Lilli's Quest (5 page)

Six

“My Beloved Child,”
Mutti writes in her fine slanted hand,
“We are in Amsterdam!”

Lilli is so excited at having received her very first letter from Mutti that she hasn't even taken notice of the postmark and the unfamiliar stamp. She is sitting with Tim on the low stone wall that skirts the village post office. Tim is restless, kicking his short, solid legs against the wall. He has been begging for “sweeties” ever since the little Pied Piper girl, Mabel, mentioned them. “Yes, yes, Tim,” Lilli promises. “I have only a little money but we will go to the sweet shop as soon as I read my letter.” She shows him the single sheet of paper that she has withdrawn from the thin blue envelope, even though the writing is in German and, in any case, Tim has not been taught to read.

There is more good news from Mutti.
“I have with me, thanks to God, your sisters Elspeth and Helga. This move came about through your grandparents, who could no longer keep us with them.”
Mutti, however, offers no details as to why or how the family left the Bayers.
“It was most
fortunate that I received your letter before leaving Germany. Even though the ways of your host family are strange to you, be grateful that you have reached a place of safety. I trust that you have written to your uncle in America. He is the only hope for us to survive.”

As instructed, Lilli wrote to Papa's brother in America as soon as she could after coming to stay with the Rathbones. But four months have passed and there has been no answer. She promises herself that she will write to her uncle again immediately.

“For now, Lilli, you must write to me at the address below. Kind people here have taken us to live with them for a while, so that I can work and earn some money, and your sisters can go to school. But, as you may know, Hitler is determined to invade Holland. Already there is a Dutch Nazi party here. What will happen to us then, I do not know. Sadly, there has been no word from Papa for a very, very long time. Your sisters and your Mutti send you their deepest felt love.”

“Why are you crying?” Tim asks Lilli as she carefully refolds the nearly transparent sheet of paper and puts it back into the envelope. The letter is dated December, 1939, and Lilli wonders how long will it be before the Jews living in Holland have yellow stars sewn onto their garments? She tries to stem her tears with her fingertips. “Come,” she says to Tim. “You've been very patient.” She helps him to get his thick body down from the wall. “I'll
buy you some sweeties. What kind do you think you will like?”

It is early April, and the English countryside is greening and flowering shrubs are in bloom. Lilli goes to school every day, hoping that her English will improve enough for her to be advanced to grade six, the highest in the primary school. As it is, she is still in grade four.

She often sees Clarissa and Mabel, surrounded by other Pied Piper children who are now living with them up at the manor house. Even ten-year-old Clarissa is in a higher grade than Lilli.

One day, Clarissa and some of her classmates approach Lilli as she is leaving school with Tim, who has come to walk home with her. The little girls are fascinated with him. “Can he talk?” one of them asks.

“Of course, he can,” Lilli retorts stiffly. “He's just shy, especially when people keep staring at him.”

“Will he ever grow up?” one of the other girls wants to know.

Lilli doesn't answer. She takes Tim's hand and they start to walk home. But the girls, who have now been joined by a few boys, follow them, calling out, “Tim, oh Tim, why won't you talk to us? Do you have a funny accent like Lilli?”

Lilli turns indignantly to face the group that has been teasing her and Tim.

“Why did you run away from Germany?” a friend of Clarissa's asks her. “It's because you're Jewish, isn't it?”

A great flush of anger and fear washes over Lilli. She turns from the children and tries to hurry Tim along. But he can't walk very fast on his short legs. Suddenly, Lilli feels a spray of pebbles on her back. Tim must have been hit, too, because he has stopped walking and is bending down to pick up pebbles to toss back. “No, no, Tim,” Lilli cautions. He likes to throw pebbles at the chickens at home, so he probably thinks this is a game. And, of course, he would love to have friends to play with. However, Lilli is aware that the children are intent on playing a game of their own.

Lilli is bending down, prying a pebble out of Tim's hand, when the children start to chant something. At first, Lilli isn't sure what they are saying, but then the shouted words become clear to her. “
The idiot and the Jew, get off with you! No one wants you here. Get off with you.”
Tim doesn't understand the chant. He simply wants the game to continue. He picks up another stone, and throws it—surprisingly well—hitting an older boy on his bare leg.

Tim is now laughing gleefully, and Lilli can't hold onto him. Armed with yet another missile, he runs toward the enemy, only to fall down and receive a swift return blow to his forehead from a sharp-edged bit of rock. He lies in the road, bleeding heavily.

Lilli kneels down in horror. She rips off Tim's shirt and binds his head as tightly as she can to stem the flow of blood. When she looks up, the children have vanished. All she can see is a patch of country road littered with pebbles and small rocks.

Lilli and Tim are picked up by a passing motorist, who drops then off at the farm. Tim is crying and writhing about as Lilli helps to carry him into the house and place him on the sitting room couch.

Mrs. Rathbone runs into the room. “You wicked girl!” she shrieks at Lilli. She bends down over her son and unwraps the improvised bandage. “What have you done to him?”

“It was the children at school,” Lilli tries to explain as she rushes around gathering water and cloths with which to cleanse Tim's wound. “They attacked us for no reason. Stoned us. Called us
the . . . the . . .”

But Mrs. Rathbone isn't paying attention. She shoves Lilli aside, snatches her offerings, and gently bathes her little boy's forehead. Lilli is relieved to see that the wound is not as bad as it first appeared. There is a fairly large bruise and some torn flesh, but the bleeding is lessening.

“There now, there now,” Mrs. Rathbone murmurs as she strokes Tim's hair. Lilli has seldom seen her act so tenderly with Tim. Suddenly, she looks up sharply at Lilli. “Now, tell me, girl, how did this happen?”

Lilli's lips cannot bear to form the word that was directed at Tim . . .
idiot
. “It was because of me,” she replies. “They called me a
Jew
. They kept repeating, ‘
Jew, Jew, get off with you. No one wants you here.
' Then they started tossing pebbles at us, and then rocks. The bigger boys joined in with the girls who started it.”

Tim is trying to say something about his having thrown a rock at a big boy, but his mother shushes him. She tells him she will bring him some tea and a biscuit and that he should rest quietly on the couch.

Lilli goes into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Mrs. Rathbone follows her. “Tim won't
ever
be following you to school anymore,” she says. “And I think you know why.”

“Yes,” Lilli replies quietly.

“Which means
you
won't be going to school either,” says Mrs. Rathbone, crossing her arms and pursing her thin lips. “There's plenty for you to do around here, and you can keep a watch on Tim as well . . .”

Lilli breaks in. “It doesn't matter. I don't
want
to go back there anyway. There's nothing important they can teach me in a class with nine-year-olds.”

“Ah, now,” Mrs. Rathbone remarks in a softer tone, “There's a bit of sense.”

Due to the outbreak of war, butter, sugar, and meat are being rationed, and farmers are being encouraged to
grow winter vegetables such as cabbage, turnips, and beets, as well as lettuce and other greens, in the summer.

Lilli is put to work helping Mr. Rathbone dig planting beds. “Now, now, my girl, you've got to put a bit more muscle into it,” he comments, hovering her as she bends her slim body toward the ground. Lilli's hair has grown long, so she wears it braided and pinned up to keep it out of her eyes. She has never dug a garden before, and her palms have begun to blister. She is also very uncomfortable under Mr. Rathbone's wet gaze.

“Soon the rabbits will be arriving, m'girl,” he tells her cheerfully. “They won't give you blisters and a sore back. You'll like tending 'em, right enough.” Lilli has already been told that the Rathbones will be extending their poultry farm to raise rabbits for meat, and are even going to acquire a goat for milk that they can sell at the market. “But no pigs,” Mr. Rathbone declares at tea that evening. “I won't have a pig, Agnes, say what you will. I know we can feed 'em kitchen waste, but who's going to do the butchering? Not me, ma'am.”

At night, after working all day in the fields, Lilli climbs into her sleeping loft, moody and despairing, to reread the letters from Mutti that she has been receiving regularly since the first one arrived back in January. In February, Mutti wrote that,
“I am working in a beauty salon here in Amsterdam, washing the clients' hair and other small duties. The owner is a member of the Dutch resistance
and she is kind to us, letting us use the rooms in the back of the shop. Your sisters are learning to speak Dutch.”

Lilli is pleased that her family is safe for the time being. But she knows all too well how precarious their situation is.

A month later, Mutti writes:
“I cannot understand why you have not yet received an answer from your uncle. You must write to him again. Ships sailing between England and America are being torpedoed in the Atlantic by German submarines. Their cargoes have been sunken or confiscated. So, try again. It is very important that you contact him.”

Lilli, of course, had already written him twice. She is anxiously awaiting a reply from America when Mutti's most recent letter arrives. It chills Lilli to the bone.
“I am sending you a parcel, Lilli, of some things I have with me here that I do not need. Some small pieces of jewelry, not very valuable but pretty, a few items of lingerie, and my flowered chiffon dress. I know these things are not suitable on the farm, but perhaps you will wear them in America.”

This letter sends a message that is disturbingly clear: The Nazi takeover of the Netherlands is imminent, and Lilli's mother and sisters will be in danger of being sent off to one of the internment camps for Jews. Mutti's letters will then stop, and contact between Lilli and her family will be severed.

Lilli is lying face down on her bed in a puddle of tears, when voices from the kitchen below drift up to her.

“I've made up my mind, Wilf. She's got to go.”

“Ah no, Aggie, no need to be so harsh toward the girl. Not her fault about Tim getting hurt.”

“It's not only that. She's useless in the garden. Works like she's some kind of a fairy princess. Comes from some rich Jewish family back there in Germany, I'm sure.
And
she's getting too old.”

“Old!
How old? Twelve?”

“More like thirteen. I've seen you looking at her, Wilf, with sore eyes. I know what's going on around here.”

Lilli leaps out of her bed. Although she's heard every word the Rathbones have said, she still can't believe her ears. They are sending her away! In many ways, she won't be sorry to leave, as her eight months here have been sad and difficult. While she adores Tim and has enjoyed caring for him and returning his affection, her hopes for school and learning English amounted to nothing. As to life on the farm, the Rathbones have never asked her any questions about her former life, or her family. Lilli has also noticed their stinginess with the food they serve her. She's never said anything when they've given fresh white bread and sweet biscuits to Tim, but set out a stale loaf and broken biscuits—bought cheaply from the baker's truck—for her, or when Mrs. Rathbone gave fried bacon to Tim, but only offered Lilli the drippings. Staying clean on the farm, with only cold water available, has made bathing and attending to her personal needs
difficult. Lilli always feels dirty and is nauseated by the smells of chickens and manure. And she hates digging up the soil for the vegetable planting, with Mr. Rathbone leaning his sweaty body so close to hers.

But, despite all that, she wonders where will she go when she leaves the Rathbones?

Early in May, a massive bombing war, the German
blitzkrieg
, erupts over Holland. Within days, the nation surrenders to Hitler, and its Jewish population, as well as its refugees from other parts of Nazi-dominated Europe, are ordered to register. Jews must give up their radios. They may not own arms of any kind. They must sew the yellow star onto their garments, with the word
Jood
, Dutch for Jew, spelled out in the center.

Dutch citizens, like the woman who has been sheltering Mutti and the girls, are now themselves in danger. Can Mutti and Lilli's sisters go deep enough underground to remain hidden, or will they be caught and sent to one of the concentration camps in Germany or Poland? Even if they can remain hidden, what will the family eat? How will they live? Will Mutti ever be able to write another letter to Lilli? Even if she does, will Lilli ever receive it?

At the same time, Lilli has been told by Mrs. Rathbone that arrangements have been made for her to live on a farm hostel, some distance away in the next county.

One morning, so early that the first roosters have just begun to crow, Mrs. Rathbone appears at the top of the ladder that leads to the sleeping loft. “Today's the day,” she informs Lilli. “Get up and pack your things, my girl. Mr. Rathbone will be driving you to the hostel. It's a long way, so best get an early start.”

Seven

Once again, Lilli finds herself bouncing through the English countryside in the broken-down Rathbone farm truck. Her eyes are brimming with tears that she tries to hide from Mr. Rathbone by turning her head toward the passenger side window.

“Now, now, what's all this about?” he asks in a growly but not unsympathetic voice as he reaches across and pats her knee. “I can't reckon you're all that sorry to leave the farm.”

Lilli nudges her body closer to the door of the truck. “No,” she answers uncomfortably. “It's her. I can't believe she wouldn't let me say goodbye to Tim.

“How could she be so cruel to him? It's not for me I'm crying.”

“Ah, that's a good girl then. But you know what Aggie is like. She didn't want him gettin' upset.”

“But he will be upset when he wakes up and finds I'm gone. He was my only friend, and I was his. He'll hate me now forever. He won't understand.”

Mr. Rathbone allows himself another pat of Lilli's
knee before returning his hand to the steering wheel. Lilli retreats into her own thoughts. She has no idea what this agricultural hostel will be like, though she can imagine more farm work with chickens, rabbits, goats, probably even pigs. Where will she eat and sleep? Who will her companions be? Even greater are her worries about her sisters and Mutti. Even if Mutti is able to write to her from Holland after the Nazi takeover, will she even get her letters? And what if mail eventually comes from her uncle in America? Mrs. Rathbone promised, with a nod of annoyance, that anything that arrived for Lilli would be forwarded to her at the hostel. But how can Lilli put her trust in a woman who would deceive her own child?

It is mid-morning now. Lilli must have dozed off after having been awakened at such an early hour. Mr. Rathbone has stopped the truck in front of a roadside pub. “Time for a bit of refreshment,” he says, raising a curled hand to his lips. “Come down, m'girl, and we'll get you a lemonade and some crisps. Or maybe a sandwich.”

In a half-awake daze, Lilli follows Mr. Rathbone as he crunches across the car park. In front of them sits a picturesque two-story whitewashed stone building with a slate roof. As they enter the building, Lilli inhales the stale, mixed scent of yeast and tobacco. But the room has a cozy, rustic air. Men standing at the bar drinking from
large mugs eye Lilli and Mr. Rathbone indifferently for a moment, before returning to their pints.

“M'daughter,” Mr. Rathbone says to the man behind the bar. “She'll just have a lemonade. And,” he asks Lilli, “what'll you have to eat, dear?”

Lilli, who is starving, selects a cheese-and-pickle sandwich. Mr. Rathbone then walks her over to the “nook,” a table wedged between the fireplace and a small, glazed window, at some distance from the bar. Once he sees that she's comfortably settled and has her food, Mr. Rathbone returns to the bar, where the men are lined up at their places like birds perched on a roof ledge.

Lilli eats her meal alone, while Mr. Rathbone stands at the bar, the voices of the men growing louder and more boisterous. Mr. Rathbone has apparently made friends with his drinking companions, and orders a round of beers for everybody.

Nearly an hour goes by before they return to the truck. Mr. Rathbone is red-faced, and his gait is unsteady. “Ah, for a nice nap in a lay-by, now,” he remarks in a deep, blowsy voice as he starts the engine. “Wouldn't you like that, m'dear?”

Lilli isn't sure what a lay-by is, and she doesn't want to find out. “Mrs. Rathbone said they'd be expecting us at the hostel by mid-afternoon,” she retorts. Although she does not know what lies ahead for her, she cannot wait
to rid herself of this man. She has never felt such a strong sense of danger before, not even in the presence of the dreaded Captain Koeppler.

With immense relief, Lilli jumps down from the farm truck, which has come to a stop in front of a long, low, barracks-like building. Mr. Rathbone has already descended and collected Lilli's meager possessions. He stands before her, smiling. “Well, I got ya here now, didn't I?” He moves closer to her. “Now give us a kiss for old times' sake, darlin', and I'll be off.”

In a flash, Lilli reaches down, snatches her suitcase and backpack, and dashes toward what appears to be the main entrance to the building. A tall woman with popping blue eyes and whitish-blonde hair is standing on the threshold.

“Gracious, child, have you come directly from your billet?”

Lilli knows that the word
billet
refers to her host family. She nods breathlessly.

“I'm Mrs. Mayhew,” the women announces, “the warden here at the hostel. Come through. I want to have a look at you. I assume you've brought your documents?”

Lilli digs into her backpack and produces her Kindertransport visa and her original passport.

“Hmm. Helga Frankfurter. You're only twelve, much
too young for us here. Although you're tall, and you do look somewhat mature for your years.”

Lilli's insides shrink with worry. Suppose Mrs. Mayhew refuses her accommodation and she has to go to another billet like the Rathbones? Or someplace even worse.

They enter what looks like a sort of lobby, with two large desks and various billboards displaying names and work schedules, and some photos of the young women who presumably live and work here. Mrs. Mayhew sits down at one of the desks and gestures for Lilli to take a seat across from her. She is shaking her head. “Dear oh dear, your garments will have to be burned, all of them. And your hair, child. We'll want to undo those braids and cut it short.”

Lilli's hand flies to her head. She hasn't washed her hair in a long time because Mrs. Rathbone refused to let her use the fuel to heat the water. Most of her clothes are the ones she brought from Germany, along with a few outsize army-issue garments she acquired while at the Rathbones.

“How often were you able to wash your clothing or bathe at your billet?” Mrs. Mayhew inquires kindly.

Something in the tenderness of the warden's voice brings Lilli to tears.

“Never mind,” Mrs. Mayhew says quickly. “We'll have you in a warm tub in no time, and issue you a new
wardrobe. But what sort of assignment we can give you here, I have no idea. Our young women must be seventeen to work on the farm or with the animals. So your stay,” she finishes, “may be only temporary.”

It's evening now, and following a supper of baked beans, sliced ham, and hot cocoa, Lilli is sitting on her dormitory bed, admiring her new clothing. In keeping with what Mrs. Mayhew called the “land girls'” uniform, she's received two short-sleeved shirts, a pullover, a warm jacket, breeches that can be tucked into the high rubber boots she was given, socks and shoes, and even a hat and a raincoat. Although the colors of the outer garments are a dreary greenish-gray, the wardrobe is sumptuous. Lilli has also had her promised bath, in a porcelain tub, with plenty of soap and hot water. Before that, a large-bosomed woman named Miss Plum, who is in charge of the dormitories, cut Lilli's hair and washed it in one of the bathroom sinks.

Lilli has also been introduced to the other girls in her dormitory. Most come from small English towns, and have uprooted themselves to work the land in place of the men who have gone off to war. The girls are a cheerful and giggly lot who tease each other gently, and look to engage in harmless pranks. They are, of course, very curious about Lilli. “Oh, I do hope they let you stay,” says freckle-faced Maude, who has just finished telling Lilli
about being kicked by a cow while milking this morning. “You would be like a younger sister.”

A large and very tall young woman named Alice, who has quite a different British accent from Maude's, remarks, “Oh, I doubt our Helga would be up to hay-making, or bathing sheep. In any case, it would all be very irregular.”

Lilli sighs. “I worked hard at the Rathbones, scrubbing floors, cleaning out the hen houses, digging the soil for planting . . .”

“Not to worry, love,” Maude adds hastily. “They've given you the uniform, so they're not likely to send you off so quickly.”

Even though her new bed has a real mattress, clean sheets, and a soft pillow, Lilli's first night at the hostel is filled with troubling images and memories. She sees the leering eyes of Mr. Rathbone as he attempted to kiss her goodbye. The sound of the other girls' voices make her realize how desperately lonely she's been for human companionship. And Maude's mention of Lilli being a “younger sister” makes her think of her family hiding out in Nazi-dominated Holland or, worse, being transported to one of the camps.

Breakfast very early the next morning consists of hot porridge and milky tea. The rest of the hostelers then
go off to work, while the cook comes out of the kitchen to meet the new arrival. Mrs. Mayhew is present. “Turn about, girl, and let me have a look at you,” says the cook, a short round woman with a rosy complexion and carrot-orange hair. “Have you had any kitchen experience? I need a girl to help out and . . .” she surveys Lilli's height, “to reach up into the tall cupboards.”

“Always at home, I helped my mother in the kitchen,” Lilli replies eagerly.

“Hmm,” says the cook, whose name is Mrs. Trumbull, “that doesn't mean much. But you're young and you'll learn.” She turns to Mrs. Mayhew. “Well, it's all up to you.”

A short time later, Lilli finds herself in the hostel's kitchen, wearing a cap and overalls, learning where the foods and utensils are stored, and being taught how to cook on a coal-fired stove.

A few weeks after Lilli's arrival at the hostel, a parcel from Mutti arrives. It was mailed just before the Dutch surrender to the Nazis, and was forwarded, after all, by Mrs. Rathbone.

Lilli's dormitory mates make cooing sounds of admiration as she tearfully opens the parcel and delicately removes the carefully wrapped items. Mutti's pearls have been secreted in the package, as have several rings and a brooch set with semi-precious stones. There are also
sheer, delicately embroidered undergarments, and the wonderful flowered chiffon dress that Mutti wore the day she took Lilli to the Kindertransport.

Maude clasps Lilli, who is heaving with sobs. “Don't cry, love. You'll see your family again. Your mother just wants you to have some nice things to cheer you up a bit.”

Lilli shakes her head vehemently. She knows that isn't why Mutti sent the parcel. She and the girls are going to the camps to die, while Lilli is safe.

Alice, with her disdainful manner and upper-class accent, replaces her glasses and kneels down beside Lilli's cot. “Tell you what,” she says in a mothering tone. “You will come to the dance with us on Saturday. You'll take off your grubby old work clothes, fluff out your hair, put on a dab of lipstick, and wear this beautiful dress.”

“Yes, yes!” the others exclaim. “Helga must come to the dance.”

“We have a wonderful band,” adds shy, pale-faced Elsie. “They play all the modern hits. Of course, we have no men to dance with, so we dance with each other. And there are refreshments.”

Lilli shakes her head “no.” It is impossible to think of such frivolity at this time, or ever.

Nonetheless, on Saturday evening, Lilli finds herself sharing the anticipatory fever of her dormitory mates. The young women are rummaging through their belongings
for party clothes, and primping before the mirror. (Some of the girls slept the previous night in hair curlers derived from rags and hairpins.) They discard their high rubber boots and sturdy oxfords for uncomfortable high-heeled shoes in which they stagger about delightedly. Maude lends Lilli an extra pair, and offers her eyebrow pencil, rouge, and lipstick.

Lilli says she can't see why the girls are getting so fancied up. “It'll only be us there.”

“Oh, no,” says Maude. “There are some farmers from roundabout who come. Of course, they are older men. But then there's the band. You'll see.”

When everyone is finally ready, they all get on bicycles and peddle off to the village hall. The hall is brightly lit, and decorated with banners celebrating the British war effort: DIG FOR VICTORY! ENLIST! ALWAYS CARRY YOUR GAS MASK!

A refreshment table is laid out with pitchers of punch, sweet biscuits and buns, and bowls of crisps. The most festive feature is the music. A band of surprisingly young men—perhaps they are unfit for fighting, Lilli wonders?—are playing a peppy American hit song,
Beer Barrel Polka
. Older British couples, as well as younger women in pairs, are stomping around the floor vigorously, feet flying, to the insistent rhythm.

Lilli has never heard this music before, and she is mesmerized.

The band follows with a slow number,
The White Cliffs of Dover
, a British favorite that is also popular in the United States. Lilli dances with Alice to the dreamlike, yearning melody, and finds, to her surprise, that she is enjoying herself.

Other slow numbers follow—
April Showers
and
I'll Be Seeing You
—with Elsie telling Lilli the lyrics to the latter song, about lovers parted by war. “These words are beautiful and so sad,” Lilli says. She asks Elsie if she has a boyfriend. Elsie replies that she does. He is fighting with the British forces trying to repel the Nazis in Scandinavia.

Finally, the band strikes up a lively number, also from America, called
Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree
. This time Lilli dances with sprightly, blonde Muriel, who attends to the larger farm animals back at the hostel. Muriel teaches Lilli the fast rhythm and swinging steps of the tune, and they wind down their escapade standing directly in front of the bandstand. Lilli finds herself facing the young man at the piano, whose eyes are so sharply fixed on her that her cheeks become fiery. She averts his gaze, letting her attention roam to the faces of the other musicians. They are all young, many still in their late teens. When she allow herself a second glance at the pianist, he smiles and waves to her in a friendly way, as if they know each other. Baffled, she turns to Muriel, who is beaming with delight and, along with the rest of the girls, reaching
up to shake hands with the musicians, who are taking a break.