Judith Kerr - Out of the Hitler Time trilogy - When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit, Bombs on Aunt Dainty, A Small Person Far Away

At break-time the boys played football and horsed about on one side of the playground while the girls played hopscotch or sat sedately gossiping on the other. But though the girls pretended to take no notice of the boys they spent a lot of time watching them under their carefully lowered lids, and when Vreneli and Anna walked home for lunch Vreneli became so interested in the antics of the red-haired boy on the opposite side of the road that she nearly walked into a tree. They went back for an hour’s singing in the afternoon and then school was finished for the day.

“How do you like it?” Mama asked Anna when she got back at three o’clock.

“It’s very interesting,” said Anna. “But it’s funny – the boys and girls don’t even talk to each other and I don’t know if I’m going to learn very much.”

When Herr Graupe had corrected the sums he had made several mistakes and his spelling had not been too good either.

“Well, it doesn’t matter if you don’t,” said Mama. “It won’t hurt you to have a bit of a rest after your illness.”

“I like the singing,” said Anna. “They can all yodel and they’re going to teach me how to do it too.”

“God forbid!” said Mama and immediately dropped a stitch.

Mama was learning to knit. She had never done it before, but Anna needed a new sweater and Mama was trying to save money. She had bought some wool and some knitting needles and Frau Zwirn had shown her how to use them. But somehow Mama never looked quite right doing it. Where Frau Zwirn sat clicking the needles lightly with her fingers, Mama knitted straight from the shoulder. Each time she pushed the needle into the wool it was like an attack. Each time she brought it out she pulled the stitch so tight that it almost broke. As a result the sweater only grew slowly and looked more like heavy tweed than knitting.

“I’ve never seen work quite like it,” said Frau Zwirn, astonished, when she saw it, “but it’ll be lovely and warm when it’s done.”

One Sunday morning soon after Anna and Max had started school they saw a familiar figure get off the steamer and walk up the landing stage. It was Onkel Julius. He looked thinner than Anna remembered and it was wonderful and yet somehow confusing to see him – as though a bit of their house in Berlin had suddenly appeared by the edge of the lake.

“Julius!” cried Papa in delight when he saw him. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Onkel Julius gave a little wry smile and said, “Well, officially I’m not here at all. Do you know that nowadays it is considered very unwise even to visit you?” He had been to a naturalists’ congress in Italy and had left a day early in order to come and see them on his way back to Berlin.

“I’m honoured and grateful,” said Papa.

“The Nazis certainly are very stupid,” said Onkel Julius. “How could you possibly be an enemy of Germany? You know of course that they burned all your books.”

“I was in very good company,” said Papa.

“What books?” asked Anna. “I thought the Nazis had just taken all our things – I didn’t know they’d burned them.”

“These were not the books your father owned,” said Onkel Julius. “They were the books he has written. The Nazis lit big bonfires all over the country and threw on all the copies they could find and burned them.”

“Along with the works of various other distinguished authors,” said Papa, “such as Einstein, Freud, H. G. Wells …”

Onkel Julius shook his head at the madness of it all.

“Thank heavens you didn’t take my advice,” he said. “Thank heavens you left when you did. But of course,” he added, “this situation in Germany can’t go on much longer!”

Over lunch in the garden he told them the news. Heimpi had found a job with another family. It had been difficult because when people heard that she had worked for Papa they did not want to employ her. But it was not a bad job considering. Their house was still empty. Nobody had bought it yet.

It was strange, thought Anna, that Onkel Julius could go and look at it any time he liked. He could walk down the street from the paper shop at the corner and stand outside the white painted gate. The shutters would be closed but if he had a key Onkel Julius would be able to go through the front door into the dark hall, up the stairs to the nursery, or across into the drawing room, or along the passage to Heimpi’s pantry …Anna remembered it all so clearly, and in her mind she walked right through the house from top to bottom while Onkel Julius went on talking to Mama and Papa.

“How are things with you?” he asked. “Are you able to write here?”

Papa raised an eyebrow. “I have no difficulty in writing,” he said, “only in getting my work published.”

“Impossible!” said Onkel Julius.

“Unfortunately not,” said Papa. “It seems the Swiss are so anxious to protect their neutrality that they are frightened of publishing anything by an avowed anti-Nazi like myself.”

Onkel Julius looked shocked.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “I mean – financially?”

“We manage,” said Papa. “Anyway, I’m trying to make them change their mind.”

Then they began to talk about mutual friends. It sounded as though they were going through a long list of names. Somebody had been arrested by the Nazis. Somebody else had escaped and was going to America. Another person had compromised (what was “compromised”? wondered Anna) and had written an article in praise of the new regime. The list went on and on. All grown-up conversations were like this nowadays, thought Anna, while little waves lapped against the edge of the lake and bees buzzed in the chestnut trees.

In the afternoon they showed Onkel Julius round. Anna and Max took him up into the woods and he was very interested to discover a special kind of toad that he had never seen before. Later, they all went for a row on the lake in a hired boat. Then they had supper together, and at last it was time for Onkel Julius to leave.

“I miss our outings to the Zoo,” he said as he kissed Anna.

“So do I!” said Anna. “I liked the monkeys best.”

“I’ll send you a picture of one,” said Onkel Julius.

They walked down to the landing stage together.

While they were waiting for the steamer Papa suddenly said, “Julius – don’t go back. Stay here with us. You won’t be safe in Germany.”

“What – me?” said Onkel Julius in his high voice. “Who’s going to bother about me? I’m only interested in animals. I’m not political. I’m not even Jewish unless you count my poor old grandmother!”

“Julius, you don’t understand …” said Papa.

“The situation is bound to change,” said Onkel Julius, and there was the steamer puffing towards them. “Goodbye, old friend!” He embraced Papa and Mama and both children.

As he walked across the gangplank he turned back for a moment.

“Anyway,” he said, “the monkeys at the Zoo would miss me!”

As Anna went on attending the village school she liked it more and more. She made friends with other girls apart from Vreneli, and especially with Roesli, who sat next to her in class and was a little less sedate than the rest. The lessons were so easy that she was able to shine without any effort, and though Herr Graupe was not a very good teacher of the more conventional subjects he was a remarkable yodeller. Altogether what she liked best about the school was that it was so different from the one she had been to before. She felt sorry for Max who seemed to be doing very much the same things at the Zurich High School as he had done in Berlin.