Chapter 2

May 1964 – Early September 1964

A gong sounding in the hall announced breakfast – although I had no idea what it meant. I dashed downstairs in a panic.

Fire or some other emergency?

I found Mrs Gittings, her face showing irritation. Mutti arrived seconds later.

“Breakfast’s at eight sharp. I won’t be banging this gong to remind you again. Lunch is at half-past twelve and tea’s at half-past six. Don’t be late.” She turned and swept down the corridor to the kitchen.

Mutti and I dashed upstairs to finish dressing and joined Mrs Gittings, Jack and Charles. From the warming oven, Mrs Gittings set out plates of bacon, fried bread and tomatoes – along with a thick, round, black slice of ... something. She added scrambled eggs from a saucepan.

I picked up my knife and fork and poked at the strange black thing.

Sitting opposite me, Charles chuckled. “You’ve not seen black pudding before?”

“No.” I viewed the item with some suspicion.

“Go on, give it a taste. It’s a delicacy of the north.”

Rather gingerly, I cut a tiny portion and tasted it: a rich, dark, spicy flavour spread through my mouth. I took a larger piece, smiling across the table.

Charles smiled. “Told you.”

Mutti tried some from her plate and I watched her savour it.

“Blutwurst ... blood sausage.”

“Indeed,” Mrs Gittings said. “But we call it black pudding here.”

Jack leant towards Mutti. “You must not speak German. You must speak only English.” He turned his gravelly voice on me. “That goes for you as well. Only English.”

“Is that an instruction from Mrs Henderson?” asked Mutti.

Jack pulled himself up in his chair. “Mrs Henderson placed your security in my hands. No German: it will mark you out.”

Mutti put down her cutlery and leant forward. “My daughter is a student, learning English, French, German and Polish. Through a friend, she has a smattering of Latin, and as a student in east Germany, she learned Russian.” She stared Jack down. “We will continue to speak and, where we can, read those languages to ensure her education continues.” She raised an eyebrow at Jack, who remained silent, avoiding her stare as he chewed a mouthful of breakfast.

Mutti gave a half-smile. “We will only speak English in public, though. If Mrs Henderson has a problem with this, please ask her to speak to me about it.” Mutti picked up her knife and fork and went on eating her breakfast.

Jack swallowed, looking across the table. “Fair enough. We’ll see what Mrs Henderson says.”

Mutti glanced at me and took another mouthful of scrambled egg. Conversation was strained for the rest of breakfast. When Jack finished, he jerked his head at Charles and they both took their dirty dishes through to the scullery, leaving to do whatever it they did.

As we finished our breakfast, Mutti beckoned to me. “Come on, Col. We’ll help Mrs Gittings clean up.”

We gathered up the plates and carried them through to the scullery, piling them to one side of the big porcelain sink. Mrs Gittings came through and started the sink to fill. The pipes juddered and banged until Mrs Gittings adjusted the cold-water tap.

I’d not seen anything like that before. “What caused that banging?”

“That’s water-hammer – the plumbing in this house is ancient and if the flow to some taps is right, it starts up.” She stared up at the ceiling, as if scanning through the large house. “One of these days, they’ll have to strip out all the plumbing and wiring and replace it.”

She swirled the steaming water in the sink with a gloved hand. “I’ll wash. You two can dry and put things on the kitchen table for now. When we’re done, I’ll show you where it all goes.” She smiled in gratitude. “I appreciate your help.”

She wasn’t as hard as the encounter at the foot of the stairs had suggested.

Mutti returned her smile. “Not at all. Thank you for what you’re doing for us.”

Under Mrs Gittings’ guidance, it didn’t take long to wash up and put everything away in the copious drawers and cupboards lining one side of the large kitchen.

As we finished, Charles stuck his head round the kitchen door. “Your stuff’s arrived. We’ve put the boxes on the landing outside your rooms.”

Mutti and I went upstairs, sorting out the boxes and taking them into our bedrooms. Once that was done, I sat on my bed, staring at the half dozen cardboard boxes of my possessions. With my life in boxes before me, all my worries surged to the surface.

My fear that Will might try to harm himself was roiling my stomach – and it now seemed that my father might target him. We hadn’t heard from Mrs Henderson and I didn’t know if she’d delivered my message. That uncertainty made things worse and I was jittery. But sitting on my bed wasn’t going to fix anything. I made myself get up and open the boxes. I piled my schoolbooks on the dressing table and found Willi’s necklace after searching through the boxes. Picking up the necklace in its box sent a shiver of fear and longing through me.

I walked over to the dressing table and sat, placing the box unopened before me. For some time, I stared at my reflection in the mirror in confusion: I had hated taking it off to leave the house and now ... I was hesitating before putting it on. With my hands resting on its box, I closed my eyes, searching for an answer.

Why was I hesitating?

I was a girl again: if I put it on, I would not have any excuse to take it off ... and there it was: putting it on would be my statement of commitment to Willi.

But why was I unwilling to make that commitment – it would only be to myself, wouldn’t it?

After a moment, I realised that wearing Will’s necklace was a statement to Mutti and beyond her to everyone else. My eyes flicked open.

I loved Willi, didn’t I?

The silent reflection in the mirror returned my gaze.

Why was this difficult? He loved me, didn’t he?

And I was under the cedar tree, arriving in time to stop Willi from slitting his wrist. He had been going to walk away from me in a final way. I was a friend and he still thought I was a boy. A shiver rushed over me at that searing memory. I had been furious that he would do this because I was making friends with Lili. I told him to get on with it, dropping the knife in front of him, and walked away.

I squeezed my eyes closed, flushing with shame. But ... but I had returned a minute later when I realised what I had said. We had sat there, tears on our faces, leaning against the cedar tree, talking. He promised to speak to me if he ever felt that way again. That wrenching experience had strengthened our friendship and later that year I found I could not go on deceiving Willi and revealed myself to be a girl.

No – be honest, Col: you had fallen in love with a strange and complex boy called Willi and that trumped any thought of safety – yours and Mutti’s.

My eyes flew open as another flush of shame swept over me.

I had placed Willi before my own mother.

My stomach clenched: I had done it again when I told Willi we were from Leipzig, in east Germany. I had longed for his friendship and risked our safety by revealing this. And I let Willi kiss me-as-a-boy at Lili’s Christmas party – reckless and unthinking again. We’d had to reveal our secret to Lili. And I’d encouraged Willi to enter the competition that saw him trapped into visiting east Germany, possibly exposing Mutti and me.

I stared into the mirror. I had never put all these incidents side by side before. They were a shameful tally.

Did I have a subconscious desire for the destruction of myself and those around me?

I sucked in a breath.

Was part of my link with Willi a recognition of myself in his self-destructive tendencies?

I squeezed my eyes closed, the thought scraping across my brain.

Why had I repeatedly broken the masquerade that was keeping us safe?

I found a dark knot of ... something ... in that thought, but it resisted my focus. My eyes flew open and I searched for my reflection.

What was lurking there in my eyes?

I would have to keep working on this. With my hand resting on the box, I found another way to ask the question about the necklace.

What would not putting on Willi’s necklace mean?

And I had my answer – at least for now. It would mean I was walking away from Willi and that I could not do. Putting it on was a commitment to Willi, but, more importantly, it was a commitment to myself.

Once I had the necklace on, I sat there for a while, searching for my real self. Because my life in east Germany had been so constrained, I understood Willi better than myself, with all his inner turmoil and despite the seventy-year-old hiding in his head. Finally, I gave myself a shake.

Somehow, this was going to work out; somehow, I would find myself and find my way to Willi.

I stood up, full of fragile resolve for the future.

There were boxes of useless boys clothing, but amongst them was the one piece of clothing I sought; the blue dress that Lili had given me and Mutti had altered to wear at our Christmas Eve dinner with Willi and Lili. When I found it, my emotions ran away from me. I collapsed on my bed, hugging the dress and its evocation of that golden, candlelit Heiligabend. I had worn it one last time: the farewell dinner for Willi before he left for east Germany. My fear for Willi’s safety spiralled beyond control and I lay sobbing on my bed...

Mutti must have heard me. The bed moved as she sat, enveloping me in her arms. I leant into her, my sobs softening to tears. She stroked my short hair and I turned to see lines of tears on her face as well.

My recent resolve was smoke in the gale buffeting me. The empty grey expanse of an uncertain future stretched before me, its bleak winds moaning through the rubble of my hopes. “What’s going to happen to us, Mutti?”

She inhaled, gusting out a sigh and shaking her head. “I don’t know, Liebling, but whatever it is, I promise you we will both face it. You are not alone in any of this.” Her fierce love powering her hug. “I’m sorry for doing this to you.” Self-doubt clouded her voice. “We should have stayed in Leipzig...”

I pulled away from her, seeking her eyes, but they slid away from mine. “No, Mutti. Don’t say that. Don’t think that.” I gave her hand a squeeze and her eyes returned to mine. “You did what you had to ... and if you hadn’t, I would never have met Willi or Lili.”

Her face was grim. “And now, because of me, you’ve lost the only friends you ever had.”

I could hear the guilt in her voice and her eyes once again drifted from mine. My guilt at the risks I had taken with our masquerade flared and I hugged Mutti. “What’s happened to us is my fault, too. It was me that told Willi we were from Leipzig and revealed myself as a girl. I...”

“Shh, Liebling. It’s not your fault.”

But a part of the fault for what was happening now was mine.

Mutti’s arms tightened around me and we sat in silence for a while, each clutching our share of guilt.

After a while, my eyes found hers again. “I’ve not lost Willi and Lili – I know where they are.” I squeezed her hand again. “Once things settle down and it’s safe, I’ll get in touch with them.” My voice carried a certainty that driven by hope.

Mutti’s eyes returned to mine and she could not hide the doubt that clouded them. We sat in silence for a while, taking comfort in shared closeness.

Mutti shifted, producing a hanky from her pocket and dabbing the tears off our faces. “Whatever happens, life goes on.” She glanced across the room. “I see your schoolbooks have arrived. We must set up school here for you.”

I grimaced.

“No, Col.” Mutti’s serious face reinforced her message. “You need to keep studying. With Willi and Lili, you were doing well at school and you owe it to yourself – and them – to keep working.” She winked. “Besides, we paid for them – let’s put them to use.”

I sighed and Mutti stroked my cheek with her thumb, smiling.

“Wherever we are, you have a future, Col, and you need to have the knowledge to decide what that future is, to take advantage of the opportunities before you.”

The sleeve on Mutti’s blouse had retreated and I could see the faint blue numbers tattooed on her forearm at Ravensbrück. At my age, she had survived starvation and worse at the whim of the SS in the camp, learning Polish and Russian from women in her block. She’d started picking up English through the meal hatches in the cell doors of English girls condemned as spies by the Nazis. Through all that horror, Mutti had not stopped learning, though her future might have been measured in hours. I shivered at that thought and leant forward and kissed the tattoo, promising to hold as fast to a better future as she had.

Mutti gave me an understanding smile, sliding her sleeve down to cover the tattoo. She took a deep breath, settling herself. “Let’s throw out those boys’ clothes and get the books organised.” Her eyes travelled round the room. “There’s space here for a table you can use as a desk and we can use that bookcase for your books.”

The boys’ clothes went into the empty boxes. We stacked my schoolbooks on the emptied shelf and I discovered we had three Herne Bay library books.

“We’ll have to get these to the library somehow.” I opened one. The due date was fast approaching. “They’ll be issuing fines soon.” I smiled light-heartedly at Mutti. “We don’t want a librarian searching for us as well.”

“You’d best give them to Jack and ask him to organise it.” Mutti suggested, her lips turning up at the corners.

Sorting our things out took the rest of the morning and some of the afternoon. Mrs Gittings found a table and chair, which Charles moved into my room. Later, she took me through the formal drawing room to the library.

“You’re welcome to use any of the books here, but please replace them in the correct place.”

“Thank you. Can I stay and choose some books now, please?”

“Of course you can. You don’t need to ask permission.” Mrs Gittings left me to it.

I spent the best part of an hour grazing through the collection with the measured tick of the library clock for company. I glanced through many books before replacing them. Two caught my fancy. A History of the War of the Roses, as I was in Lancaster, home of one of the warring houses and a paperback with a picture of a ginger cat on its cover. I marked their places by putting their left-hand neighbour in the wrong way round.

With my selections in hand, I wandered out through the quiet house into the garden. I found a seat in a sunny corner and Hawkins joined me. After purring in response to my strokes, he curled up, leaning against my thigh as I read the cat book: Paul Gallico’s Thomasina, which suited my sombre mood.

Mutti found me there after an hour. “That cat has taken to you.” She smiled, sitting down and giving Hawkins a stroke. “This evening, I want you to get out your school timetable. From tomorrow, we’ll be using that to guide your study.”

I needed something to keep me occupied and schoolwork would help with that. “The timetable includes sport which I couldn’t do because of my ‘medical condition’. But now I’m a girl, I want to swim again.”

Mutti cocked an eyebrow at me. “Okay ... we’ll have to ask Mrs Gittings about that. I suppose swimming fits in with your ‘recovery from a long illness’ story.” She shook her head, staring at the trees at the rear of the garden. “I hope we can soon stop having to lie about our lives.”

Part of that knot inside me came into focus: I didn’t like the continuing deception either.

“Come on, it’s teatime and we mustn’t be late.”

I gave Hawkins a stroke and went inside with Mutti. “I’ll be down in a minute.” Upstairs, I grabbed the library books and clattered down the staircase, placing them where Jack would sit at the table. Mutti and I set the table, pulling dishes and cutlery from the drawers and cupboards – after of searching for the table mats.

When Jack turned up, he glanced at the books at his place. “What’s all this?”

“Amongst my stuff, I found these books that belong to the Herne Bay library.” I gave him an uneasy smile. “I need to return them, as the library will expect them soon.”

Jack opened the books, checking the due date, I suppose. He made a sour face, shaking his head. “OK. Charles – get these sent off to the Firm and they can sort it from there.

Charles raised a sour eyebrow and took the proffered books from Jack. They were both fed up with this teenage girl that kept making demands of them, this girl who had bitten and kicked them.

It was past time to make amends – though my actions were sort of justified. I caught their eyes across the table. “I’m sorry I bit and kicked when you rescued us.” I flushed with embarrassment. “I truly thought you were from my father, coming to kidnap us. Please, can you forgive me ... under the circumstances?”

The two men glanced at one another. Jack raised an eyebrow at Charles, who gave him a slight nod. “Fair enough.” His tone was dismissive.

Mrs Gittings was standing behind him and gave Jack’s chair a kick, causing him to start. “Jack, you ingrate, the lady apologised graciously. You need to accept her apology properly.”

Jack swivelled his head, his annoyance at Mrs Gittings showing, but she was not to be cowed, giving his chair another kick.

Jack glanced up at Mrs Gittings, sighing in resignation, before turning to me. “Thank you, Miss.”

Mrs Gittings patted him on the shoulder, smiling across at me. “Did you really bite and kick them?”

My blush returned as I glanced at Jack and Charles and Mrs Gittings chuckled. She retrieved a pie from the oven and bowls of mashed potato and brussel sprouts. When she cut the piecrust, a rich aroma spread around the room.

“Steak and kidney pie – fantastic,” Charles enthused.

Mrs Gittings served us with pie and we added vegetables to our plates.

“There’s more gravy here.” Mrs Gittings retrieved a gravy boat from where it had been warming on the range and I sloshed extra gravy over my mashed potatoes.

After we’d all had a mouthful or two and complemented Mrs Gittings’ cooking, I accosted Jack. “Do you know when Mrs Henderson is returning?”

Jack assembled a forkful of pie and mashed potato. “Why do you want to know?” He filled his mouth and started chewing.

“I want to know if she’s delivered my message.”

Jack continued chewing, staring across the table at me. He took his time before swallowing and picked up his glass, taking a sip of water. He placed the glass on the table with exaggerated care. “She doesn’t tell me her movements. You’ll have to wait.” His voice betrayed his complete lack of concern and his eyes fell from mine to his plate.

I clamped down on the frustration that flared inside me. “Okay, thank you.”

Jack’s eyes flicked over me, trying to work out if there was anything hiding in my words. There was, but I was annoyed at Mrs Henderson, not him.

I turned to Mrs Gittings, “Please, could you tell me how I get to the Kingsway baths? I want to swim again.”

“Oh.” she smiled. “They’re about a twenty-minute walk from here. We’ll give them a ring in the morning to find out about times.”

“Thank you.” I cut another bite of the excellent pie.

After tea, Mutti and I helped clean up before I retrieved my timetable from my school bag.

“Have you got your textbooks for every subject?”

I scanned my timetable. One box had come from my school locker and I had all my texts – but one. “I don’t have a Polish grammar text – that’s at Lili’s house.”

Mutti smiled. “Well, I think I can cover that absence for now.” She glanced at the timetable again. “School starts at nine.”

“Okay.”

That night, Hawkins arrived, scratching at my door. He strode across my room to leap on to my bed, knowing with the certainty possessed by all cats that he owned all parts of it. His eyes watched unblinking as I returned to the bed. When I settled, he turned to find the best spot, finally curling up against me, his purrs vibrating my thigh.

After breakfast, I set myself up at the table in my room and started working through a chapter of my French text. Because of Willi’s work with me, I was past this level – but needed to work on the irregular verbs and their subjunctive forms. I realised I had no-one to practice spoken French with: I’d have to speak to myself. From French I went on to Maths, where I had leant on Willi in the past. I now had to concentrate to understand compound interest. Willi’s explanations had always been clearer than the text’s. He claimed this was because most teachers wrote texts to impress other teachers, not to help students. I struggled through to the end of the chapter and did some exercises. These seemed to work out when I compared my answers to the ones in the book.

Downstairs at break time, Mrs Gittings produced a glass of milk and some plain biscuits. “I rang the Kingsway baths and they are open for general swimming from two to five every weekday and Saturday from nine to three. Entrance is sixpence per session.”

“Thank you.” I was itching to get swimming again. “Can I go after school?”

Mutti turned to Mrs Gittings. “I suppose I’d better check with Jack?”

“I’ve already spoken to him – it’s fine for Col to go by herself.”

“Will you be OK by yourself, or do you want me to come with you?”

Before I could answer, Mrs Gittings leant over. “Jack doesn’t want you going out with Col. He doesn’t want you out with your daughter. They are still searching for you for all we know. The two of you together are what they are looking for, not a girl by herself, Jack reckons.”

I could see Mutti wasn’t pleased with this, but from her face, she understood the problem.

Mrs Gittings gave her a sympathetic glance. “I could take her down, if you like.”

I was wary of going by myself, but I sought greater independence. “No, I’ll be fine by myself if you write some directions for me.”

Mrs Gittings and Mutti glanced at one another.

“Are you sure...” I could hear the uncertainty in Mutti’s voice.

I smiled with more confidence than I felt.

Mutti changed the subject. “What time do you usually finish school?”

“If we allow for the school sport and PE time, can I finish in time to get to the pool at two o’clock three times a week?”

Mutti smiled. “I think we can manage that.”

My period had finished overnight and I was keen to get started. “Can I start today, please?”

Mutti’s concern for me venturing out alone coloured her reluctant reply. “If you want to.”

“Excellent.” I finished my milk and headed up to my room to start a history lesson: the Hanoverian monarchy in England. I hadn’t realised that the British Royal family had German ancestors.

At half-past one, I had my duffel bag over my shoulder and Mrs Gittings directions in my hand. The walk took me through the centre of Lancaster and past the castle. Inside the Kingsway baths, I paid the sixpence session fee and was told I could change but not start swimming before two, as schools were still using the pool. I wandered into the girls’ changing room. Some girls were changing into school uniforms, but I found a vacant spot and put on my swimming costume. I sensed curious glances in my direction: I wasn’t in school uniform during school time, but no-one spoke to me. When I was ready, I walked out into the pool area with my towel and found a seat, finding two pools – a twenty-five-meter pool and a diving pool. They had divided the large pool into two sections, with classes running in both. I sat and watched until the teachers blew whistles and the students started getting out.

Someone came in and removed the floating divider, stowed it in a box beside the pool and announced general swimming. I walked over to the pool, lining myself up between a set of lines on the bottom and dived in and swam a couple of meters under water. It felt amazing to be in the water, despite my lack of condition.

That’s why I’m here.

I pushed off from the wall and started a slow-paced free style, breathing every three strokes as they had taught me. At the far end, I was gasping. I turned and started a slow length of breaststroke. I swam alternating, slowing lengths until my arms and legs felt like lead. I heaved myself out, found my towel and sat watching the swimmers for about fifteen minutes. My breathing settled and I tried another session of mixed lengths, but after about fifteen minutes, I’d had enough. I felt the walk to the house in the muscles that I hadn’t pushed for quite a while.

Mutti was in the kitchen helping Mrs Gittings. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

I flopped on to a chair. “Yes, but I’m out of condition.”

Mutti smiled. “Don’t overdo it. You’ll get there.”

A thought that had been hovering pushed its way forward. “Mrs Gittings, when we were finding shoes, there were some gym shoes. Can I try them on and use them if they fit?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Mutti frowned in puzzlement.

“I couldn’t believe how out of breath I was after a single length. I need to run as well. I thought I’d go for a run before breakfast in the mornings.”

“Where are you going to run?” Once again, I could hear the concern in Mutti’s voice.

“I saw some playing fields beside the railway line as I walked over the bridge.”

“That’s right. There’s a path this side of the railway line that runs down to them.” Mrs Gittings paused, gazing up into the house. “Hmm. I think I can find you a set of my daughter’s gym clothes for you to run in.”

“Thank you.”

After we helped clean up after tea, Mrs Gittings took me up to her daughter’s room again. A pair of gym shoes fitted and we found two sets of gym socks, shorts and slips. Mrs Gittings picked up an alarm clock from the bedside table. “You’ll probably be wanting this if you’re to run and still make it to breakfast.”

I smiled, remembering her banging on the gong.

I was eager to be exercising again and was awake before six. The alarm went off as I dressed, waking Hawkins, who yawned and settled down to sleep. I let myself out and set a gentle pace to the sports field to warm up. After pushing hard for four circuits, I was gasping for breath and slowed, heading for home. I had a quick bath and was ready for breakfast at eight. In fact, I was starving, a result of the swimming and running. Mrs Gittings’ full English breakfast hit the spot.

That set the tenor for the rest of the school term and by mid-July when the schools broke up, I was in reasonable condition. Mutti had pushed me hard on the schoolwork, insisting that we add Russian to the after-school language program alongside Polish. My Russian had fallen into disuse and I struggled at first, but seven years of Russian at school in east Germany soon resurfaced. Mutti insisted we continue with the language lessons during the school holidays and I found myself teaching her French with the aid of my textbook.

They dropped the restriction on Mutti and me being seen together after a couple of weeks. Mrs Gittings, Mutti and I – always with one man along – visited the sights of Lancaster. I found the mediaeval castle interesting. I’d seen nothing like it before, its thick walls redolent with centuries of history. We picnicked in Williamson Park and wandered through the Ashton Memorial; we swam at Morecambe Beach twice and went down to Blackpool for a day. Mrs Gittings hinted we might head up to the Lake District for a visit, but we never did.

I was sitting outside enjoying the summer weather reading one afternoon in late July, Hawkins sleeping curled against my thigh. Mutti walked out and sat down beside Hawkins, who lifted his head and let her stroke him before settling, eyes closed in adored bliss.

“Mrs Henderson has arrived.”

“Oh – I want to ask her if she delivered my message.”

“Well, you’ll have to wait. She’s closeted with Jack and Mrs Gittings in the library.” Mutti stroked Hawkins’ body and he stretched languorously, inviting me to rub his tummy. I ran my hand up and down through his pale tummy fur and he responded by gripping the edge of the seat with his front paws as he stretched.

“He’s such a friendly cat,” Mutti murmured.

“He’s a softy.”

Hawkins stretched again and curled, crossing his front paws over his face, as if shutting out the light to sleep better.

“Carry on reading. I’m going to sit here and enjoy the sun. It’s been such a rainy summer.”

I returned my attention to my book and we sat in companionable silence for some time before I heard footsteps approach: Mrs Henderson.

We both stood. “Good afternoon, Mrs Henderson.”

She inspected us before pulling a garden chair round in front of us.

“I hear Mrs Gittings has been showing you round Lancaster.”

I jumped in. “Did you get my message to Willi? How is he?”

Mrs Henderson’s glance was full of indifference. She turned to Mutti. “It’s important that you learn about Lancaster and the surrounding area. When we find somewhere for you to go, your background will be from Lancaster.” She stared at me. “You need to learn this area as well.” She turned to Mutti.

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Through different Eyes

Robert Hart

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Robert Hart

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