until my arms ached and I had polish all over my arms. I guessed I probably had some on my face as well because I had to keep pushing my hair out of my eyes with my mucky fingers. I was determined now to make sure that all of the shoes really sparkled.

I was just finishing the last pair when I heard Bear whistling.

“Goodness,” he said, as he opened the door. “Somebody’s been busy.”

He definitely seemed in a better mood. He picked up his boots. “You’ll have to join the army if you can shine boots up like that. Where did you learn to clean shoes so well?”

It wasn’t really that clever, was it? I’d watched Vati do it hundreds of times.

“Did you see Helga again?” I couldn’t believe I’d just said that. It was none of my business.

He blushed then grinned. “Yes. I took her some flowers.”

Had they kissed again? Had they even kissed yet? I would have loved to know but didn’t dare ask.

“That’s nice.” Would somebody bring me flowers one day? Herr Silber often brought them for Mutti.

“Actually, do you fancy coming into town with me on the tram? We can go and have coffee and cake? At that nice little place near the synagogue.”

“Now? What about lunch?”

He shrugged. “The portions are big there, I’m told. They’ll make up for not having lunch. And they’re not too expensive, considering. Herr Silber gave me some money last night.”

“Yes, but don’t you want to save it?”

“Helga and her mother are going there this afternoon.”

“So wouldn’t you rather go on your own?”

“You’d be my excuse for going.” 

      I shook my head and then nodded. Why should I argue? I liked cake, didn’t I? It wasn’t often I got taken to a nice café.    

 

I’d never been into this café before. It had always looked too smart. It was in one of the old buildings right in the middle of the town.

“Come on then,” said Bear pushing open the heavy wooden door.

It was a bit gloomy inside at first but my eyes soon got used to it. It was so elegant.  There were white table cloths and pretty china and silver cutlery. There were candles and a small vase of flowers on every table.

There was such a strong smell of coffee and the coffee machine whooshed and spluttered all the time.       

It was quite full. I thought everybody must have a Herr Silber who gave out money, then. The other people there weren’t like us, though. They were all smartly dressed. Some of the ladies were wearing fur stoles even though the weather was so warm.

It was the cakes, though, that astonished me, the most. There were large tarts, covered in fruit, big gateaux smothered in cream and fancy individual ones very cleverly iced. I had no idea which one to choose.   

“Have you decided yet?” Bear was actually frowning as he studied the display.

Then I saw it though.  My favourite. “Can I have some baked cheesecake?” I said. 

“Good choice. Lemonade to drink?”

I nodded.  I really would have liked a coffee, though but Bear would probably have said I was too young.  I wasn’t, but I never wanted to argue with him. 

Bear gave our order to the lady at the counter and a waitress in a very smart black dress and a starched white apron showed us over to the table. Bear gave her our ticket. 

“One black coffee and a lemonade,” he said. He sat up very straight. I think he was trying to look smart. I found it hard not to giggle.

She wrote in her little notebook, smiled at me and then went towards the counter at the back of the shop.

Bear looked around. “Do you like it here?” 

I nodded, though actually I wasn’t all that sure. I felt out of place.  

A few more people came in. All of them were really well dressed. I had put my own best frock on – Bear had said I should. But it looked very dowdy compared with the ones other girls my age were wearing.

“Oh. Here they come.” Bear blushed bright red and looked away. “Don’t stare at them and if they do see you looking, pretend to be surprised.”

“Didn’t you tell her you were going to come here?”

He shook his head.

I quickly looked at Helga and Frau Brassel. Helga was wearing a pretty white dress that had a pattern of pink roses over it. Frau Brassel had on a grey silk dress with a hat and a fur stole to match. Would I ever be able to dress like that? 

At that moment the waitress arrived with our drinks and slices of cake. Bear rubbed his hands together. “This looks good.”

The lemonade was delicious. The cake was rich and creamy. He’d been right; the portions were so big that it more than made up for not having lunch. By the time I’d eaten half of my slice I was convinced I wouldn’t be able to finish it all.  

“Is the coffee all right?”

“The best I’ve ever tasted.”   

“Will you go and talk to them?”

  “Maybe, when we’ve all finished. If I get the chance.”

Suddenly somebody knocked on the window. I jumped. Kurt’s face was staring at me. What was he doing here? He hadn’t written to say he would have some leave.

He mouthed something at Bear and frowned.

“I think I’d better go and talk to him,” said Bear. “You wait here.”

I watched him walk out of the café and into the street. He and Kurt stood talking on the pavement. I couldn’t tell what they were saying. 

I toyed with the last of my cake. I just couldn’t manage it. I pushed the plate away.

“Are you all finished here?”

I nodded. The waitress cleared away the plates, the cup and saucer and the glass. “Would you like anything else?”

I shook my head. “My brother will be back in a minute.”

The waitress smiled and nodded. “Take your time. It’s fine.”

He didn’t come back in a minute, though. Nor in five or ten. He and Kurt were talking for ages. Suddenly Kurt started shouting. I could hear him now all right. So could everybody else in the café.

“You should not be mixing with the scum like that. Don’t you know they’re taking our jobs and stealing our homes and businesses? This café should belong to a good German family, not people like them.”

Bear was shaking his head.

Kurt suddenly stared waving his arms around.

Bear started shouting, though I still couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Then Kurt leaned forward and punched Bear on the nose. It began to bleed. Bear swung his arm at Kurt and made his nose bleed in turn. Then they were on the ground. Punching and kicking each other.

“Help, somebody. Please stop my brothers fighting.” I shouted as loud as I could but everyone just stared at me as I ran out of the café.

“The bill?” said the waitress as she passed me near the doorway.

“It’s all right. We’ll take care of that.” Frau Brassel stood up and waved the waitress over to her.

By the time I got outside two men had pulled Bear and Kurt apart. Kurt shrugged himself away from the man who was holding him. 

“If you’re going to defend that sort of scum you’re not my brother anymore.” He picked up his cap and walked off.

I punched Bear in the stomach. “Why do you and Kurt always have to fight?”

He looked such a mess. His best white shirt was covered in blood and dirty marks. There were some cuts on his face.

Helga and Frau Brassel came out at that moment. Frau Brassel shook her head and raised her eyebrows.

“Helga…?” Bear walked towards her. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Helga stared at him for a few seconds, frowned, linked arms with her mother and turned her back on him. The two women walked away towards the centre of the town.

I guessed he wouldn’t be kissing Helga anytime soon. He didn’t say a word on the tram journey home.

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SO Noww you'r publihe what next?

 

Introduction

At a recent meeting of the Society of Authors Joanne Harris told how, when her first book was published, she asked the publishers if there was a marketing budget.
"We might run to a book of second class stamps," was the reply.
So, she made her own posters and hawked them around local libraries and bookshops. She seems to have succeeded.
Chances are if you're published by the small press your publisher won't have a lot of time and certainly won't have much budget to promote your book. In fact, though, if you're published by one of the Big Five, they'll hardly have any more time or money though they may have a little more influence. So the habits and routines described here are good to get into anyway. It should all become easy and should not detract from the main task in hand: becoming a great writer.
You probably won't want to do all of what is described here. Establish that which you find the easiest and can enjoy and start with that. If it’s not effective enough, look to see what else you might try.
If I'm your publisher I'll flag up your work for about a year on social media and thereafter every so often. I'm also delighted to be invited to a physical or online launch if time and geography permit.
I'm pleased, too, to answer questions or look over things such as press releases.
In the end, though, there are only so many hours in the day so please be patient.
You may also like to look at my blog, A Publisher's Perspective http://

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Janaury Stones by Gill James

 

When Time Went Crazy

The Jenkins were not the sort of people to party all night, right through to breakfast. In their youth maybe, but not these days.  Nevertheless, there they were, eating brunch and wondering where the night had gone.

“Did we finish the wine last night?”

“I don’t think so. We didn’t play Scrabble either.”

It was a real puzzle. The last either could remember before they started breakfast was that they hadn’t quite finished their dessert from the evening before.

Something must have happened, though, because they were wearing different clothes now. 

“It’s really funny,” he said. “That lemon sorbet was making me quite full but I’m starving now. What’s going on?”

“It’s weird about the photos as well,” she replied.

They carried on looking at the shots of Gibraltar on his phone. They weren’t due to go there until the next day.

As the plane landed he shook his head. “I was looking forward to my beach day on Sunday. Now I’ve got to go to work tomorrow.”

A short while later they were lying on the sun beds at the beach.

“I think I must be dreaming,” he said.

“Well, so am I then.  But don’t you think it’s funny that we’re both having the same dream?”

“Hmm.”

“Anyway, don’t forget the photos.” She picked up his iPhone and started searching. “Oh my. It looks as if our Sandra will marry Tony after all.”

She handed him the phone. There was their daughter in a flowing white dress and Tony smarter than they’d ever seen him before. Judging by the colour of the leaves on the trees it was already autumn, but was that this year or another one?                    

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January Stones: Weather Behaving Badly

 

They talked about El Niño and La Niña. So we had quite a few years of proper summer unfortunately accompanied by drought. Then we had several years of miserable weather.  They talked of Global Warming and then renamed it Climate Change because the Warming was actually making it cooler for the posh people. But we hadn’t seen anything yet.

They made a film about a new ice age arriving suddenly. It seemed melodramatic. Then came Katrina and the film seemed more reasonable. After Sandy it began to look tame.        

The stream winds started moving in the wrong direction. We got snow on snow followed by rain on rain and floods, followed by temperatures going up overnight. Two feet of snow fell and disappeared within twenty-four hours.

Yet, one morning soon after, there was thick ice on the windscreen and cars sliding round the S bend though the temperature gauge said it was six degrees Celsius. Later, after the sun had shone all day and the gauge now said seven, there was, once more, ice on the car.

What’s going on?    

 

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January Stones

 

The Scientist carefully took the shards of glass out of the cupboard, dropped them in the sink, and watched underwhelmed as the tumbler formed itself. It seemed natural, as if it had happened a thousand times before. Yet his constantly questioning mind wondered whether this, this first occurrence of something quite extraordinary, marked the beginning of the end as the second law of thermodynamics was breaking down.

As he filled the tumbler with water he became aware that at the same time as being in his kitchen he was also upstairs and at the other side of the universe, so clearly Planck’s Constant had suddenly become somewhat bigger.

Later, examining the internal structure of protons, he found that they were indeed made of cream cheese and constantly mumbled nonsensical German so the label “quark” was actually extremely apt. Yet there was a paradox because surely the cream cheese itself was made of atoms, and they, in turn, of protons.

And yet.

There was no problem for Newton. Apples still fell merrily on the heads of those foolish enough to sit under apple-trees in the autumn. The big nuclear reactor in the sky still reacted. His home planet appeared to be carrying on its Maypole dance around its star and keeping up its complex ceilidh with the rest of the universe.

The Scientist paused for a moment and pondered. Perhaps the Humanities people were right after all. Every physicist knew that all of these laws did not work all of the time. Everything was relative anyway – Einstein had shown this. There could be a god, then. Or maybe the Matrix was not so far-fetched. It might even be the philosophers who had got it right – that life is but an illusion.

 

Scientific advice by Doctor Martin James who identified two subatomic particles, some ten years or so before the World Wide Web was born at CERN, thereby gobsmacking his children’s science teachers. 

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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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