The Pianist’s Wife

Chapter Two Germany, 1935 Amira

Chapter Two

Germany, 1935

Amira

‘I don’t understand,’ Amira said, her hands shaking. She made them into balls at her sides as she looked up at her teacher, her fingernails digging into her palms.

‘I’m sorry, but the decision has been made.’

‘But why can I stay and they can’t?’ Amira asked. ‘What makes me any different from them? It’s not fair that they had to go home!’

Her teacher looked away, as if she couldn’t bear to meet Amira’s gaze. Tears filled Amira’s eyes and she quickly brushed at her cheeks when she felt the first of many begin to fall, not wanting to appear weak in front of anyone at school, least of all her teacher. But she’d just watched a Jewish girl from her class and a handful of others from different classes being lined up in the quad outside and sent home, no longer welcome at school.

‘Amira, you’re different because only your mother is Jewish. Your father is German, which means that you are allowed to stay, for now. But I don’t know for how much longer. You’ll just have to wait and see, like everyone else, but in the meantime be grateful that you’re still here.’

Amira blinked back at her, a shiver running through her body as she began to understand what was happening. She looked over her shoulder and saw some of her classmates whispering, their hands held up to cover their mouths, heads bent together. She doubted any of them had even known her mother was Jewish until she’d been singled out with the other mixed-race children that day. She’d gone from being a student just like them, to being the object of their ridicule.

‘So one day you might tell me that I can no longer attend school, too?’ she asked, horrified that she was in trouble for something she couldn’t help. ‘Even though I have the best grades in the class? How will I be a teacher one day if I cannot come to school?’

‘Please, Amira, there is nothing I can do about it. The rules are the rules,’ her teacher said. ‘We shall have to wait and see what orders we receive, but it seems, for now at least, that we can only have a certain number of Jewish students, and our principal has decided he would prefer those Jews to be only half-bloods.’

She was left standing there when her teacher turned and walked away, but Amira didn’t move. Not immediately. She’d just witnessed some of her classmates, some of the smartest children she knew, being sent home less than an hour earlier, supposedly never to return. And now she’d been told she wasn’t guaranteed an ongoing place at school anymore, either.

A hand fell over her shoulder and squeezed, and she turned to find Gisele standing there, her eyes wide.

‘What did she say?’ Gisele whispered, her long blonde plait falling over her shoulder.

‘That there are limits on the number of Jewish children allowed at schools and universities all over Germany now,’ Amira whispered back.

‘But what about you?’

‘It’s because my father isn’t Jewish. I don’t think anyone knows how they are going to treat us, because we’re half German. She just said I shall have to wait and see.’

Gisele nodded and tucked her arm firmly through Amira’s, turning them both around and steering her back to their desks. The other pupils all went silent as she walked past, most avoiding eye contact with her as if they were embarrassed and a few giving her sympathetic smiles. But it was a small group of boys who caught her attention, with one of them whispering something that made them all erupt into laughter.

‘I don’t understand what’s happening,’ Amira said as she and Gisele sat side by side, and their teacher took her place at the front of the classroom and reprimanded the students for making too much noise. The teacher didn’t go so far as to tell them off for their unkindness though.

Gisele’s face was tightly drawn in a way that Amira had never seen before, but she’d never in her entire life felt so grateful for her best friend. Without her, she would have been hopelessly alone.

As their teacher turned to write on the board, Gisele slipped her a piece of paper, which Amira tucked on to her lap and read, careful to be sure that no one was watching.

It won’t last for long. No one will allow this to continue. It’s madness.

Amira placed the note on her textbook and scribbled back.

What if it does though? What if I can’t come to school anymore? What will I do?

Gisele wrote straight away when Amira passed it to her.

Your papa wouldn’t allow it. He’ll be at school tomorrow morning demanding you stay here, along with all the other parents whose children were sent home. They won’t stand for it.

A shuffle of fear ran the length of Amira’s spine. She wasn’t so certain that would be the case; that Jewish parents would even be allowed on the school grounds anymore, let alone into the principal’s office. She’d heard her parents arguing late at night when they thought she was asleep; had seen the silent, almost pained way they looked at each other over the dinner table some evenings. Her mother was scared, and Amira had seen it reflected in her gaze – the way she held her a little tighter now whenever they hugged, the way she said goodbye to her each morning almost as if it could be their final parting. It was as if she’d known all this was coming, as if she’d been preparing for the worst. There weren’t many Jewish families in their community and no others that she knew of with only one Jewish parent, and her mother didn’t practise her faith, but until recently she’d always lit her candles on Friday evenings. She’d called it her little reminder of her childhood, a tradition her mother had held close to her heart. Now, they were packed away and never spoken of, and Amira knew how much that must hurt her mother.

Gisele passed her another note.

I don’t care what anyone says. I will fight for you because you’re my best friend. I will always fight for you.

Gisele had only just turned thirteen, and she was one of the smallest girls in their class, but Amira had no doubt that her friend would do as she said. It was one of the reasons they were friends; because on her first day of school, as a nervous, shy five-year-old, Amira had been left in tears when an older boy had stolen her lunch and left her starving. Gisele had thrown a punch at the boy with surprising accuracy and come straight over to sit with her, halving her lunch with Amira, their legs swinging from the bench seat as they spent the rest of the recess eating and talking. They’d been best friends ever since, and no boys had ever bothered her again. Except for today in class.

But even Amira couldn’t have imagined what Gisele would do next, what would happen next.

Every day for as long as Amira could remember, she’d walked home with Gisele. They always took the long way intentionally, dragging their feet so they could spend longer together, never running out of things to talk about, especially on sunny days. But after today, she wondered if they would ever be allowed to walk together again. If they did, it would have to be the fastest route possible, but she doubted Gisele’s parents would permit it. She’d been invited into their home many times during their friendship, but lately she’d noticed the way Gisele’s mother watched her and Amira no longer felt comfortable going inside.

‘There’s the little Jew girl,’ one of the boys from school called, the very same one who’d whispered in class about her. ‘Dirty little Jew girl,’ he said in a sing-song voice.

‘She’s only half Jew,’ one of the other boys said, looking down at his shoes and kicking his toes into the dirt.

Another boy looked away, and Amira at least felt heartened that they weren’t all so cruel. Before all this she’d always liked the boys in her class; only a few weeks earlier she and Gisele had giggled about which of the boys they’d like to marry one day.

‘She’s still a filthy Jew,’ the first boy said, his voice as high as Amira’s, but the words were said with the confidence of a man.

Amira grabbed hold of Gisele’s hand to quickly pull her along, scared of what was about to happen, but Gisele didn’t move. Amira saw that her face had turned a deep shade of red, her anger palpable. And just like that very first day in the playground, Amira knew something was about to happen. Only, this time, she wished it wouldn’t.

‘Come on,’ Amira insisted, trying to tug her. ‘Just keep walking, don’t even look at them. It doesn’t matter.’

But they didn’t move away fast enough. One of the boys threw an apple at Amira, which she saw just in time to duck away from it, but she didn’t move quickly enough to avoid the plum that followed and hit her square on the forehead. It didn’t hurt so much as embarrass her, especially when she reached to touch the spot and found some of the fruit’s flesh smeared against her skin.

What she couldn’t understand was why they were being so cruel. These were children she’d known for years, boys who’d never have been brave enough to behave in such a way before. When they’d been younger she’d even gone to their birthday parties and raced with them in the playground at lunchtime. But with the hatred of the new political party seeming to surge through every German household in the city, they suddenly felt they could behave differently.

‘Her mama’s a dirty Jew,’ called the same boy, who managed to convince the others to start chanting with him.

Amira swallowed, the words leaving her with a writhing stomach that made her want to be sick. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t speak.

‘What did you say?’ Gisele asked, letting go of Amira’s hand.

‘Gisele, please—’ Amira pleaded, whispering to her friend, but it was too late. Gisele was marching towards them.

In that moment, as she realised what was about to happen, Amira swelled with pride at the same time as wishing she could stop it. This wasn’t the same as when her friend had shared her lunch, or held her hand and sat with her when some of the other girls were being mean.

This was going to change everything.

Gisele covered the ground between them quickly and swiftly swiped an ice-cream cone from one of the boys’ hands, dumping it on his head so that it dripped through his hair, before he even realised what was going on. Unfortunately, neither did the next boy, who was left reeling after Gisele pulled back her arm and threw a punch into his nose that left him bleeding all down his shirt and howling in pain.

As if satisfied with the way the remaining boys ran away, Gisele turned back to Amira and smiled triumphantly, holding out her arm for Amira to loop her hand through, as if nothing had happened in the first place.

‘I wouldn’t worry about them anymore,’ Gisele said, as if she’d simply given them a telling-off.

‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Amira whispered, clinging to her friend as she looked over her shoulder to make sure the boys weren’t following them. Gisele might be brave, but Amira was frightened, wondering what they’d do next time now that Gisele had aggravated them. What they’d do to her if they found her alone. She had to be careful, that was what her papa had said. She was supposed to keep her head down and stay out of trouble, no matter what, because he said that the Jewish people were being blamed for everything that was wrong with German society. It was different for Gisele, and as much as Amira wanted to believe her, she knew that it wasn’t Gisele who’d get into trouble for what had happened.

‘I just did what any decent friend would do,’ Gisele said, but Amira heard the tremor in her voice, as if she was just beginning to realise the severity of what she’d done.

‘What if you’re not allowed to see me again?’ Amira whispered. ‘When your parents find out what you’ve done for me...’

‘They won’t find out,’ Gisele said. ‘Those cowards aren’t going to tell them that a girl gave one of them a bloody nose. Imagine one of their fathers hearing that!’

‘But what if...’ Amira’s voice trailed away. She didn’t want to think about any other what ifs . Gisele thought things would be better now, but they wouldn’t be. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Amira was never going to be asked to dances or have the chance to dress up in pretty clothes and have fun with friends, because no one was going to want her near them. These boys had made it clear that they couldn’t even stand looking at her, let alone being friends with her ever again.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, stopping only to wash Gisele’s hand in a little stream near their houses so that her parents wouldn’t notice. Amira carefully wiped away the smear of blood and used her uniform to dry it, and Gisele did the same to get rid of the fruit stain on Amira’s forehead, their walk taking them much longer than it should have, almost as if neither of them wanted to go home. But when they rounded the corner to the street they both lived on, it seemed that Gisele had been wrong about the boys being too embarrassed to tell anyone.

Gisele’s mother was standing by the mailbox with another woman, waiting for them, and the boy Gisele had punched was standing beside them, a handkerchief held up to cover the blood. If it were any other day, Amira would have rolled her eyes and they would have likely giggled about what a cry-baby he was, but not today. There was something very different about today than any other day she’d lived through before.

‘Oh no,’ Gisele whispered, and for the very first time, Amira felt her friend’s fear.

‘What are we going to do?’ Amira asked, as they stopped on the other side of the road, seeing the furious expression on Gisele’s mother’s face when she beckoned for her daughter. Her hair was swept into a dramatic up-do, her dress as fashionable as her home, which was the largest on the block. She was certainly not a woman who was going to let her daughter play with a troublesome Jewish girl.

‘Go home, Amira,’ Gisele whispered, letting go of her. ‘It’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll tell her what happened and explain everything, that it was all just a misunderstanding. That it was my fault, not yours.’ She smiled, as if it were nothing. ‘As soon as she hears me practise the flute, she’ll calm down. She always does when she sees me doing something ladylike.’ Gisele rolled her eyes, before adding, ‘Or hopefully my brother did something terrible at school today which will distract her attention.’

Amira nodded and stood for a moment longer as Gisele crossed the street, watching her go. But even when she turned to walk away, she couldn’t help but hear the two women talking.

‘You can’t let her be friends with a girl like that, not anymore. You know what her mother is, don’t you?’

Amira wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she hadn’t heard the next part; wishing that they’d whispered and at least tried to pretend they didn’t want her to hear. But of course niceties had disappeared with the announcement of the Nuremberg Laws.

‘She might only be a half Jew, but I don’t think it matters. They’re all the same, and we’ll be going to the school and telling them that we expect her to be expelled immediately, especially after what she made your daughter do today. You just can’t trust them, and violence can never be tolerated.’

‘I couldn’t agree more. If I have it my way, Gisele won’t even be setting eyes on her again, let alone spending time with her.’

Amira ran the rest of the way home, her eyes burning with tears that only fell faster when her mother caught her in her arms as she stumbled through the front door.

‘Amira! Slow down. What’s wrong?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said, quickly wiping at her eyes. ‘I just—’

She looked up at her mother and felt like the little girl who’d had her lunch stolen as a five-year-old, all over again.

‘It doesn’t look like everything is fine,’ her mother said, drawing her in and holding her close. ‘Tell me what happened.’

Amira shut her eyes and let her mother hold her.

‘They hate me,’ she eventually said. ‘Mama, they hate everyone like us.’

Her mother was silent. She rubbed Amira’s back in small, comforting circles, her lips whispering against her daughter’s hair when she bent down to hold her.

‘They are being influenced by a monster of a man, that’s all,’ her mother murmured. ‘But this will pass. No one will allow this to continue, your father won’t allow us to be treated like this. We just have to wait.’

‘You truly believe that it won’t last?’

‘Yes, my love, I truly believe that this will pass, we just have to be patient.’

Amira nodded, but when her mother tucked her fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face, she knew that something else was wrong. Her mother had been crying too, her eyes red and her skin blotchy; she simply hadn’t noticed when she’d come racing through the door.

‘Amira, I know this is going to be hard for you to hear, but I have something to tell you.’

She let her mother take her hand and guide her to the kitchen table, sitting down beside her in the afternoon sunshine as it streamed in through the window. She wondered, while she sat with her small hand in her mother’s slightly larger one, whether anything could be worse than the day she’d just had.

How wrong she was to think that.

‘I went to see the doctor today,’ her mother said, gently; too gently . ‘Unfortunately I received some bad news.’

Amira gulped, and she felt as if her heart were about to hammer through her body. Part of her wished to run away right then and there, so that she didn’t have to hear the bad news that she knew was coming; but instead she stayed deadly still.

‘I’m sick, my love. I don’t know how bad it will become, but the doctor, he—’ Her mother’s voice wavered, and Amira threw her arms around her mother’s shoulders and hugged her tighter than she’d ever hugged anyone in her life before.

‘I love you, Mama,’ she said, closing her eyes and pretending that her mother wasn’t sick, that she hadn’t just been about to tell her something terrible.

To her great relief, her mother chose not to continue speaking.

‘I love you, too, Amira. With all my heart.’

Mama is going to be fine. She has to be.