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

“The child is bored and hungry,” she cried and added to the maid, “Have the old ladies all gone?”

The maid replied that they had.

“Well then,” cried Great-Aunt Sarah, “you can bring in the real tea!”

A moment later the maid staggered back under a tray loaded with cakes. There must have been five or six different kinds, apart from an assortment of sandwiches and biscuits. There was also a fresh pot of tea, chocolate and whipped cream.

“I like cakes,” said Great-Aunt Sarah in answer to Mama’s look of astonishment, “but it’s no use offering them to those old ladies – they’re much too careful of their diets. So I thought we’d have our tea after they’d gone.” So saying she slapped a large portion of apple flan on to a plate, topped it with whipped cream and handed it to Anna. “The child needs feeding,” she said.

During tea she asked Mama questions about Papa’s work and about their flat, and sometimes Mama had to repeat her answers into the ear-trumpet. Mama talked about everything quite cheerfully, but Great-Aunt Sarah kept shaking her head and saying, “To have to live like this …such a distinguished man …!” She knew all Papa’s books and bought the Daily Parisian specially to read his articles. Every so often she would look at Anna, saying, “And the child – so skinny!” and ply her with more cake.

At last, when no one could eat any more, Great-Aunt Sarah heaved herself out from behind the tea-table and set off at her usual trot towards the door, beckoning to Mama and Anna to follow. She led them to another room which seemed to be entirely filled with cardboard boxes.

“Look,” she said. “All this I have been given for my needy children.”

The boxes were filled with lengths of cloth in all sorts of different colours and thicknesses.

“One of my old ladies is married to a textile manufacturer,” explained Great-Aunt Sarah. “So he is very rich and he gives me all the ends of material he does not want. Now I have an idea – why shouldn’t the child have some of it? After all it is for needy children, and she is as needy as most.”

“No, no,” said Mama, “I don’t think I could …”

“Ach – always so proud,” said Great-Aunt Sarah. “The child needs new clothes. Why shouldn’t she have some?”

She rummaged in one of the boxes and pulled out some thick woollen material in a lovely shade of green. “Just nice for a coat,” she said, “and a dress she needs, and perhaps a skirt …”

In no time at all she had assembled a pile of cloth on the bed, and when Mama tried again to refuse she only cried, “Such nonsense! You want the police should arrest the child for going about with her pants showing?”

At this Mama who had in any case not been protesting very hard, had to laugh and give in. The maid was asked to wrap it all up, and when it was time to leave Mama and Anna each had a big parcel to carry.

“Thank you very, very much!” Anna shouted into Great-Aunt Sarah’s ear-trumpet. “I’ve always wanted a green coat!”

“I wish you luck to wear it!” Great-Aunt Sarah shouted back.

Then they were outside, and as Anna and Mama walked back in the dark they talked all the way about the different pieces of material and what they could be made into. As soon as they got home Mama telephoned Madame Fernand who was delighted and said they must bring everything round the following Thursday for a great dress-making session.

“Won’t it be lovely!” cried Anna. “I can’t wait to tell Papa!” – and just then Papa came in. She told him excitedly what had happened. “And I’ll be able to have a dress and a coat,” she gabbled, “and Great-Aunt Sarah just gave it to us because it was meant for needy children and she said I was as needy as most, and we had a lovely tea and …”

She stopped because of the expression on Papa’s face.

“What is all this?” he said to Mama.

“It’s just as Anna told you,” said Mama, and there was something careful about her voice. “Great-Aunt Sarah had a whole lot of cloth which had been given to her and she wanted Anna to have some.”

“But it had been given to her for needy children,” said Papa.

“That’s only what it was called,” said Mama. “She’s interested in various charities – she’s a very kind woman …”

“Charities?” asked Papa. “But we can’t accept charity for our children.”

“Oh, why must you always be so difficult?” shouted Mama. “The woman is my aunt and she wanted Anna to have some clothes – that’s all there is to it!”

“Honestly, Papa, I don’t think she meant it in any way you wouldn’t like,” Anna put in. She was feeling miserable and almost wished she had never seen the cloth.

“It’s a present for Anna from a relative,” said Mama.

“No,” said Papa. “It’s a present from a relative who runs a charity – a charity for needy children.”

“All right then, we’ll give it back!” shouted Mama. “If that’s what you want! But will you tell me what the child is going to wear? Do you know the price of children’s clothes in the shops? Look at her – just look at her!”

Papa looked at Anna and Anna looked back at him. She wanted the new clothes but she did not want Papa to feel so badly about them. She tugged at her skirt to make it look longer.

“Papa …” she said.

“You do look a bit needy,” said Papa. His face looked very tired.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Anna.

“Yes, it does,” said Papa. “It does matter.” He fingered the stuff in the parcels. “Is this the cloth?”

She nodded.

“Well then, you’d better get it made up into some new clothes,” said Papa. “Something warm,” he said and went out of the room.

In bed that night Anna and Max lay talking in the dark.

“I didn’t know we were needy,” said Anna. “Why are we?”

“Papa doesn’t earn a lot,” said Max. “The Daily Parisian can’t afford to pay him very much for his articles and the French have their own writers.”

“They used to pay him a lot in Germany.”

“Oh yes.”

For a while they lay without talking. Then Anna said, “Funny, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“How we used to think we’d be back in Berlin within six months. We’ve been away more than a year already.”

“I know,” said Max.

Suddenly, for no particular reason, Anna remembered their old house so vividly that she could almost see it. She remembered what it felt like to run up the stairs and the little patch on the carpet on the landing where she had once spilt some ink, and how you could see the pear tree in the garden from the windows. The nursery curtains were blue and there was a white-painted table to write or draw on and Bertha the maid had cleaned it all every day and there had been a lot of toys …But it was no use going on thinking about it, so she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

The dressmaking session at the Fernands was a great success. Madame Fernand was just as nice as Anna remembered her, and she cut out Great-Aunt Sarah’s cloth so cleverly that there was enough for a pair of grey shorts for Max as well as a coat, a dress and a skirt for Anna. When Mama offered to help with the sewing Madame Fernand looked at her and laughed.

“You go and play the piano,” she said, “I’ll get on with this.”

“But I’ve even brought some sewing things,” said Mama. She dug in her handbag and produced an elderly reel of white cotton and a needle.