Chapter 13

Early to mid-December 1963

December accelerated towards Christmas and school finished for the year. Col brought her school report home on the last day and gave it to Mutti Frida that evening. When her mother opened it, there was an accompanying sheet of paper. After reading the report and smiling at Col, she unfolded the letter. After a while, she glanced up.

“You are doing so well that they want you to move to the grammar school in Canterbury.”

Col gasped in surprise.

I smiled. “Well done, Col.” I knew she was bright.

Col turned to her mother. “Can we afford it, Mutti?”

Mutti Frida searched through the letter again. “It doesn’t say what the fees are.”

I leaned across the table. “I think it’s free – apart from books and uniform, which you pay for at the secondary modern school here.”

Mutti Frida glanced over at me. “Are you sure?”

“No, but I’m sure they want to speak to you about this.”

Mutti Frida read the letter again. “Yes, you’re right. They want me to phone on Monday.”

“Col, we could travel to Canterbury on the same bus.”

“Excellent, Willi.” Her eyes almost glowed.

Another idea occurred to me. “Mutti Frida, perhaps Col could become a girl at her new school?”

Two heads snapped round, Col’s eyes flaring with hope and Mutti Frida’s with fear. Neither said a word.

“It’s worth thinking about as a possibility, isn’t it?” I stared between Col and her mother.

Mutti Frida found her voice. “No, it is too dangerous.”

“But Mutti...” Col’s voice ached with hope.

“No, Col. It’s too dangerous.”

Col opened her mouth, as if to say something.

Mutti Frida’s voice brooked no discussion. “Enough.”

She then turned to me, a deep frown creasing her forehead.

The glance that Col and I shared was forlorn at this denial. It subdued the conversation over tea. I chided myself for spouting the idea without first talking it over with Col. Together, we might have come up with a way to lead Mutti Frida to support Col becoming a girl again.

Now that school was over, I had time for Christmas shopping. This was easier, as I had my Premium Bond winnings to fall back on. I ended up using some to buy Col a delicate gold chain necklace and Mutti Frida a new folding umbrella as her old non-folding one was falling apart.

Lili’s party would run late, so I would sleep at Col’s house that night. We wore coats, hats and gloves over our smart clothes and walked through the cold, blustery darkness down to Lili’s house. A storm was developing.

Lili’s much younger brother was in bed; Lili, Col and I spent time together drinking lemonade and snacking from the delicious mix of English and Polish food in the buffet. Neither Col nor I knew anything about Polish food. Lili educated us.

“These sausages are called kabanos – they’ve got a smoky flavour and go well with that oscypek – which is a smoked cheese.”

Col smiled at the selection of sausages. “They’re almost German,” she said, picking one up.

“What are those?” I asked, pointing at rings of bread.

“They’re bagels, sort of like bread rolls – and you have to try some of my aunt’s pierogi.” She pointed at a plate of things that looked like a small pasty.

Col eyed them with suspicion. “What’s in them, Lili?”

“These are savoury minced pork and those down there,” Lili pointed to the far end of the table where there were recognisable mince pies and even a trifle. “Are cherry ones.”

Lili continued loading our plates before we retreated to our corner, plates balanced on our knees. The eating stifled the conversation until Mrs. Wiśniewski and Mutti Frida came over to where we were sitting.

Mrs. Wiśniewski checked out our plates and smiled at Lili. “I see my daughter’s been educating you about the food of our country.”

I swallowed my mouthful of pirogi. “Yes, thank you. It’s all delicious.”

“Excellent.” She turned to Mutti Frida. “Come with me Frida, I’d like you to meet one of my friends who has connections to the fashion world in Paris.”

Mutti Frida smiled and allowed herself to be led away.

Once we finished eating, Lili gathered up our plates, depositing them on the buffet table. “Come with me. There’s someone I want Willi to meet.” She pulled Col and me through the crowd until we stood close to a group of people in the far corner of the lounge room.

“Wujek Brajan?”

A huge bear of a man turned round when Lili spoke to him. He had a scar across his face: the car salesman.

Lili continued in Polish. “This is my friend Will, who wants to be a fighter pilot.”

“Thank you, Lili. Please speak English in front of your English friends.” He turned towards us. “Please call me Uncle Brian – which is what Liliana called me, in Polish.” He examined us more closely. “Ah.” A smile of recognition lit up his face. “One likes fast cars, but the other prefers fast planes. Eh?” The scar gave him a crooked smile.

I nodded, embarrassed that Lili was pushing the fighter pilot thing when she had told us her relative wanted to put that behind him. Given the scar on his face, I could understand why.

Uncle Brian smiled at Col. “Perhaps I can arrange for you to go for a drive in an E-type sometime?”

Col’s eyes widened with excitement and she nodded. “Yes, please.”

The smile faded as he turned to me and his voice darkened. “A fighter pilot is not so glorious as you think. Perhaps one day you and I will sit down and talk about that.” His face was sombre. “But not today.” His voice lightened and he smiled at us, lifting Lili by the waist and twirling her round. “Today is for laughing and dancing with pretty girls, enjoying friendship and wódka.” He placed Lili back on her feet, her face flushed. “Off you go, enjoy yourselves. I need to refill my glass.” As he turned away, his smile evaporated and his shoulders tensed. We had stirred up memories he wished to stay buried.

We returned to our corner and replenished our glasses with lemonade. Mutti Frida emerged, smiling, from the throng, showing a slight flush. “Are you enjoying yourselves?”

We nodded and she slipped back into the crowd.

Lili smiled. “I’m sure your mother is speaking Polish to my family and friends and that would delight them.” Her smile broadened. “Perhaps also she is enjoying the vodka.”

I excused myself and headed off to the toilet. When I came out into the shadowy corridor, I saw Lili and Col standing in the hallway, where a bunch of mistletoe was hanging. It is an English tradition that you may kiss anyone under a bunch of mistletoe at Christmas. Lili’s family had adopted this decoration and knew of its significance.

Lili put her hands on Col’s shoulders and leaned forward, only to have Col stop her. I walked out of the shadows. When Lili saw me, she turned and disappeared back into the party, flustered and hurt by Col’s rejection.

“What was that about?” Col frowned in confusion. There was a window seat in the half-lit hallway, and I pulled Col across to sit there and explained about mistletoe.

Col’s concern showed in her eyes. “Lili got caught up in that idea and was using it to push along the relationship with me as a boy?”

I nodded and sighed – life was complicated. “We need to let her know you are still friends – but not that sort of friend.”

Col was distraught. “I want Lili as a friend. What do I do now?” Her voice filled with worry. “I told Mutti that this was a problem, but she wouldn’t listen.” Col dissolved into tears and I drew her into a hug, holding her while her tears soaked my neck. After a minute, Col’s tears faded away. “What can we do, Willi?”

“I don’t know, Col, but we need to talk to her.” I leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss, trying to lend her some emotional strength.

“Oh, God.”

The voice startled us. Lili stood in the hallway, her mouth gaping in shock.

“Now I know why you pushed me away, Col.” A shudder passed through her. “I knew you were close, but I didn’t realise how close or in what way.” And she rushed away, leaving Col and me sitting, minds in turmoil. We sat there, silenced by the enormity of the problem we had created.

Col started talking, but had to clear her throat and start again. “Please, Willi. Find Mutti and ask her to come out here. We need her help.”

Asking Mutti Frida seemed the best idea. Back in the party throng, I tried to find her. I caught sight of Lili, who scowled and turned away. Mutti Frida was deep in conversation with some of Lili’s parents’ Polish friends. I caught her eye and told her, in German, that Col needed her.

Mutti Frida’s eyes widened, and she excused herself, grabbing my hand. “Where is she? What’s wrong?”

I didn’t answer but guided her out into the shadowy hallway.

She saw Col and rushed to her side. “What’s wrong, Col?”

Col’s eyes pleaded with me and I grasped her hand. “Lili tried to kiss Col under the mistletoe and Col pushed her away, which upset Lili. Col told you that Lili had a crush on her ... er ... him.”

Col’s hand squeezed mine.

Mutti Frida sensed our silent communication. “There’s more?”

“Col was upset and was crying, so I drew her into a hug and then ... well, Lili saw us kissing.” It came out in a guilty and embarrassed rush.

Mutti Frida remained still.

“Well, I don’t think we can talk to Lili right now. Stay here, children. Once I’ve found Mrs Wiśniewski, I’ll come and find you, so we can thank our host before we leave.” She stood up, caressing Col’s cheek and squeezing my shoulder. “I’m sure we can find a way out of this, but it won’t be today.”

After Mutti Frida disappeared back into the party, Col and I sat in dejected silence. My old brain insisted homosexuality wasn’t a big deal, but my memories of the 60s told me this was a different time, with stark attitudes. If someone suggested that Col and I were homosexual, it could cause all sorts of trouble for us and our families.

After a minute, Mutti Frida appeared in the doorway, with Mrs. Wiśniewski beside her. “I told Mrs. Wiśniewski that you were feeling unwell, Col, and that we have to leave the party a bit early.”

“Col’s a bit flushed. I hope he’s feeling better in the morning.”

Mutti Frida nodded. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. Come along.” She glanced at us both. “I said your goodbyes and thanks to Lili, so we can leave straight away.”

“Will you be all right to walk home? I could drive you.” Mrs. Wiśniewski offered.

“Thank you, Daria. I’m sure the walk and some fresh sea air will help Col. Come along, children. Put on your coats, hats and gloves.”

Mutti Frida bustled us out of the house. Col started to say something as the door closed, but Mutti Frida hushed her with a squeeze of her hand. We walked in silence through the cold and windy streets.

“I found Lili and told her that what she thought she saw was not what really happened.” Mutti Frida drew us along for a dozen more silent steps, allowing that to sink in. “She likes you both a great deal and is prepared to come tomorrow and listen to what we have to say. Until then, she told me she won’t talk about this to anyone.”

Mutti Frida took a few more steps before glancing down at the two of us. “We need to decide what it is we tell her.”

We walked on in silence, thinking about that.

Back at Col’s house, Mutti Frida warmed some milk and made us all a hot chocolate. We sat gazing at one another.

“We have to tell her I’m a girl.” Col begged Mutti Frida.

“Col, we can’t. What if she tells someone? Remember what MI6 told me: your father is searching for us. I am sure there are Eastern Bloc agents here in England.” She jerked to a stop, frowning. “An émigré Polish community would be an excellent place to hide such an agent.”

Col was aghast. “Lili’s family hates the Russians.”

Mutti Frida nodded. “I know, Col. But what about their friends?”

Col stared at her mother and then collapsed back into her chair. “But we must tell Lili. What she thinks is terrible.”

I turned to Mutti Frida. “But you’ve half told Lili already.”

Mutti Frida frowned. “Half told her?”

“Well, you said you told her that what she saw wasn’t the reality, or something like that. What is she going to think now?”

Mutti Frida’s face paled as she realised what I was getting at.

I took her hand from where it rested beside her mug. “Lili’s an intelligent girl and I am sure she’s pondering what you said to her.”

Col leaned into the conversation again, as I continued arguing her case.

“She might not guess that Col’s a girl, but she might.” I gave Mutti Frida’s hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement. “But I’m certain she will expect an explanation in the morning.”

Mutti Frida shook her head. “But it’s too dangerous to tell her the truth.”

Col picked up Mutti Frida’s other hand. “I don’t think it is.” Col peered at me. “We’ve already told you Lili and her family hate the Russians and all the puppet Eastern Bloc governments. If we told her the truth, I think – no, I’m certain – she would understand the need for absolute secrecy.”

I gave Mutti Frida’s hand another encouraging squeeze. “Col’s right, you know. They hate the Russians. She would not betray you.”

Mutti Frida nodded in silent agreement. She had been speaking to Lili’s family and Polish friends. She must have picked up on their hatred of Russia.

“But she’s so young.”

I put a light pressure on her hand until she turned towards me. “But so am I – and so is Col.”

Mutti Frida pulled her hands from us and picked up her mug. Taking a sip, her eyes moved between us and then shook her head. “Yes, you are both young and you have kept our secret – until today, when you did something that may have exposed us.”

I shared a chagrined frown with Col.

She turned to Mutti Frida. “Yes – and we’ve learned a lesson through that mistake. We’ll be more guarded in future.” Her eyes flicked across me. “But what Willi said is true. Lili will not rest until she gets to the truth behind your words.”

“I should not have said what I did, that is clear, but I needed to say something to stop Lili from explaining to her parents why she was upset.” She picked up her mug and took another sip of chocolate. “What this needs,” she said, “is some schnapps.” She retrieved a bottle from the dresser and lifted it to gauge its level, pouring a generous tot into her chocolate. She recorked the bottle, swirled the mug and took a sip, sighing in contentment. “That’s better.”

Col leaned forward and sniffed Mutti Frida’s mug. “Oof. That’s strong.”

Mutti Frida chuckled. “Perhaps, but what’s the English?” She stopped, thinking. “Ah yes. It warms the cockles of my heart.”

Col’s face showed her frustration at this illogical language. “That’s weird; we dug up cockles on the beach and pickled them in vinegar. How can a heart have cockles – shellfish?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. English is a strange language.”

Col turned to Mutti Frida. “Anyway, back to Lili. When she comes tomorrow, we must swear her to secrecy and then tell her I’m a girl.”

Mutti Frida’s eyes narrowed and I read her refusal to relent on this.

I took Mutti Frida’s hand. “We have to. I can’t see what else we can do without it causing more problems.” I stopped, thinking. “It won’t matter to me if Lili thinks Col and I are homosexual; I don’t mix with the local kids apart from Col and Lili.”

I stared at Mutti Frida. “But think about how it would affect Col if Lili told her friends at school what she saw tonight. The bullying would start up, only much worse.”

Mutti Frida’s eyes bored into me.

“I don’t think you want that happening to Col.”

Seconds of silence followed. Eventually, Mutti Frida almost muttered. “Would that be better or worse than being thrown into gaol in East Germany?”

I peered over at Col, hoping for some inspiration that was not forthcoming. “I don’t know about that. But I know that if you stay here and don’t explain things to Lili, life will be awful for Col. And what about the future? Are you going to make her hide herself forever?” I knew I was pushing Mutti Frida hard, perhaps too hard and tried to soften my words with a smile.

Mutti Frida was silent again before standing up. “Well, I need to sleep on this and so do both of you. Come on, we need to make up the sofa for Willi.”

The familiar ritual of setting up my bed on the lounge room sofa helped settle us. I lay huddled under the blankets in the dark. I was certain we could trust Lili. She would understand Col’s situation.

As I drifted into sleep, I almost decided to tell Lili myself if Mutti Frida wouldn’t. Whilst that would make life difficult between Mutti Frida and me, it seemed the best option for Col.

I woke early, stomach churning as rain slashed against the house: the storm had arrived. My old brain must have been gnawing away at the problem during the night and now my young brain was reacting to the stress.

Could I go against Mutti Frida on this?

It had seemed possible last night, but now, in the cold light of day, I was far less certain.

Mutti Frida stirred and I helped with breakfast. We all felt tense and sat around the breakfast table in a strained silence.

After a while, Mutti Frida put down her coffee cup. “You are prepared to trust Lili with our safety?”

Col swallowed and glanced across the table at me. I nodded my support. She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

“What do you think, Willi?”

“I don’t think we have any other options.”

“Hmph. It’s not ‘we’ in this situation, Willi. It’s Col and I who are at risk.” There was a sharpness to Mutti Frida’s voice, the tension creating an edge. I stared down at my half-eaten toast, shamefaced after including myself in their danger.

Col pounced on her mother. “Mutti, that’s not fair.” Her voice showed the hurt she felt on my account. “You know Willi would do anything for us.”

Mutti Frida’s eyes held her daughter’s until Mutti Frida let out an explosive breath. “You’re right, Col.” She smiled an apology. “I’m sorry, Willi, that was uncalled for.”

The phone rang, interrupting us. Mutti Frida answered it. The conversation was brief. Mutti Frida put down the phone. “Lili will be here in an hour. Her mother is dropping her off because of the storm.”

We sat, silent, at the table, our faces filled with indecision, fear – but for Col and me, perhaps a touch of hope as well.

Mutti Frida stood, clapping her hands. “Don’t sit there. We have the breakfast things to clean up and your bed to unmake, Willi.” She opened the pantry door. “Oh, and I’d like you to pop up to the corner shop and buy one of those nice fruit cakes, so we have something to offer Lili. Eating together helps strengthen bonds of friendship.”

We got busy cleaning up the house. Col and I donned hats and coats and grabbed a shopping bag and shared Mutti Frida’s rather tatty umbrella to walk up to Mr. Searle’s corner shop. Once out of the house, Col turned to me, wrestling with the umbrella in the wind.

“Do you think Mutti is going to tell Lili the truth.?”

“I’m not sure, Col. But I think she is leaning that way. If she doesn’t, I’ve been thinking we – that is – I should tell her.”

Col was no longer beside me and I was getting wet. She was standing a couple of paces behind me, consternation on her face. I hurried back to her and ducked under the umbrella. We were in public, so I didn’t take her hand.

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Robert Hart

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Robert Hart

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