What on earth was the matter with
Mutti? She hadn’t had any breakfast. Then she said they’d be going after lunch
instead. She didn’t turn up for lunch. Neither did Vati. It had just been her
and Wilma. And now Wilma was checking the contents of her suitcase for the
hundredth time.
“What’s going
on, Wilma?” said Renate. “There’s something wrong. 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.”
Well, yes, that
was true. “I suppose so,” said Renate.
“And I expect
she’s a bit 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. But 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,” her mother replied. “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
for her. Except perhaps 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. 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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