The House on Schellberg Street Renate, 28 January 1:00 p.m.

 

Find a copy here. 

 

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.

The House on Schellberg Street: Renate, 22 December 1938 6:30 a.m.

 

 

Renate reread the letter while she waited for the paint to dry.

 

22 December 1938

Dear All,

This is such an exciting idea! I’m really glad you asked me to be the first. I had thought of waiting a week or two, until I’d got something to report about the Christmas holiday and the new school. But in the end I couldn’t wait. The sooner I send it on to Anika, the sooner it will go round to the rest of you. And the sooner I’ll get it back to read all of your news.

I hope you all like the book I chose.

It’s going to be a glorious Christmas this year, anyway. Two weeks of snow, in Stuttgart, they say. We are off to stay at Oma’s house on Schellberg Street for Christmas as usual. I’m looking forward to those walks through the hills again – it’ll be such fun in the snow. And I’ll be seeing my cousins and my friend, Hani.

We lit the Adventskranz at coffee time yesterday afternoon. Wilma had made a lovely one with fir branches and fat white candles. Mother had baked one of her famous Apfelkuchen. She makes them so nice with big chunks of apple and lots of cinnamon. My favourite.

I love this time of year. Even father seemed in a brighter mood than usual. Both he and mother have been so serious-looking recently. There’s something wrong, I think, and they won’t tell me what. Do you remember that fuss mother made about me going to Mostviel last summer? Well, it’s gradually got worse. Father looking more and more worried, and mother cancelling dinner-parties and refusing to go to the opera. I hope they’re not falling out or anything.

But yesterday they got into a bit of the Christmas mood. I almost choked, though, when the telegraph boy came round.

“Heil Hitler!” he said.

And my father replied “Heil Edler!” Thank goodness the boy didn’t notice. But I was going redder and redder, trying not to giggle. After he’d gone I almost spat the whole mouthful of Apfelkuchen out.

That scene repeated itself at dinner. Father knows very well that I hate spinach, and that I just hide it in my mouth until I can get rid of it later. He kept trying to make me laugh. Then it happened: a great explosion of green all over the white table cloth. Mother made a terrible fuss and muttered something about young ladies in her day. Wilma was trying not to laugh, I could tell! Father just roared.

It’ll be funny in January, all being in different places. I’ll see some of you at the Gymnasium, next autumn. I’m looking forward to hearing all about what the rest of you do at your new schools, and about your Christmases.

So I’ll finish now and get this in the post!

 

Love to you all,

Renate Edler

 

Yes, it was going to be a lovely Christmas. She smiled when she thought of Hani. She would have appreciated the Apfelkuchen. She liked her cake – and it showed. Renate looked down at her own thin arms and tutted. She looked so bony! If only she could curve a bit, like Hani. Oh, it was going to be such fun staying with her for the few days before Christmas.

The picture was dry now. Renate carefully glued it into the little exercise book. This was exciting. She placed the book into the brown envelope and neatly wrote Anika’s address, before making her way down to the kitchen.

Wilma was there, preparing the breakfast.

“Are there any stamps?” asked Renate.

“On the shelf in the hall. Why don’t you leave that, and Johann can take it when he calls?”

“Oh no!” replied Renate. “I have to take this myself. It’s special.”

“Well, don’t be long. Your mother says you have to pack. And wrap up warm - it’s bitter out there.”

“I’ve done my packing,” replied Renate. She’d decided to wear most of what she was taking; layers that she could peel off. The train was always so cold at first, and then, usually when they were almost there, it would get unbearably hot and stuffy, because by then it would be absolutely packed with people.

She walked quickly to the post-box at the end of the street. It was such a promising day with the sun was getting higher in the sky. Something ran in front of her, into the nearby woods. It was much too quick for her to see what it was.

So some of you aren’t hibernating, then, she thought.

She felt like skipping but thought that perhaps she was a bit too old. Nothing could spoil this day, though. Not even the huge swastika on the fence opposite.

The house was oddly quiet when she got back: no wireless; her father was not arguing loudly with the newspaper like he usually did; and Wilma was not singing in the kitchen. She could hear her mother and father talking softly but urgently in the dining room. The usual smell of strong black coffee and warm bread greeted her as she went into the room, but the coffee cups were empty and the rolls were still in the basket. Both of them jumped when they saw her. They stared at her, then looked at each other and then back at her. Her mother looked straight into her eyes and opened her mouth to say something. Her father looked away. Then she noticed her mother’s lip wobbling as tears formed in her already red eyes.

Renate 29 January 1939

They made their way into one of the already crowded lounges. People were sitting on top of suitcases, on the floor, or squashed three to a seat on the uncomfortable wooden benches.

“You could go and have a look around the boat if you want,” said Fräulein Gottlieb. “Put your things in your cabin first. But I want you in bed within an hour.”

Renate was sharing a cabin with Adelinde, Christa and Irmgard. Jakob and Erich were sharing with two other boys.  

“I’m tired,” wailed Christa.

“Me too,” said Adelinde. “Shall we go straight to bed, girls?”

Christa nodded. Irmgard didn’t say anything. She placed her hand into Adelinde’s and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

Renate felt wide awake, now though. “I’d like to have a look around,” she said. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Give me your things, then,” said Adelinde. “I’ll put them in the cabin.” 

Renate waved to the three other girls and then she set off across the crowded inner deck. She didn’t think she had ever seen so many people crammed into one space. Warm body odour and sea air made for a strange mixture of smells. She had never been on a boat as big as this – should she call it a ship?  This ferry that was going to take her to England. People were still getting on. Would this - ferry - be able to hold them all?

It was hard to breathe in here. A slight breeze drifted from above her head. She noticed a staircase – well it was almost more of a ladder, the steps were so steep and only had air between them - which led to an opening in the roof above her. She made her way up the rungs.

Outside it was cold. The shore looked close. She shivered. It wasn’t just the cold, though. She would not see her own country for a long time and now she was going somewhere she didn’t understand. She still didn’t really understand either why she was going there or what being Jewish meant.  

The boat started to judder. There was a loud creaking and groaning, the sound of chains clanking and shouts from the men working at the side of the harbour. The town began to move backwards away from them. The breeze now became proper wind. Renate could hardly keep her balance. The boat rolled from side to side and then as it turned out of the harbour, it started to go up and down like a seesaw. One moment the line where the sea and the sky met seemed to be up above her head, the next minute she was looking down at it. She couldn’t work out where she was. She began to feel dizzy. Perhaps it would be better if she went and sat down.

She made her way carefully down the steep staircase. The steps kept falling away from her and then rushing up to meet her feet. Once she slipped and banged her hip into the rail at the side.

The warmth flooded over her as she arrived on the lower deck. For just a few seconds it felt good. Then the smell of the closely packed passengers made her feel slightly sick. Yes, she should go to the cabin now. Perhaps if she lay down she would feel better.

She tried to push her way through the crowds. It was even more difficult now, as the boat was now moving up and down and from side to side at the same time. She struggled to keep her balance.

“Watch what you’re doing,” shouted one man angrily as she accidentally trod on his foot.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to mutter as she then almost fell on woman who was trying to feed a baby.

The boat lurched to one side and then rose up in the air, crashing down suddenly, and then juddering for a few seconds before once more springing up. She saw a small door in front of her. She hoped that that was what it looked like. And even if it wasn’t, at least she might be on her own in there so no-one could see what she was about to do. The boat lurched to the other side. She pushed the door open and just made it in time into one of the toilet cubicles. She vomited straight into the pan. Perhaps that would make it better now.

It didn’t. Time and time again, the acid yellow fluid came out of her mouth. Still the boat moved around in every direction. Then it got worse. And finally there was no more yellow fluid to come out of her stomach into her mouth but still her whole body went into spasm and she retched with every movement of the boat. This journey was going to take forever. Twelve hours, Fräulein Gottlieb had said. Twelve hours of this.  The boat rocked. Her stomach retched. Over and over again. She wasn’t alone, she could hear. Then she could smell other people’s vomit. That made her feel even worse. Finally not able to hold herself up straight, she sank to the floor, hardly able to move.  She propped her chin over the side of the toilet basin. Even as the retching continued, she felt her eyelids close.                

She must have fallen asleep. There was a different sort of rocking. Somebody was shaking her.

“Renate! Renate!” she heard a voice cry. “Oh, you poor child. Why didn’t you come and find me?”

Renate looked up to see Fräulein Gottlieb’s bright eyes looking into hers.

“Too sick,” murmured Renate. “Had to stay by the toilet.”

“My dear, I’m so sorry,” said Fräulein Gottlieb, helping Renate to her feet. “My poor, poor girl.  Just look at you. Let me help you get cleaned up.”  She tried to tug the creases out of Renate’s crumpled dress and coat. “When Adelinde wished me goodnight from the cabin, I’d assumed you were all there. Then I was busy with one or two others who were also feeling sick. On my break I only meant to close my eyes for a moment … then the rocking motion of the boat, you know … it always sends me to sleep. Adelinde came to find me because you hadn’t got back to the cabin. She was worried.”

Renate noticed the boat was not moving so violently now. It was just rocking gently, like a cradle. That would be soothing. And she felt so tired, oh so tired. She would love to curl up now and be in a soft, cosy bed. But Fräulein Gottlieb was now working at a vomit stain on the skirt of her dress. And actually, the smell of other people’s vomit would have put her off sleeping.

“You should have come to get me,” said Fräulein Gottlieb, “if you felt so poorly. I’m supposed to be looking after you.”

The boat was moving really slowly now.

“Come on, let’s go and get some fresh air,” said Fräulein Gottlieb. “We ought to be able to see some land now.”    

Renate had stopped feeling sick at least. But she was so weak, and her legs were wobbly. The ferry was going really slowly now, and the rocking from side to side had almost gone completely. Just a gentle seesaw pushed them up and down. Even so, she had to lean on Fräulein Gottlieb as they made their way across the deck. Other white faces looked at her and she was at least glad that she wasn’t the only one who had felt so bad. But even the faces which didn’t look white looked strained. Were they all dreading arriving in England as much as she was?

“You go up first,” said Fräulein Gottlieb, when they arrived at the staircase. “Then I can catch you if you fall.”

It took Renate all of her strength to haul herself up to the last step of the steep stairway. The cool wind took her breath away at first, but then she realized that it also made her feel better. The sun was shining now and there were no clouds at all in the sky. Perhaps this would be all right, after all. It was hard to believe it had been so grey and cold when they’d set out.

They really were not far from land now. The first bit of the harbour wall was just in front of them. Renate could see some big cargo ships moored there. Cranes were loading huge crates on to their big decks. Beyond that, black shiny roofs and white buildings were gleaming in the sun. She had to shade her eyes to stop the glare.

“Well,” said Fräulein Gottlieb. “Here we are. Your new home. England.”

“Home?” said Renate. That sounded a bit final.

“Your uncles will be there to meet you,” whispered Fräulein Gottlieb, “once we’re in London. They’ll know how to keep you safe.”

Renate looked again at the town. It seemed to offer her no welcome.

You’re welcome to them, the filth. Haven’t even got sea-legs. A proper German would know how to sail. A proper Englishman would know how to sail. Not you.    

The House on Schellberg Street: Renate 22 December 2.30 p.m.

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.