When the World Was Ours Page 4

  ‘Fetch me the candlesticks and candles,’ she said. ‘And get the tablecloth, serviettes and cutlery out, please. Let’s have the nice cutlery. I’ve invited Mr and Mrs Muller over for dinner.’

  ‘Really? How come?’ I asked as I opened the drawer where we kept the posh knives and forks.

  ‘Their daughter is getting married next year. We’re hoping they are going to ask your father to photograph the wedding, so we need to impress them.’

  I laughed as I pulled out the tablecloth from the drawer. ‘And you think fancy cutlery will help?’ I asked.

  Mama shrugged. ‘It can’t hurt.’

  ‘Omama is coming too, so set an extra place for her, please.’

  As I reached into the drawer for the nice cutlery, which doubled as the drawer for odds and ends that had nowhere else to live, my hand fell on a piece of thin card. ‘What’s this?’ I asked. I pulled it out. It was an envelope addressed to Mama and Papa, opened at the top with a sheet of paper inside.

  Mama turned round. ‘Oh, that. Did you never see it?’ she asked.

  I shook my head. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Open it. Have a look.’

  The letter was handwritten in German on personalized stationery. It had an address in England printed in swirly letters, with the words ‘Eric Stewart, Dental Practitioner’ written in English above it.

  The name was familiar, but I couldn’t place it until I read the letter. It was very short and the German was clumsy but the meaning was clear enough.

  To dear Mr and Mrs Grunberg,

  Thank you for the wonderful day we have not forgotten. We very much enjoy our time in Vienna more because of you. And of course, your lovely son and fantastic cake!

  With best wishes,

  Eric and Aileen

  ‘The couple from the Ferris wheel!’ I exclaimed just as Papa was coming into the kitchen. ‘That was nice of them to thank us.’

  ‘It certainly was,’ Papa said. He held out a hand and I passed the letter and envelope to him. He read it over, then placed the letter back into the envelope. ‘Here, put it back where you found it,’ he said, handing it back to me.

  ‘Why have we kept it?’ I asked, putting the letter back in the drawer as Papa had told me.

  Mama wiped her hands on her apron as she smiled at Papa. ‘Because your father is a sentimental old fool,’ she said softly.

  Papa smiled, but it wasn’t his usual big, boisterous smile that brings a whole room to life. It was more like a flickering candle in the dark. ‘We keep it because we need to cherish reminders of sweet days and lovely people,’ he said, slipping an arm around Mama’s waist as she leaned her head on his shoulder. ‘Especially in these times.’

  For a moment, none of us said anything. I wondered whether to tell them about what Elsa had said, but I was worried that if I said the words out loud, that would be the thing to make them real. If I didn’t repeat what she’d said, if I didn’t think about it, maybe I could still tell myself it might turn out not to be true.

  Before I had made my mind up whether to say anything or not, the moment passed.

  Papa shook himself and pulled his watch out of his pocket. ‘Right, the Mullers will be here soon. How about I open a bottle of fine wine for Shabbat?’ He winked at Mama. ‘And maybe a brandy beforehand, to loosen us up?’

  He put a record on the gramophone and, as he hummed along to the music and poured drinks and opened the wine and covered the challah with a cloth ready for dinner, and as Mama tapped her feet as she cooked, the normality of it all made my heart settle back to its usual rate.

  There was nothing to worry about. There was no danger. Of course there was no danger. Finally, the knot that had been tied around my stomach since the afternoon started to loosen.

  I couldn’t wait to tell Elsa she’d got it wrong. I smiled as I imagined her, Max and me meeting up at the weekend. How Max and I would tease Elsa about saying something so silly.

  How we would all laugh at the idea that any of us might be in danger.

  EARLY 1938

  ELSA

  I miss Leo and Max. I miss them terribly.

  Missing them is the worst thing about living in Prague.

  If I’m completely honest, it’s the only bad thing. Everything else is actually quite good. I feel disloyal to the boys even thinking that, but it’s true.

  Since we moved, Mutti has started smiling again. Vati sings and whistles. He’s got work again. Nothing big – he’s doing odd jobs for people – but now that the word is getting around, he has quite a few clients. We can afford to eat without worrying. We even talk and joke while we’re having dinner together, just like we used to.

  School is hard because everyone talks a bit differently here. Some talk Czech; others speak in German. Mostly I can follow, but even when I do, my accent is different and that makes me want to keep quiet. So I don’t join in with the other children that much, but I can mostly understand, and I’m learning quickly.

  Otto seems to be getting on okay at school, too. He’s got a new group of friends who talk about cars and engines so he’s quite happy.

  So, apart from missing Leo and Max, I’m glad we moved here. I’m happy.

  Or at least I have been till this evening. I should have known it wouldn’t last.

  We’re having dinner when Vati drops the bombshell.

  ‘I’m going to join the army,’ he says. Just like that.

  Mutti finishes her mouthful. Then slowly she puts down her knife and fork and turns to him. ‘Sorry?’

  Vati won’t look at her. ‘I’m joining the army,’ he says again. ‘Hitler’s forces are coming and we need to fight them.’

  ‘But we came here for safety,’ Mutti replies. Her voice is still calm. So is Vati’s. I tell myself as long as they keep talking in a calm way, everything will be okay.

  Vati puts down his cutlery and picks up his serviette. He wipes his mouth. ‘What is that safety worth if we don’t fight to keep it?’ he asks.

  ‘But—’

  ‘No buts.’ Vati cuts Mutti off. He never does that. ‘It’s decided.’

  ‘Without talking to your family? Without asking me?’ Mutti isn’t sounding so calm now. Her voice is growing squeaky and high-pitched and I can’t kid myself any longer. Nothing about this feels okay any more.

  ‘Vati, when will you go?’ Otto asks.

  At last, Vati falters. He opens his mouth to reply. Then he turns to Mutti and closes his hand over hers. ‘I leave tomorrow,’ he says.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ I ask.

  Vati nods.

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I feel as if my insides are closing down. The room darkens around us as we sit there, stunned into silence.

  And then Mutti pats Vati’s hand and nods briskly before getting up and indicating for me to help gather the empty plates. ‘Well, you will need some food, then,’ she says. ‘Elsa and I will prepare your favourite biscuits. Otto, you are to shine your father’s shoes, help him pack his case. Do whatever he asks. Yes?’

  ‘Yes, Mutti,’ we reply together.

  Mutti is piling plates in the sink, pulling pans out of cupboards, fetching flour and sugar and milk. ‘You will be the best-fed, best-dressed man leaving this city,’ she says. ‘And when you have done your part, you will come back to us, and we will try again to start this new life here. You hear me, Ernst? You hear me?’

  She doesn’t turn around but I can tell she’s crying because her voice has started to sound as if something is squeezing her throat.

  Vati gets up from the table and goes across to Mutti. ‘Darling, stop,’ he says. ‘Come here.’ He pulls her to him and wraps his arms around her. She buries her face in his chest.

  Vati looks across at me and Otto and indicates for us to join them. We run over to them and Vati stretches his arms to go around us all.

  ‘I will be back,’ he says. ‘I promise. I will be back, don’t you ever doubt that, not even for one moment. We will get rid of this nasty Hitle
r man. Then we will get on with our lives. We will all be happy and we will be together. That’s what is going to happen.’

  We cling to each other as if our lives depend on it. I tell myself, the harder I hold on, the more chance there will be of Vati’s promise coming true.

  ‘Now, then. Come on,’ he says, eventually pulling away. ‘Let’s stop all this moping and get to work. You heard your mother. I’m not going anywhere without shiny shoes and the finest cookies. Tonight we are together and we will have a happy evening. I insist!’

  And so, despite everything, we play music, we sing, we laugh, we talk and we even dance, all through the night.

  No one says as much, but we all know why we do it.

  We need to fill our home with as many happy memories as we can, so they will last till Vati comes back to us.

  MAX

  The headmaster had called a special assembly. He hardly ever did that.

  Max could only remember it happening twice in his whole time at school. The first time was when Mrs Ehrlich, the head of geography, died. Mr Schmidt called all the pupils and teachers to the hall and everyone had to stand in silence and think about her for two minutes. All Max could think of was the time the hem of her dress had been stuck in her stocking for an entire lesson. He spent the whole two minutes trying so hard not to laugh that he almost did a pee in his pants.

  The other time was when it had snowed so heavily that no one could see out of the windows and everyone was brought into the hall and told school was closing for a few days. That had been one of Max’s favourite days ever. Everyone had played games in the hall while they waited for their parents to pick them up and Max had loved feeling like he was part of a big team. That they were all in it together. He’d happily have spent every day of winter shivering in a cold hall if it meant feeling like that again.

  Mr Schmidt had made sure everyone had plenty to eat and drink and even organized for extra blankets and coats when the pipes burst and the heating broke down completely.

  That was Mr Schmidt all over: kind; generous; thoughtful.

  ‘I wonder what this is about,’ Leo said to Max as the boys shuffled into the hall with the rest of their class. Since Max’s father had banned him from spending time with Leo, school was the only place they got to see each other. Max still hadn’t told Leo the whole story. He’d just said his father had become more protective in recent months and didn’t like him going out to play so much. Leo had never questioned him. Max assumed Leo had taken him at his word.

  Since Elsa had left, things didn’t feel the same anyway. Even if the boys could meet in the park, they’d only be conscious of the gap where Elsa should have been. And her empty seat between them at school had hurt Max’s heart every time he saw it till the teachers finally removed it and shuffled the desks around.

  But at least they could still see each other at school. Max’s father couldn’t stop them doing that.

  ‘No idea,’ Max replied now. ‘Hopefully something good!’

  ‘It’s bound to be if it’s Mr Schmidt that’s called us in,’ Leo said, pointing to the headmaster at the front of the hall.

  ‘True.’

  They had all gathered in the hall now and the teachers were looking around, putting their fingers on their lips and saying, ‘Shush!’

  A couple of boys who were still talking got separated by the teachers. Max closed his mouth tightly and didn’t say a word. He didn’t want to run the risk of being moved away from Leo.

  Finally, the hall was silent. Mr Schmidt craned his neck to look around, as if he were searching for something in particular. A couple of times, he did a quick nod of his head. Then he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and quickly scanned it before clearing his throat. And then, in his big, booming headmaster’s voice, he went straight to the point.

  ‘If you hear your name, please stand.’

  Max glanced at Leo. Leo raised his eyebrows in a questioning way. It wasn’t like Mr Schmidt to be so abrupt.

  ‘Heinz Bergman.’

  Everyone looked around to see who was being asked to stand. A young kid a few rows behind Max and Leo stood up.

  ‘Samuel Adler.’

  Sam Adler was in their year! Leo and Max exchanged another look. What was going on? Leo shrugged and then both boys turned back to Mr Schmidt as Sam Adler stood up.

  ‘Melanie Kronberger.’

  One of the older girls stood up.

  It went on like that for a few minutes. A name. A pause while the girl or boy stood up. And on to the next name. No explanations from Mr Schmidt. Was this a game? Max hoped so. Mr Schmidt’s games had been legendary ever since the snowy day.

  There must have been ten or eleven kids standing when Mr Schmidt said, ‘Leo Grunberg.’

  Leo turned to Max, his jaw open. ‘What have I done?’ he whispered.

  Max held his hands up in a wide I don’t know kind of way. Then he grinned and put both of his thumbs up to encourage Leo as he shuffled up from his cross-legged position to stand up with the others.

  Max couldn’t help feeling a tiny stab of jealousy. Leo always did better than Max did. Max had a sneaking suspicion that Leo was one of Mr Schmidt’s favourites, and this just confirmed it. Everyone being asked to stand up had probably won a prize or something.

  But the flood of jealousy didn’t last long. It was quickly overtaken by a feeling of guilt. Max should be pleased for Leo. They were best friends, after all, even if they had to keep it secret from Max’s father now.

  But still, Max sometimes felt invisible at school. He was one of the youngest in the year, one of the smallest amongst the boys, last to be picked for the sports teams, middle of the road with his marks. Sometimes it would be nice to be noticed and praised, like some of the other children. Like Leo.

  Mr Schmidt put his list back in his pocket and took a long breath as he waited for the hall to be absolutely silent.

  It seemed everyone in the hall held their breath while they waited.

  And then Mr Schmidt spoke, and Max would have bet the loose change in his trouser pocket that not a single person in the room would have guessed what he was about to say.

  LEO

  ‘We here in this school, we citizens of Vienna, are overjoyed that the Anschluss has taken place,’ Mr Schmidt began.

  I’d heard of the Anschluss. I didn’t know exactly what it was, but it had happened just this weekend. Mama and Papa had been talking about it in hushed whispers at home and I knew it had something to do with the sudden appearance of soldiers on the streets. But I didn’t understand what it could have to do with me, or with this assembly.

  ‘We welcome our leader, the Führer, and we are proud to play our part in Greater Germany. We will obey all our new laws without hesitation. Indeed, we plan to set an example of how to behave and we hope that other schools will learn from us and act similarly. From today, we have two important changes. The first is that, from this moment on, our school day will begin in a different way. You will no longer hear me over the tannoy, welcoming you and reminding you to leave your coats in the cloakroom and hurry to your classes. From now on, you will hear a new greeting from me.’

  Then he thrust his right arm forward, palm down, arm straight out, and shouted, ‘Heil Hitler!’

  No one spoke, not even in a whisper.

  Mr Schmidt lowered his arm. ‘That is how we will all greet each other from now on,’ he said. He looked around the hall to make sure everyone was listening. I was starting to feel awkward standing up while almost everyone else was sitting. I wished he would get to the point so we could go back to class.

  ‘The second important change is that we are going to show our dedication to the Führer and show our enemy their true place,’ he went on.

  He raised a hand and pointed at each of us who were standing. ‘You dogs no longer have the same rights as everyone else in this school,’ he said.

  I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help myself. We weren’t dogs! This must be one of his games! A bunch o
f other kids laughed too. A ripple of giggles went through the hall.

  Mr Schmidt saw the laughing and his face turned scarlet. ‘You Jews are lucky to be taught in this school at all!’ he yelled, so loud I had to cover my ears. ‘From now on, you shall be treated like the lesser race you are! You will sit separately in lessons and assembly, at the back of the room.’ His gaze moved around the school hall. ‘The rest of you are not to interact with them. Jews are different from us. They are dirty and inferior. For now, we have to put up with them in our school, but no one is to talk to them or play with them. You will pretend they do not even exist.’

  My feet were blocks of stone, rooted to the floor. I couldn’t move. I still couldn’t understand what was happening. Was it a joke?

  If so, it was a really, really not funny kind of joke. And no one was laughing any more.

  The hall was completely silent.

  ‘NO contact. Do I make myself clear?’ Mr Schmidt asked.

  ‘Yes, Mr Schmidt,’ the entire school replied. Even us Jews standing awkwardly amongst the rest. That’s how conditioned we were to obey our headmaster.

  I could still hardly believe what was happening, though.

  I looked down at Max. I think a tiny bit of me was hoping he would flash me a grin and tell me to sit back down. Max would make me realize it had all been a mistake. That it was a joke and the punchline was coming soon and then we’d all laugh. If so, I promised myself I would laugh the hardest.

  Except, when I looked at him, Max didn’t make me see that it was a mistake or a joke at all.

  He made it a hundred times more real.

  MAX

  Max didn’t mean to do it. If you’d asked him the day before – even ten minutes before – he would have laughed in your face if you told him what he was about to do.

  It didn’t even feel like a decision that he made. It was pure instinct.

  Max moved away from Leo.