Chapter 28
“Are these your daughters?” asked Leonore.
“Yes. This is Eva.” Michaela pointed to the older one. “And this is Ilse. I’m so grateful they can both come with us.”
“I’m not,” Eva pouted.
“Really? Don’t you want to get away from here?
” Looking at the young girl, Leonore was transported back to her own youth, to the time before Hitler had come to power and turned her world upside down.
Even at that age, she’d felt the urge to visit foreign countries, to experience new worlds and to write about them.
That was where her dream of becoming a journalist and making it big had begun.
She wanted to become as famous as Gabriele Tergit, the great court reporter, or the dazzling Rosie Waldeck, who according to rumors was a German-French double agent.
Unfortunately, Hitler had destroyed those dreams.
“I was happy with Aunt Carola.” Eva stuck out her chin to give her words more force. It wasn’t quite enough to convince Leonore that Eva was speaking the words with one hundred percent conviction.
“We’ve already discussed this,” Michaela interrupted.
Leonore made a subtle gesture to Michaela to let her talk to the girl and asked, “Shall I come with you and help with your inventory list?”
At Michaela’s silent nod, Leonore hooked her arm through Eva’s and they walked along behind the other two. Ignoring Eva’s petulant expression, Leonore continued as they walked, “You know, I can understand you not wanting to leave.”
“Really?” Relief appeared on Eva’s face.
“Yes. Really.”
“The other adults keep telling me how much better it’ll be in Switzerland. But I don’t want to leave. I’ve got friends in Luckenwalde, I’ve got school, I know everyone there. What am I supposed to do in a foreign country?” Eva’s miserable expression almost broke Leonore’s heart. Damn Hitler!
“You know, I’ve always wanted to get away from home and travel the world, but that dream’s been destroyed by the Nazis. When you have to wear a yellow star, you can’t do anything.”
“I’ve noticed that too.” Eva’s lip trembled. “You’re very brave.”
“Not really.” Leonore wrinkled her nose. “If I were brave, I’d be rebelling against the Nazis, but I never have. I just want to enjoy my life. Go out with my friends, to parties, the cinema, the theatre, all the things you do to have fun.”
“I want that too.”
Leonore stopped and sighed deeply. “We all want that, don’t we? By the way, please call me Leonore, you make me feel very old otherwise.”
“How old are you then?”
“Shh.” Leonore held a finger to her lips. “That’s top secret. In my heart, I’m twenty-one.”
Eva laughed. “I’d like to be that age too. Then I wouldn’t have to do what other people tell me all the time.”
Just wait until you realize that other people will make decisions about you all your life. Leonore didn’t speak her thoughts out loud. “You know what? Let’s just pretend we’re the same age. And once we’re in Switzerland, we’ll party till dawn.”
“Why can’t we just stay in Germany?”
“Don’t you find it exciting to discover another country?”
“Not at all.” Eva shrugged. “If I’m honest, I’m scared. What if no one likes me there?”
“Nobody likes us Jews here either. Things can only get better, don’t you think?”
“What if I don’t understand the language?”
Leonore grinned mischievously. “Luckily, we’ll be starting out in the German-speaking part of Switzerland. And although they use a rather unique dialect,” she pronounced her sentence with a distinctive Swiss-German inflection, “generally, you’ll be able to understand them.”
Even Eva had to laugh at that. “It sounds so simple when you say it.”
“You’ll see, it’s going to be great. The first thing we’ll do is toss these hideous stars in the trash, then buy ourselves a huge bar of chocolate and eat it all in one go.”
“Really?”
“Sure!”
Eva still didn’t seem entirely convinced.
“It can’t be worse than here. Just think how horrible it is walking through the streets with that star on your chest.”
Eva nodded. “Ilse and I haven’t had to wear them until recently. Since then, we haven’t been allowed to go to school.” She looked up at Leonore. “Can you believe I miss the stupid, boring classes?”
“A little,” Leonore lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Anything is better than having to sit around at home entertaining your little sister, right?”
Eva nodded again. “Ilse’s alright most of the time, but sometimes…” she rolled her eyes. “Do you have a little sister too?”
“Yes, I did.” The wave of hatred hit Leonore so suddenly, her entire body swayed. “The Nazis killed her.”
Eva’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh, my God! That’s terrible!”
“She had polio when she was little. Three years ago, they took her away from us and put her in a home for the disabled. Three months later, she was dead. Allegedly from pneumonia. But I know they killed her, her and all the others in that home.” The anger simmered so hot in her throat Leonore struggled to breathe.
She could have scratched out the eyes of the institution staff with her own bare hands, and then strangled them.
Eva laid a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry about your sister. Is that why you want to leave?”
“That’s one of the reasons.” Leonore struggled to regain her composure. “I’m afraid they’ll do the same to the Jews.”
“Stop dawdling, we want to get home today,” called Michaela. Denied public transport, they had a long walk ahead of them.
“I need to talk to your mother for a second,” Leonore said to Eva, walking briskly to catch up with Michaela. “I think I’ve convinced Eva that it’s better to come with us.” Leonore said once out of earshot of the girl. “She’s afraid of the unknown.”
“Thank you.” Michaela scrutinized her face. “There’s something else on your mind.”
“I’ve been fired.” Leonore wrinkled her nose.
“You should be happy about that, right?” Michaela knew that her emigration had been blocked because her work at the factory was considered critical to the war effort.
“Sure… but I miss my colleagues.”
Michaela put a hand on her shoulder. “I hope you didn’t tell them anything.”
“Of course not, what do you take me for?”
“For a blabbermouth.” Michaela’s smile took the edge off her words.
“I can keep my mouth shut when I absolutely have to.” Leonore was well-aware of her weakness. “It hurts that my colleagues think I was fired for incompetence.”
“Think of it as the fate of a secret agent to be misjudged.”
Her words immediately lifted Leonore’s spirits. Nellie Bly, her role model, had even posed as mentally ill to conduct research in a lunatic asylum. Anything Nellie could do, Leonore could manage easily.
At the next street corner, Michaela stopped. “You don’t have to come all the way with us. We’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”
Leonore was secretly glad she didn’t have to walk the long round trip, but she protested all the same. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Go and write your inventory list like a good girl, and don’t forget the passion killers.”
Back at home, Leonore sat on the bed and mulled over the things she wanted to take with her. The Gestapo allowed one suitcase per person, and no items of material value – not that Leonore still owned anything valuable.
She decided to pack her suitcase as a trial run and discovered that her few belongings, which had looked so lost and forlorn in the closet, didn’t fit. So she unpacked everything, putting her clothes on one side of the bed, sorting everything else into piles on the other side.
“I’ll have to take the clothes,” she said to herself.
“Who knows if and when I’ll be able to buy anything new.
” She’d wear the thick sweater, the ankle boots, coat, scarf, hat and gloves, no matter how warm it was on the day of departure.
She set these aside, and the rest of her clothes fitted in the suitcase with ease.
There was even a little space left, although nowhere near enough to pack everything that was still on the bed.
The bedding, the down quilt, a tablecloth hand-embroidered by her grandmother – one by one, she placed them all in the closet with a heavy heart. Her gaze fell on the mechanical alarm clock, which would have to come. Toothbrush, and the tiny piece of soap too.
Books? She bit her lip. In the years she’d worked for Herr Balsen, she had come to appreciate reading.
But as much as it made her soul weep, the books would have to stay behind.
Her circle of friends contained enough people who’d be glad to receive them, since Leonore certainly had no intention of leaving anything behind in her room for Aryan vultures to get their claws on.
Next, her gaze fell on the silver candlestick on the dresser, and she bit back a laugh.
When Jews had been ordered to hand in their silver, she’d painted it yellow so that it looked like any old cheap, ugly brass candlestick.
Despite its excellent camouflage, she couldn’t take it with her, as it was far too bulky to fit in the suitcase.
She felt a stab in the heart at the thought of losing it.
It was the only memento she had of her parents.
For a moment she toyed with the idea of giving it to a friend for safe keeping until after the war.
But then she shook her head. She’d hand over the candlestick, together with the furniture, to the Abwehr to cover at least a small portion of the horrifyingly large security deposit demanded by the Swiss for their immigration permits.
The suitcase was almost full. She stuffed two pencils and a notepad into the gaps, followed by an ancient pair of sunglasses, a photograph album and her diary.
After a moment’s reflection, she fished out the diary and put it in her coat pocket.
The last thing she wanted was for her diary to show up on an inventory list to give some Gestapo officer the entertainment of reading her most intimate thoughts.
Next she walked into the kitchen, fetched a plate, a set of cutlery and a cup, and stowed the items in her suitcase. Who knew where she’d end up in Switzerland, and whether there would be dishes available.
Then she closed the suitcase, stowed everything else and looked around her room.
She wouldn’t miss it. Not even the beautiful, old bureau Herr Balsen had given her.
It was a good piece of furniture; let the Abwehr get some money for it, along with the bed, the closet, and the few pieces of crockery left in the kitchen.
Leonore pushed her lower lip forward and blew a curl away from her forehead.
Now she had to unpack everything again and write it on the inventory list. Once that was finished, she put the things to take with her in one of the closet compartments, and what remained in another.
As she looked at the little pile, a wave of homesickness washed over her, and she dropped backward onto the bed.
She lay there, eyes open, staring at the stained ceiling while images of her life passed before her eyes.
The strawberry cake her mother had baked on Leonore’s sixth birthday; a trip with her parents and her sister Berenike to Wannsee; Berenike’s illness, their fears for her and the relief that she had survived polio, even if she had to use a wheelchair afterward.
Finally the letter from the home for the disabled, stating she had died of pneumonia.
Some time later, her parents had been taken away and she’d never heard from them again.
Leonore closed her eyes and cried bitterly.
Hours later, she finally found the strength to get up and wipe the tears from her eyes.
One look into the open closet with its neatly separated compartments containing her past, and the small pile signifying her future, was enough to have her fighting heartache and nostalgia all over again.
She quickly closed the cupboard, packed the books into her suitcase and fled the room.
On her way to the tram, she pulled the star off its snap fasteners on her jacket, before boarding the tram to her friend Birgit.
“Leo, what’s happened?” Birgit’s eyes widened in horror as she noticed the suitcase.
“Nothing. Only books in here.”
“Phew. That’s a relief. Come in.” Birgit stepped aside. “I’ll make us a coffee first.”
As they sat at the table in Birgit’s cozy kitchen, Leonore said, “I may be leaving the country soon.”
“I suspected you might. I’m going to miss you.” Birgit looked as though she might burst into tears.
“Hey, I’m not gone yet. It’ll be a few more weeks. I’m just here to bring you my books.”
“You can never have enough books.” Birgit’s eyes narrowed. “They aren’t on the list of banned books, are they?”
“You know me.” Leonore raised her hands in defense.
“That’s precisely why I’m asking,” Birgit laughed. “You know how nosy my parents are. And they’ve long suspected you’re not quite kosher.”
It was ironic that the very people who detested the Jews so strongly would use Yiddish expressions without even being aware of it. Sometimes Leonore wondered how Birgit could have grown up with such parents, and yet still be the enlightened person she was.
“No, you’re safe. I had my personal book-burning last winter when I used the banned books to heat my room.”
“You didn’t really…?” Birgit’s eyes were round as saucers.
“Unfortunately, yes. Desperate times require desperate measures.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“About what? Would you have wanted to attend the ceremony?” Leonore teased her. “I have to disappoint you, it was completely unspectacular.”
Birgit poked her in the ribs. “I’d have given you some coal, you know that.”
“You do so much for me already.” Birgit’s family wasn’t rich by any standards, yet she was always putting groceries aside to give to Leonore. She’d been in trouble more than once with her parents for it.
“Not enough.” Birgit’s guilty expression touched Leonore’s heart.
Bravely, she fought against the lump in her throat. She’d been so looking forward to emigrating, why the hell was she now on the verge of crying at every moment, whether opportune or not?