Children travelling on the Kindertransport were allowed to take one small suitcase each. We all had to carry our own cases, so they couldn’t be too heavy. We weren’t allowed to take anything valuable out of the country, and only ten marks each in money.
Mama paid Frau Heinkel to make new dresses for me, some in my size and some bigger, in case I grew quickly. They were lovely dresses. Mama embroidered my name in all of them. I tried to imagine myself wearing them in England.
I didn’t even know which part of Britain my foster family lived in. Would I be walking by the River Thames in London wearing that wool dress, gazing up at Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament? Or would I be high up in the Scottish mountains?
Maybe they lived by the sea. I had never seen the sea, but now I would be crossing it to get to England. Every day I traced the journey on the map in my children’s atlas. Across Germany to the Dutch border, then through Holland to the English Channel, and over the sea to the port of Harwich, on the east coast of England. And from there to an unknown family.
At night, I lay in bed trying to imagine every possible type of family, so I would be prepared for whoever I ended up with. I imagined old parents and young ones; city families and country families; rich and poor; good-looking and ugly; parents with babies and parents with teenagers; families with one child and families with ten.
What if they weren’t nice to me? What if they were mean, cruel people?
But they wouldn’t be, would they? If they had offered to take in a refugee child, they must be good and kind.
Once my clothes and shoes were packed, there wasn’t much room for anything else.
“Just one toy and one book, I’m afraid,” said Mama. “When we come to join you, we can bring some more. And we’ll pack up everything else carefully and leave it with friends until we get back.”
It wasn’t hard to decide which toy to take. There was no way I could have left Alfred behind. He had shared my bed for my whole life. Having him with me would be almost like travelling with a friend.
It was horrible to have to leave all the others behind though. Even though a lot of my toys were too young for me now, I didn’t want to be parted from them. Papa said the foster family would probably have things I could play with, but that wasn’t really the point. And anyway, what if they didn’t want me playing with their things?
The worst thing was choosing which book to take. How could I possibly decide?
It seemed more sensible to take one I hadn’t read yet, but that was such a risk. What if it wasn’t any good? Then my only book would be one I didn’t even like.
In the end, I decided on Heidi. I loved that book and I knew it would be a comfort. After all, Heidi also had to leave her home to live with people she’d never met, and everything worked out well in the end.
“As soon as we have your address, we can send you some more books,” Mama said. “You can write and tell us which you’d like.”
“But what if the Nazis don’t let you send them?”
“I’m sure they won’t make a fuss about a few books,” she said.
I didn’t believe her. It was obvious that the Nazis didn’t want us to have anything at all. Why would they let me have my books?
The train was due to leave at midnight on Wednesday. I normally had to go to bed at nine, so, despite the strangeness of everything, it felt quite exciting to be up so late. Mama made my favourite supper again. Uncle Paul was very jolly.
“I expect the king and queen will be there to welcome you,” he said. “Be sure to curtsy nicely, and then you might get invited to tea with the princesses.”
Mama insisted on doing one last check of my suitcase, even though we had checked and packed it a hundred times. She slipped in a photograph of her and Papa, and then she put my writing case on top of everything else. “It will remind you to write to us as soon as you get there. You can write on the train, and then the minute you arrive in England you can post the letter, and we’ll know you’ve arrived safely. Promise you’ll do that.”
I promised. And then I tucked a little bundle of drawing pencils between my folded clothes.
Mama and Papa were so worried about being late that we set off hours early. The train was leaving from Frankfurt, so we had to take a bus to the city. It wasn’t cold outside, but to save room in my suitcase I was wearing my winter coat, hat and scarf, as well as several layers of clothing, so I was hot and sticky and really uncomfortable.
The whole way to Frankfurt, Mama and Papa each held one of my hands. Mama’s hand clutched mine so tightly I was worried she would crush my bones.
When we got to the station, Papa carried my case, and in her free hand Mama held a paper bag full of food for the journey. We had to bring enough food to last until we got to England.
Even though we were early, the platform was already packed with parents and children. SS men were striding about, keeping an eye on everyone, shouting at people and sometimes hitting somebody just for fun. Some children were crying. Much worse, some parents were crying.
“Don’t cry, will you?” I said to Mama. I could be brave as long as my parents were.
Mama flashed me a smile. “Of course not.” She seemed all right, but her face was very red and, when I kissed her, her cheeks were boiling hot.
“You will come soon, won’t you?” I said.
“Very soon, God willing.”
Those last two words sent a chill through me. What did that mean?
I locked the thought away in the box inside my head.