Chapter 32
Hannah knew she had to leave the apartment as quickly as she had entered, but heavy emotions fogged her mind and kept her anchored to the small bed.
What if what she had come for wasn’t there?
The taste of disappointment held her back, as did the fear of finally facing what she might find, but she roused herself and left Jacob’s bedroom without looking back. It was too painful.
The main bedroom was tidy, and the furniture was much the same as Hannah remembered.
Being in her parents’ old bedroom felt surreal, and she walked inside as if in a dream.
The new residents had usurped the Stein family’s home and the possessions that went with it.
They had assumed their position in life, but without the yellow star.
All the benefits of her parents’ hard work through the years, without the reprisals for being Jews.
Hannah opened her mother’s antique wardrobe where she and Ruthi had so often helped themselves to the contents and played dress-up.
Images of her sister as a little girl, whirling around the room, their mother’s jewellery draped around her neck and her small feet in her mother’s party shoes, clawed at Hannah and her eyes blurred.
It was so unfair. Why had this happened to her innocent baby sister, who saw only good in the world and had lit up the room with her shining eyes and laughter wherever she went?
A noise cut through the air, and Hannah stiffened, clutching the door so it wouldn’t close.
Listening carefully until all was quiet again, she decided it must be the window banging in the other bedroom and opened the wardrobe fully.
The familiar smell of her childhood drifted into her senses, and she closed her eyes as she breathed it in.
She hadn’t even realised her mother’s wardrobe had a recognisable smell until now.
It was a nostalgic mix of the scent her mother wore and her clothes hanging on the rack.
Her navy Shabbat coat was pressed neatly against the side, and her smartest dresses still hung next to it, alongside other women’s clothing.
Hannah continued flicking through the rack until her fingers closed over what she saw immediately was her mother’s scarf, tucked inside someone else’s jacket on the hanger.
She tentatively touched the scarf, unravelling it and bringing it closer until she buried her face in it.
It was bittersweet, and her eyes flooded with tears.
To feel so close to her mother after so long was both a wonder and an excruciating torment.
She remembered her loving mother’s arms wrapped around her and her sister when she found them trying on her clothes and messing up her bedroom.
‘Come now, girls,’ she would coax. ‘You both look beautiful as princesses, but it’s time for piano practice. Let’s tidy up together now.’
Hannah hesitated for only a second and then stuffed the scarf into her bag.
If she were caught, her cover would be blown anyway, and she wasn’t leaving without her mother’s scarf.
Hannah’s mind cast back to the last time she was inside her home.
She kissed her parents goodbye, saying she would stay over at her friend’s that night, and would see them the following morning.
Her friend lived in the suburbs, and by the time the news reached them of the murderous pogrom where Jews were attacked, their businesses and property burned, looted or destroyed, she was too late.
The building was cordoned off by police, who stood guarding the door.
Hannah had almost thrown herself on their mercy, begging to go up to her apartment and search for her parents, but a wise voice rang in her head, cautioning her to stay away.
When the full extent of the horror done to Jews during the Night of Broken Glass in November 1938, became clear, Hannah knew she too would have been arrested if she’d revealed herself as Hannah Stein. The police showed no mercy to the Jews.
A Jewish former school friend from a neighbouring building saw her wandering in the street later that day and told her in whispers that she’d heard many Jewish families who owned businesses had been arrested and deported east on trains.
When Hannah broke down with the shock of it all, her friend took charge and hurried her back to the safety of her apartment, where she stayed, sleeping on the floor of her friend’s bedroom until she made plans to leave Berlin.
Hannah's fingers found what she was searching for—the loose floorboard beneath the rug. She pressed hard at the edge until it clicked and gave way. This was the Stein family’s secret hidey-hole her parents had shown Hannah and her siblings a couple of years before Kristallnacht when things were getting worse in Berlin.
Removing the board carefully, Hannah laid it on the floor and put her hand inside the dark opening.
Something soft brushed her hand, and she stifled a scream as a rat darted across the floor.
Her heart pounding, Hannah extracted her small torch and shone it into the hole.
There was a stash of Reichsmarks bundled neatly with a band, a small wallet Hannah remembered contained a valuable gold necklace that had belonged to her Bubbe.
Her father’s mother had died when Hannah was a child, and this was one of the few possessions they had to remember her by.
‘God willing you won’t need it, but just in case something happens to me and your father, you all know where to find this.
We’ve saved enough cash to get you out of Germany.
Go to the Jewish Agency and tell them you have cousins in Eretz Israel.
Sell the necklace if you need to. Don’t give it a sentimental thought, my loves.
Get yourselves to safety; that’s what your grandmother bought gold jewellery for.
She said it was the best insurance you could have, far better than cash that can so quickly lose its value. ’
Hannah remembered Ruthi dissolving into sobs when her mother instructed them so solemnly about the disaster that might befall them.
Sorrow shifted in her chest as she sorted through the remnants of their lives in the tiny hidey-hole.
There were two family photos: her parents’ faces smiling at her on their wedding day, and one of them all together in their best Shabbat outfits after returning from the service at synagogue.
Hannah stuffed them into the side pocket of her bag.
Checking her watch, she knew she must leave now.
She had stayed far too long. There was her father’s tallit—his prayer shawl.
Hannah’s fingers touched it, and the memory of him davening was almost too much to bear.
Waves of despair rushed over her, and she longed to take it, but that would be insanity.
If the nosy landlady found a Jewish prayer shawl in their room, it would be like signing her arrest warrant.
Lizzie had told her how Frau Fischer monitored the lodgers and reported her findings to Herr Vogel, and they were both being extra cautious about what they said and where and when they said it.
They had taken to going for walks in the evening and only discussing details of the mission then.
Dinner in the dining room was a monotonous affair of fake conversation and tasteless food.
Belongings that marked her as Jewish were out of the question, so regrettably she kissed the soft, folded material, the last connection she had to her beloved father, Daniel Stein, and slipped it back into its hiding place.
The Reichsmarks could stay there too. She wasn’t short of money, so if she needed them, they would be there as a backup.
Hannah positioned the gold necklace around her neck, closed the clasp, and tucked it below the neckline of her blouse.
She would take something of her Bubbe's with her.
After slotting in the floorboard, Hannah pulled the rug across the incriminating stash and scanned the room to make sure she had left everything as she found it.
Hurrying from the room, she was about to let herself out when she heard children’s voices echo through the front door. She retraced her steps silently, closing the hall door.
The front door thudded, and feet shuffled in the hallway before a child’s voice flooded the living room. ‘Mutti, may we go out and play now?’
The mother said they must change first, and the two children rushed across the room towards their bedrooms.
Hannah stood pressed against the wall, hidden by a tall bureau on the opposite side of the long room.
Soon the husband might return too. Frantically she waited, hearing the woman who had replaced her mother in this home, empty her shopping bags and put stuff into cupboards in the kitchen.
The doors banged as she worked, and Hannah gauged whether she should make a run for it whilst she was busy in the kitchen and the children were out of the way.
If she met anyone outside the apartment, her silent infiltration of her former home would be over, and she would have to fight her way out.
Heart pounding, she was about to dart across the room towards the hall door when she heard little feet padding across the floor.
‘We’re going out to play, Mutti,’ shouted the boy, who was clearly older than the girl who followed behind him.
Their mother paused in her tidying and called out, ‘Stay in the courtyard, please. Don’t go out into the street.’
And then the door banged behind them, and the living room was empty once more, but Hannah had missed her opportunity.
The woman returned to the room, bustling about on the other side.
Hannah pushed herself further against the wall as if it would make her invisible.
She couldn’t see the woman but heard her movements as she hummed a tune.
Hannah didn’t want to hurt her, but she might have to if there was no other choice.
Her fingers sought the knife in her pocket, and then she quietly pulled her mother’s scarf from her bag and tied it around her face so only her glasses were visible.
She was ready when the right moment came. Waiting, her pulse racing and senses on overdrive, the humming drew nearer as the woman crossed the room, tidying tables and putting things back in their place. Either she sensed Hannah’s presence, or she caught sight of her as her head moved.
The woman stopped dead, her eyes widening.
Hannah brandished her knife. ‘I won’t hurt you as long as you do as I say.’
The woman gasped and raised her hands, nodding.
Hannah pressed the knife against her back and steered her into the kitchen.
‘What do you want?’ the woman asked in a strangled voice.
‘Sit down,’ Hannah hissed.
The woman’s hands shook violently as Hannah pushed her down onto the nearest chair, facing away from her.
Hannah whispered into her ear. ‘I’m leaving now. Don’t raise the alarm or tell a soul about this, or I warn you I will be back. I know what your children look like and where to find them.’
The woman nodded frantically. ‘I promise, I won’t say a thing.’
Hannah crossed the kitchen and opened the front door a slit, searching the hallway and stairs.
It was all clear, so she removed the scarf and shoved it back into her bag but kept her hand on her knife in her coat pocket as she ran down the stairs and out the back door into the courtyard.
She heard the children’s voices before she saw them.
They were on the ground playing with some stones, and she turned her head firmly away so they wouldn’t see her face as she left her apartment building for the last time.
There was no chance to feel the emotions clawing at her because she was in full flight mode.
Back on the street, she spotted the block warden from a distance.
He didn’t see her and was talking to a man who wore a cap.
Hannah guessed he was the returning husband.
She was running out of time, so she turned right and walked as fast as she could without attracting attention before she reached the corner and broke into a run.
Once she had put considerable distance between herself and her old home, she entered a deserted alleyway where she rested her bag on the ground and turned her coat inside out, so it was now brown.
Lev had commissioned the reversible coat from a tailor.
When he surprised her with it, his eyes glowed.
Lev always took care of her. ‘If you’re going into the devil’s belly, you need to be as prepared for hell as Seagrove will be. ’
She also removed her glasses, and casting her eyes about for signs of anyone who might be searching for her, she saw it was all clear and entered the street, walking normally, holding her bag as if she was on her way home after a regular Saturday outing.
That had been a close thing, and she was angry at herself for letting her emotions about entering her old home, override her good sense.
As she turned the corner, the remains of the Prinzregentenstra?e synagogue, which had been burnt down, lay before her like the ruins of a forgotten life.
They had razed her entire world to the ground, and she would not forgive or forget. One day she would make them pay.