We had to line up on the platform. My parents stood in line with me, still gripping my hands. A kind-looking man who wasn’t in uniform started calling out our names.
I waited and waited. Almost all the children were on the train now. Had there been some terrible mistake? Maybe I wasn’t on the list after all.
I was sure my parents were having the same worry, because they stopped talking and just stared, as rigid as statues, at the man calling out the names. I was so tense I could hardly breathe.
I realised, to my surprise, that I would be devastated if I couldn’t leave on this train. I had to get to England. I had to find jobs for my parents so they could get out too.
“Anna Schlesinger?” the man called.
I felt dizzy with relief. Dragging my parents behind me, I went to the table where the man was sitting. A lady hung a cardboard label with a number on it on a piece of string around my neck. Another lady tied a label with the same number to my suitcase.
“You can get on the train now,” she said.
Now I was worried I’d start crying. I bit my cheeks. I didn’t dare look my parents in the eye. They were gripping my hands even more tightly than before.
Together, we walked towards the train. As we were about to board it, an SS officer stepped in front of us.
“No adults on the train!” he barked.
Mama pulled me into her coat and hugged me fiercely. Then Papa did the same. The rough wool felt scratchy against my face. My cheek was crushed against his top button. He lifted me up and kissed me, and Mama put her arms around both of us, and she stood on tiptoe and kissed me too. Then Papa put me down and handed me my suitcase. He kissed me again and said, “You’d better get on the train.”
“We’ll see you soon, darling,” said Mama. “Be a good, helpful girl to your foster parents. We’ll all be together again soon.”
“You must be my brave, cheerful daughter,” said Papa. “And we’ll come and join you, as soon as we’ve got everything sorted out.”
As I was about to climb the steps, Mama clutched my hand again.
“Try to be happy,” she said. “Always be kind. And make the most of every opportunity you get. Fill your head with good things. And remember, we’ll be thinking of you and sending our love to you every moment of every day.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t speak for the lump in my throat, and I didn’t dare look at them in case it made me cry.
A man called, “Everybody on the train now!”
I wriggled my hand out of Mama’s grip and climbed up the steps. “Write to us,” she called. “Write to us as soon as you get there.”
I nodded again, but I didn’t trust myself to turn and look at them. I walked into the train corridor.
A lady with a list checked my number and showed me into a compartment. She put my case on the luggage rack.
The children in the compartment were jostling at the open window, calling and waving to their parents. Some of them were sobbing.
I hadn’t said goodbye! I hadn’t even looked at my parents. I had to see them and say goodbye properly. I had to smile and wave and show them I was all right.
I leaned over the smaller children and frantically scanned the crowd. Where were they? I tried to arrange my face into a smile, in case they were looking at me.
The soldiers started pushing all the parents away from the platform. One mother was crying hysterically, trying to get to the train. A soldier yelled at her but she took no notice. He slapped her in the face and she fell to the ground. Other parents helped her up.
Papa! There he was, helping her, comforting her. And there was Mama next to him, scooping up the handbag the woman had dropped, saving it from being crushed by the throng.
The whistle blew. Steam hissed. My parents looked up and finally I caught their eyes. They smiled and waved and blew me kisses, and I waved and smiled and blew kisses back to them.
The train started to move out of the station. A soldier was standing in front of them now and I couldn’t see their faces. I kept waving and looking in their direction, desperately hoping for one last glimpse.
The train chugged along the platform and I saw them again. At least, I saw the backs of their coats. Soldiers were herding them off the platform. Papa had his arm around Mama’s shoulders. Their heads were bowed and they suddenly looked old and frail. And then more people surged behind them, and they were gone.