Chapter Five #2
‘I heard that you were leaving today. I knew I could trust you, Elsa.’ He eased the girl forward with a slight touch on her shoulder. ‘This is Klara Scheider. Klara, this is your new aunt. Smile, Klara.’ He nervously tapped her shoulder. ‘Smile.’
The frightened child stepped forward and forced a smile. Her face looked uncomfortably flushed and Elsa suddenly felt guilty for keeping them both waiting.
‘You are going to live with Auntie Elsa now,’ the pastor went on. ‘She will look after you. She is kind. There is no need to be afraid.’
Klara’s gaze lowered to her shoes. How many times had this vulnerable child heard those reassurances before?
Elsa stepped forward and crouched down before the little girl.
Years of teaching had honed her skill of understanding children, yet now she was out of her depth.
This child had not lived a normal life and she could not promise her it would get any better.
In fact, it would get a whole lot worse.
She reached for Klara’s gloved hand but thought better of it.
The child must be feeling as if she was being sent away again .
. . rejected . . . and in a child’s egocentric mind she would think she was to blame. Elsa’s heart broke for the girl.
‘Hello, Klara.’
The child continued to stare at her own shoes.
Elsa tilted her head to see the girl’s face. ‘I’m so pleased you are coming with me.’
Klara’s gaze lifted slightly to the scarf around Elsa’s neck.
‘We are going on an adventure.’
The child remained silent.
‘We are going to ride on a wagon and in a train. We are going to see rivers, trees and maybe even cows.’
The girl’s gaze lifted to meet her own.
‘We might even see goats,’ Elsa went on. ‘I hope so. I like goats. Do you like goats?’
Klara said nothing, her face empty of expression.
Elsa pulled her woollen hat a little lower and tucked her dark hair inside it.
‘Such pretty hair. I’ll tuck it inside to keep your head warm.
It’s cold outside.’ The child remained passive, not a flinch, not a question.
How many times had a stranger tried to comfort her with nervously spoken words that no longer rang true?
Elsa felt her throat thicken. She swallowed, stood up and turned to the pastor.
‘It’s time we left. I have a lift in a wagon arranged.
’ She realized she would be leaving the pastor alone.
‘You should come with us. Please come with us.’
He shook his head and hugged Klara. ‘I made up my mind a long time ago. I will stay here.’ He accompanied them along the hall.
He stopped at the front door and took the moment for a perfunctory prayer to keep them safe before opening it.
The freezing air swept into the hall like a wild animal.
It chased around their legs as if to mock their prayer and snatch away any confidence they had.
As if guessing at her unease, the pastor grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
‘Thank you, Elsa.’ Before she could reply he embraced her. ‘May God be with you,’ he whispered hoarsely.
She nodded, suddenly frightened, before breaking away and guiding Klara outside.
It was only when the freezing wind burned a trail of ice onto her cheeks did she realize she was crying.
She took Klara’s hand and noticed her cheeks were dry.
Did the child understand the enormity of what was happening?
Perhaps she understood it all too well and had no more tears to shed.
* * *
‘I’m not getting on that wagon,’ her grandfather said. ‘It’s not right, the woman is in bed.’
Elsa gritted her teeth. It was true that in the high-sided wagon, filled with furniture and clothing, was a large, thin mattress and a frail elderly woman propped up against pillows and covered in blankets.
‘She’s not in bed, Grandfather, she’s on a big cushion. Look at all the blankets to keep you warm. Frau Fellhaber doesn’t mind.’ It was a lie, of course. The woman was as bewildered at leaving her home as Gustav was.
‘Hurry!’ shouted Herr Fellhaber. ‘If you don’t sort him out quickly I’ll regret my decision.’ He noticed the child Gustav had failed to see. ‘Who is that?’
Herr Fellhaber knew them too well for Elsa to pass her off as a niece. ‘This is Klara. She got separated from her parents while fleeing the front line.’
‘You didn’t say there would be another.’
Elsa bundled her grandfather on board. ‘What do you want me to do? Leave her here alone? She’s only five years old!’
Chastised, Herr Fellhaber returned his attention to the horses.
Elsa stopped her grandfather from climbing out.
‘Stay there! Don’t move!’ Gustav stared at her, frightened at her unusually stern tone.
She quickly softened. ‘Here, I have brought your favourite rug. Let me tuck you in. It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right.’
She lifted Klara in beside him and tucked the rug over her knees. Her grandfather and Klara stared at each other.
She had barely finished tucking them in when the driver called out to his horses and the wagon jerked forward.
Her grandfather wobbled forward then backwards with such force that he was almost lying down.
There was little she could do about it but walk on behind.
Her grandfather tried to sit up, his arms flaying like fragile birds in the air, but he quickly grew tired and settled back against the bundles.
To Elsa’s relief, he almost looked comfortable among the contents of the overstocked wagon, and at least he was quiet.
She followed the imprint of the wagon wheels through the deep snow as she retied her mother’s scarf around her head and turned the collar up of her late father’s winter coat.
Soon they were beyond the town’s medieval boundary wall.
The chaos and turmoil were not just in Gollnow.
The road was filled with refugees and news soon reached them that there were no trains to catch, so their little group wordlessly joined the long line of desperation on the road heading west, hoping those ahead knew where they were going and safety was waiting for them.
German soldiers were travelling in both directions, no longer just heading for the front line in attack, but returning .
. . or was it retreating . . . with vehicles filled with despondent, wounded men.
Several times Elsa was forced to take cover from artillery fire, with only enough time to drag Klara under the wagon with her.
Elsa was grateful that Klara was obedient and did not cry or scream .
. . yet such mature behaviour was unnerving and a chilling reminder she was used to hiding and staying silent.
After each attack, Elsa dreaded returning to the wagon, fearing her grandfather might have been hit.
Each time she found him with a crazy, innocent smile on his face as if the artillery fire had been a show put on for his amusement.
Perhaps it was better to live in his world of confusion, where gunfire was firework poppers and explosions were stars and bonfires.
‘Ahh, there you are, my little Elsa,’ he said as he welcomed Klara back onto the wagon after the third attack.
‘Yes, here I am,’ she replied as she watched Klara settle down next to him. The child’s serious expression, when compared to her grandfather’s wide eyes and smile, gave the appearance that she was the more mature of the two.
Her grandfather pulled the blanket higher. ‘Not you.’ He turned to Klara and winked at her. ‘Your mother thinks I’m talking to her.’ He looked at Elsa. ‘Is it Sauerbraten for dinner?’
Elsa sighed. ‘Yes, we shall have Sauerbraten for dinner.’
‘With dumplings?’ he asked in a childish tone.
‘Yes, with dumplings.’
‘I love a tasty dumpling,’ he murmured. He lay back against the sacks of possessions and allowed his gaze to wander upwards to the clouds.
He blinked slowly as he followed their shapes across the sky.
Eventually, to Elsa’s relief, he closed his eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep.
It was then she noticed Klara was staring at her. The child knew she had lied.
‘He is old and confused. I didn’t want him upset.’ It was a feeble reason when trying to build trust. ‘I promise I won’t lie again.’
Klara accepted her apology far too easily .
. . or perhaps she didn’t believe it. The girl returned her attention to the people walking alongside them.
She had silently watched them from the beginning of their journey, but now her grandfather was sleeping, Elsa could see that it was more than just watching.
There was intense interest in the people travelling with them.
They varied in size, shape and age, with all manner of possessions and modes of transport.
The weak began to fall by the wayside and Elsa hoped that the little girl was too young to comprehend the fate of those that lay down.
Klara’s eyes appeared to move unblinking from foot to horse to wagon, lingering only long enough to soak in the details before moving on to the next.
It was not a scene any child should see or be part of, but although it was unsettling, it seemed to entertain Klara rather than distress her, and Elsa was thankful that she had remained quiet and well behaved.
Elsa had walked many miles before Herr Fellhaber finally stopped to retrieve some food from the back of the wagon. Elsa followed his example. She gave some food to Klara and climbed onto the wagon to help Gustav sit up.