Finding Rebecca: A Novel of Love and the Holocaust (16 page)

“Rebecca, what are you doing here?”
Christopher stood up, despite her protestations.
 

“Oh, so you’re talking to me now?”
Rebecca countered. She half smiled but she realized the anger any flippancy on
her part would bring out In him and the smile quickly died. “Christopher, you
know I don’t take orders from you or anyone else.” Christopher looked over at
his father, wary of the argument that was seemingly about to occur. “I know you
want the best for me, but who’s to know what will happen? At least if I stay
here I’ll be with you.” Stefan got up to leave. “Please, Mr. Seeler, I’d really
rather you stayed for this.” Stefan looked across at his son, his lips tight.
He pressed his tongue against his upper lip and then sat back in the chair.

“Rebecca, you’re so pigheaded. You’ve
got to realize the danger staying here puts you in.” Christopher looked across
at his father.

“I have to agree, Rebecca. Staying
here is insane. I know you want to be with Christopher, but there will be a
time for that, after the war is over.”

“When the British win?” Rebecca
looked exasperated. “How are they going to do that? They were routed at Dunkirk.
The French were beaten in weeks.” She sat down beside them at the kitchen
table. “They will probably be in England in a month. If Christopher could come
with me I would go, of course I would try, but without him what’s the point of
a few more weeks of freedom?”

Christopher put his head in his
hands. “Don’t you see you have to try?” he said, his words muffled by his palms,
but the others understood him and he brought his head up again. “Who knows what
they’ll do if you stay here? We’ve been through this before!” Christopher
shouted the last few words and they seemed to resonate through the room,
bouncing around even after the sound had faded.

Stefan looked at his son, and then at
Rebecca. “Rebecca, we can’t force you to do anything.” His voice was level and
sober. “But if you do stay, you will be putting yourself in an unreasonable
amount of danger. We will do our best to protect you, but the Nazis hatred of
the Jews is like nothing I’ve ever known. They blame the Jews for everything.
We may not be able to protect you from them.”

“Rebecca, you get on that boat, and
you leave this island. I told you what those newspapers I saw in Germany said.”
Christopher raised his hands to his head again and puffed out a deep breath. He
kept his eyes closed as he continued. “Rebecca, if you stay here, you’re on
your own. Don’t come to me. I won’t be here for you.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said and
left.

The German bombers came on Friday
afternoon, the 28
^th
of June 1940. They came to St Helier and also to
St Peter Port in Guernsey and dozens of people, mainly waiting on the harbor to
be evacuated to the relative safety of England, were killed. Christopher knew
some of them, Mrs. Shearer and her son Norman, just 15 years old, John Barrow,
who had served in the Great War, and old Tom Frost, from St Savior. The next
day, the main British fleet arrived to take away the remaining evacuees.

Christopher had barely seen Rebecca
since they’d fought in his father’s house. The morning of the evacuation he had
been to the apartment, anticipating another fight but had not found her, just
seen the two suitcases packed with her clothes. The feeling of hollow
satisfaction he felt at seeing those suitcases was unlike anything he’d felt
before and the bitter relief that swept through him as he left almost choked
him. Christopher went down to the harbor to see Rebecca off, to make sure she
left, to say goodbye. The ships were waiting in and outside the harbor, strewn
across the water like leaves on a pond, waiting for the swelling crowds on
shore. There were thousands of people, whole families lined up along the stone
jetties, waiting for their turn to squeeze onto the tiny row boats that would
take them out to the larger ships moored further out. But some people weren’t
leaving. The atmosphere of defiance spread through the crowd, and children who
were forcibly pushed onto the boats were jumping back into the water, swimming
back to their parents, who chided them with smiling faces, holding them tightly,
wrapped in towels in the summer sun.

But the Jews were leaving.
Christopher’s father embraced his friend, Albert Gold, as he left with his
family. They all left, the Fogels, the Levis, the Kleins and then Christopher
saw Mrs. Cassin, alone and struggling with her suitcase as she made her way to
join the line of people waiting for the boats. A young man in front of her
immediately went to her and helped her along and Christopher watched her as she
got into the boat and sat down without saying a word to anyone around her.

Christopher waited there for several
hours. Thousands had left the island, but many thousands more had decided to
stay. Still there was no sign of Rebecca. There were a few others there like
him and his father, just there to say goodbye. Most were too wary of the German
bombers coming back to risk seeing their neighbors evacuated to the mainland.
Tom’s family arrived, his parents and little sisters. Christopher and his
father said their goodbyes, not lingering too long as Alexandra and Tom were
there.
 
Tom stood stoically by holding
his mother’s hand as she cried. He took her in his arms and then each of his
sisters. Tom’s father shook his hand and they left. Tom was alone, his entire
family gone. Alexandra was all he had left.

Rebecca never came. She was there at the
apartment after the final ships had left.
He
pushed open the door and she was sitting on the couch, pretending to read. Her
suitcases were still on the rug in front of her, untouched from when
Christopher had seen them that morning. Christopher didn’t speak, just shut the
door behind him. The couch creaked as he sat down next to her and he put his
arms around her, bringing her head close into his chest. “You really are quite
mad,” he whispered.

“I love you,” she replied in a
whisper, and they sat there for several minutes not talking.

The next day, the Germans came, with two divisions of men,
and the five-year occupation of Jersey began.

Rebecca clutched Christopher’s hand
as they stood watching the columns of troops march past. There was no sound
from the crowds on either side of the street. The swell of people, three deep
on both sides, were in shock. The only noise was that of the marching songs.
Rebecca turned to Christopher to ask what the words were.

“They’re singing, ‘
On, On to Battle’
,” he answered. People
in the crowd stared at them, but Rebecca just clenched ever tighter onto
Christopher’s hand, and, though she pretended to ignore them, Christopher saw
her jaw tightening and felt her nails digging into his flesh. Christopher
extracted his hand from her grip and suggested they leave, but she refused.

“Surely these people have more to
worry about than the fact that you happen to be German,” she said, so they
stayed another five minutes until, their curiosity quenched, they left. They
had seen their conquerors first hand.

Two weeks later a car pulled up outside
the house in St Martin. Christopher and Rebecca were there, visiting his
father. Stefan turned to Rebecca, sitting a few feet away and told her to go
upstairs and to close the bedroom door behind her. Christopher watched through
the windows by the front door as the German soldier held the door of the car
for the officer, who looked up and down the road before making his way towards
the house. He knocked on the door and stood back. Christopher stood up, but
Stefan put his hand on his shoulder and walked towards the front door.
Christopher could hear the conversation- in German. The officer asked if he
could come in and Stefan agreed. Stefan led the officer into the kitchen and
asked him to sit down at the table. When Christopher came, in the officer was
sitting upright in the chair, hat on the table in front of him.

“Christopher, this is Captain Voss,
he asked to see both of us,” Stefan said with no emotion.

Captain Voss stood up and smiled. “So
good to meet you,” Voss said, proffering his hand. Christopher shook it, his
eyes drawn to the iron cross on the grey uniform.

“So, Captain Voss, to what do we owe
this pleasure?” Stefan said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the
kitchen cabinet.

“Straight to the point, eh?” Voss
laughed. “Well, as you know, we intend the occupation of Jersey to be an
example for all the rest of the countries now under the control of the Reich.”
Voss looked at both men, but neither reacted and he looked slightly
disappointed as he continued. “We wish to have a good working relationship with
the people of Jersey, and hence have left your local government, or the States,
as you call them, in place. My Commandant, Dr. Von Stein, has asked for the
co-operation of the people of Jersey and we expect this co-operation to be
forthcoming. We know that life will be different under the guardianship of the
Führer, and that war always brings hard times.”

“That’s all very well, Captain Voss,
but what does this have to do with us?” Stefan shrugged.

Christopher was thinking about Uli,
how he had sat in that same seat so many times and how now he was wearing that
same uniform. Two weeks ago the Seelers were the only Germans on the island but
now there were thousands, almost one for every three islanders. This was the
first time Christopher had spoken to one of them.

“We were looking through records of
the people on the island and were very pleased to see that there was at least
one German family living here.” He grinned once more. Stefan looked at him and
then out window. Voss continued, “Dr. Von Stein sees this as way of introducing
ourselves to the local people.”

“What would we be required to do?”
Stefan said after pushing out a deep breath.

“Nothing more than to act as a
go-between and to facilitate the smooth running of everyone’s affairs on the
island.” Voss said.

“Captain Voss, I’m sure that you’ll
understand that we’ve been living here for many years now. We’ve integrated
with our neighbors and made many friends,” Stefan answered.

“What are you getting at here?” Voss
asked.

“We may need to refuse this duty.”

“Why on earth would you refuse such a
duty?” Voss looked genuinely hurt at the thought. His eyes widened in
amazement. “This is an opportunity to help out your neighbors as well as the
Fatherland. This is a unique chance. And, of course, helping Dr. Von Stein in
his duties will bring certain rewards.”

“Do we have a choice?” Christopher
asked. Both men whirled around to him, his father shaking his head.

Voss coughed and pressed his hands
together. “I understand you’ve been here most of your life and this must make
this even harder for you. I also understand your uncle, Uli Seeler, is serving
with the 3
^rd
Panzer Division in France.” He stopped to look up at
Stefan, and then back at Christopher. “Your uncle certainly has no doubts where
his loyalties lie. You yourself would make a fine addition to the Wehrmacht.
Perhaps you might like to speak to someone about serving your country as your
uncle does.”

“Where do we go from here?” Stefan
asked, ignoring the last statement. He was looking around the room, seemingly
unable to look at Voss anymore.

Voss’s face changed. “Report to this
address,” he said, drawing a small piece of paper from his pocket. “You will be
expected to be there at 8 am tomorrow morning. You may ask for me.” He stood up
and put his hat back on. “I expect you will be more accommodating as time
progresses and I’m sure you’ll see that we mean the best for the population of
the island. Oh, and you may drive down tomorrow morning.” He strode out of the
kitchen and towards the door, where Stefan let him out. Christopher came to the
door as Rebecca came down the stairs, staying out of sight. Christopher had the
piece of paper in his hand and waited until the car had left before reading it.
The address was the Durrell’s mansion in St Brelade.

The next morning, Christopher and his
father arrived at the gates of the mansion at about ten minutes to eight. The
sentries at the door shouldered their rifles and approached the car window.
Christopher’s father announced that they had arrived and the guard waved for
the gates to be opened and they drove through. It was the first time they had
been in the car for almost two weeks. A few days after they had arrived, the
Germans had barred all civilian use of cars and tractors and suddenly bikes
were very valuable items. Christopher’s heart filled with dread as he looked
around at the grounds of the Durrell’s former mansion and saw where Rebecca had
lived with Jonathan. It was a sizeable house, but was dwarfed by the mansion
itself, now the official residence of Dr. Gottfried Von Stein, the Commandant
of the German occupying forces on Jersey.

Stefan pulled the car to halt and
turned to his son. “Remember Christopher, this is not the place for rebellious
words, keep them in your heart.” Christopher nodded and held his breath, for
his hands were shaking. The sentry led them inside. There was no sign of Lord
or Lady Durrell, just German soldiers strolling around the beautiful gardens.
The sentry led them inside the foyer and told them to wait. They stood on the
polished marble floor, looking at the paintings of Lord Durrell’s ancestors and
the portrait of Hitler, newly installed beside them. Captain Voss came down the
stairs to greet them, once more wearing a smile which went unreturned. He led
them into a small office upstairs and sat them down. He regretted that Dr. Von
Stein had not the time to see them and that he would keep it short. Their job
would be to translate the ordinances passed down from the German occupiers to
the States, the ruling political council on the island. They would be required
to translate these ordinances, but not to explain them. For their work, they
would be well paid and would receive the privilege of the use of one car for
their family. Neither Christopher nor his father spoke during the meeting,
instead merely nodding as they were informed of their new duties. The whole
meeting took less than five minutes. Captain Voss told them that they would
start work the next day in an office building in town.