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 next 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.
‘Hanau, near Frankfurt,’ Lisa replied.
‘Your parents come too?’
‘No.’ Tears welled up in Lisa’s eyes and she blinked hard to dispel them. ‘I came on the train. They would only take children, one from each family. My brother, Martin, couldn’t come. He’s still at home with my mother.’ Her voice broke on a sob as she said, ‘I wish I was, too.’ She pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘My dad was taken by the Gestapo. He didn’t come back, not for ages, and now Mum says he’s ill.’ Determined not to break down completely in front of this stranger and even more in front of the other children, some of whom were covertly watching her, Lisa blew her nose again and changed the subject. ‘What about you? How come you speak German?’
‘My mum’s German. She met my dad when he was working in Berlin. He’s English. My brother Peter and me was born in Berlin, but we’re Jewish, so when Hitler began to make laws against the Jews, we come home here. We’re safe here.’ She looked at Lisa with interest. ‘You Jewish?’
‘Yes, well, no, not really. Grandma is and that’s enough over there.’
At the end of school the two girls crossed the playground to the gate where Aunt Naomi was waiting and Lisa took Hilda over to meet her.
‘I’m looking after Lisa at school,’ Hilda said. ‘I can tell her stuff in German if she don’t understand.’
‘Oh, that’s marvellous.’ There was great relief in Naomi’s voice. ‘Poor Lisa, she can’t understand us and we can’t understand her and it’s very difficult for everyone.’ She smiled at Hilda. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Hilda Lang, well Hildegarde really, but,’ she gave a rueful smile, ‘it doesn’t do to have a German name just now, does it?’
When Hilda got home that evening, she told her mother about the new girl who had come to school.
‘She’s come on the train all the way from Frankfurt, Mum, by herself, and the Gestapo took her dad.’
Esther Lang felt the familiar stab of fear, though she tried hard not to let her daughter see it. As a German Jew herself, the very mention of the Gestapo instilled terror. Her own parents were still living in Berlin in circumstances she could not imagine. They had been turned out of their home some months earlier and had moved in with Esther’s younger sister, Elsa, and her family. As far as Esther knew they were still all crammed into that tiny apartment, but she didn’t know for certain and since the declaration of war, all communication between them had ceased. Her heart went out to the child who had come all that way, seeking safety in London. A child alone.
Esther had married Max, Hilda’s father, in the twenties when he’d been sent by his firm to work in Berlin. Hildegarde and her brother, Peter, had both been born there, but with the rise of Hitler and with anti-Semitism rife, the family had returned to London, where they had settled and Esther had become naturalised British. Both children were bilingual, as both parents knew how useful it was to know another language, but English was the language of the household.
‘Well, I hope you’ll help her all you can, darling,’ said her mother. ‘I don’t think she’s going to have a very easy time of it.’ She thought for a moment and then said, ‘Where did you say she was living?’
‘With some people called Federman over in Kemble Street.’
‘Is she now? I think I met them once, at Anthony Stein’s bar mitzvah. Perhaps I should pay them a call.’
True to her word, a few days later Esther walked the mile or so to Kemble Street to introduce herself as Hilda’s mother. Naomi invited her in and they spent a pleasant half-hour, each discovering what she could about the other.
‘It’s good of your Hilda to help Lisa out at school,’ Naomi said. ‘It’s very difficult for her, speaking so little English. Dan and I do our best, of course, we talk to her all the time, trying to teach her, but she can’t tell us anything about the things that matter to her, about her home and her family.’
Esther had heard a little about Lisa’s background, but she didn’t repeat it, that was for Lisa when she was able. Instead she said, ‘I was wondering if Lisa might like to come back with Hilda to our house after school sometimes. Playing with Hilda and her brother might be one of the quickest ways to help her learn English.’
‘Oh, Mrs Lang,’ Naomi said, ‘I think that would be a marvellous idea. Are you sure?’
‘Of course,’ replied Esther. ‘She’s a brave child and needs all the help she can get. Please ask her if she’d like to come and if she agrees, Hilda will bring her home after school, tomorrow.’
That evening Naomi sat Lisa down and said, ‘Hilda’s mother asks you to go to Hilda’s house after school. Would you like to go?’
‘Go to Hilda?’
‘Yes, after school.’
‘Not sleep?’
‘No, sleep here. I will come for you.’
Lisa’s face broke into a broad beam. ‘Yes, Aunt Naomi, I go.’
From then on Lisa went home with Hilda after school most days. Esther forbade them to converse in German.
‘This is to help Lisa learn English,’ she reminded them. ‘While she is here with us we will all only speak English. You, too, Peter,’ she said to her son. ‘No cheating when you’re playing outside!’
Lisa loved going to Hilda’s house. The Langs were more affluent than the Federmans and though their home in Grove Avenue was only a mile or so from Kemble Street, it was quite different; much larger with a garden at the back where Max Lang was growing vegetables. The windows were wide and the house light and airy. The autumn sunlight flooded into the kitchen in the afternoon where the children sat up to the table to have their tea and it was always warm. Esther Lang sat them at the kitchen table to do their homework, giving Lisa a helping hand when she thought it was all getting too difficult.
‘You’re always welcome here,’ Esther told her one day as she was leaving to return to Kemble Street. ‘Any time you want some company your own age, just come round. Don’t wait to be asked.’
Lisa was soon accepted by the other children who lived nearby as a friend of Hilda’s. Her English improved by leaps and bounds, Hilda teaching her the words she needed, albeit with an East London accent and vocabulary. They became firm friends, and because the Langs lived only a few streets away, Naomi was happy enough for Lisa to spend much of her time at their house.
‘Far better she has someone to play with,’ she said to Dan, ‘than come home to an empty house and me.’
‘I think you’re right,’ Dan agreed. ‘Once she can talk to us properly, we’ll all feel much more comfortable.’
Lisa was a quick learner and though nothing like fluent, she soon understood a good deal of what was being said and could make herself understood in return.
Life at school, however, was not easy. Despite Miss Hammond’s admonition, there was still a significant group of children who did not make her welcome, who regarded her as the enemy and were ready to gang up on her. Roger Davis and his cronies, egged on by their peers, would surround Lisa, pressing in on her, and pretend to touch her before leaping backwards shouting, ‘Lisa’s got the measles! German measles! Don’t catch her germs! Dirty German germs!’ They clasped their throats and made ‘dying’ groans before collapsing dramatically to the ground.
Lisa would push her way free of them, but within moments they’d be back. On occasion she hit out at them, once punching one of Roger’s sidekicks in the face and making his nose bleed. They backed off for a while, but they were soon back, always lying in wait for her, always out of sight of the teacher on playground duty. Hilda, unable to do anything and recognising she would be in for the same treatment if she tried, stayed well clear.
‘Don’t say nothing at home, though,’ she warned Lisa. ‘If you split on them and your Aunt Naomi come down here and complained, things’d only get worse. They’ll get tired of it in the end and find someone else to pick on.’
Lisa knew she was right. They weren’t hurting her physically, they were only shouting abuse at her and she was used to that. It had happened all the time in Hanau. But she longed to fight back, to give as good as she got.
It all ended quite suddenly. Roger’s gang cornered her on her way home from school one day. It was the first time she’d been waylaid outside the school yard. They backed her up against a wall, shooting out their arms in Nazi salutes, shouting, ‘Heil Hitler!’
‘Go away! Go away!’ she screamed. ‘I hate you! I hate you. You’re all Nazis!’
They roared with laughter at her fury, posturing and prancing, but blocking her way so that she had no escape. She swung a punch at Albert, the boy whose nose she’d made bleed before, but he was ready for her this time and caught her arm, gripping it tightly, easily holding her off.
‘Hey, Rog,’ he jeered, ‘we got a wild cat here. Teach her a lesson, shall we? German bitch!’ The others crowed their delight, but their cheers were short-lived. Suddenly, from round the corner, someone erupted into the middle of them, his fists flying, his elbows crashing sideways and his feet, in heavy leather boots, kicking shins and stamping on toes. Taken completely by surprise, the gang found themselves on the ground, nursing bruises, bleeding noses, cut eyebrows and aching heads. Roger, turning to make a fight of it, was slammed against the wall and then spun round, his arm jerked up painfully behind his back, so that he cried out.
Lisa, as surprised as her tormentors by this sudden attack, cowered back, but when she saw that Roger was held in an arm-lock and his cronies were edging away, she stepped forward to stand beside her saviour. To her surprise her spoke to her in German.
‘I’ve seen this scum picking on you before,’ he said, ‘just say the word and I’ll break his arm.’
‘No don’t,’ Lisa said, ‘it’ll just make more trouble for me. Just scare him so badly that he never comes near me again, him or his mates.’
‘You sure?’ He jerked Roger’s arm suddenly and Roger gave a yelp of pain. ‘Well, if you say so.’
The boy, for a boy he still was, looked disappointed, but with a swift movement he spun Roger round and backed him up against the wall. ‘She say I not break your arm. I wish to, she say no. You not go near this girl or her friend again.’ He spoke the careful English of one who was still learning. ‘You understand me?’ When Roger didn’t answer immediately he punched him in the stomach and Roger doubled up. ‘You understand me?’ he said again and Roger managed to croak ‘Yes,’ thus avoiding another punch.
‘If you touch girl again, I will come to you. Understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’ The boy let him go, tossing him aside like a rag doll.
Roger picked himself up from the ground and scuttled away to find his mates. But seeing Roger so totally defeated, they had all melted away.
Lisa looked at the boy left standing beside her. He wasn’t much taller than she, but wiry and strong. His clothes were old and patched, his thin legs thrust into heavy workman’s boots. He had dark hair, cropped short, and brown eyes set above a prominent nose and wide mouth. He grinned at her and she saw he had a front tooth missing.
‘That’s him sorted,’ he said, ‘shouldn’t have no more bother with him.’ Again he spoke in German and Lisa answered him in the same.
‘Thanks for coming to my rescue.’
‘It’s OK. Saw him pestering you in the school yard, but couldn’t do nothing about it there. Too many people about. Might have got messy!’
‘Are you at my school?’ Lisa asked. ‘I haven’t seen you.’
‘Only just come,’ replied the boy. ‘Heinrich Schwarz at your service,’ and he gave a funny little bow, ‘now called Harry Black.’
‘I’m Lisa, Lisa Becker. Where do you come from? Did you come on one of the trains?’
‘Same one as you,’ Harry replied. ‘I saw you at the station at Frankfurt and in London, too.’
‘Did you?’ Lisa was amazed. ‘And you recognised me at school?’
‘Saw them picking on you and when I realised why, I remembered you on the train.’
Lisa shook her head in disbelief. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’m very glad you did.’
‘You with a foster family round here?’
‘Yeah, some people called Federman.’
‘All right, are they?’
‘They’re OK. They’re kind to me and try and help me with things. It’s getting easier now I speak some English. What about you? You with foster parents, too?’
‘No, not now,’ Harry said flatly. ‘Foster parents and me didn’t get on, so I left.’
Lisa stared at him in amazement. ‘You mean you just walked out?’
‘Not quite. They complained to the Bloomsbury people and I got moved. Live in a hostel now in Stoke Newington. Much better. Can come and go as I like.’
‘But you come to school?’
‘Part of the deal,’ Harry said. ‘I get to live in the hostel, but I have to go to school till they find me a job.’
‘A job?’
‘Yeah, I’m fifteen next month. Got to earn my keep, haven’t I?’
Lisa looked at him again. He didn’t look fifteen. In some ways he looked younger – he was small for fifteen – but in others he looked older. There was a sort of worldliness in his expression, an air of being able to look after himself. His missing tooth suggested that he was no stranger to a fight and she knew he was ready with his fists.
‘Where did you learn to fight like that?’ she asked. ‘All four of them, by yourself!’
Harry sniffed dismissively. ‘Them? They ain’t nothing.’ His expression hardened. ‘Nothing like the Hanau Hitler Youth. Had to handle yourself against that lot.’
‘Hanau?’ Lisa pounced on the name. ‘You come from Hanau? Really? So do I.’ Tears filled her eyes as she looked at Harry, Harry was a boy from another life, someone from home, who remembered ‘before’.
‘Hey,’ Harry said anxiously, ‘don’t start blubbing on me!’
‘I’m not,’ protested Lisa, blinking hard. ‘Just can’t believe you come from home.’
‘Not home any more,’ said Harry. ‘I ain’t never going back there.’
‘What about your... parents... family?’ Lisa asked hesitantly.
‘None left,’ replied Harry, and his tone made it clear there was no more to be said. Abruptly he changed the subject and asked, ‘Who’s that girl you go round with? With her all the time.’
‘That’s Hilda,’ Lisa said and explained how Hilda and her family had been helping her learn English.
‘She’s all right then, is she?’
‘Yeah, we’re good mates. I often go there after school.’
‘But not today. Which gave that scum their chance.’
‘Yeah, suppose so.’ Lisa looked round a little anxiously. ‘I better go, Aunt Naomi will be wondering where I am.’
‘I’ll walk with you,’ Harry said, ‘till I get to my bus stop.’
Together they set off down the street, watched from a distance by Roger. He knew better than to go near Lisa again. His mates were waiting in the next street and as he joined them he said dismissively, ‘Another Nazi Jew-boy.’
‘Not sure he can be both,’ said Albert, his second in command. ‘The Nazis is killing the Jews, ain’t they?’
Roger glowered at him. ‘Pity they didn’t get that one, then, before he came here to bother us!’
‘Yeah, you’re right there,’ grinned Albert, and Roger knew that despite his ignominious defeat at the hands of the new German boy, his authority over his own gang was still intact.
‘Come on,’ he said, setting off in the opposite direction, ‘we got better things to do than muck about with shit like them.’
Harry watched Lisa walk away as he waited for his bus. She’s a plucky little thing, he thought as she turned, once, to wave. Them buggers have been tormenting her for weeks and she’s put up with it. Threw a punch at one of them boys, showed some spunk, that did.
For the next week or so he kept an eye on her at school. Roger and his cronies ignored him entirely, ostentatiously turning their backs if he came anywhere near them, but he saw that they didn’t go near Lisa either.
Under Harry’s protection life at school became much easier for Lisa. No one molested her in the playground and she was gradually accepted by the other girls in her class, joining in their games. They teased her about her English, laughing when she got words wrong, but it was good-natured teasing and her English continued to improve. She still went home with Hilda sometimes after school and always felt comfortable in the Langs’ house. Esther was determined to include her in the family. She knew what it was like suddenly to be transplanted to a new country and, kind as she knew the Federmans were, they had no children. She wondered if they should suggest that Lisa come to live with them, but Max told her quite firmly that she shouldn’t interfere.
‘The child is settled with them now,’ he said. ‘Far better that she and Hilda stay friends at school and she visits.’ Esther wasn’t sure she agreed, but she bowed to her husband’s decision.
On occasion Hilda went home with Lisa. Naomi was keen to return the hospitality, but they were neither of them as comfortable together in the Federmans’ little house. Lisa felt that Hilda was judging them and she felt oddly protective of her foster parents. She had grown fond of them over the months, of Uncle Dan particularly, and she didn’t want Hilda to think they were beneath her.
On other days Harry would wait for her in the road beyond the gate and walk with her to the end of Kemble Street. At first Lisa thought it was because Roger and co might resume their bullying, but she soon realised that it was because Harry was lonely. He wanted the company of someone who had come from the nightmare that was Germany and understood the fear which had ruled their lives for so long. Sometimes they would wander into the park and sit chatting on a bench. If no one was near they spoke German; it was a relief to be able to express themselves freely without struggling for the words they needed, but they were careful to stick to English if they might be overheard. Roger and his mates weren’t the only ones; anti-German feeling was, understandably, strong.
At first they said little of their lives ‘before’, but gradually they began to speak of those they had left behind. Lisa told Harry about her parents and Martin, able at last to tell of what had happened to them to someone who understood. Harry found himself opening up to Lisa as he had to no one else; because she had lived through it all too, she understood, and a special bond was forged between them.
Like Lisa’s, Harry’s father had been arrested on Kristallnacht, leaving the young Heinrich to try and look after his invalid mother. They had no money and no way of making any. Harry had taken to the streets, earning a few pfennigs wherever he could, doing the dirty jobs that were the province of Jews: cleaning the gutters, scrubbing the daubed graffiti, Juden Raus, from walls and windows so that the new German owners would no longer be reminded that Jews had once inhabited their homes. Other times he stole from market stalls, occasionally from the offertory box in the local church, but always on the lookout for the Hitler Youth who delighted in tormenting any hapless Jew happening to cross their paths. He had become a tough street kid, a feral animal, fighting hard and dirty to defend himself against those marauding gangs. Then one day his mother received a postcard telling her that her husband, Ezra Schwarz, had died of a fever in prison. No further explanation was given. Harry was filled with fury, angry at everyone and everything; his mother seemed to give up and simply faded away. Within a month she, too, was dead, and Harry was left an orphan.
‘So what did you do then?’ asked Lisa.
‘Hanau was too hot for Jews by then, so I got myself to Frankfurt. There was still a Jewish community there. They put me in an orphanage and then on the train, so here I am and here I’ll stay.’
Like Lisa, he hadn’t been evacuated when war with Germany had once again burst upon England; that day, they were both too newly arrived, already refugees with nowhere further to run.
Lisa didn’t take Harry home to meet Aunt Naomi and Uncle Dan. She knew, instinctively, that Aunt Naomi in particular wouldn’t approve of him. Though they, too, lived in a tough area, Aunt Naomi had very high standards. Her house, though small, was spotless, her doorstep scrubbed, her windows bright. Lisa was never allowed to go to school in anything but clean and pressed clothes and the food on the table, though plain, was always well-cooked. Even on their small income, Aunt Naomi managed to keep her little family well fed. She definitely wouldn’t approve of a street urchin like Harry in his scruffy clothes and workman’s boots. Secretly, Lisa knew that her own mother wouldn’t approve of him either. Back in Hanau their paths would never have crossed; their families came from entirely different social strata, but here Harry was special, Lisa’s private link with home, and so she didn’t even mention him in Kemble Street.
Hilda knew about him of course, she’d heard how Harry had come to Lisa’s rescue, but she didn’t like him. She felt he wasn’t the sort of person someone like her should know and was surprised when Lisa continued to be friends with him. Part of it was jealousy; Lisa was her friend, it was she who had helped Lisa to learn English, it was her mother who had invited Lisa to come home with her at any time and Hilda resented Harry’s intrusion. For his part, Harry considered Hilda a snobby little madam. She lived in a posh house and he knew she looked down her nose at him. Well, let her. He didn’t care.
Their mutual antipathy kept them apart, but Lisa drew strength from each of them.