The Girl With No Name Read online

  ‘Not shut door,’ she had begged. ‘Not shut door.’

  ‘No.’ He spoke reassuringly, knowing that she understood few of his words and hoping his tone would calm her. ‘Not today anyway. Only if there’s a raid.’ He recognised her panic and said soothingly, ‘We won’t be down here much, me duck, only if there’s an air raid,’ and with that he led her back upstairs to the kitchen.

  ‘She’s claustrophobic,’ he told Naomi later. ‘We’re going to have trouble getting her down into that cellar when the siren goes.’

  Always pragmatic, Naomi said, ‘We’ll face that when the time comes. We ain’t at war yet, thank God.’

  War fever was in the air though and it was only three weeks later that, listening to the wireless, they heard the grim news that Hitler had invaded Poland. Naomi and Lisa had come home from the market weighed down with groceries: tins of meat and vegetables, soup and sardines, iron rations to be squirrelled away for future use. Everyone was stocking up against the expected scarcities. Londoners knew they would be Hitler’s prime target and they were preparing themselves.

  ‘I saw some kiddies being taken to the railway station today,’ Naomi told Dan. ‘Dreadful it was. They was all lined up with labels on their coats, being taken away from home to goodness knows where.’ She looked across at him and added softly, ‘Just like poor Lisa.’

  ‘Better than staying here in London and being bombed to death,’ Dan said.

  ‘S’pose so,’ Naomi reluctantly agreed, ‘but heart-breaking for their mums.’ Secretly, she’d often wondered how Lisa’s mother could bear to send her daughter so far away, all alone; it wasn’t natural, she’d thought. But now, she realised, London mothers were doing exactly the same thing. Sending their children off into the unknown, with no idea of where they’d gone or who would be looking after them. It took brave women with deep love for their children to do that. And for the first time she was glad that she had no children to send. Then she thought of Lisa.

  ‘D’you think we ought to be sending Lisa away to the country, too?’ she asked Dan.

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t know. Be a bit much for her, wouldn’t it? She’s only just got here, poor kid.’

  ‘Perhaps I ought to go and ask that Mrs Carter, at Bloomsbury House. What d’you think?’

  ‘You could, I suppose. See what she thinks is best.’

  Naomi nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I think I will. Don’t want Lisa to escape from the Nazis only to be bombed by them here.’

  She went to Bloomsbury House the next day and had less than two minutes of a very harassed Mrs Carter’s time.

  ‘I can’t do anything for her at present,’ she said. ‘The best thing is to keep her with you for the moment and get her into a school as soon as possible. If the school is then evacuated, well, she can go with them.’

  So Lisa stayed on with the Federmans in their little house in Kemble Street, never realising how close she’d come to being put on yet another train, with a label on her coat.

  On 3 September, that fateful Sunday morning, she and her foster parents listened in silence to Mr Chamberlain’s broadcast.

  ‘This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note, stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us.’ The prime minister’s speech was slow and sombre and the sound of it filled Lisa with fear. ‘I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.’

  Lisa had only understood very few words in the whole broadcast, but ‘war’ and ‘Germany’ were among them and she could see the horrified look on Aunt Naomi’s face and the weary resignation on Uncle Dan’s.

  ‘Here we go again,’ he said, ‘so much for “peace in our time”!’

  At war with Germany, the words echoed in Lisa’s head. Mutti, Papa and Martin are still trapped there, she thought, as she fought to keep the tears of desolation and despair from flooding down her cheeks. I’ll never see them again.

  Lisa had written home to tell her mother that she had arrived safely in London and to give her the Federmans’ address. She had received one letter back.

  Aunt Naomi handed her the envelope one morning, saying, ‘This is for you, Lisa. Looks like a letter from home.’

  Lisa had almost snatched it from her, and muttering, ‘Thank you, thank you,’ had retired to her bedroom to open it. Tearing the envelope open she found the letter written on a sheet of paper torn from an exercise book. There, suddenly dear to her, was her mother’s familiar handwriting.

  My darling,

  I was so pleased to hear that you have arrived safely and are now living with such kind people. Please thank Mr and Mrs Federman for me and remember to be a good girl. They are so generous to take you into their home and look after you, you must be sure to show how grateful you are and behave like the loving and thoughtful girl I know you are. We are well here. You’ll be glad to hear Papa is home again now and though he hasn’t been very well, he is getting better.

  We all miss you very much, but are so relieved to know that you’re safe. Remember you can write to Cousin Nikolaus, he would love to hear from you.

  Write again soon, darling, as we are longing to hear about your new life in London, about your school and the friends you have made, indeed everything that’s happened to you since you got on the train.

  We all send our love and Martin says to tell you that he’s looking after us very well.

  All our love,

  Mutti

  Tears filled Lisa’s eyes as she read and reread the letter, savouring the news it brought. Couched in such general terms that nothing in it might be construed as seditious or dangerous should it be intercepted and read, it still told Lisa much of what she wanted to know. Papa was home again. The Gestapo, or whoever had been holding him – her mother had been careful not to say – had finally let him go. Perhaps now that he was home, they’d be able to leave Germany, perhaps go to Cousin Nikolaus in Switzerland. Surely now he was with them they could try. Surely it wasn’t too late.

  Though the letter made Lisa ache with homesickness, at least she had news of them all. She kept it under her pillow, often reading it again before she went to sleep, kissing the paper her mother had touched. That and the photograph, which she carried everywhere, were her last precious links with home.

  As they sat in the kitchen that Sunday morning and Uncle Dan and Aunt Naomi pondered Mr Chamberlain’s words, Lisa fingered the picture in her pocket of her family, now trapped by the declaration of war.

  ‘Thank God you’re too old to go this time,’ Naomi was saying.

  Daniel, ten years older than she, had, as a seventeen-year-old lad, spent several months in the Flanders trenches. He had not been wounded but his health had been broken and ever since then he’d had a weak chest, on occasion wheezing and fighting for breath. Privately, Naomi thought his general weakness could be the reason that there had been no babies, but she would never have said so. She loved him dearly and if no babies was the price she must pay for marrying her Dan, then so be it. At least he didn’t have to go to war again.

  ‘They said it was the war to end all wars,’ murmured Naomi, ‘and that was only twenty years ago!’

  ‘Reckon it’ll be a different sort of war this time,’ Dan said, ‘air raids and the like.’

  ‘Like in Spain, you mean?’ Naomi asked fearfully. She, like everyone else, had been horrified to see the newsreel films of the bombing in the Spanish civil war which had been shown at the cinema.

  ‘That,’ said Dan dismissively, ‘that was just ’itler practising. You’ll see.’

  At that moment an air raid siren began to wail. Lisa started to her feet with a cry of alarm. It was only a test, but the sound of its swooping howl made all three of them realise that it wouldn’t be long before they heard it again and next time it would truly be warning of an attack.
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  It was the beginning of the new school year, but many schools had already been evacuated from London. Some parents had decided not to send their children away and these children were gathered together in several area schools. There was one not far from Kemble Street and following Mrs Carter’s advice, Naomi went to see Miss Hammond, the headmistress. She explained Lisa’s background and asked for a place. The head had been happy to accept her.

  ‘The children here will be a mixed bunch,’ she explained, ‘coming from all different places. Your Lisa certainly needs to be with other children. She’ll soon settle into her life here if it’s governed by a regular routine. Bring her along. She’ll be fine, you’ll see.’

  Thus it was that a few days later Naomi took an extremely reluctant Lisa to Francis Drake Secondary, leading her across the playground and in through the front door of the big, old Victorian building. Its brick walls were heavily overlaid with grime, so that it was almost impossible to see what colour they might once have been. The building was close to the railings that divided it from the road and was bounded on its other three sides by a tarmacked playground and a high stone wall. Grubby rectangular windows stared out across this play area to the street beyond and the whole place had a bleak and forbidding air.

  Lisa hung back a little as they walked to the main entrance, watched with interest by the children already gathered in the playground waiting for the morning bell.

  ‘Don’t worry, Lisa,’ Naomi said encouragingly, ‘I’ve already been to see the headmistress, so she’s expecting you.’

  In the entrance hall they were greeted by someone who introduced herself as Miss Barker, the school secretary.

  ‘I’ll take you up to Miss Hammond,’ she said. ‘Please follow me.’ She led them up a flight of stairs and along a short passage. She knocked on the door at the end and then opened it for them to enter.

  Miss Hammond was sitting at her desk, but she immediately stood up and came forward to greet them with a cheerful ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Good morning, Miss Hammond,’ Naomi said. ‘This is Lieselotte Becker, the child I spoke to you about? She’s just arrived from Germany and she doesn’t speak much English.’ She turned to Lisa. ‘Lisa, this is Miss Hammond.’

  Without prompting, Lisa made a small curtsy and said, ‘Good morning, Miss Hammond.’ Her accent was heavy, but she spoke the few words she knew with care.

  Miss Hammond smiled and replied, ‘Good morning, Lisa. No need to curtsy.’

  Lisa looked at Naomi for guidance and Naomi made a small curtsy and then with a cutting motion of her hand said, firmly, ‘No, Lisa.’

  Lisa coloured and took a step backwards, but Miss Hammond ignored her retreat and said to Naomi, ‘I’ll take her from here. We’ll soon have her settled in. Will you meet her after school to take her home?’

  ‘Just for today to be sure she remembers the way,’ agreed Naomi. ‘She’s thirteen, she’s not going to want me to meet her from school every day.’ She put her hand on Lisa’s arm. ‘I’m going now, Lisa,’ she said, ‘but I’ll come back at three o’clock.’ She pointed to her watch and held up three fingers. ‘Come back at three!’ And with that she gave Lisa a quick smile and left.

  ‘Now, Lieselotte,’ said Miss Hammond walking to the door, ‘come with me.’ She led the way back downstairs and along a corridor off which opened several classrooms. The doors were glass-panelled and in each room they passed, Lisa could see desks set out in rows facing a blackboard. Miss Hammond opened the door to the fourth room and pointing to the number 4 screwed to the door, said, ‘Room Four,’ before she led the way in.

  A small, thin woman was sitting at the teacher’s desk, a pile of exercise books in front of her. She looked up as they came in and immediately got to her feet, smiling. She had a narrow face, made even narrower by the way her grey hair was plaited and coiled about her ears. A pair of round, wire spectacles perched on her nose through which her eyes, a faded blue, looked with interest at the newcomer.

  ‘Good morning, Miss May,’ said the head. ‘This is Lieselotte Becker, a refugee from Germany. She is being fostered by Mr and Mrs Federman and will be joining your class.’ She turned to Lisa. ‘This is Miss May, Lieselotte. Say good morning.’

  Remembering not to curtsy, Lisa dutifully said, ‘Good morning, Miss May,’ and both women looked at her with approval.

  Good, Miss Hammond thought, she learns quickly. She’ll do. ‘I’m afraid Lieselotte has very little English yet,’ she said. ‘I suggest you put her beside Hilda Lang, that’ll help. Otherwise you’ll have to cope. I’ll introduce her to the school at assembly.’ With that Miss Hammond nodded and returned to her office, leaving them to it.

  ‘Well, Lieselotte, you can sit here.’ Miss May pointed to a desk right at the front.

  Lisa went towards it before turning back and, pointing to herself said, ‘Lisa. Better Lisa.’

  ‘Lisa,’ repeated Miss May. ‘That’s much easier. Lieselotte is a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it? Lisa it shall be.’

  Lisa looked at her questioningly, recognising only her own name, but Miss May gestured that she should sit and at that moment a bell rang and children began to come in from the playground. The swell of chatter as they came into the classroom died away as they looked with interest at the new girl sitting in the front desk.

  ‘Be quick and sit down,’ Miss May told them briskly and with a clatter of chairs they took their places. Miss May opened the register in front of her and began taking the roll, each child answering ‘Present’ when his or her name was called. Lisa’s name was added to the end of the roll and she echoed the word she’d heard the others use. ‘Pleasant.’

  This was greeted with a gale of laughter, causing her cheeks to flood with colour, but the laughter stopped abruptly as Miss May said sharply, ‘Enough!’ She looked round the room at nearly forty children who looked back, expectantly.

  ‘As you see, we have a new girl joining us today,’ Miss May said. ‘Her name is Lisa Becker and she comes from Germany.’

  This was greeted by a hiss from somewhere at the back of the class. Miss May ignored this interruption and continued, ‘Lisa’s had to leave her home and her family to escape from the Nazis. She’s come here to be safe...’

  ‘Till they start bombing,’ muttered someone.

  Miss May continued unperturbed. ‘Lisa doesn’t speak English yet, but I’m sure she’ll learn very quickly if we all help her.’

  ‘We don’t want no Germans here,’ said a boy sitting behind Lisa. He kicked the back of her chair and Miss May snapped, ‘Stand up, Roger Davis!’ The boy pushed his chair back noisily and slowly got to his feet.

  ‘I’m ashamed of you, Roger,’ Miss May said, ‘and we’ll have no more talk like that.’

  Still crimson-faced, Lisa kept her eyes firmly to the front, ignoring Roger standing behind her. She didn’t know what he’d said, but she knew the tone of voice, she’d been hearing it for months back home in Hanau. It said, ‘We don’t want you here. You’re not one of us.’

  At that moment another bell rang. Without prompting the children got up and made a tidy line by the door.

  ‘Hilda,’ Miss May called. One of the girls left the line and came back. ‘You’re to look after Lisa until she’s settled in. Make sure she knows what to do and where to be, all right?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ The girl pulled at Lisa’s arm, drawing her in at the back of the line. ‘Come on, we’re all going to assembly now. Just watch me and you’ll see what to do.’ Lisa stared at her in astonishment. Hilda had spoken to her in fluent German.

  ‘No German after today, Hilda,’ Miss May warned her. ‘Only English in school unless I specifically ask you to tell Lisa something important. She has to learn English as quickly as she can and you can help her.’

  The line of children walked smartly along the passage into the school hall. They stood in neat rows facing a platform at one end, the youngest children at the front through to the oldest at the back. Lisa stood ne
xt to Hilda, watching and waiting. When the whole school was assembled, Miss Hammond walked in and mounted the platform.

  ‘Good morning, everyone!’

  ‘Good morning, Miss Hammond! Good morning, everyone!’ came the chorused reply.

  Assembly followed its normal passage, much of which was incomprehensible to Lisa, freeing her to follow her own thoughts. How amazing it was, she thought, that the girl beside her, Hilda, could speak German. Was she German too? Had she escaped on a train?

  Before she dismissed the school back to the classrooms and the daily round of lessons, Miss Hammond said, ‘Today we have a new girl joining us. Her name is Lieselotte Becker, and she’s come all the way from Germany, by herself, which is a very brave thing to do. She doesn’t speak English yet, though I’m sure she will before very long, and she doesn’t know anybody, so I want you to make her feel welcome here.’

  Her words were greeted with a murmur from the assembled children and she quelled it instantly with the lift of her hand. ‘Let us hope,’ she said, ‘that none of you will ever have to flee from your home and family to escape persecution.’

  ‘Just the bombing,’ said a voice loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough to be unidentified, and there was a ripple of laughter.

  Miss Hammond ignored the comment and simply said, ‘School dismiss.’

  When they returned to the classroom, Miss May moved Hilda to the desk next to Lisa, and pretended not to notice when she spoke to Lisa in German, but the other children noticed.

  At break time they all went out into the playground. It was a sunny day and most of the girls gathered in groups chatting. Some of the younger ones played hopscotch on a grid painted on the tarmac or took turns to turn the rope for a skipping game; the boys, seemingly more energetic, played tag, let off steam kicking a football about or scuffled in a suddenly erupting playground scrap. Hilda led Lisa to a bench at the far end of the yard, away from the more exuberant games, and they sat down together in the warm September sun.

  ‘Where are you from, then?’ she asked.