Chapter 6

Mid December – late January 1965

After breakfast on Sunday, we sat around in our sarongs with the radio playing to mask our conversation.

“How are you going to approach the Polish Club tomorrow, Kal?”

“It might not open. I’ll have to see.”

“We still need to have a story ready for you to tell the Polish and German Clubs – you never know, there may be some membership crossover, though that seems unlikely.”

“Would it be better if we told everyone you stopped allowing German in the house after my father died?”

Mutti thought for a moment. “That sounds reasonable – for something completely unreasonable.” Her face betrayed distaste at this subterfuge. “What about your Polish friend – what is to be her name?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

Mutti’s eyes became distant for a moment before refocusing on mine. “Nina Kamiński.” She sighed. “Nina was a friend of mine at Ravensbrück.” Mutti recognised the question in my eyes. “She died there.” Mutti’s voice carried a weight of sadness on its shoulders. “Using her name honours her memory.”

Over the weekend, Imbir’s name shortened to Imbi in ‘Aussie’ fashion. He proved to be a curious kitten, exploring the house and getting into and onto everything his miniscule size would permit. I discovered him, rear end swaying as he measured the jump from the chair onto the windowsill in his room, although I don’t think he would have made it. But when we left on Monday morning, we removed the chair, foiling any escape plan as we had to leave the window open a crack to give him some fresh air.

Muttu and I travelled into the city together before I changed trams at George Street for the Polish Club in Milton. Walking along Marie Street, the purple Jacaranda blossom littered the pavement and coloured the trees. If it was closed, I hoped to find out when it opened. This was my inaugural mission as a spy and my stomach was fluttering. I was doing what I had intended to do before the agreement with Mr Franks, but the butterflies took no notice.

The club was in a large, attractive Queenslander – and it was closed on Mondays. I pulled an exercise book out of my duffel bag and jotted down the opening times and the phone number from a sign attached to the fence. As I finished, a car pulled up. The car doors open and I turned to see a woman standing on the pavement whilst a man walked round the front of the car.

“You are interested in the Polish Club?” The woman’s accent reminded me of Mrs Wisniewski.

“Yes.”

The man stopped in front of me. “You are Polish?”

“No.”

The man frowned.

“I had a Polish friend in England and I started learning the language with her.”

The frown deepened. “You speak Polish?” The Polish snapped out of him, suspicion in his voice.

Licking my lips in concentration, I assembled my reply in careful Polish. “I speak and write Polish a little, but I want to keep learning.” I fumbled the delivery because of nerves and not wanting to sound too proficient.

The frown morphed into a smile. “Well done. Your accent is not bad, but you are still thinking about what you are saying. Yes?”

I was glad to be speaking English again; my jangling nerves made concentrating difficult.

“So, how can we help you?”

“The city library told me you had a library here. I don’t have a Polish textbook anymore as it was my friend’s. Perhaps I could find one here – and a Polish/English dictionary?”

“Hmmm.”

As we were talking, the woman opened the front gate and walked up to the door.

“I am Mr Jaworski,” he gestured towards the woman. “And that is my wife. You are?”

“I am Kal ... um ... Karlota Miller.”

“I see.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Come, let us see what we can find.”

The building was heating up and Mrs Jaworski went around opening windows. Mr Jaworski led me into a room labelled Biblioteka.

“I think we have a suitable Polish grammar text here...” Mr Jaworski searched along a shelf. “Ah yes, here we are.” He pulled a slim volume from the shelf and turned to me.

“But there is a problem. You are not a member of the Polish club.”

That was a problem: I had assumed it would be like a normal library.

“Umm ... can I join?”

Mr Jaworski raised his eyebrows. “Well, now. Children have free membership – if their parents are members. I don’t think we have a way for young people to join by themselves.”

He stood there, thinking for a moment. “Here.” he handed me the book. “Sit down over there and look through that for a minute whilst I talk to Mrs Jaworska.”

I started leafing through the book and found a chapter on conjugating verbs. After about ten minutes, both Mr and Mrs Jaworski came into the library.

Mr Jaworski looked at me. “Where are you from?”

“I’m English.”

He looked at me. “Karlota is not an English name – and I can hear something else.”

We’d not thought about this. All I had was Mrs Henderson’s story. “My mother is German and my father is ... was English.”

Mrs Jaworski moved closer. “Was?”

“He died in an accident at work.” I could see warring emotions of dislike and sympathy on Mrs Jaworski’s face. Poland had suffered but endured under the Nazis.

Would losing my father awaken her maternal instincts?

“I am sorry about your father.”

“Hmmm.” Mr Jaworski peered intensely down at me. “And does your mother speak Polish?”

“No ... umm...” I let my voice peter out.

Mr Jaworski noticed my hesitation. He leant forward. “You were going to say?”

I hesitated, playing the nervous schoolgirl. “She doesn’t know I’m here. My mother even insists we stop speaking German. She wants us to become Australian.” I pulled a rebellious face. “But I will be learning French at school,”

Mr and Mrs Jaworski shared an understanding glance; this was something they had come across before.

“But you want to continue learning Polish. Why is that?” Mr Jaworski’s voice was kindly, but held a trace of ... suspicion?

“I like languages.” I shrugged. “It would be a shame to waste the effort I had made to get this far.”

Mr Jaworski rubbed his chin. “Perhaps there is something we could do for you. Can you come here tomorrow morning?”

“I’m working tomorrow morning. Would after lunch be Okay? About three o’clock?”

“That will be fine ... but remember, I’m not making any promises.”

“I understand.”

Mr Jaworski smiled. “We will see you tomorrow afternoon and ... maybe ... have something for you.”

Standing up, I picked up my duffel bag. “Thank you.”

Mr Jaworski held out his hand. “Our book?”

I flushed.

Did he think I was going to steal it?

I pressed the book into his hand.

“I’ll see you out, Karlota.” Mrs Jaworska led me to the front door, turning before she opened it. “You don’t want your mother to know you are continuing with your languages, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“And do you still speak German well?”

I turned, blinking in surprise at her fluent German. “Of course.”

“And do you wish to keep speaking German?”

“Yes. It’s since ... since my father died that my mother has refused to speak German with me.”

Lying again...

Mrs Jaworski’s eyes narrowed. “I see.”

What was she was seeing?

I walked out to Milton Road and caught a tram back to the city. All this tram travel was expensive; I was glad Mutti had insisted on Mr Franks paying us. In the city I wandered down to the Botanical Garden where I ate my lunch sitting in the spreading shade of a Poinciana. According to the information notice, the tree produced brilliant red flowers from November to January. This one was late, but I could see buds opening amongst the fern-like leaves.

I had plenty of time before I met with Lizzie at the pool. I saved the tram fare and walked there. Sweat trickled under my clothes on arrival and I relished the thought of plunging into the cool water.

Lizzie found me sitting in the stands as general swimming started. “Ready to swim, Kal?”

“Of course.”

Mrs Robinson was alone today. I waved to her as we draped our towels over the railing where she sat. We claimed a pair of vacant lanes.

“Race?” asked Lizzie.

“Okay – but four lengths this time.” I stipulated. “And we’d better do a warmup couple of lengths.”

Lizzie made a face. “I suppose...”

“Lizzie,” I chided her. “You’ll end up hurting yourself if you go all out without a warmup.”

Lizzie sighed. “I know...” I could see her bouncing on her feet, aching to swim all out. “But I can’t wait to race.”

We both dived in and I swam a leisurely pace for a length as Lizzie fizzed ahead. I stretched out on the return. We clambered out and stood smiling at one another.

“Ready?” I asked.

“After three?” Lizzie asked and turned to her lane – “Three.” And she was off, the cheat.

I dived after her. As we turned for the third length, she was still up on me, but when we turned again, I was ahead. I pulled further away from her on the last leg, winning by a body length.

“You cheat – you said after three.” I smiled. After all, I had still beaten her.

Lizzie smiled. “I did not cheat – I said after three and that’s when I started.” She gave me a slap on the arm. “But you still beat me.”

“I did.” I laughed as we recovered our breath. “Anyway, I want to do some more lengths.”

We paced off four more lengths, staying shoulder to shoulder. But when I turned for the fifth, I was by myself. I settled in and concentrated on my rhythm and breathing for about another 15 minutes. The exercise soothed the residual nerves from the Polish Club. I pushed myself for the final two lengths, arriving at the wall to stand and suck in deep breaths.

I heard Lizzie’s voice above me. “That’s impressive.”

I squinted up at her in the bright sunlight, my chest still heaving. After a minute, I pulled myself out onto the side and we walked across to our towels. I grabbed mine and draped it over my shoulders, after giving my hair a shake.

“Karlota, you should join the swimming club.” Mrs Robinson peered over the top of her impenetrable sunglasses.

I turned, hesitating.

“Oh, yes.” Lizzie jumped on her mother’s words. “Please do, Kal. It would be such fun to have you there.”

“I’d need to speak with my mother first.”

Lizzie grabbed my hand. “They’ll have a leaflet at the kiosk. Come on.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me after her.

The junior team met on Wednesday at five in the afternoon and on Saturday mornings at seven. A closer read of the leaflet mentioned that juniors wishing to join could go to one meeting to try out.

“What does that mean?” I asked Lizzie.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You are fast enough to make the squad ... and the team.” She thought for a moment. “We don’t have many long-distance swimmers like you.”

I waved the leaflet. “Okay. I’ll put this in my bag and speak with Mutti about it tonight.”

Lizzie was sitting with her mother when I returned. She waved me over and I sat down beside her.

Mrs Robinson cocked her head sideways. “My daughter tells me you’ve recently arrived in Australia from England ... but you’re half German.” I caught a faint whiff of disapproval in her voice.

“That’s right.” I answered, catching a surreptitious roll of the eyes from Lizzie.

“Where are you going to school?”

“Brisbane Grammar School, I think it’s called, but I’m not going until after Christmas.”

Mrs Robinson leant forward. “Do you mean Brisbane Girls Grammar School?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

Lizzie gave me a broad smile. “That’s wonderful. That’s where I go.”

Mrs Robinson’s gazed at me, reassessing my value as a friend for Lizzie. “And where do you live, Karlota?”

“North of the city, in Kedron.”

“Hmm – a newer suburb.” Mrs Robinson’s tone hinted that was a point against me.

Lizzie was fidgeting in her seat, uncomfortable at her mother’s interrogation. “Come on, Kal. Let’s swim.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me down to the far end of the pool. “I’m sorry about that, Kal. She’s a real snob sometimes.”

I shrugged. “Let’s swim.”

“Okay. How about you show me what you can do over a length?

I smiled. Lizzie was a sprinter, not a distance swimmer. “Fair enough, but this time I’ll do the count.”

“Okay.”

We lined up at two adjacent lanes.

“One ... two...” I realised Lizzie had over-reached her stance and was going to overbalance.

She splashed into the pool and lifted herself out again, laughing at me. “Not fair, delaying like that.”

I laughed. “Let’s try again ... one ... two ... three.”

My earlier swim had stretched me out and I powered into the length, digging deep with my arms. Lili still pulled away from me, beating me by most of a body length. We clung to the wall, gasping for breath.

“You swim well, Kal.” She studied me. “Have you had any training?”

“I only swim for the exercise.”

“Hmm. We’ll see what coach can do for you.”

The incident at the pool in Lancaster jumped into my brain, leaving me uneasy.

Would I draw attention to us by competing here in Australia?

I tried to damp down Lizzie’s expectations. “I need to speak with Mutti about the cost and there’s the time it takes once school starts.”

Lizzie frowned at me. I don’t think money was something she had to worry about.

“Let’s swim some more lengths.”

Once again, Lizzie stopped after four lengths. I settled into my rhythm and swam for about another fifteen minutes. When I pulled myself out, Lizzie was sitting with her mother.

“What’s your phone number, Kal?”

“We don’t have a phone yet ... I don’t think we’ll get one until after Christmas.”

“Oh bother. Well, I’ll give you mine. You can ring from a phone box and tell me about the swimming club once you’ve spoken to your mother.” She reached across to her mother’s handbag and pulled out a posh card done in flowing italic script. “This is my phone number and address.”

“Thanks, Lizzie. Can I phone tomorrow evening?”

Lizzie nodded.

I checked the clock. “I have to get home and start tea for when Mutti gets home from work.”

“Where does your mum work?”

I smiled. “We both work at McDonnell & East. I’m part time on the Candy counter and Mutti works in Ladies Fashion.”

I heard a sniff from Mrs Robinson and I caught Lizzie’s frown. She smiled with a subtle roll of her eyes.

“Give me a ring about six o’clock tomorrow, Kal.”

“Okay.”

Lizzie returned to the pool. I headed off to shower, change and catch a tram home.

Imbi was pleased to see me when I opened his door, squeaking his welcome with his fluffy little tail pointing straight up. I picked him up and perched him on my shoulder as I went round opening windows to cool the house. When I changed into a sarong, Imbi wanted to resume his shoulder perch, but kept digging in his tiny, sharp claws to keep his balance. When I put him down, his piteous meows of abandonment were too much. Sighing, I put on a thin shirt, placing a sock under it to save my shoulder and lifted Imbi to perch there, parrot-like.

With tea underway, I sat down with my French Grammar text. Imbi curled up against my neck and went to sleep.

When Mutti arrived home, she had a card in her hand. She leant down to give me a kiss with a stroke for Imbi and dropped the card in my lap before turning on the radio.

I looked at the card – Mr Franks had been at work. Our phone was to arrive tomorrow afternoon if someone was home.

“I can’t be here tomorrow afternoon. I have to visit the Polish Club again.”

“Ah.” She took the card from me. “There’s a number I can ring tomorrow morning and tell them to come on Wednesday morning. Okay?”

“That’s fine. I won’t be going out until later.”

Mutti sat at the table. “Now come here and tell me how things went this morning.”

I told her about my encounter with Mr and Mrs Jaworski.

“Why do they want you there tomorrow?”

“I don’t know, but I think they are going to see if they can bend the rules to allow me to join.”

Mutti mused for a moment. “Did you see any Polish newspapers at the club?”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot to look.”

Mutti’s eyes showed her disappointment. “I know it’s difficult, but we must use every opportunity to gather information. We must prove our value to that man.” She smiled to soften her words and changed the subject. “Did you enjoy your swim?”

“Yes ... Lizzie wants me to join the swimming club there.” I dug the leaflet out of my duffel bag.

Mutti glanced through it. “Do you want to join?”

“I don’t know. I’ve not swum competitively ... but I’m worried that this might draw attention to us. Remember that man at the Lancaster pool?”

“Hmmm ... I don’t think there’s the same danger here – if we keep that man happy.” She smiled. “Would you like to join?”

“We don’t have to decide straight away. I can go along once to see if I like it.” I gave a small shrug. “But they might decide I wasn’t fast enough.”

“Do you think that’s going to happen after Lancaster?” Mutti smiled. “Does Lizzie think you are fast enough?”

I let those thoughts sink in for a second and frowned. “You’re sure it’s safe for me to compete?”

Mutti shook her head. “Kal, we can never know for certain, but it’s important for us to have a normal life ... if we can.”

On Tuesday, I was out of my work uniform and raced to the tram. I was both nervous and curious walking up the steps of the Polish Club. I rang the bell and waited.

The door swung open, revealing Mrs Jaworski. “Ah, Karlota. Welcome, come in.”

She ushered me into the library, where Mr Jaworski was sitting with two men, talking in Polish. When Mrs Jaworski led me in, they stopped talking.

Three pairs of eyes inspected me, disapproval in their gaze.

“Please sit down, Karlota.” Mr Jaworski paused and looked at the older man. “This is Mr Taciak. He is the president of the Polish Association here in Brisbane and Mr Franc, our treasurer.”

I had the distinct impression from the tone of voice that this meeting was most unusual and I was privileged to be sitting with these august gentlemen.

Mr Taciak was a short, neat man with white hair and a pointed beard. “So, Karlota. Mr Jaworski says you are learning Polish and came here looking for a textbook?”

“I heard you had a library and I wanted to borrow one.”

“How does a half-English, half-German girl come to be learning Polish?”

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