It Was That Night Page 9

  We had to climb up some narrow stairs to the school’s attic. It smelt dusty. I could hear breathing and rustling from other people who were already there. We had to sit on the floor. It was difficult for Mutti to sit down. I heard her huffing and puffing. The floor was cold. More people came. A baby started crying.

  I gave a start when I heard heavy footsteps approaching. Mutti whispered that it was a doctor who was going to give the baby some medicine, so it didn’t cry. Mutti was breathing in a strange way. She whispered to Auntie Hannah, ‘This baby just has to stay inside until tomorrow’. I felt Auntie Hannah put her arms around Mutti.

  But where was Pappi? We waited for him. My stomach contracted with the pain of waiting for him. Uncle Ruben whispered, ‘Maybe he is in another place’?

  I sat with Isaac. The fear made me hot one minute and cold the next. I could feel Isaac’s angst like thorns pricking my skin. Somebody came and gave us sandwiches and something to drink. The air was heavy with cheese and onion smells. Every time a floorboard squeaked you could hear people draw in their breaths. Then letting it out again in a slow hiss. Their fear was a solid wall.

  At one point I had to pee very badly. Isaac went with me. ‘Feel’, he said, and I let my hand trail along the walls. ‘Here’s a landing and here’s the door to the bathroom. Shall I wait’? he asked. I shook my head, ‘No, I can find my way back’.

  The toilet didn’t smell very nice. I felt my way to the door. Isaac met me on the landing.

  And we waited some more.

  I whispered to Isaac: ‘Why doesn’t Pappi come’? ‘He probably doesn’t know where we are. Maybe he’s in another school, like my father said’? Isaac whispered back.

  We waited.

  A man’s voice told us that we should leave. When we came outside, it felt like evening. I held Auntie Hannah’s hand as we walked along the streets. Her hand was shaking. I wanted to vomit. I sniffed at the smell of salt and rotten seaweed. I could hear waves swishing. Somebody whispered and guided us into rowing boats. I stumbled as I felt my way to a seat. Were we going to row to Sweden in these small boats?

  A whistle blew sharply. Some shouted, ‘Get out of the boats, back to the beach. Gestapo-Lund is here’!”

  At this point of Ursula’s story, I gasp. The scenes swirling behind my eyes are too scary to look at. Ursula continues:

  “Somebody swore, but I think we all got back to the school. Isaac helped me. I heard Mutti cry out. They took us back to the attic and counted us. Everyone was safely back. Except for Mutti. Auntie Hannah whispered, ‘She fell in the water and a fisherman helped her. I think he took her to another house’.

  I wanted to cry. But I knew I mustn’t. Only silently inside. Auntie Hannah held me. ‘It’s going to be fine, Liebschen’. I had to go to the toilet again. ‘Isaac can go with you’, Auntie Hannah whispered. I whispered back that I could find the way by myself.

  On the way back from the toilet, I banged my head on an open door. A nice smell of apples came from within. I went in. It felt like a small cupboard. I let my hands trail around and found some boxes of apples. I took a bite from one. It was very juicy and tasted like the ones we had in Heidelberg. My legs brushed against something soft. I groped. It was a sack full of knitting wool. It smelled nice and woolly. “I’ll just sit here for a bit until we are called again”. I heard Isaac whisper “Ursula.” I nodded and gave him an apple. It was so nice sitting there.

  A banging noise woke me. I heard footsteps. Where was I? I groped around, touched the apples and remembered. The footsteps sounded louder. It was probably time to go again. I felt for the open door space. It was not there. I tried again, found the door, pushed it. It was stuck. I knocked gently. Nobody heard. More footsteps. Were they Germans? A soft knock on the door and I heard Isaac’s voice, ‘Ursula’?

  ‘Yes’? I whispered.

  I heard another voice saying, ‘Move on boy’! More hurried footsteps. Then nothing. I tried and tried to push the door open. It was jammed. I tried to kick it with all my might. I wanted to shout. But I didn’t dare. What if the Germans heard me?

  In the end I fell asleep again. When I woke up, I felt dizzy. I ate some more apples. I didn’t know what to do. I tried shouting and hammering at the door, even though I was scared it would be Germans who heard me.

  Nobody came. The fear was like a black crawling octopus – reaching out inside of me. I knew I must not panic. One breath in, one breath out, follow the beautiful swirling patterns of light inside. I was sure that everything was going to be fine. They were going to come back for me, of course. I sort of drifted. At one point I needed to pee so badly. I groped around and found a vase. Once I saw Mutti in a strange room holding a small baby.”

  Mum lets out an audible gasp. I stare at her. Her face has gone totally pale.

  “I drifted back to our apple tree in Heidelberg. Mutti called to me. But I couldn’t find her. I drifted around for a bit and slept. In between, I remember Pappi calling. His thoughts were all black and scary. I couldn’t find him either. Isaac sent some very strange thoughts. He was crying. He kept saying, ‘I’m sorry, Ursula’. Why was he sorry?

  Next day I heard German voices saying, ‘Ach, this cupboard is stuck. We don’t have time to wait for a locksmith. Just build the wall around it.’ Germans were here! Where were the others? Had they been captured? I was so scared I almost didn’t dare to breathe. Some banging noises mixed with Danish voices. ‘I’ll shout’, I thought. But just then a German voice said ‘Schnell, we need it ready by tomorrow’.

  The Danish voice grumbled ‘Ja, ja’. And I drifted off again.”

  My head is swarming with pictures superimposing themselves in flashes. How can anybody survive things like that? But then she didn’t, did she?

  “Then the door was open one day. There were many children. I asked one boy if I could sit beside him. He didn’t answer. Then you screamed.”

  Ursula looks at me, confused. “But where am I and what is happening?” I look at Mum. Her face is still very pale. Nobody says anything. My stomach rumbles loudly.

  Ursula whispers, “Who are you?”

  “I think I am your little sister,” Mum answers.

  I stare at Mum with my mouth open. Did she just fall down from another planet?

  Ursula smiles, “Little sister. But …”

  Chapter 17

  Claire

  5th April 1983

  Mum’s words saying she’s Ursula’s younger sister hang flapping in the air.

  “How can you be my little sister? You are grown-up.”

  Ursula’s voice is accusing. Twilight has been creeping in without us noticing. The silence is filled with horrors. I think I am crying. Mum reaches out her arms; but it is Ursula she picks up.

  “Ursula,” Mum murmurs through her tears.

  Ursula’s face is twisted with thoughts. “But …” she stops, moves away from Mum and looks at her. “You look like Mutti. She looks around. “Where is Mutti? And Pappi? And Isaac, and all the other people? And who are you?” she points at me.

  That at least I know how to answer. “I’m Claire,” I mutter.

  Mum looks as if she doesn’t know what to do. She clears her throat. “Ursula, I don’t know how to tell you this …”

  “What?”

  “After the war …”

  “After the war?” She jumps up. “Is the war finished? Hitler?” She shrinks back.

  “Hitler is dead. He shot himself.”

  Ursula sits down. If she had a body, she would have sat down with a bump. I think.

  “Really? That’s so good. But ... But ...”

  She puts her face in her hands, as if her head was exploding. How can she seem so real? Mum’s fists are held tight together. She takes a deep breath and looks at Ursula uncertainly and begins almost apologetically,

  “I have to tell you a long story. Then hopefully you’ll understand.”

  Ursula looks confused. She nods. Mum starts telling her about Gustav and Marie. How their son d
ied. How Leah came to their house.

  “Ah, that’s where she went. Where is she now?” Ursula looks around hopefully as if expecting her Mutti to pop up.

  Mum’s tears fall again when she tells that Leah died shortly after giving birth to her – Mum.

  Ursula screams when she hears that her mother is dead. She storms around the room, her hands pressed against her chest. I’m scared she will hurt herself knocking into the tables. She doesn’t. And, of course, she wouldn’t get hurt, would she? Finally, she sits down and is silent for a very long time.

  “Aber, Mutti …I saw her. She held a baby. That was you? How can it be? And Pappi? Where is Pappi?”

  Ursula holds her head with both hands. You almost see her thoughts flying around like sparks from a bonfire.

  Mum sits still. Her knuckles are white from being pressed together.

  “Ursula, just wait a minute, I’ll try to explain.”

  Mum continues telling the story of her adoption. And how in 1946 “..when the war was finished Isaac and his parents came to visit my – the people who had adopted me. When Ruben, Hannah and Isaac saw me they knew, of course, who I was.”

  Ursula screws up her face in confusion.

  Mum blows her nose. “Ursula, your – our father is alive …”

  “Of course he is. I saw him a couple of days ago. Where is he?” Ursula gets up. “I want to see him.”

  A thought brushes through me, “See? She can’t see.” I flick the thought away.

  “Ursula, Jacov is old now and very bitter. He doesn’t know what happened to you. He doesn’t know about me. Aunt Hannah and Uncle Ruben went to see him more than twenty years ago. He went completely amok when he heard that they had not saved you or our mother.”

  Ursula looks as if she understands nothing. She sits rocking backwards and forwards. Her fisted hands bore into her blank eyes.

  “But Isaac?”

  “Isaac is alive.”

  Mum tells her how Isaac thought Ursula had got out of the cupboard, told her of his guilt during all these years.

  “All these years?”

  Mum takes a big breath and says: “Ursula, the war finished many years’ ago. Isaac is fifteen years older than me. He must be around fifty-five years old now. And even though I’m your little sister, I am forty years old.”

  Ursula stares at Mum. So do I.

  Weird. If it was me finding out forty years had gone by without me knowing, I would have run screaming away. Ursula just sits.

  “But why didn’t you go and see Pappi?”

  Mum bites her lip. “I wish so much that I had gone. But uncle Ruben and Auntie Hannah told me that he didn’t want anybody to visit him. You have no idea of how often I wanted to go.”

  “But why didn’t you?” Ursula looks accusingly at Mum.

  “I don’t honestly know. I got married, had Claire ... and time just passed.”

  “I want to see Pappi. Now! Please go and get him.”

  Mum clasps Ursula tight. “Of course. Now I will go to Germany and find him.”

  We sit in silence for a while. It feels like an anti climax when Mum says, “Ursula can you … I mean we need to go back to our home. Do you want to come with us? We live in the house where I was born, and where Leah died.”

  I am seething inside. How can Mum be so insensitive all of a sudden and talk about ordinary mundane things? How can she?

  But Ursula says: “I know. Sometimes I come looking for Mutti and the baby.”

  Talk about spooky. I ask, “How come I didn’t see you then?”

  “I came but things got confused in the house. You didn’t want me to be there.” She looks accusingly at Mum.

  Mum swallows. “My parents – the people who adopted me – were scared when I talked about the things I saw and they didn’t. They were also afraid of losing me, if someone from my biological family should want me. And Claire’s father, Mogens, my husband, gets very angry if we tell him what we see.”

  I can’t help it. I have to ask: “But Ursula, what have you been doing all this time?”

  Mum looks reproachfully at me. Ursula moves absent-mindedly on the chair.

  “Most of the time I sit under our apple tree and dream. You can’t imagine how beautiful that tree is.”

  “But Ursula, why did you come out of the cupboard now?”

  “Mutti kept telling me I should get out. The door would be open.”

  She shakes her head – maybe to get her thoughts in order.

  Mum and I rise to go home. I look back. Where Ursula has been sitting there is empty space.

  “Hey, where are you, Ursula?”

  Nobody answers.

  Mum says, “She’s probably at the house.”

  “But what if she isn’t?”

  “Let’s hope she is.”

  Talk about weird. It feels like my whole body has been bombarded inside and out. First Granny and Granddad’s story and now all this? I feel like a limp balloon that has lost all its air.

  Just as we get home the phone rings. It is Ellen. “Want to come over? Lene and Berit are here. We’re going to play Trivial Pursuit.”

  I don’t know what to say, “We have guests, what about tomorrow?”

  Ellen sounds grumpy, “Okay,” she says.

  I turn around from the phone. Ursula is sitting on a kitchen chair like a normal guest. Mum starts dinner. I look at Ursula and ask a question that really has been bothering me: “Ursula, can you see?”

  Mum turns around, “Claire!”

  Ursula actually giggles, “Yes.”

  “So that’s how you knew where to sit in class?”

  “The only table with an empty chair.” Ursula says.

  The phone rings again. Mum answers it.

  “That was Mogens. He’s coming soon. Claire why don’t you and Ursula go to your room while I make dinner. We’ll talk afterwards.”

  “Are you going to tell him, Mum?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Mum sounds like she does if someone disturbs her when she is trying to solve a crossword puzzle.

  In my room I don’t know what to do or say. I sit down on my bed. Ursula sits on a chair. Her back is very straight. I fiddle with my hair. Ursula asks me: “Where is the room where Mutti had the baby?”

  “It’s been changed around a lot. We came here after my grandparents moved to a smaller house. But the room is in the front. Do you want to go there?”

  We go downstairs, just as Dad comes in. He gives me a hug, and accidentally treads on Ursula’s foot.

  “Oops,” I say.

  “What’s the matter, Claire?”

  “Err, nothing. It’s just …”

  Fortunately, he moves off into the kitchen. I walk into the front room. Ursula follows.

  “Most things are new,” I say.

  “I remember the window,” Ursula says and points to the leaded window. “And the lamp in the ceiling.” She looks around. I still can’t understand how she can see.

  “Do you …” I begin, when Dad shouts:

  “Who are you talking to Claire?”

  Oh bother. “Nobody,” I yell back and whisper to Ursula, “Let’s go up to my room.”

  I think I’d better prepare Ursula for Dad. “My dad’s a bit square.”

  “Square?”

  I grin. “No, I mean, he doesn’t believe in things he can’t see.”

  “Oh and …”

  Yeah, ‘oh.’ In a minute he’ll probably start yelling at Mum. A lump is stuck in my throat. I have been so careful the last couple of years never telling him what I see. Why does he always have to get so angry?

  Something soft and green flickers inside. A memory: Dad holding me; we are lying on the moss all warm from the sun looking at a spring. Dad points at a fish in the water. I ask: “Who is that little man sitting on a stone?”

  Dad laughs, “Your imagination, Claire.”

  That’s when everything was still fine, and he was my big dad. Nowadays, he is mostly somebody who shouts.<
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  Chapter 18

  Claire

  5th April 1983

  From the kitchen we hear raised voices. I say, “Tell me about your friends in Heidelberg.”

  Ursula smiles: “Mostly I was with Lisa. She lived on the next street. We went to the same kindergarten. And often we played together in the afternoon. But then she said she couldn’t play with me anymore. I asked her why not?”

  She said: “Because you’re a Jew.”

  “I’m not,” I said. “Anyway, I don’t know what it means.”

  I have to interrupt. “But you must have known.”

  “Not really, no. I wasn’t really aware of it. There were a few rituals, but Mutti and Pappi didn’t talk much about it.”

  “Anyway, Lisa said she didn’t know either. She was very sad. “It is my father, he says I can’t play with you.”

  I told Mutti and Pappi. They got sad too. Mutti said, “Then you’ll just have to play with Lotti.”

  “Lotti lived next door. She was no good at playing. She always had to be told what to do. It was not fun.” Ursula sighs.

  “But didn’t you go to school?”

  “I was supposed to start school after the summer holidays, but Pappi said I had to wait. I don’t know why. And after – she touches her eyes – for a long time after we came to Denmark, until I went to the blind school, I didn’t know any other children, only Isaac.”

  I twist on the bed. Ursula still sits very straight.

  “What about you, have you got a best friend?” she asks.

  “You bet. Her name is Ellen.” I tell her about Ellen, how she never can sit still for more than two seconds, and how she came after school all agog about some skeleton being found in the school, and … I stop aghast.

  “That was me, wasn’t it?” Ursula screams.

  I recoil, “Oh.”

  Ursula bursts out crying. Which is strange. There are no tears but her whole body rocks with sobs. “Am I, I am …”