Finding Rebecca: A Novel of Love and the Holocaust (7 page)

The bottles of beer piled up on the
kitchen table and Christopher’s father opened the bottle of brandy he had been
saving. It was the first time Christopher had ever seen Alexandra drink more
than a couple of glasses, and the white wine Stefan gave her had its inevitable
effect on her. When she started asking her father when he was going to get
married again and imploring him to get out there and meet someone, Stefan
stepped in.

“I appreciate your concern,
Alexandra, but I think it’s time you got off to bed now.”

“Ok.” She nodded and stood up. “Daddy,
will you carry me, like you used to when I was a little girl?” she said with
her arms outstretched. Christopher watched his father and started laughing.

“I think you’re getting a little too
big for that, and I’m a little old.” Stefan scratched his head. “I think that
the wine I let you have has gone to your head.”

“Oh, come on Dad, you can still do
it. I know you can.”

“You heard the girl, Stefan, carry
her up the stairs,” Uli said.

Stefan smiled and shook his head. “Ok
then, come on.” He took her in his arms. Alexandra waved goodnight to
Christopher and Uli, then disappeared out through the door and up the stairs in
her father’s arms.

Five minutes later, Stefan arrived
back into the kitchen, wiping a bead of imaginary sweat from his brow. “She
asked me to read her a story after I put her to bed, but I had to draw the line
somewhere.” The three men laughed as they had all night.

“So tell me about your work
Christopher?” Uli asked.

“I enjoy it. I am good at it too, I
think.”

“He is good at it. I’m very proud of
him,” Stefan added.

Christopher looked across the table
at his father, his eyes lingering for an extra second before he turned back
towards his uncle.

“Yes, this is a very beautiful
island, a very beautiful place. But you’re always going to be the outsiders
here, aren’t you? You’re always going to be the German family living on the
English island.”

“This island is not a part of
England,” Stefan replied.

“Come on, Stefan, you know what I
mean.”

“There were problems, especially when
we first arrived, but they’re few and far between now,” Christopher’s father
said, looking out into the black of the night outside. “It took me a while to
persuade certain people that the war was over.”

“I remember,” Uli said, and picked up
the glass of brandy. He swirled the brown liquid around in the glass for a few
seconds before taking a sip. “Do you ever regret coming here?”

“No, not with what was going on in
Germany when we came over here, and particularly with what has happened since,”
Stefan replied.

“But Germany has changed now. It’s a
different place than it was when you left.”

Christopher shifted in his seat as
Uli spoke and threw his eyes onto his father’s face. Stefan looked back at his
brother and picked up the glass in front of him. Christopher wondered if he
should speak, but his father eventually spoke. “Different how? Better or
worse?”

“Oh it’s far, far better Stefan,” Uli
said, shaking his head as he spoke. “Don’t you read the newspapers?”

“Yes I do little brother. I read them
every day.”

“Then you must see what’s happening
in our country. These last few years since Hitler came to power have been the
best for a long time.”

“I see that Herr Hitler has banned
all other political parties apart from his own Nazi party.”

“Yes, but what good did this
democracy do us Stefan? The years before Herr Hitler and the National
Socialists came to power were the worst Germany has ever known. Utter chaos. You
got out in time, Stefan, but we weren’t all so lucky. I am glad that you
weren’t there, my brother. I am glad that the children weren’t there then but
it could be a wonderful place for them to grow up now.”

“Jersey is a wonderful place for them
to grow up.”

“Yes, it was wonderful when they were
children, but look at your son Stefan; he’s not a boy anymore. This is an
island, a tiny island. It can’t possibly offer them the kind of opportunity
that Germany could.”

“I would never stand in the way of
what my children wanted to do. It would be their decision, not mine.”

“All right then,” Uli said, turning
towards Christopher. “What would you think of the idea of coming to Germany?”

Christopher smiled and looked at his
father, but his father’s eyes were stone. “It’s your life Christopher,” Stefan
said. “I can’t tell you what to do. You’re a man now.”

Christopher could feel his eyes
flitting around in his head like tadpoles in a glass. Both men were looking at
him. “I would certainly think that it would be a great experience. I mean, I
love Jersey, but to live in Munich or Berlin? That would be incredible. But
where would I work?”

“I’m sure I could get you a job in
the bank, I’ve been there almost seven years myself,” Uli said.

Christopher coughed slightly, holding
his hand up in front of his face for longer than was necessary. “That would be
an amazing experience.” He looked at his father again.

“Yes, unfortunately, you would have
to forget your friendship with Rebecca Cassin if you went there.” Christopher’s
father said.

“What? What are you talking about?”
Christopher said looking at Uli who slugged back a massive gulp of beer whilst
still looking bemused.

“Think about it, Christopher, Rebecca
is a Jew.”

“I never knew,” Uli said. “What
difference would that make anyway? Christopher hasn’t seen or heard from her in
years.”

Stefan leaned forward towards his
brother. “I do read the papers Uli, I read them every day and I know that Jews
are being completely disenfranchised, completely removed from society.” Christopher
turned to look at Uli, but Uli’s eyes were low. “So that’s the new Germany
Christopher, a land of opportunity for most.” He turned to look at his son.
“There is a new set of laws making it illegal for Jews to be German citizens or
to marry non-Jews, or to own businesses or property. So make your choice
Christopher, but make it wisely.”

Christopher looked at Uli. “I never
knew Rebecca was Jewish. Not that it matters to
me
.” Uli said.

“But in Germany it would matter to
her, and it would to you too, Christopher.”

“Maybe you should go to Germany. It’s
the only way you’ll ever get Rebecca off your mind.” Uli laughed and a flame of
embarrassment crept over Christopher. He wanted to argue that he was over
Rebecca, and that it was three years since she’d left, but he could see now
that they could see through him. The beer had dulled Christopher and his mind
lolled back and forth, unable to fend off the images of Rebecca that swept
through him upon the mention of her name.

“I haven’t seen Rebecca for a long
time,” was the best Christopher could muster in reply, but neither man looked
at him as he said it. The laughter was over and they were staring at each
other.

“But if you did want to be with her
you never could be, not in Germany anyway. Here in Jersey, we may not have all
the opportunity of Germany but we have some things.”

“I don’t agree with the Nazi policies
about the Jews either,” Uli said. “But what can I do? The government says that
it was their fault that we lost the war, that they are enemies of Germany and
are in league with the Bolsheviks.”

“And what do you believe, Uli?”

“I believe that I remember Mrs.
Rosenbaum who lived down the street from us and how she would smile at us and
give us candy when we were young. There is so much talk of the Jews these days.
I had never really considered them before. I never knew it mattered to single
them out.”

Stefan stood up from his seat and
walked over to the counter and poured himself another glass of beer before
sitting back down. “I read what Hitler says about the Great War. The talk of
these
November Criminals
and the
Zionist conspiracy, it makes me laugh, Uli, really it does. We stabbed
ourselves in the back. There was no Jewish conspiracy. Some of the best men I
fought with in that godforsaken mess were Jews, good Germans. Ernest Heppner,
Hans Buchsbaum, Franz Bachner. They were all Jews, and friends of mine, all
dead.”

“The Nazis are not perfect Stefan,
far from it, but things are so much better in Germany now. It’s easy for you to
sit here in Jersey and judge us in Germany. You weren’t there when things went
bad. You left.” Christopher could hear the bitterness creeping into his uncle’s
voice, something he had never heard before.

“Yes Uli, it is easy to be here, to
sit in judgment of Germany and the Nazis, and that’s why I won’t go back and
why I won’t encourage Christopher or Alexandra to go back there, even if it is
the country of their birth.”

A silence settled across the room.
Christopher wanted to say something to get the conversation moving but couldn’t
think. He lifted the glass to his mouth and took another mouthful of beer. His
father looked at him and breathed out heavily. Christopher saw him try to smile
but his face was too tight and the curvature of his lips made him look like he
was in pain. Stefan looked at his watch. “I think it’s time you went to bed
Christopher,” he said.
 
Christopher
looked at his father and then at Uli. He smiled, expecting some reprieve, but
found none. It had been several years since he had been sent to bed, but as he
looked at his father again he understood, and got up from the table. Uli stood
up and hugged Christopher as if he was trying to smother him to death and
smiled at him as he drew away.

“Good night, you two,” Christopher
said as he walked out. “Try not to kill each other.” Both men smiled.
Christopher raised his eyebrows and looked back at them, saying nothing. He
turned and tramped into the hall and up the stairs, each step a minor triumph.
His head felt like a thin raft, afloat on a boiling sea and the top of the
stairs brought a nausea that he had barely felt before. Christopher fought past
the bathroom door and sat down on the toilet seat, his trousers still up, his
head in his hands. His eyes heavied and his vision thickened into black and
sleep overcame him. He jerked his head up and felt different. He looked at his
watch. More than two hours had passed, and his legs were numb from sitting on the
toilet. He dragged himself to the mirror, more in control than he had been
earlier and, looked at himself. His eyes were bulging wide and only white and
blue, not bright red as he had expected. The image of Rebecca wandered
somewhere into his vision. He wondered why he couldn’t forget her. He turned
the cold-water faucet and splashed some water up onto his face. The voices were
still there, still downstairs in the kitchen and he wanted to go back down. The
towel was hard and cold and he used it quickly, finishing drying his hands in
his armpits as he approached the door. He listened to the house, as he always
did at this time of night. There was nothing other than the gentle flow of the
wind outside and the muffled patter of voices through the floorboards. He would
go down, if only to say goodnight, even though he had already done so.

There was light coming from
downstairs cast up the stairs and he followed it down, taking each step slowly.
He heard Uli speak and then his father and he sat down on the last step, not
wanting to interrupt. He listened. The conversation had turned and meandered
between their own mother, who had died 6 years before, their own father, who
had died before Christopher was born, and Christopher’s mother.

“All dead,” Uli asserted. Christopher
moved his head around the banister at the end of the stairwell. The door was
open enough that he could see Uli sitting back on his chair facing Stefan, out
of Christopher’s view behind the wall. “I can’t quite remember meeting Hannah
for the first time, I was so young.”
 
Christopher’s heart burned at the mention of his mother’s name. He
watched Uli stare across the table, waiting for an answer that didn’t come.
“She was always so good to me, and even Father liked her, even Father.” Uli’s
voice trailed off and he picked up the glass in front of him and took a gulp of
the mahogany brown liquid.

“She was the only thing I never had
any doubt over. People say that I should move on. You tell me that all the time,
but how can I? I can’t. I don’t feel that she ever truly left me. I feel like
she’s still here, with me.”

Christopher stared down into the dark
of the corner, his entire body rigid. The fire within him had gone out and he
felt absolutely cold.

“Perhaps it’s time to let her go.
It’s been thirteen years now, brother. You’re not old. You’ve still got a life
to live.”

“Maybe, but maybe I just don’t want
to live it without her.” And then nothing, for thirty seconds or more until
Stefan started again. “Anyway I’ve never met anyone who matched up to her. And
bringing a woman back home to the children…. they’re not children anymore, I
suppose, but I just couldn’t do it. You know I met Hannah when I wasn’t too
much older than Christopher was when we moved here. Her grandfather was German.
You knew that already though.”