Chapter Thirty-Seven Aletta
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Aletta
When Aletta and her mother finally made it home to their apartment, neither of them was certain what they were going to return to.
The occupation had only just ended, their city and country finally belonging to the Dutch people once more, and as comfortable as they’d been in Sweden in their temporary accommodation, nothing had been more exciting than finally being told they could return.
But there were a myriad of questions running through Aletta’s mind now, including just where they would go if they couldn’t reclaim their apartment straight away, although the most perplexing issue was that she didn’t have a key.
She kept slipping her hand into her jacket pocket as if expecting to find one there, as if she were returning from shopping or teaching college, and then she’d have to remind herself why there was no key to feel for.
For her jacket was borrowed, and there was no key to be found.
‘What do we do if someone else is living in there?’ Aletta asked.
Her mother’s eyes met hers, and it was clear that she’d been wondering the same thing.
‘Honestly? I don’t know,’ she said with a sigh. ‘The old me would have passively stood there and asked them to leave.’
‘And now?’ Aletta asked.
An unexpected smile spread across her mother’s lips, despite everything. ‘Now I think I may just stand in my living room and scream at them until they leave. No one is keeping me from my home, not now. I’m taking our apartment back, Aletta, one way or another.’
Anyone hearing them might have laughed. They were two women with sharp bones protruding from beneath their clothes and gaunt faces, their cheeks hollow with dark marks below their eyes still.
They had to link arms just to walk the length of the street, and even then they struggled and had to constantly stop and rest, but they’d both survived too much to falter now.
And if her mother had to scream and fight someone to reclaim their home, then she’d be there yelling right alongside her.
They hadn’t survived Ravensbrück to be turned out on to the streets. Her father had worked hard to buy their apartment, and so long as her family’s name was still on the deeds, then it belonged to them, war or not.
The climb up the stairs was brutal, but they held on to each other, pausing more than once before they finally stood at the door.
Aletta forced the memories away, refusing to let her mind take her back to the last time she’d been standing there, to what had haunted her relentlessly almost every night since.
Just walk through that door.
She took a deep breath and placed her hand on the handle before finally opening it, relieved that it wasn’t locked.
‘Hello?’ she called out, listening carefully to see if anyone responded.
Her mother inched in beside her, and they both stood and stared.
At the blood stain on the carpet, the place where her father had fallen; at the hole in the wall her father had erected, where boots had kicked their way through to Harry; at their furniture haphazardly moved around and what was left of their possessions scattered everywhere.
But as far as Aletta could tell, there was no one occupying their home, at least not anymore.
‘It looks like the place has been turned over,’ her mother said, her voice low.
Aletta nodded. Then she swallowed, forcing down her emotions as she looked around their living room and slowly took step after step into their apartment, refusing to look at the spot where she’d last seen her father.
‘Everything of value has been taken,’ she whispered. ‘They’ve looted the place.’
There were faded squares on the wall where paintings had once hung; there was an antique sideboard once covered with treasures, collected by her mother over her lifetime, now empty.
Her heart ached for what they’d lost, for the mess they’d come home to, but she supposed she should be grateful that they at least had a home.
‘They are only things,’ her mother said, her hand brushing Aletta’s arm as she moved past her. ‘We have our home, and we have each other, and that’s what matters. After what we’ve survived? This is nothing.’
Aletta opened her mouth to reply, turning to her mother, but the gasp that came from deep within stopped her. She found herself out of breath, like she’d been punched in the stomach, as she reached for a chair, holding on so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
‘Breathe, Aletta,’ her mother murmured, her hand warm against Aletta’s back as she rubbed in gentle circles. ‘Just breathe.’
She gulped down air as she fought against wave after wave of emotion, and eventually she was able to breathe again and straightened, turning and placing her arms around her mother.
They stood like that for what felt like forever, Aletta with her eyes tightly shut and her mother’s tears damp against her skin, cheek to cheek. But eventually they both slowly let go.
Her mother smiled at her, despite her emotion. ‘We start with one thing,’ she said. ‘Today, we wash the sheets on one bed and tidy one room. Then tomorrow we start on another room. We will tackle it one bit at a time, and we’ll do it together.’
Aletta nodded. ‘One room at a time,’ she repeated.
‘This is our home, Aletta, and no amount of looting or damage is going to make us feel otherwise,’ she said. ‘Your father would have wanted us to stay here, so that’s what we’re going to do. He worked too hard to buy this apartment for us to do anything else.’
Aletta’s throat was thick with emotion again, but she nodded and placed her hand on her mother’s arm as their eyes met. Her mother, who’d proven herself to be the strongest person Aletta knew.
This was their home, and her mother was right. No one could take that away from them. They’d survived the worst, but it was time to start rebuilding their life again, room by room.
Aletta and her mother had barely finished cleaning the bedroom, a task that should have taken a couple of hours and yet had taken them almost all day, when she heard a noise, followed by a call.
‘Hello? Aletta? Is anyone here?’
Her heart picked up speed and she hurried down the hall.
Or at least she tried to hurry. Her body moved like an old lady’s now, and she realised then that they hadn’t eaten since early that morning.
She supposed it would take them some time to get used to the idea of eating or drinking whenever they wanted.
‘Aletta?’ the voice called again.
Aletta stopped when she saw the immaculately dressed young woman standing in her living room, a grocery bag slung over one arm. It was like seeing a photo from the past.
‘Cecilia?’
‘Aletta!’
Her friend’s eyes widened as she looked at her, and Aletta knew what Cecilia was seeing. A girl who was barely half the weight she’d been before, almost unrecognisable as the young woman who’d last been in Amsterdam.
‘I can’t believe you’re home,’ Cecilia whispered as she drew Aletta into her arms, holding her as carefully as one might an injured small child, her voice laced with tears. ‘I thought I was never going to see you again.’
Aletta had thought she was all out of tears, but seeing Cecilia again had her fighting back emotion. All those months and years she’d been away, one of the things she’d hoped for most was to see her friend again, and here she was.
‘This place,’ Cecilia finally said as she turned and looked around. ‘It’s a mess. I can’t believe people went into homes and stole so much.’
‘Even the paintings from the walls,’ Aletta said, smiling despite her emotions. Cecilia kept one hand on her while she looked around.
‘You look, well . . .’ Cecilia frowned. ‘You look like you’re in need of feeding and pampering.’
‘That’s putting it nicely,’ Aletta replied, as her mother appeared and was the recipient of one of Cecilia’s warm hugs.
‘My mother told me to leave you be, but when I heard you were home . . .’
‘Who told you we were home?’ Aletta asked, confused. ‘We’ve only been back since this morning.’
Cecilia grinned. ‘I paid the boy in the apartment next door to come and find me if he saw you. It’s the best money I’ve ever spent.’
Aletta laughed. ‘It’s so good to see you again.’
Even though she knew it must have been hard for Cecilia to see them, given the way they looked, her smile was unwavering as she marched into the kitchen, leaving them to trail behind. Cecilia didn’t gawk at them or ask questions, she just made herself busy.
‘I’m going to fix you something to eat, because I have some groceries with me, and then I’m going to get a casserole in the oven for you,’ Cecilia said.
‘I’ve spoken to my doctor about your . .
.’ she turned to glance back at them, ‘well, people with your enormous weight loss, and you need to eat just a little amount often. We need to be very careful not to overwhelm your bodies, to fatten you up nice and slowly.’
Aletta looked to her mother, who seemed to know what she was thinking and nodded.
‘Cecilia, you don’t have to—’
‘Look after you?’ She sighed. ‘Don’t even start with that. I’m going to clean this apartment until my fingers are raw and cook you everything you need, and I don’t want to hear a complaint from either of you.’
Aletta laughed then, and so did her mother. And it was so unexpected that it only made her laugh all the more, until her stomach ached and it made her cough.
‘What’s so funny?’ Cecilia asked.
‘You,’ Aletta said, her hand to her chest as she smiled, something she’d feared she’d forgotten how to do. ‘I don’t recall you being so bossy, that’s all.’
‘Bossy?’ Cecilia huffed. ‘My best friend in the entire world survived one of those dreadful camps. Do you truly think I wouldn’t insist on looking after you? I spent years grieving you and believing I’d never see you again, so please don’t take this away from me.’