Authors: Olga Levy Drucker
Kindertransport (8 page)
LIPSTICK
B
ut America was faraway, and there was still a war on. On December 7, 1941, three months after Mama and Papa had reached New York, American naval ships in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, were attacked by Japanese airplanes. America went to war, fighting Japan as well as Germany. This ruled out all civilian travel overseas. All over the world, there were naval battles going on, as well as fighting in the air and on land. The British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, made speeches to us over the radio. He told us that this war would cost us our “blood, sweat, and tears,” but that this was “England's finest hour.”
ut America was faraway, and there was still a war on. On December 7, 1941, three months after Mama and Papa had reached New York, American naval ships in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, were attacked by Japanese airplanes. America went to war, fighting Japan as well as Germany. This ruled out all civilian travel overseas. All over the world, there were naval battles going on, as well as fighting in the air and on land. The British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, made speeches to us over the radio. He told us that this war would cost us our “blood, sweat, and tears,” but that this was “England's finest hour.”
Our classes at school were constantly interrupted by air-raid warnings now. The sirens would wail, we would all drop what we were doing and line up, two by two. Then we marched out briskly to the brick shelter, to wait for the “all clear.” Our nights, too, were often disturbed. Bonnie and I slept as much under the stairs as in our bed
with the bolster down the middle. We could hear the planes flying over us, and prayed that they would not bomb us.
with the bolster down the middle. We could hear the planes flying over us, and prayed that they would not bomb us.
But in between these annoyances, life went on more or less as normal.
I remember one time when a group of girls and I went walking in a field behind the school. We climbed a little hill, where we could sit and look into the boys' soccer field. One girl, Rita, said:
“I know where babies come from.”
We all crowded around her to learn the great mystery. What she told us, in grave and solemn tones, was, I suppose, more or less accurate. But I certainly did not believe her. My mama and papa would never do a thing like that! Rita also introduced us to lipstick.
“I got it from a soldier,” she boasted. All seven or eight of us passed the precious lipstick from one to the next, smearing it onto our lips as thickly as possible. Since no one had a mirror, we could only look at each other. We laughed hysterically, until somebody pointed out: “We can't go home like that. Anybody got a hankie?” One of the girls produced an almost clean handkerchief. This was passed around, too. When it came to my turn, the cloth was quite red, and I had to search for a corner that could still be used.
All the way home, Bonnie and I were frantically wiping our lips with our bare hands. “You have to get it all off,” I told Bonnie. “There's still a bit over here. Auntie Mona will have a fit if she sees us.”
Luckily for us, Auntie Mona was at one of her church meetings. We heard Uncle Larry puttering about in back of the house. We raced up to our room and scrubbed our mouths with soap and cold water from the pitcher, until I thought my skin would come off.
“Do you think Auntie Mona will notice anything?”
“Keep on scrubbing. There's still a smudge in the corner over there.”
“She'd have a fit.”
“Would she ever!”
“She's so ⦔ I was groping for the right word.
“Religious!” Bonnie finished for me.
“Yes. She doesn't allow us to do anything. We can't have any fun. And she's always telling us we should be grateful.”
“I know. And all we can do on Sundays is read the Bible, sing hymns, and pray. My parents are not that strict.”
“Neither are mine,” I said. Once again that longing came over me. It had been such a long time since I had seen Mama and Papa. Had they grown old? Had they changed, as I had? Would I ever get to America? Was there such a place?
“Auntie Mona is always worried about our souls,” Bonnie was saying. “She's convinced we're going to rot in hell.”
“Sh,” I warned. “She might hear you.”
“She isn't home yet, silly.”
We scrubbed the last traces of lipstick off our mouths. Auntie Mona never noticed a thing.
The news on the radio was bad. Jerry was bombing the stuffing out of us, and we were not winning any battles. Prime Minister Churchill kept making wonderfully emotional speeches about “fighting by land and by sea and by air” and never giving up. Just his voice alone, regardless of what he said, inspired us to do our bit for the war effort, whatever that might be. There wasn't much we could do. I never wasted any food or soap or paper. One day our wrought-iron fence was gone, gate and all. So were all the neighbors' fences, up and down the street. Iron was needed for the war. The street looked very bare without its fences.
Usually we did our homework before supper. I rushed through it so I could practice the piano. I adored my piano teacher, Miss Brown. Once a week I climbed up to her little room in the school's attic. I often wondered how they could get a piano up there.
“That was quite good” was about as much praise as I could expect from Miss Brown. “Not bad. Now try to put a little more feeling into it. You've got the notes and the fingering. Hold your wrists up ⦠so ⦠Now, let me hear some feeling!”
I tried to please her. Handel, Mozart, Beethoven, and Bach came tripping off my fingers for her. I was entered in a contest and won third place. Mama would be very pleased. Her dream for me, before Hitler, had been that I would become a professional musician. Of course, this was out of the question now. Still, she would be pleased.
But always, Miss Brown demanded more “feeling” from me. I didn't know what she meant. Perhaps I had buried feeling way deep inside me and guarded it well, never to let any of it show. I didn't seem to have any feelingâwhatever it was.
ANOTHER MOVE
I
knew something was wrong the minute I stepped into the house. Although it was not Sunday, Auntie Mona was waiting for me in the drawing room. The house was empty. But before I could ask her where Bonnie was, she sat me down in front of her and, true to her nature, came right to the point.
knew something was wrong the minute I stepped into the house. Although it was not Sunday, Auntie Mona was waiting for me in the drawing room. The house was empty. But before I could ask her where Bonnie was, she sat me down in front of her and, true to her nature, came right to the point.
“The people at the Jewish Refugee Committee in London think you should live closer to school. Their letter came today. And quite honestly, Uncle Larry hasn't been feeling too well lately, and I'm a bit tired these days myself, to tell you the truth.”
Though the words tumbled out of her mouth, they didn't sound like the truth to me. But all I managed to say was: “And what about Bonnie?”
“She's going home to London soon. Her mum and dad want her back.”
“What about the bombs?”
“I know ⦠but they're nice people you're going to.
You'll come and visit me here. Once a week, all right? We'll have tea together. Thursdays all right? You won't forget to read your Bible, will you?” She sounded ill at ease. I thought she was holding something back from me. But what?
You'll come and visit me here. Once a week, all right? We'll have tea together. Thursdays all right? You won't forget to read your Bible, will you?” She sounded ill at ease. I thought she was holding something back from me. But what?
Obediently and in silence I collected my things. Once again, no one had bothered to ask me. If they had, what would I have answered? I wondered what Mama and Papa would say if they were asked. I knew they were trying to get my visa so that I could come to America. There was a part of me, a part I hardly dared admit even to myself, that wanted to stay right here in England. Life at Kirkholm wasn't so bad. I liked Uncle Larry, and when June and her brother came home it was always a lot of fun. The problem was Auntie Mona. It wasn't that she was not kind to me. I knew she was doing her best. She was just awfully strict and unsmiling. So different from Mama. And when it came to religion, she was completely unrelenting. The fact that I was Jewish didn't concern her in the least. I had all but forgotten it myself.
My new foster parents, Uncle Albert and Auntie Millie, lived across town, five minutes away from my school. But it might as well have been five hours, or five days, for all the times I now had to be absent.
Uncle Albert worked in a local shoe factory. I remember him best with his pipe clenched between his teeth and
a smile frozen on his clean-shaven face. He was gentle in contrast to Uncle Larry's blustering, clumsy ways. His body was slight compared with Uncle Larry's largeboned frame. Uncle Albert wore his threadbare clothes with a flare, while Uncle Larry's always looked as if they just had been picked out of a rag bag. Uncle Albert spoke softly and treated me gently. Uncle Larry's feelings were hidden behind a gruff surface. I missed Uncle Larry a lot.
a smile frozen on his clean-shaven face. He was gentle in contrast to Uncle Larry's blustering, clumsy ways. His body was slight compared with Uncle Larry's largeboned frame. Uncle Albert wore his threadbare clothes with a flare, while Uncle Larry's always looked as if they just had been picked out of a rag bag. Uncle Albert spoke softly and treated me gently. Uncle Larry's feelings were hidden behind a gruff surface. I missed Uncle Larry a lot.
Auntie Millie was another story.
“One thing you should know right from the start,” she said almost at once. “We are not church-going folks, and we don't expect you to be. All this praying and God stuff isn't good for you. It can make you mean and crazy.”
I stiffened. Auntie Mona and Uncle Larry were not mean and crazy, I told myself. I liked going to church and prayer meetings, and hearing missionaries and singing hymns. What else was reliable and constant in my life? Surely, I thought, people are not reliable or constantânot even my own mother and father. Hadn't they promised me they would come to England? And hadn't they gone to America instead? But suddenly I had a new insight. I thought I understood what it was Auntie Mona had been holding back from me. The Jewish Refugee Committee had wanted me to move again because they thought I was getting too much church. Funny that they had waited so long. But, I thought, they must have been very busy keeping track of all the other refugee children
from the
Kindertransport.
After all, I was only one of many.
from the
Kindertransport.
After all, I was only one of many.
Without looking at me, Auntie Millie went on talking a mile a minute:
“And another thing. I'm not a well lady. Some days I may ask you to stay home from school and do for me. I got arthritis.” And she went into a long speech about her affliction.
She did look a little sickly to me. On second thought, I felt sorry for her. Still, I wasn't about to miss Auntie Mona's prayer meetings. Missing school now and thenâI had no problem with that! But Auntie Mona's prayer meetings? No. I didn't want to upset Auntie Mona. What kind of gratitude would that have shown?
As it turned out, I had to stay home sooner than I expected, but not because of Auntie Millie's arthritis.
“Why on earth are you scratching yourself so much?” she asked me one night.
“I have something wrong here. A rash.”
“Show me.”
I pulled down my sock and stuck out my leg. It was covered with red, itchy circles, about an inch in diameter.
“Oh my heavens! If it doesn't look like ringworm. Do you have it anywhere else?”
I bared my other leg, my arms, my still flat-as-a-pancake chest.
“What about your head? Let me see. Yep. You got it there, too. Ringworm all right.”
I had to take pills and wash with a special sort of soap. I found out that I had a kind of fungus, which I most likely had caught from the dog. It was highly contagious. No school for me. It took over a week to clear up.
Most of the girls in my class had started their periods by now. One after the other would come in and proudly tell the rest of us: “Can't go to gym today. Got it this morning.
I was fiercely jealous. Here I was, almost sixteen, and not a sign of anything. My breasts were as flat as a boy's, my hips as straight. I was convinced I was a freak.
But one morning I woke up and my pajama bottoms had a little blood on them. I jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen.
“Auntie Millie!” I yelled. “I got it! I got it!”
Auntie Millie held her tea cup in midair. “What have you got?”
“It,”
I said, pointing with importance to my pajama bottoms. She caught on immediately. But my joy at not being a “freak” anymore was quickly squelched.
I said, pointing with importance to my pajama bottoms. She caught on immediately. But my joy at not being a “freak” anymore was quickly squelched.
“Shhh!” Auntie Millie set down the teacup and put a finger to her lips. “It is not something we talk about. You mustn't give the show away.” And she showed me what to do.
Funny, I thought. Ringworm I was allowed to talk about. My period I was not. Ringworm I had felt ashamed
of. The other I was immensely proud about. Was this ever an upside-down world?
of. The other I was immensely proud about. Was this ever an upside-down world?
Auntie Millie got sick just before Christmas. Her legs hurt so much that she needed a cane to walk. They got worse and worse. Finally she couldn't get out of bed anymore. I stayed home and “did” for her. It was exam time. I would have to make up for it.
Her daughter, Megan, came home from the army on a twelve-day leave. Auntie Millie felt better, but still not terrific. Megan was cheerful and brought some life into the house. She slept in my bed, and we got along well. But all too soon she had to go back to the war again, right after my birthday. Our dreary life went on as before.
I hated school more and more. I did very poorly on my exams. I remembered that in Stuttgart I had been an excellent student. Even back in boarding school in Norwich, when I first came to England, I was still a good student. What had happened? Miss Carter, the headmistress there, still showed some interest in me through letters to her sister-in-law, Auntie Mona. But they had little effect on me. Since coming to Wellingborough, my studies had slipped. I thought that this might have had to do with my moving around so much. I was really never sure if I would be staying in one place for long. Certainly, staying home to take care of Auntie Millie, thus missing
exams, didn't help any. Another reason might have been that no one here was really all that interested in my schooling or in helping me with homework. Except for Miss Carter, none of my benefactors had had much schooling themselves. So how could they help me? Also, there were no guidance counselors in schools then. I had no one to turn to with my problems, and I felt I was on my own when it came to my education. I didn't even know I
had
problems.
exams, didn't help any. Another reason might have been that no one here was really all that interested in my schooling or in helping me with homework. Except for Miss Carter, none of my benefactors had had much schooling themselves. So how could they help me? Also, there were no guidance counselors in schools then. I had no one to turn to with my problems, and I felt I was on my own when it came to my education. I didn't even know I
had
problems.
An idea began to form in my head.
One night I informed Auntie Millie and Uncle Albert: “I'm leaving school.”
We were sitting by the fireplace. I had been struggling with a math problem. After I had dropped this bombshell, I jumped up and started poking the fire. Auntie Millie stopped knitting. All you could hear was the crackling wood in the fireplace. Uncle Albert chewed on his pipe and dropped his newspaper.
“Leaving school?” they said in unison.
“You don't have to go once you're sixteen,” I explained.
“But you didn't finish yet,” Auntie Millie said weakly.
I shrugged. “I know.” I kept on poking the fire, sending great sparks up the chimney. One flew out onto the carpet. I quickly stepped on it.
“What do you have in mind to do?” asked Uncle Albert.
I shrugged again. “Don't know. Be a baby nurse, maybe. I like children.”
“What will your parents say?” Auntie Millie asked.
For the third time I shrugged my shoulders. “Don't know.”
A couple of months later I found out what my parents had to say about my wanting to leave school. It took our letters that long to cross the Atlantic Ocean back and forth, because of the war.
“ ⦠Papa and I are absolutely against it. You should finish your education,” I read. But then Mama added something that was to direct the rest of my life, though she may not have intended it. “But we are very faraway from you,” she wrote in the very next sentence. “ ⦠and in any case we believe that you are old enough to have a mind of your own. If you really insist on leaving school before your graduation, then we cannot stop you. If you want to be a baby nurse, then at least get the very best training available ⦠.”
I showed Mama's letter to Auntie Millie.
She looked puzzled. “I think I'll write her a letter,” she said. And she did. It was a great effort on her part, but it was too late. My mind was made up. Although my
brother was also against my leaving school, I had already commissioned him to find out about a nursing school in London. As to who would pay for it, I gave this not a thought. Somehow I would manage.
brother was also against my leaving school, I had already commissioned him to find out about a nursing school in London. As to who would pay for it, I gave this not a thought. Somehow I would manage.
And then I met Mrs. Wolton, and once again, everything changed.
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