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

On her way upstairs she came upon Franz and Vreneli whispering together in the corridor. When they saw her they stopped.

“What were you saying?” asked Anna. She had caught her father’s name and something about the Nazis.

“Nothing,” said Vreneli.

“Yes, you were,” said Anna. “I heard you.”

“Pa said we weren’t to tell you,” said Vreneli unhappily.

“For fear of upsetting you,” said Franz. “But it was in the paper. The Nazis are putting a price on your Pa’s head.”

“A price on his head?” asked Anna stupidly.

“Yes,” said Franz. “A thousand German marks. Pa says it shows how important your Pa must be. There was a picture of him and all.”

How could you put a thousand marks on a person’s head? It was silly. She determined to ask Max when he came up to bed but fell asleep long before.

In the middle of the night Anna woke up. It was quite sudden, like something being switched on inside her head, and she was immediately wide awake. And as though she had been thinking of nothing else all night, she suddenly knew with terrible clarity how you put a thousand marks on a person’s head.

In her mind she saw a room. It was a funny-looking room because it was in France and the ceiling, instead of being solid, was a mass of criss-crossing beams. In the gaps between them something was moving. It was dark, but now the door opened and the light came on. Papa was coming to bed. He took a few steps towards the middle of the room – “Don’t!” Anna wanted to cry – then the terrible shower of heavy coins began. It came pouring down from the ceiling on to Papa’s head. He called out but the coins kept coming. He sank to his knees under their weight and the coins kept falling and falling until he was completely buried under them.

So this was what Herr Zwirn had not wanted her to know. This was what the Nazis were going to do to Papa. Or perhaps, since it was in the paper, they had already done it. She lay staring into the darkness, sick with fear. In the other bed she could hear Max breathing quietly and regularly. Should she wake him? But Max hated being disturbed in the night – he would probably only be cross and say that it was all nonsense.

And perhaps it was all nonsense, she thought with a sudden lightening of her misery. Perhaps in the morning she would be able to see it as one of those silly night fears which had frightened her when she was younger – like the times when she had thought that the house was on fire, or that her heart had stopped. In the morning there would be the usual postcard from Mama and Papa, and everything would be all right.

Yes, but this was not something she had imagined – it had been in the paper …Her thoughts went round and round. One moment she was making complicated plans to get up, take a train to Paris and warn Papa. The next moment she thought how silly she’d look if Frau Zwirn should happen to catch her. In the end she must have fallen asleep because suddenly it was daylight and Max was already half-dressed. She stayed in bed for a moment, feeling very tired and letting the thoughts of the previous night come creeping back. After all they seemed rather unreal now that it was morning.

“Max?” she said tentatively.

Max had an open textbook on the table beside him and was looking at it while he put on his shoes and socks.

“Sorry,” said Max. “Latin exam today and I haven’t revised.” He went back to his book, murmuring verbs and tenses. Anyway, it didn’t matter, thought Anna. She was sure everything was all right.

But at breakfast there was no postcard from Mama and Papa.

“Why do you think it hasn’t come?” she asked Max.

“Postal delay,” said Max indistinctly through a mouthful of bread. “Bye!” and he rushed to catch his train.

“I daresay it’ll come this afternoon,” said Herr Zwirn.

But she worried about it all day at school and sat chewing her pencil instead of writing a description of the sunrise in the mountains.

“What’s the matter with you?” said Herr Graupe. (She usually wrote the best compositions in the class.) “It was beautiful. You should have been inspired by the experience!” And he walked away, personally offended by her lack of response to his sunrise.

There was still no postcard when she came home from school, nor was there anything in the last post at seven o’clock. It was the first time that Mama and Papa had not written. Anna managed to get through supper thinking cool thoughts about postal delays, but once she was in bed with the light out all the terror of the previous night came flooding back with such force that she felt almost choked by it. She tried to remember that she was a Jew and must not be frightened, otherwise the Nazis would say that all Jews were cowards – but it was no use. She kept seeing the room with the strange ceiling and the terrible rain of coins coming down on Papa’s head. Even though she shut her eyes and buried her face in the pillow she could still see it.

She must have been making some noise in bed for Max suddenly said, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” said Anna, but even as she said it she could feel something like a small explosion making its way up from her stomach towards her throat, and suddenly she was sobbing, “Papa …Papa …” and Max was sitting on her bed and patting her arm.

“Oh, you idiot!” he said when she had explained her fears. “Don’t you know what is meant by a price on someone’s head?”

“Not …not what I thought?” said Anna.

“No,” said Max. “Not at all what you thought. Putting a price on a person’s head means offering a reward to anyone who captures that person.”

“There you are!” wailed Anna. “The Nazis are trying to get Papa!”

“Well, in a way,” said Max. “But Herr Zwirn doesn’t think it’s very serious – after all there’s not much they can do about it as Papa isn’t in Germany.”

“You think he’s all right?”

“Of course he’s all right. We’ll have a postcard in the morning.”

“But supposing they sent someone after him in France – a kidnapper or someone like that?”

“Then Papa would have the whole of the French police force to protect him.” Max assumed what he imagined to be a French accent. “Go away, pleeze. Ees not allowed to keednap in France. We chop off your head with the guillotine, no?”

He was such an awful mimic that Anna had to laugh and Max looked surprised at his success.

“Better go to sleep now,” he said, and she was so tired that very soon she did.

In the morning instead of a postcard they had a long letter. Mama and Papa had decided that they should all live in Paris together and Papa was coming to collect them.

“Papa,” said Anna after the first excitement of seeing him safe and sound had worn off. “Papa, I was a bit upset when I heard about the price on your head.”

“So was I!” said Papa. “Very upset.”

“Were you?” asked Anna, surprised. Papa had always seemed so brave.

“Well, it’s such a very small price,” explained Papa. “A thousand marks goes nowhere these days. I think I’m worth a lot more, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Anna, feeling better.

“No self-respecting kidnapper would touch it,” said Papa. He shook his head sadly. “I’ve a good mind to write to Hitler and complain!”

Frau Zwirn packed the children’s clothes. They said goodbye to their friends and their teachers at school and then they were ready to leave Switzerland for their new life in France. But it wasn’t a bit like leaving Berlin, said Anna, because they would be able to come back and see everyone at the Gasthof Zwirn any time they liked, and Herr Zwirn had already invited them for next summer. They were to live in a furnished flat in Paris which Mama was busy now getting ready. What was it like? Max wanted to know. Papa thought for a moment. If you stood on the balcony, he said at last, you could see the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe both at the same time – these were famous Paris landmarks. But beyond this he seemed unable to remember much about it. It was a pity, thought the children, that Papa was sometimes so vague about practical matters. But the fact that the flat had a balcony made it sound rather grand.