Chapter 17

Late December 1968 – early January 1969

As there were no flights from Brisbane to London, I flew to Darwin to join the flight from Sydney. In the Brisbane departure lounge, I sipped an orange juice to steady my nerves, reading about the Apollo 8 trip round the moon.

Willi could tell me every detail of this.

I had wanted to travel by myself, but the reality now descended on me: I was alone for the first time in my life. Added to that, I was still nervous about flying, despite its glamorous image. My flight was called and a bus took us to the aircraft. We’d sailed for several days round the south of the continent when we first arrived, but this flight impressed on me the vast size of Australia. The in-flight magazine map showed we were flying over Australia’s northeast corner, but it took four hours – in a jet plane.

Clouds hid Darwin when we arrived and I caught only a momentary glimpse of the city. I walked down the steps from the plane and I gasped; I thought Brisbane was hot and humid, but Darwin in the middle of the wet season was ridiculous. Within minutes, my blouse was sticking to me and the rest of my clothes felt damp. The hour I spent waiting to board the flight to London was uncomfortable.

How do people live in these conditions?

From the bus, I could see that the London bound aircraft was much bigger with four engines – a Boeing 707 I learned; I was certain Willi would quiz me. I sat, sweating in my window seat, until the aircraft started its engines and the air cooled and dried. Despite its glamorous image, flying half-way round the world was boring. There were moments of interest as we flew into the various airports on our route – at least during daylight – but the rest of the time I read and slept.

Once through passport and customs control in London, I caught an airline bus through the winter rain to the Victoria air terminal. From there, I checked into the hotel my travel agent had booked for me. In the morning, I dressed in the winter clothes I had acquired in Brisbane and checked out of the hotel. I visited the bank and arranged access to the money that had been transferred for me, withdrawing some cash to supplement my travellers’ cheques. The walk into Victoria Station was trying, straining my arms from carrying my cases.

The departure board showed a train to Herne Bay in half an hour, but instead of the ticket office, my feet led me to the cafeteria. I sat nursing a cup of coffee until the train left and the coffee sat, cold and ignored. Now I was about to see Willi and Lili again, fear gripped me; they might not want to see me, might hate me for deserting them. My greatest fear returned: they might have been pushed into each other’s arms by my disappearance ... and my diaries in the suitcase would be unread and valueless.

I sat, lost in my circling thoughts, until a voice disturbed the fugue.

“You goin’ ta drink that? Must be stone cold b’ now.”

I looked up at the waitress. “No – thank you.”

“Can I get you summat else?”

Some courage?

“No, thank you.”

It doesn’t matter how long you sit here. The fear’s not going away ... and you have a hotel reservation in Herne Bay for tonight.

With a deep, centre-seeking breath, I gathered my bags and myself. The departure board showed the next train to Herne Bay left in ten minutes. I bought a ticket and found a seat. The journey passing unnoticed as I struggled to hold at bay the rejection I feared.

At Herne Bay station, I caught a taxi. It appeared little had changed as we passed through the town. I checked in at the Pier Hotel with a bored young man behind the counter: winter would be quiet in a seaside hotel.

“Your reservation is for two nights, but with an option to extend.” The man at the reception counter gave me a questioning glance. “Do you know if you will stay longer?”

My fears and uncertainties welled up. It took a moment to control them. “Umm ... not yet.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “We can’t hold that room open forever, you know.”

In a seaside hotel in the middle of winter?

I half-smiled and turned away to my room. Once there, I dumped my bags and headed out to Lili’s house, not far along the seafront. As I approached, it looked the same. With my heart thudding in fear and hope, I walked up the path and rang the bell. After a minute, the door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman.

“Yes?”

That’s not Mrs Wisniewski.

“Umm ... I’m looking for Lili Wisniewski...” My voice trailed off in confused uncertainty.

The woman looked at me. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

Fear pushed desperation into my voice. “But she lived here, four years ago.”

The woman shook her head. “Sorry, love, I do not know who lived here before. We’ve only been in the house for a year.”

Disappointment now tinged my fear, pushing it in a new and unexpected direction.

What if I couldn’t find them?

I moved off the doorstep, embarrassed at the intrusion into her life. “Oh, thank you.”

Head down, I turned away, heading for Willi’s house. He would know what had happened to Lili. I walked up the Downs with the memories of Willi swirling round me. I could almost reach out and touch the two of us, laughing on the sled as we descended the hill that first snowy winter. In Seaview Road, I paused outside the house MI6 had put us into; it looked much the same but held no interest. Turning the corner, I lurched to a stop: Mr Searle’s corner shop was closed, the display windows showing a dusty ‘For Lease’ sign.

After my failure at Lili’s house, this almost drained me.

Was everything changed?

I steeled myself to continue walking. Willi’s house looked the same as I approached. I lingered at the open gate, searching the house for reassurance, as crows cawed from the fir trees opposite. The gravel driveway crunched with reassuring familiarity as I walked towards the front door. That hadn’t changed, nor had the sound of the bell. I waited, but there was no movement. I pressed the bell again and stood waiting. About to turn away, a car turned into the drive, stopping outside the garage. A young woman and two small children climbed out, eyeing me with curiosity. It was not Dr Johnstone. My stomach flipped and my breath quickened.

The woman walked across to me, the children lagging behind her. “Can I help you?”

I mastered my breathing with difficulty. “I am looking for Dr Johnstone and her son, Willi ... er ... Will.”

Her head angle to one side as she caught my unthinking German pronunciation of his name. She frowned. “I think the previous owners were the Johnstones ... but I don’t remember one being a doctor.” She gave me a tentative smile. “We never met them.”

“Do you know where they went?” I was grasping at straws now.

The youngest of the children came up behind her, pulling at her skirt. “Mummy...”

She took the child’s hand. “No, I’m afraid not.” She glanced down at the child. “I have to go now.”

“Thank you.”

I started walking towards the town but turned towards the house, hoping for some miracle. The woman was pulling shopping from the boot of the car. As she turned towards the house, she saw me looking and almost stopped. But the youngest child pulled at her skirt and the woman went on into the house. My disappointment was a crushing load, sagging my shoulders beneath the winter coat.

I walked into the town as dusk was falling, returning to my hotel. The bored young man was still at the reception counter and I walked past, avoiding his eyes. Both families had moved house and I’d not thought past knocking on their doors.

What am I going to do now?

One thing was certain: I was not giving up.

I ate alone in the hotel restaurant and spent the evening in my room, thinking. As far as I knew, Willi had no relatives outside of his immediate family, but Lili had an uncle...

Wujek Brajan, wasn’t it?

The phone directory listed no Wisniewskis. It must be a maternal uncle if he was still in town. I flipped towards the front of the book – no Johnstone either, which I had expected.

Fear and frustration bubbled up.

Think, Col.

Lili had been well known at the art supplies shop; they might know something. Better, Wujek Brajan had worked as a car salesman at the garage where I had taken Willi to see an E-Type Jaguar. There were leads to follow in the morning.

I startled the young man at reception when I went past him in running gear at six in the morning. I set off along the seawall, the rhythm of running helping me quell the worry I was feeling. I would have preferred to swim, but the cold, grey sea surging and sucking on the shingle was not inviting.

At breakfast, the young man at reception reminded me that today was New Year’s Eve and the restaurant would be closed that evening. When I asked him where I could eat, he shrugged.

“Everyone is going out this evening.”

“I’ve recently arrived from the other side of the world and I know no-one in this town.” I gave him my best stare, feeling the rawness of that statement in my throat.

He dropped his eyes. “We could organise a plate of sandwiches for you,” he mumbled.

“Thank you ... Oh, and I will stay for two more nights, at least.” Whatever happened this morning, I needed more time to investigate around town ... and there was Willi’s school in Canterbury.

I walked to the art supplies shop ... now a bicycle shop. Standing outside, the sea wind wrapped its chill, moist fingers round me as tears of frustration and fear filled my eyes. I was down to the last of my local leads: the car showroom. I turned the corner and gusted out a relieved sigh. It looked much the same, though there was no E-Type in the front display.

I pushed the door open and walked across to a young, dark-haired woman sitting behind a desk and stopped, unsure how to ask for ‘Uncle Brian’.

The young woman looked up. “Can I help you, miss?”

“Well ... I’m not sure. I’m trying to find the uncle of an old friend of mine – his name’s Brian, or Brajan, as he’s originally Polish.

The young woman blinked. “Er – can you describe him?”

“He’s big – and he has this scar on his face – he was a pilot in the war.” I traced a finger across my cheek.

A strange look came over her face. “I see ... and what would be the name of your friend?”

“Lili – er Liliana Wisniewski.”

The young woman stared at me for a few silent seconds before standing. “Please take a seat.” She turned and almost ran through the door behind her.

I sat there, feeling confused. She knew the Brian I was looking for, but there was some undercurrent here I did not understand.

After a minute, the young woman reappeared. “Would you come with me, please?”

Still confused, but now hopeful, I followed her and she ushered me into an office. Standing behind the desk was Wujek Brajan.

My relief launched me into Polish. “Uncle Brian, I’m trying to find Liliana.”

He looked at me for a few seconds, his eyes narrowing in puzzlement. “You were a friend of Liliana?”

Realisation hit and the words tumbled out. “Oh ... when you met me, over four years ago, I was a boy ... er ... pretending to be a boy. I brought my friend Willi – er Will – here to look at your E-Type Jaguar. We met again at the Christmas party at Lili’s house.” I paused. “I went there, but they don’t live there anymore. Can you please give me her address?”

He gave me an appraising look before answering in English. “Please, young lady, sit down and tell me your name.”

“I’m Colette Schmidt – known as Col when you met me.”

His gaze held mine, memory returning. “Your friend ... Will? ... wanted to be a fighter pilot?”

“That’s right – but I’ve been to his house and he isn’t there either.”

Uncle Brian pursed his lips. “I remember now – you and your mother disappeared without trace about four years ago.” His eyes held mine and his voice hinted at disapproval. “Lili worried about you, a lot. She was quite upset.”

“It’s a long story.” I shook myself – I couldn’t go there right now. “Please, can you tell me where I can find Lili, because she will know how I can find Willi.”

Uncle Brian took a deep breath and sighed it out. “I’m afraid she won’t be able to tell you anything.” I could see moisture in his eyes. “You see, my sister’s family were all killed in a terrible car smash, before Christmas four years ago.”

“Lili’s dead?” My voice squeezed past the horror choking my throat.

His face filled with remembered grief.

For seconds, I sat, lost to the world.

Lili – beautiful, talented, joyous Lili was dead.

The tears came and I sat, letting them run down my face. I realised someone was talking to me.

“Miss Schmidt, Miss Schmidt – drink this.” The receptionist was crouched beside me, holding a glass of water and a box of tissues.

I grabbed several tissues, cleaned myself up and sipped some water. “Thank you.” My voice was unsteady.

Her eyes were full of sympathy. “It was a terrible shock to all of us – Brian’s my father, Lili was my cousin.”

I sniffed and blew my nose. “And now me coming here has rekindled all these terrible memories for you.”

She squeezed my hand. “Not at all. We understand how this must be a shock for you.”

I sat there, not sure what to do or say.

“I’m Alicia, by the way.” She gave me a tentative smile. “Would you like to wash your face?”

“Thank you.”

Alicia showed me to the women’s toilet and was waiting when I came out. “Father would like to talk to you again – if you’re feeling up to it?”

We returned to the office, where Uncle Brian rose to his feet as we entered.

“Miss Schmidt, I want to talk with you, but today is not a good day. We are about to move cars around and decorate the show room for tonight’s New Year’s Eve party. Are you staying here in Herne Bay?”

“At the Pier Hotel.”

“I would like to invite you to tonight’s party – if you’d like to come, that is?” He looked at me, unsure of my reaction.

“Thank you, that is most kind.”

“Świetny. Excellent.” He relaxed. “Tomorrow, would you to come to our house? You can tell us that long story of yours – all about Liliana and yourself. Would that be all right?”

“Yes, that would be fine.” I realised I didn’t know his name – and that calling him Uncle Brian was rather forward. “Er ... Mr...?”

Uncle Brian smiled at me. “It’s Nowak. But at that Christmas party, I told you to call me Uncle Brian. May I call you Col?”

“Of course.”

“Alicia, please give Col an invitation for tonight.” Uncle Brian smiled at me. “I’ll see you this evening.”

Alicia led me out to her reception desk and from a drawer produced a beautiful invitation on heavy card. “Here you go, Col.”

I looked at the classy invitation. “What will people be wearing tonight?”

Alicia smiled. “Oh, it’s smart. The men will wear dinner suits and the women long dresses.” Her smile faded to a concerned look.

“Hmm...” I pondered what I had in my bag, thinking of all the clothes I had packed into a trunk that was coming by sea and wouldn’t be here for weeks. “Is there a decent dress shop in town?”

Alicia shook her head. “There’s several in Canterbury ... but they’re quite expensive.” She looked me up and down, her voice trailing away.

I smiled at her. “I think I can stretch to a long dress.”

Thank you, Aunt Anastasia.

“Is there enough time to get a bus to Canterbury?”

“Bus?” Alicia snorted. “No, I’ll drive you. Hang on a minute.” She disappeared into the offices, reappearing wearing a coat and swinging her handbag. “Come on. Let’s go shopping – much more fun than putting up decorations for the party.”

She dragged me through the rear of the showroom and we piled into a smart, bright red sports car. “This was my Christmas present – an MGB GT. Like it?”

The car started with a throaty exhaust sound. Forty minutes later, we walked into the Lefevre department store in Canterbury city centre. “I’m sure we’ll find you something that will fit you here,” Alicia said.

Lefevre was an upmarket department store. I had wandered through it with Lili, admiring the fashions on several occasions after school. I tried on several dresses, picking one in my favourite blue – the colour of the dress Lili gave me to wear for Willi that last Christmas Eve. It seemed an appropriate way of acknowledging Lili – at least for the moment.

Alicia noticed my wistful expression and distracted me by looking at the price tag. Her face changed to concern. “Umm ... Col ... can you afford this? It’s a hundred pounds.”

“Last year my aunt died.” I gave Alicia a sadness-tinged smile. “Well, she wasn’t my real aunt, but anyway, she left me some money and that’s what’s paying for this trip.”

I was still good at producing half-truths on demand, it seemed.

“Now, I need a clutch bag, shoes and the right makeup.” I smothered my memories of Lili and Aunt Anastasia with action.

An hour later, we were at the car, fitting my packages into the rather limited luggage space.

Once we were underway, Alicia glanced sideways at me. “You spent over two hundred pounds. How much money did your aunt leave you?”

I gave her an enigmatic smile. “Enough.”

Alicia raised her eyebrows but kept her eyes on the road.

As well as the dress, shoes, clutch bag and makeup, I’d bought an ankle length, midnight blue cloak with a red silk lining to wrap around me against the chill wind off the channel. This was the first time I’d splurged on myself. It left me feeling euphoric – until I remembered Lili was gone.

Alicia stopped at the hotel and helped me carry my packages up to my room. “See you this evening at half past seven.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and shut the door behind her.

I bathed, did my usual minimal make-up (sending silent thanks to Michelle at Finney-Isles for her guidance) and dabbed perfume onto my pulse points. The dress and cape cried out for Aunt Anastasia’s diamonds, but I hadn’t wanted to risk them in my luggage on the plane. After a moment contemplating myself in the mirror, I realised that wearing them could well be over the top for Herne Bay. I thought about the Russian Eagle necklace, but that could cause problems at a gathering with lots of Poles. In the end, I chose a thin gold choker and two studs with tiny diamonds that I’d brought with me from Aunt Anastasia’s collection.

When I walked up to the reception desk at twenty past seven, the young man on the desk blinked out of his boredom and I smiled at his reaction.

“Please, will you call me a taxi?”

“Er ... yes Miss Miller.”

I waited whilst he did that. “I don’t expect to return until well after midnight. How do I get into the hotel?”

He pulled a key from under the desk. “This is a night key. It opens the door across the way there.” He pointed to a door on the other side of the foyer.

“Thank you.” I slipped the key into my clutch bag.

“When you return, please drop the key into the box.” He pointed to the box on the reception desk.

I turned away to watch for my taxi. The Nowak car showroom was a brief ride and a large man in a suit opened my taxi door.

They had security here?

I pulled the invitation from my clutch bag.

The man glanced at it and waved me towards the door. “Thank you, Miss.”

Uncle Brian’s family were greeting people. He turned towards me and stopped dead. Behind him, I saw Alicia smiling at the effect I had on her father.

After a moment, Uncle Brian grasped my hand in both of his enormous ones. “Welcome, Col.” He leant in to kiss me on both cheeks. “Thank you for coming.” He turned to the woman at his side. “This is my wife, Mary – and you know my daughter.”

Mrs Novak took my hand as soon as Uncle Brian released it. “Alicia tells me you were friends with our poor Liliana.” Her eyes filled with care and sadness.

“Yes, Mrs Nowak. Lili and I were close friends. We met at school here and both went on to the grammar school in Canterbury.”

“Please call me Mary, Col. I want to hear all about Liliana from you.” She turned to her daughter. “Alicia, dear. Please show Col to our table.”

A small dance band was setting up in a corner as Alicia lead me to her family’s table. I glanced round the large space; it was hard to believe this was a car showroom – there was even a glitter ball hanging from the ceiling.

“Where did they put all the cars?”

Alicia laughed. “The workshop is stacked. There are cars on the lifts to make more room.” She gave me an appraising look. “You look sophisticated, Col.”

“Thank you, Alicia. As do you.” I pulled off my cloak. “I need to find somewhere to put this.”

“Put it in my dad’s office along with ours. Come on.”

When we returned, Alicia’s parents were seated along with an older couple – Mary’s parents, Mr and Mrs Gordon.

During the evening, Mrs Gordon turned to me. “I’m a little confused as to who you are,” she said with a smile. “Colette isn’t a Polish name and yet you speak Polish – fluently as far as I can make out. How come you speak Polish?”

“I was friends with Liliana Wisniewski. She and another friend of ours had a ... a language club, I suppose you’d call it. We did our homework and learned each other’s languages as we went – English, French, German and Polish.”

“Ah, Colette is a French name.” She paused for a moment. “But where does German come in?”

I smiled. “That’s me. I’m German – Colette Schmidt.”

Mrs Gordon’s eyes narrowed as she tried to work things out. “Who was French?”

“No-one was French – but we were all learning that at school and that became our secret language as none of our parents spoke it.” I smiled at her. “Willi was learning Latin as well and we shared that too.”

“Goodness me.”

“Willi and I learned each other’s languages, mostly before we met Lili. We persuaded Lili to teach us Polish if she learned German. We used to travel on the bus to and from school in Canterbury and do our homework at Mrs Wisniewski’s kitchen table.”

“I see.” Mrs Gordon smiled. “Lili did well, teaching you Polish.”

“She did.”

No need to mention Mutti – or the Polish classes in Brisbane.

“I know about Lili and her family.” She glanced across at her son-in-law. “Where’s ... er ... Willi now?”

I drew in a breath. “I don’t know...”

Mrs Gordon’s eyes lingered on my face, searching. “And he was your boyfriend?”

Nodding, I clung to the edge of control.

Mrs Gordon saw my struggle and reached across to pat my hand. “I won’t tell you it will all turn out right, because ... part of it already hasn’t.” She stopped and Lili’s death lay between us. “But if you care about both of your friends, keep looking.”

I sat, muted by my emotions.

Alicia looked across. “Come with me, Col. Let’s powder our noses.” She grabbed my hand and led me into her father’s office.

“Oh Col, this has been such a terrible couple of days for you, hasn’t it?”

I tried to blink away the tears.

Alicia handed me a tissue from a box she pulled from a drawer. “Do you want to go back to your hotel?”

I took several deep breaths, seeking my centre of calm. Death had been an occasional fellow traveller these last few years – Dodger, Euan, Aunt Anastasia. But Lili’s death was different, snuffed out before she found herself and her talent – and I had spent years thinking of her as alive, yearning for a reunion. Thinking of her as dead felt ... unreal.

Alicia watched me in silence.

“No – I’ll stay, thank you. I think that’s what Lili would want me to do – to get on with life.”

Alicia let out a breath. “You’ll want to fix your makeup before we go out.”

I dabbed my eyes with the tissue and pulled my compact out of my clutch bag. Surveying myself in the mirror, I sorted things out.

Alicia pulled me into a hug. “All right?”

I took Alicia’s hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. “Thank you.”

For the rest of the evening, I felt her caring eyes on me.

The events of the last two days had drained me and did not stay long after midnight. Alicia arranged to pick me up in front of the hotel at eleven o’clock and I said my thanks to Uncle Brian and his wife. The cloak swirling round me flashed crimson as I walked out to the taxi. At the hotel, I dropped the night key in the box and headed to my room, where I found a plate of stale sandwiches I’d forgotten to cancel.

I abandoned all thought of a morning run and hid in bed, trying not to let the loss of Lili and my failure to find Willi push me down. After about half-an-hour, I roused myself and was waiting for Alicia when she arrived. Their family home was a large house on Beltinge Road, looking towards the sea.

When we arrived, Uncle Brian welcomed me. “Good morning, Col.” He showed me into the lounge room. “Would you like a drink? Alicia is having a sherry, but Mary and I are having a gin and tonic.”

Alicia saw I was lost. “Here, have a taste of sherry and see if you like it.”

She handed me her glass and I took a small sip – sweet with nutty undertones. “That’s nice, thank you.”

Uncle Brian poured me one and sat down beside his wife. “You know a side of Liliana that we did not.” He looked at Alicia and his wife. “We’d be grateful if you’d share with us.”

I took a sip of sherry and paused in thought. “I need to start a little before I met Lili.”

Uncle Brian relaxed into the sofa. “Tell the story in the way you want.”

I took another sip of sherry, placed the glass on the table and licked my lips, calming my nerves; I was uncertain how they would take some of my story. “My name is Colette Hilda Schmidt, born and raised in Leipzig, in what was until recently, communist east Germany.” My voice held a nervous tremor and I could see the surprise on their faces. Taking a breath, I pushed on. “My father was a senior officer in the Staatssicherheitsdienst – the hated Stasi, the east German secret police. But if you look in my passport, it will tell you I am an English girl called Karlota Miller...”

Despite my best endeavours, the story came out disjointed, with side-tracks – Mutti’s time in Ravensbrück, her discovery that her husband was a Nazi war criminal, our escape to the British zone in West Germany. MI6 settling us in a safe house in Seaview Road caused some surprise at such goings on in provincial Herne Bay. I told them about becoming friends with Willi, Dr Johnstone’s son.

Mrs Nowak looked up. “I remember her. I was pleased to have a lady doctor and was sorry when she left. Do you know what happened to her? When I asked at the practice, they said she’d moved.”

“I went to their house as soon as I arrived, but the current owners had no idea where they’d gone.” A slight shiver ran through me at the memory.

How much should I say?

“Umm ... I think Willi’s parents might have separated. I know he was worried that might happen.”

Mrs Nowak changed from such an awkward subject. “Brian tells me he first met you at the car showroom.”

I smiled. “Yes. I’d seen an E-Type jaguar driving around town and chanced across it, walking past the showroom. I badgered Willi to come and see it with me.” I smiled at Uncle Brian. “That’s when we first met – but I was masquerading as a boy still because MI6 thought that was safer.”

Uncle Brian smiled. “You did well – I had no idea you were a girl.”

I told them how I met Lili at junior school – but we were enemies before joining to beat back the racist bullies. After a shaky start, Lili, Willi and I became friends, spending a great deal of time together – usually with Willi or I reading aloud from a book and Lili sketching.

“Later that year, things became complicated as I had strong feelings for Willi. When I revealed to him I was a girl, I found he reciprocated them. But Mutti would not let me tell Lili I was a girl.”

I recounted what had happened at Lili’s Christmas party – and how that resulted in us trusting Lili with our secret.

“For Heiligabend – Christmas Eve – Mutti invited Willi and Lili to join us. I had no girls’ clothes and buying a dress for me was impossible. Lili found a dress she’d grown out of but would fit me with some alterations, which Mutti did. The dress I wore last night was almost the same colour as that dress of Lili’s – that’s why I chose it.”

I stopped there to steady myself with a sip of sherry.

The story flooded out about Willi’s prize trip to East Germany – a setup by MI6 to smuggle to England Mutti’s evidence about my father’s Nazi past. The memories of our disappearance – kidnapped by Stasi agents were challenging, but I made myself explain what had happened. “Once again, this was a play by MI6 – to flush out Eastern bloc agents. We were rescued by MI6 and shipped off to Australia, as my father now wanted us dead.” My throat closed. After a second to gather myself, I looked up. “I tried to send Willi and Lili a message that I was safe – but she refused to deliver it.”

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Through different Eyes

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Robert Hart

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