Beyond the Storm

Sam and Charlotte were married at Stonethwaite Parish Church. Humphrey was Sam’s best man. As they stood shuffling from foot to foot at the altar, awaiting the bride’s arrival, Sam was overcome with misgiving. He saw his father in the front row, sombre as always, staring straight ahead. Next to him his mother, red-eyed and clutching a handkerchief, tried to smile at Sam.

‘Oh God, what have I done?’ breathed Sam.

‘Courage, mon brave,’ whispered Humphrey.

After the celebration, Sam and Charlotte retired to his old room for their first night together as a married couple. A second single bed had been carried into the room and pushed up against Sam’s narrow schoolboy bed. It did not surprise Sam that Charlotte recoiled when he reached for her that night.

‘Not here,’ she hissed, ‘with your parents next door!’

He could understand her reluctance. It had been excruciatingly embarrassing saying goodnight to them and going upstairs together. But as he gazed at Charlotte’s forbidding back, he wondered if they couldn’t at least have hugged each other.

Early the next day they took the train to Southampton, where their ship was waiting. That night, in the privacy of their cabin, Charlotte was extremely tired from the journey. The second night she appeared so nervous and anxious that Sam tried to reassure her. He kissed her neck and chastely ran his fingers down her rigid shoulders and arms. Charlotte was an innocent girl, he told himself, shy and unschooled in the ways of the world. She had not had the supportive presence of a mother during her earlier years. What did he expect? He needed to give her time, to be patient.

He was patient for all the weeks of the voyage, and then tried hard to sustain patience when they moved into their bungalow. Charlotte was unhappy with the sleeping arrangements. She would have liked separate bedrooms. Sam’s patience was running out. One evening he abandoned all his good intentions and shouted about his rights as a husband. He asked why she had married him: was it just for a ticket to a social position and a good life in India?

‘If you absolutely insist, I suppose I have to agree, occasionally. But don’t expect me to enjoy it.’

Sam’s desire faded in direct proportion to the growth of his anger and frustration. It seemed clear that Charlotte’s only true love was for horses. If he could have offered her impregnation with good Arabian stock, she might have considered the proposition. Children – his children – were out of the question.

It took six years of misery before his commanding officer would agree to a divorce.

‘The army doesn’t approve of divorce, Lawrence, especially not a rushed job. You don’t want to destroy your career prospects completely.’

They lived at opposite ends of the house. On the surface, they kept up a semblance of normality. When attending balls at the officers’ mess together, Charlotte sometimes said, ‘I suppose you’d better give me your arm.’

In 1933, Charlotte returned to England. Two years later they were granted a decree nisi. Sam never contacted her, or heard from her again.

At thirty-three, Sam resigned himself to a solitary life, successful in his chosen career, but lacking personal attachments: a life devoid of warmth and affection. He created a beautiful garden around the bungalow. The servants were instructed to water the plants every evening, whether or not he was there. Alongside the hibiscus, orchids, oleander and bougainvillaea were roses and delphiniums, ceanothus and hydrangea. The garden was his greatest pleasure. He wished he could share it with his mother.

Sam remained in India for two more years, after which he was posted to Egypt, by then a major. It was a time of increasing unrest, as the quest for full independence – a cause for which Sam had some sympathy – grew in momentum. His visits to England were few, and many years apart. His parents were ageing. In 1940 his father died. Winifred, bereft, moved to Surrey to a cottage roughly equidistant from Freda and her husband’s small house, and Humphrey and his wife’s much larger one.

In 1942 Sam began a posting as a lieutenant colonel in Palestine. A man of extreme gentleness, his experience in work and in personal relations had been of continuous conflict: Ireland, India, his marriage, Egypt and now Palestine. At first he was drawn to the Arab cause. Gradually his respect and sympathy for the Jews grew. Surely all people deserved the right to live safely and freely, to have a homeland? Above all, he admired their determination to force the arid land into fertility, into prolific growth. He remembered his first CO’s warning about seeing both sides of the argument. Yet he couldn’t help believing both the Arabs and the Jews had a just cause.

A year later Anna Wiener, a Jewish refugee and a widow, was appointed as secretary to Sam and his fellow officers in the training section. He was immediately, miraculously attracted to her. She was as different from Charlotte as any woman could be: small, dark, intense, emotional and sharply intelligent. Sam recognised that Anna was traumatised and complex, her life one of even greater turmoil than his own. He knew they came from different countries and cultures, and that he should proceed with caution. He sensed mystery, perhaps danger, at her core. But any initial hesitancy was soon thrown aside. He could think of nothing, no one else. Rejected by the only other woman to whom he had reached out, it was a wonder to Sam that Anna loved him too, that she responded to his touch, that she chose to be with him, that she wanted to have children with him.

In March 1944 Sam and Anna were married at the British High Commission in Haifa.

27th October 1945, Berlin

My darling Anna,

It was wonderful to get your letter of 5th Oct, and the lovely photograph of Benjamin. What a splendid little fellow he is. He’s grown so much since I was with you both; looks quite a little rugby player now (a rough, uncivilised and no doubt incomprehensible game played by British males – I’ll tell you about it some time). What a lot of hair he has now – and how come he’s inherited my red instead of your beautiful black hair? My only disappointment was that you didn’t include a recent photo of you too though – the one of us both in Surrey is now hopelessly dog-eared (yes, another strange English expression!) from my constant fingering. Do please get Humphrey or Constance to take one of you, and send it to me.

I hope you are well and happy and enjoying life, despite Surrey’s limitations and the dismal weather. Is the new accommodation working out? It has to be an improvement over the last place. What an unpleasant experience for you, and so unnecessary. I hope Mrs Wilson is an agreeable landlady and will be tolerant of any noise Benjamin might make. Remember, you’re paying the rent and it is your home, and Ben’s, for the time being. You should feel free to do as you please, and to come and go as you wish.

Are you missing me? I can’t wait for us all to be together again – and to that end, I have been extremely busy since you wrote with your list of instructions and requirements(!) Of course I quite understand your insistence that we engage no staff young enough to have been in the Hitler Youth. I think you’ll find that I’ve complied with your wishes. We now have a cook, a nanny, and a gardener – and I’m working on a suitable maid. Their credentials are as follows:

Cook: Frau Helga Stammel. Known as ‘Maggi’ (after the Swiss soup firm). Aged 64 years. Previously very wealthy. Then abandoned and divorced by her husband. Cooking not bad.

Nanny: Frau Selma Rausch. Aged 52 years. From Silesia. Denounced for expressing anti-Nazi sentiments and imprisoned during the war.

Gardener: Herr Eisen. Aged 68 years. Refugee from Eastern Germany. Lost his entire family during the war. A silent man – but wields a mean spade.

As you will see, the Germans have done a pretty good job of destroying the lives of some of their own people too. I trust they are old enough for you? At the moment Frau Rausch is preparing the nursery and is on a ‘retainer’ until you and Ben arrive. The others have started work – Maggi does her best with the limited supplies. (I hope you are eating all right?) I’m due to interview a couple of potential maids tomorrow. Frau Rausch is going to help me make a selection.

I think you’ll approve of the house. It’s spacious and has a very large garden (which pleases me, of course). With Eisen’s help we should have quite a crop of fruit and vegetables next year. I know the requisition business is not very comfortable – but you may be surprised to hear that the owner says she’s delighted to have a British family in her house. She reckons we’ll take better care of it than the Russians or Americans!

Meanwhile, the work proceeds quite well. We’re making progress organising the educational side of things. A little more food is gradually getting through, but there are still terrible shortages. Of course there’s a huge black market trade, for those who can afford it. At least transport is slowly improving. I won’t write more now – all news when you come. Oh God, I love those words – when you come!

Darling Anna – I miss you so much. I long to hold you, touch you, smell you. Not long now until we can all be together – a proper family. Speaking of families, are you surviving my dear relatives? Mother adores you – she wrote six pages about your last visit with Benjamin! Humphrey is a good sort. Don’t take Constance’s ways too much to heart. She’s a bigot and a snob, but otherwise a treasure.

Take special care of yourself – and Ben – these next few weeks, and write again when you can.

All my love, as always,

Sam

PS. I was so glad to hear your suggestion of having a ‘Naming Ceremony’ for Ben when you get here. It’s a wonderful idea. Let’s make a real occasion of it – we’ll have a party on the rations!

Chapter 4 (#ulink_60333886-08c9-5557-96d5-60ca0b6873b8)

Anna

Anna is born in 1914 just before the start of the First World War, a war that is to have a fundamental effect in shaping her early life. Anna’s parents, Artur and Matilde Feldman, run a successful factory making clothes for both the ‘ready-made’ market in large stores, and for private customers. Despite having come from farming stock only a generation previously, Artur has a sharp brain for business. Matilde is from an educated, artistic and musical family. She has inherited a spontaneous flair for design. Her women’s outfits and children’s clothes are soon amongst the most sought after in fashionable Vienna. With their eldest daughter Esther, Artur and Matilde are able to move to a spacious apartment in Mariahilferstrasse, in the centre of the city.

However, challenging times lie ahead. With the break-up of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, eighty per cent of their market disappears. Profits plunge, but employees still need to be paid. Artur is a patriot; he loves Austria. Leaving Matilde to run the factory, he enlists and spends three years fighting for his country. By 1918 the Austrian economy is in ruins. Food is scarce. Despite their former affluence, the family is on the verge of starvation, as is much of the population of Vienna. There are now three young daughters to support. After the war is over, Allied occupiers set up soup kitchens to feed the most vulnerable. One child from each family is permitted to receive a hot meal each day.

Margaret, the youngest, is still being breast-fed. Anna, the middle child, is judged to be the puniest, the most deserving. She is taken to the feeding hall by Kaethe, the family’s maid. Even at four, Anna senses the deep humiliation of defeat in being fed by British soldiers.

Worse than the deprivations, Matilde contracts the Spanish flu sweeping Europe. The virulent infection kills many neighbours. Matilde becomes very ill and develops encephalitis. She is not expected to survive, but somehow she does. The infection has destroyed vital areas of her brain. At thirty-four she is left with a form of Parkinson’s disease. Year by year it deprives her of more abilities and strength, until she becomes bedridden, her body and limbs possessed by trembling, her speech a high monotone.

Life in the once fine apartment on Mariahilferstrasse centres on Matilde. She had been the mainstay of both the business and the family: shrewd with money, clever at stretching small amounts of food, and efficient at paperwork. Artur’s priority is to fulfil his wife’s needs as best he can. The children must not make noise. They cannot invite their friends home to play. Matilde must be kept comfortable and serene. Every evening Artur spends time with her after returning from work. He sits on her bed holding her hand and reports on the day’s events, and Matilde makes suggestions regarding the business.

Gradually Artur rebuilds the firm. Less educated than his wife, nevertheless he has a way with people. Naturally charming, he is popular with both men and women, and is a successful salesman. The staff are loyal; they remember Artur and Matilde’s support during the hard years. Slowly the business becomes profitable again.

Anna and her sisters live contented, protected lives. As their mother’s health deteriorates, it is Kaethe who plays a central role in caring for and nurturing the children. Although Esther, Anna and Margaret would love to have a more active mother, who can play and read with them like many of their friends’ mothers, Kaethe surrounds them with love and affection. For a few years their lives are relatively carefree. They attend a mixed private school, the majority of whose pupils come from homes as comfortable as theirs. The girls walk to school arm in arm with their friends, thinking only of fun and friendships. Lotte, Leila, Gretchen, Magdelene, Wilma, Sara and Monika – all are indistinguishable from one another.

The girls light candles for Hanukkah and then clip them onto the fir tree, to be lit on Christmas Eve. They wish each other a happy new year for the first of January, and again for Rosh Hashanah. Other than these enjoyable events, they are scarcely aware of who is Christian, who is Jewish. Artur is a pragmatic rather than a devout man. He rarely goes to temple, and then only to meet a business associate. Viennese society is not without its divisions, but these relate largely to identifying those who live in a less smart neighbourhood, or who are less well dressed, less well spoken, less witty.

Anna is pretty, petite, with black curls and dark eyes. She is hard working and diligent at school, her marks always in the top three of her class. She is equally good at sports: skiing, skating, swimming, basketball and gymnastics. She is regarded as sweet-natured and kind by the other girls, and polite by her teachers. Despite these many attributes, Anna is not priggish or conceited. She has a quick temper and a wicked sense of humour, which endears her to her friends. Despite her popularity, Anna has a more troubled side to her temperament. Perhaps the household’s preoccupation with her mother’s needs and illness induces in the growing child a tendency to occasional bouts of melancholic contemplation. From an early age, she keeps a diary in which she records ‘days of sad thoughts’.

One day as they walk to the bakery together to buy the morning rolls, Anna, at the age of eight or nine years, astounds the down-to-earth Kaethe.

‘Kaethe, why am I inside this person looking out?’

‘Inside? Inside who? What are you talking about, child?’

‘I mean, why am I me? I could have been anyone. Why was I born inside this body and not someone else’s?’