Through My Eyes. Again
Copyright© 2019 by Iskander
Chapter 15
Late February 1964
In the morning, when we joined Lili on the bus, she was practically jumping out of her skin with the need to know what was going on. Col and I had decided Col would tell her in the playground at their school where there was little chance of them being overheard in the general hubbub. Lili frowned when Col told her she had to wait, but I hope she understood why we felt it necessary.
I was distracted at school and received frowns from teachers as a result.
After my Maths class, Mr Pollock walked over to my desk as I gathered up my gear. “You seem distracted today, Johnstone.”
I was surprised by this intervention as, whilst he was an excellent teacher, he had always seemed a bit aloof. His expression showed his concern.
“Sorry sir, I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment.” I hope I didn’t sound rude; I was unused to this from a person who had always seemed so removed from everyday vicissitudes.
Mr Pollock’s lips curved up in a kindly smile. “I see.” He pondered for a moment. “If you think I can be of assistance, please come and see me.”
I nodded. Mr Pollock’s concerned eyes held mine for a moment longer and then he turned away, his academic gown swirling around this unexpected, solicitous, persona. He’d always portrayed the distant professor, content in his ivory tower surrounded by the Maths he loved. Fortunately, I didn’t have a German class, so I didn’t have to talk to Mr Sturr about the competition.
I wanted to reach my house as soon as possible to see if the letter from the competition had arrived. Perhaps the wording would offer me a way to turn it down. Boarding the bus, I sat down in my usual place.
Lili leant in from behind,
“Col told me...” Col frowned at her and Lili stopped. “Of course, sorry.”
And we spent the bus trip and the walk to Lili’s house avoiding the giant elephant in the room.
Once we reached Lili’s house, she checked the house was empty and, after we spread out our homework, we started rehashing what was happening.
“Like I told you, Lili, Mutti told us to watch out for anything odd or people asking questions about us.” Col gave Lili a grim smile. “But as you’re our friend, they might want to get to us through you. You need to watch out for your family as well and tell us if anything strikes you as odd, no matter how small.”
Lili nodded, her face worried. She realised her closeness to us might put her and her family at some risk.
Col, as ever, sensed Lili’s concern. She leant across the table. “I know it sounds all a bit farfetched, but I’m afraid it is real.” She sighed. “I’m sorry we got you into this, Lili.”
Lili’s blue eyes found ours across the table. She shivered and then shook out her hair, as if scattering her fears. “It’s not your fault – and I’ll help any way I can.” Her soft voice strengthened as she spoke.
Col smiled at Lili, her voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Lili. I...” she glanced across at me. “We knew we could count on you.”
Lili blushed. “I’ll keep my eyes open and let you know if I see or hear anything unusual.”
The blush in her cheeks showed her embarrassment at Col’s praise, and she changed the subject, “I need some help with conditionals in German, Col.” She picked up her exercise book and flicked it open.
We settled down with our homework. Col and Lili had been a term behind in everything as they had started at Grammar School in January. Despite this, they seemed to be caught up. They were both intelligent and our homework club was helping with Lili’s focus and motivation. It also distracted our minds from the worries we faced.
Mutti Frida arrived at the same time as Mrs Wiśniewski, with Lili’s younger brother. The two mothers shared a cup of coffee before the walk back to Col’s house. In spite of what was going on – or perhaps in an effort to retain normality – Mutti Frida insisted we talk to her, in Polish as usual, about our day as we walked home. I struggled to explain in Polish about Mr Pollock and the ‘ivory tower’ metaphor – to Mutti Frida’s amusement.
When I returned home later, there was no letter waiting for me. But the following morning the postman arrived – and there was a letter for me. I put it into my pocket.
Once we were on the bus and in the back seat, I took it out. As expected, it was from the International Youth Cultural Exchange Program offering me the place turned down by one of the winners. Col and Lil read it over my shoulders.
“Well, now what am I going to do?” I peered at both Col and Lili, but neither had anything to offer.
We sat in silence for a minute or so, before Lili suggested tentatively, “Couldn’t you ... lose the letter? Then your mother wouldn’t know you’d been offered the trip.”
Col huffed. “It wouldn’t work – Willi’s school knows he’s being offered the trip and they want the glory of one of their students winning the prize. If Willi says nothing, I expect they would contact his mother.”
“You think so?” Lili asked.
I nodded, thinking of Mr Sturr’s interest. “Yes.”
Silence descended upon us again. I wondered what Mutti Frida’s contact would do about all of this.
Lili’s mind must have been wandering down the same track because she asked, “What do you think they will tell Mutti Frida?”
I shook my head, partly in amazement: she had put my thoughts into words. “I’ve got no idea, but I think I’m going to be forced to go to east Germany by the school and my mother.”
“Perhaps if you could convince her travelling behind the Iron Curtain was dangerous, you could get her on your side?” Lili suggested.
“Now, there’s a thought.” My tone was grateful. “Do you think your family would be able to talk to her about this? The Eastern Bloc has a poor reputation in the west after the way the Russians put down the Hungarians in 1956.”
Col perked up at this. “Oh, please, Lili. Could you get them to help?”
“Well, we can talk to my mother later today and see what she says.”
“Okay.” I paused for a moment. “It’ll be best if I raise the subject with your mother, Lili. Then she’ll know I’m worried about travelling behind the Iron Curtain.”
“Are you saying you are not worried about it?” Col’s voice was dismayed.
“Yes ... er ... no. Of course I am worried.” I managed not to grab Col’s hand. “I’m thinking if Lili’s mum knows how worried I am she might push a bit harder with my mother.”
Col subsided back into her seat. “Oh, yes, of course.”
We gathered around the table at Lili’s house, working on our homework until Mrs Wiśniewski arrived home. It was Wednesday, early closing day, so Mutti Frida would have gone home at lunchtime and we’d be walking home alone.
After a while, Mrs Wiśniewski came into the kitchen where we were working. “Would you like a glass of milk and perhaps a biscuit?”
A Polish chorus of “Yes, please,” ran round the table.
Mrs Wiśniewski smiled, replying in the same language. “Your language lessons are going well.”
Col thought for a moment as she put together her reply in Polish, “Yes, thank you. Your daughter is a great teacher.”
Mrs Wiśniewski smiled broadly at us and returned to English. “And she tells me you are helping her in all her classes. Thank you.” She whisked about the kitchen, getting glasses of milk and a plate of biscuits.
I glanced at Col and then at Lili’s mother as she put the plate of biscuits on the table. “Mrs Wiśniewski, can I ask you something, please?”
Lili’s mother was surprised at this. Our interactions had always been superficial until now. “Yes, of course, Willi.”
“I’ve won a trip to East Germany at Easter and I’m worried about going behind the Iron Curtain.” I paused for a moment, staring into her eyes. “Is it ... safe?”
I caught Col suppressing a slight smile.
Had I laid it on a bit too thick?
Mrs Wiśniewski pondered my words for a moment, so I pulled the letter from my satchel and gave it to her. She read through it and then pulled up a chair and sat down.
“First of all, Willi, congratulations on doing so well. You have been learning German for a year and you win an essay competition.”
“Well, I didn’t win it, as the letter says.”
Mrs Wiśniewski waved my objection aside. “Don’t be so modest. They offered you the prize.” She reached across and helped herself to a biscuit, nibbling it as she thought. “You are correct to be worried about visiting the Eastern Bloc as they are not trustworthy and twist words and actions to fit their purposes.” She finished her biscuit, leaning back in her chair. “It would be dangerous for Col or Lili to visit behind the Iron Curtain as they are European, and the Russians see them as their slaves – even a west German.” She nodded at Col, thinking they were from west Germany. “But you are English.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
Mrs Wiśniewski’s face was stern. “Willi, you are English, part of the free west. You are their declared enemy in everything, so they have to treat you well.” She paused. “You are not in the military, invading their airspace like Gary Powers or the unfortunate pilot shot down and killed over Cuba during the crisis. You are a child and someone they can, perhaps ... influence. Someone who might help them in their war of ideas with the West.”
Col’s gaze flickered towards me when Mrs Wiśniewski called me a child, but I managed not to react.
Col covered her reaction. “Yes, Willi, they would take anything you say and twist it so it seems you support their world view.”
Mrs Wiśniewski gave Col an approving glance. “Indeed, but I think it is most unlikely that they would arrest you or prevent you from returning home. They would lose in the propaganda war by throwing a child of the West into gaol.”
This was not headed in the direction I had hoped or expected. “You think there is no problem with me going to East Germany?”
Mrs Wiśniewski pursed her lips. “I did not say that. Of course there is some danger. But the real danger is the propaganda value of having an intelligent Englishman visit their country and say nice things about it.” She leaned across the table and patted my hand. “But there is a great propaganda risk for them, too.”
She must have seen the confusion on my face.
How could I be a propaganda risk?
“They will show you the best of their country and pick the places you go and the people you will meet, hoping you will sing their praise when you return home. But they risk you penetrating to the reality they are trying to hide.”
Mrs Wiśniewski leaned back in her chair, marshalling her thoughts. “I think you have a responsibility to go. You are an intelligent person and will see beneath the propaganda veil they draw across their society. You can tell people here in the west the reality of life behind the Iron Curtain, why we must resist them and strive to bring freedom to the oppressed people of the eastern Europe.”
This was totally unexpected. Mrs Wiśniewski wanted me to become a propaganda tool in her fight with the oppressors of her country. It sounded like she would push Mutti Frida and my mother to send me. “Um, thank you.”
Mrs Wiśniewski stood up, giving me an encouraging smile and left us to our homework. Lili’s eyes were wide, shocked at her mother’s vehemence.
We sat in silence for about a minute before Col leant forward and took my hand. “I hope she doesn’t call our mothers.”
I rolled my eyes and we returned to the books.
On the walk up to Col’s house, I turned to Col, “You need to be careful.”
She stared at me, wide-eyed. “About what?”
“The expression on your face when Mrs Wiśniewski called me a child...”
Col tossed her head. “It’s difficult for me, Will. Most of the time you are a teenager; then you say something unexpected or react unexpectedly and I remember what you are.” She shrugged. “When Mrs Wiśniewski described you as a child, it struck me as funny.”
“We both have things we don’t want everyone knowing – although I don’t think people would believe me like you have. They’d lock me away in a padded cell.” I pulled a wry face at her.
Col nodded. “We both have to be careful.”
We walked to Col’s in silence, pondering the strange realities we lived in and their dangers. Mutti Frida sensed our mood and asked what was wrong. I took the letter out of my bag and handed it to her.
Mutti Frida’s face was sympathetic. “Willi, we knew this was coming. It’s not the end of the world.”
I sighed. “I know, but...” My voice petered out in uncertainty.
“Well,” Mutti Frida smiled encouragingly. “We will have to convince your mother it is not safe to travel to East Germany.”
Neither Col nor I wanted to tell Mutti Frida what Mrs Wiśniewski thought about this, so I nodded, and we set the table for tea.
What to say to my mother occupied my thoughts on the walk back to my house. If I could convince her it wasn’t safe, it might stymie the school’s efforts to use me for their propaganda – and Mrs Wiśniewski ‘s efforts too. I was distracted when I pushed open the back door.
“Hello Will.” My mother glanced up from the kitchen table where she was sewing replacement buttons onto one of my shirts. “I hear you got the letter confirming your place on the trip to East Germany.”
I was shocked to silence for a moment. “What?”
“Manners, Will.” She chided.
“Sorry. I beg your pardon.”
My mother gave me a nod of acknowledgement. “Mrs Wiśniewski rang earlier. She told me you showed her the letter.”
That was fast work.
“Yes. It arrived this morning as I was leaving, so I took it with me.”
“May I see it, please?”
I retrieved the letter in its envelope from my satchel.
She lodged her threaded needle in the shirt collar. “Hmm – the trip is during the Easter holidays, so it won’t interfere with school.” She paused. “Do you want to go, Will?”
Amazing. An adult was asking what I wanted.
“No.” I was emphatic.
“Why not, Will?” My mother was surprised. “I would have thought you’d jump at the chance to go travel – in particular to Germany.”
I couldn’t tell her my real reason. “I’m scared of going behind the Iron Curtain. They are not like us and I’m frightened they might not let me return.”
I was worried my mother might not take me seriously.
Her face hardened. “The governments of those countries are not like us and they will use people to suit their own ends. But I think the people in those countries are like us in the West.” She paused thoughtfully. “Frau Schmidt showed me that not all Germans were Nazis and I suspect the ordinary people in East Germany have concerns about their government, even if they cannot speak about them. You should visit and learn this for yourself.”
This was terrible: even my mother wanted me to go.
I knew she saw I was unconvinced. “Anyhow Will, we don’t have to decide yet.” She focused on the letter again. “You don’t have to let them know for a week, so have a think about it and come and talk to me about your concerns if you need to.”
My sleep was disturbed as all this rolled around in my head.
I updated Col and Lili on the bus to school in the morning.
“Willi, I’m so sorry.” Lili was embarrassed at what her mother had done. “I heard her on the phone to your mother.”
“It’s not your fault, Lili.” I shrugged. “Your mother must feel strongly about this.”
“Oh, she does,” Lili said, sighing. “After she phoned your mother, I heard her talking to some of her friends who came over to play Bridge and they all agreed it was important for the English to learn what Russia was like.” She paused, reaching back to what she had overheard the previous evening. “They are worried the alliance with Russia during the war still colours British thinking about the Soviets. Educating young English people about the reality of the Soviet Empire and its global intentions is important to them.”
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