Chapter Eleven Aletta
Chapter Eleven
Aletta
Everything had changed since the occupation, but if there was one thing Aletta was grateful for it was being busy.
As curfews had been imposed and soldiers filled coffee shops and loitered on the streets, whistling as girls walked past and scowling at young men, she’d wondered what their life might look like in the weeks and months that followed.
Thankfully schools had been allowed to stay open, although there were rumours that whatever Jewish children were left would soon be forced to stay at home, and her school was only opening for half-days now.
Every morning after she arrived, she would glance at the desks of her Jewish pupils and wonder where they might be now; some classes had rows of empty desks.
It wasn’t long after the occupation before their first proper, covert newspaper needed to be typed, and she’d launched into action with her mother, grateful for the extra time she had in the afternoons.
In the beginning, they’d been busy with posters and one-page pamphlets, but there was such a demand for information about what was happening throughout the Netherlands and the rest of Europe, that they needed to put together a proper little paper.
Their secret room transformed from cosy to stifling within a few hours though, and Aletta found herself rolling up her sleeves and fanning her face when they paused to look at what they’d completed so far, trying to focus on the work at hand.
It was a Saturday, so they had the entire day to work uninterrupted.
‘I think we need to take a break for air,’ her mother said, her face beet-red as she leaned back against the wall. ‘I knew it was going to be warm in here, but this is almost unbearable.’
‘I know,’ Aletta replied, grimacing. The back of her neck was damp, and her blouse was clinging to her skin. ‘If only the weather was cooler.’
‘Then we’d probably freeze in our little box!’
She laughed. They’d started calling their room the little box, although not when her father was within earshot. He was proud of what he’d created, and they’d never let him hear a word other than thanks.
‘I’m going to get us a cold drink,’ her mother announced. ‘I’ll be back.’
Aletta was left alone with her thoughts then, sitting with her back to the wall, head tipped back and imagining where Cecilia was and what she was doing.
They’d barely gone a day without seeing each other since they were little girls, and she missed her terribly.
Their walks home after school and college, the Saturday afternoons spent lying in the sun or meeting her after dinner and talking about the boys they liked.
She shut her eyes, imagining her in a field full of grass and wildflowers in the countryside, playing a game of chase with her brothers.
In reality, she was probably cooped up inside and trying to convince them to finish their lessons, and the thought of her wrangling her siblings brought a smile to Aletta’s face.
If that were the case, she’d be hating every moment of it!
‘What’s making you smile?’
She hadn’t even heard her mother return, and looked up to find her holding out a glass of water.
‘Thank you,’ she said, taking a grateful gulp. ‘I was thinking about Cecilia.’
‘You must miss her.’
Aletta sighed. ‘I do, and I don’t know if she’ll come back at all now.’ She’d wanted to write to tell her about the Resistance, but of course it was too dangerous to mention it now, which meant she’d have to wait until Cecilia came to visit.
‘I’d say her mother will want all her children to stay there. If I’d had the chance to send you away to safety, I’d be reluctant to see you come home.’
They both sat in silence as Aletta finished her glass of water before turning back to the work in front of them. Her mother was right – it was unlikely Cecilia’s brothers would come back until the war was over, which meant her friend would be stuck there with them.
‘Shall we read each other’s work?’ Aletta asked, wanting to distract herself from thoughts of Cecilia or how long the war might drag on. ‘That way we can check for mistakes.’
Her mother nodded and they passed each other their respective papers.
They’d taken turns typing and helped each other to form the correct sentences, but she didn’t want their first attempt to be anything less than perfect.
Some families, she was certain, would still be secretly listening to the wireless, even though the threat of imprisonment or worse was enough to deter most.
They hadn’t even heard her father arrive home, but he’d sounded out the knock they’d all agreed on to signal that it was safe to come out.
‘Are we done here?’ Aletta asked, stretching out her tired limbs.
‘We are.’ Her mother looked as uncomfortable as she was as she unfolded her legs from beneath her.
Aletta quickly tidied up their papers and prepared what she needed to deliver later, bundling it up and leaving it on her make-shift desk before they eased themselves through the little door and out into the less stifling room.
But any happiness Aletta had found at being done for the day vanished when she saw her father at the kitchen table.
His leather bag was at his feet, and the deep lines around his eyes and mouth made her think that he’d aged in the handful of hours since she’d last seen him.
‘Jan, you’re home early,’ her mother said, trading a worried glance with Aletta. He’d taken to working a lot during the weekends, trying to help his clients as best he could.
‘I couldn’t stay there any longer,’ he said, his shoulders falling as he sighed. ‘I don’t know what to do anymore, how I’m supposed to help them.’
It was obvious who he was referring to. ‘Has something happened?’
She knew about the mass round-ups of Jews in Poland and Austria – they’d been tasked with including it in the text they’d been working on all day – and it sent a shudder through her thinking about the same happening on their own usually quiet streets.
‘It’s almost worse,’ he said, shaking his head and meeting her gaze, his mouth opening and closing, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words. ‘There are . . . there are Jews taking their own lives. Their fate is so bleak that they can’t . . .’
Aletta felt herself burning inside. It wasn’t just the tears stinging her eyes, it was a feeling like being set on fire as his words filled her, as anger, no, fury, filled her veins.
And she couldn’t help but think about the children she’d taught who’d disappeared.
It was unbearable to think that families just like those might feel it was their only option.
‘Your clients?’ She heard her mother ask the question, and closed her eyes to hear her father’s answer.
‘Two of my clients, just today, and I heard that yesterday . . .’ His voice caught and Aletta opened her eyes, hearing the pain in his words.
‘Just yesterday an entire family died. They were found in their bed.’ He wiped his eyes, and seeing him cry almost broke her.
‘They truly felt that was a better fate than whatever lies ahead. To do that to your children . . .’
Aletta didn’t want to know how they’d done it or what it must have felt like for that to have been their only option, and she had to fight the bile rising in her throat as her father failed to finish his sentence.
‘I don’t know what to do. How I’m supposed to help them. And the Nazis, they emptied an entire Jewish rest home just this morning. There is not one patient left. Not one. They’ve all disappeared into thin air.’
Aletta sat down at the table beside her father, taking his hand into hers. Her mother kissed his cheek, squeezing his shoulders and then going over to the cupboard where they kept the liquor. If her father had ever been in need of a stiff drink, it was now.
‘I just feel so helpless, there must be something more I could be doing,’ he said, his eyes seeming to search Aletta’s as he spoke.
‘There are people pledging to open their homes to Jews, to hide them, but for how long? The punishment is imprisonment or death, and for a family to risk their own lives to help another . . .’
She knew what he was trying to say, the hidden question in his words.
Would he be prepared to risk her life and her mother’s, to save the life of a Jewish client?
Would it be worth the consequences if they were to take in one person or one child or one family?
To risk all their lives like that? Her heart said yes, but her mind understood that the decision wasn’t so simple, especially not for her father.
‘Where exactly do they intend on imprisoning all these people who might help the Jews?’ she asked. ‘Do you think they would truly—’
‘The Nazis don’t make idle threats, Aletta,’ he said, rubbing his temples before accepting the drink her mother placed on the table in front of him. ‘They’ve established camps, places of horror where they’re transporting prisoners to.’
When she swallowed, her mouth was dry. ‘They’ve created these places for the Jews?’
He shrugged. ‘That’s what we thought. But perhaps they’re not just for the Jews, perhaps they’re for anyone who stands against them, as well.’
Aletta shuddered, watching as he drank his whisky much faster than she’d ever seen before, and wishing that her mother had poured her a drink, too.