Judith Kerr - When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit

Anna bought her crayons quickly. Then she and Elsbeth stood together in the cold wind outside the paper shop. This was where their ways normally parted, but Elsbeth lingered. There was something she had wanted to ask Anna for a long time and it seemed a good moment.

‘Anna,’ said Elsbeth, ‘is it nice having a famous father?’

‘Not when you meet someone like Fräulein Lambeck,’ said Anna, absent-mindedly setting off for home while Elsbeth equally absent-mindedly followed her.

‘No, but apart from Fräulein Lambeck?’

‘I think it’s quite nice. For one thing Papa works at home, so we see quite a lot of him. And sometimes we get free theatre tickets. And once we were interviewed by a newspaper, and they asked us what books we liked, and my brother said Zane Grey and the next day someone sent him a whole set as a present!’

‘I wish my father was famous,’ said Elsbeth. ‘But I don’t think he ever will be because he works in the Post Office, and that’s not the sort of thing people get famous for.’

‘If your father doesn’t become famous perhaps you will. One snag about having a famous father is that you almost never become famous yourself.’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t know. But you hardly ever hear of two famous people in the same family. It makes me rather sad sometimes.’ Anna sighed.

By this time they were standing outside Anna’s white-painted gate. Elsbeth was feverishly trying to think of something she might become famous for when Heimpi, who had seen them from the window, opened the front door.

‘Goodness!’ cried Elsbeth, ‘I’ll be late for lunch!’ – and she rushed off up the street.

‘You and that Elsbeth,’ grumbled Heimpi as Anna went inside. ‘You’d talk the monkeys off the trees!’

Heimpi’s real name was Fräulein Heimpel and she had looked after Anna and her brother Max since they were babies. Now that they were older she did the house-keeping while they were at school, but she liked to fuss over them when they came back. ‘Let’s have all this off you,’ she said, unwinding the muffler. ‘You look like a parcel with the string undone.’ As Heimpi peeled the clothes off her Anna could hear the piano being played in the drawing room. So Mama was home.

‘Are you sure your feet aren’t wet?’ said Heimpi. ‘Then go quickly and wash your hands. Lunch is nearly ready.’

Anna climbed up the thickly carpeted stairs. The sun was shining through the window and outside in the garden she could see a few last patches of snow. The smell of chicken drifted up from the kitchen. It was nice coming home from school.

As she opened the bathroom door there was a scuffle inside and she found herself staring straight at her brother Max, his face scarlet under his fair hair, his hands hiding something behind his back.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, even before she caught sight of his friend Gunther who seemed equally embarrassed.

‘Oh, it’s you!’ said Max, and Gunther laughed. ‘We thought it was a grown-up!’

‘What have you got?’ asked Anna.

‘It’s a badge. There was a big fight at school today – Nazis against Sozis.’

‘What are Nazis and Sozis?’

‘I’d have thought even you would know that at your age,’ said Max, who was just twelve. ‘The Nazis are the people who are going to vote for Hitler in the elections. We Sozis are the people who are going to vote against.’

‘But you’re none of you allowed to vote,’ said Anna. ‘You’re too young!’

‘Our fathers, then,’ said Max crossly. ‘It’s the same thing.’

‘Anyway, we beat them,’ said Gunther. ‘You should have seen those Nazis run! Max and I caught one of them and got his badge off him. But I don’t know what my mum is going to say about my trousers.’ He looked dolefully down at a large tear in the worn cloth. Gunther’s father was out of work and there was no money at home for new clothes.

‘Don’t worry, Heimpi will fix it,’ said Anna. ‘Can I see the badge?’

It was a small piece of red enamel with a black hooked cross on it.

‘It’s called a swastika,’ said Gunther. ‘All the Nazis have them.’

‘What are you going to do with it?’

Max and Gunther looked at each other.

‘D’you want it?’ asked Max.

Gunther shook his head. ‘I’m not supposed to have anything to do with the Nazis. My mum’s afraid I might get my head cut open.’

‘They don’t fight fair,’ agreed Max. ‘They use sticks and stones and everything.’ He turned the badge over with increasing dislike. ‘Well, I certainly don’t want it.’

‘Put it down the what-not!’ said Gunther. So they did. The first time they pulled the chain it would not flush away, but the second time, just as the gong went for lunch, it disappeared very satisfactorily.

They could still hear the piano as they went downstairs but it stopped while Heimpi was filling their plates and a moment later the door burst open and Mama came in.

‘Hello, children, hello, Gunther,’ she cried, ‘how was school?’

Everybody immediately began to tell her and the room was suddenly filled with noise and laughter. She knew the names of all their teachers and always remembered what they had told her. So when Max and Gunther talked about how the geography master had flown into a rage she said, ‘No wonder, after the way you all played him up last week!’ And when Anna told her that her essay had been read out in class she said, ‘That’s marvellous – because Fräulein Schmidt hardly ever reads anything out, does she?’

When she listened she looked at whoever was talking with the utmost concentration. When she talked all her energy went into it. She seemed to do everything twice as hard as other people – even her eyes were a brighter blue than any Anna had ever seen.

They were just starting on the pudding (which was apple strudel) when Bertha the maid came in to tell Mama that there was someone on the telephone, and should she disturb Papa?

‘What a time to ring up!’ cried Mama and pushed her chair back so hard that Heimpi had to put out her hand to stop it falling over. ‘Don’t any of you dare eat my apple strudel!’ And she rushed out.

It seemed very quiet after she had gone, though Anna could hear her footsteps hurrying to the telephone and, a little later, hurrying even faster up the stairs to Papa’s room. In the silence she asked, ‘How is Papa?’

‘Feeling better,’ said Heimpi. ‘His temperature is down a bit.’

Anna ate her pudding contentedly. Max and Gunther got through three helpings but still Mama had not come back. It was odd because she was particularly fond of apple strudel.

Bertha came to clear away and Heimpi took the boys off to see to Gunther’s trousers. ‘No use mending these,’ she said, ‘they’d split again as soon as you breathed. But I’ve got an outgrown pair of Max’s that will just do you nicely.’

Anna was left in the dining room wondering what to do. For a while she helped Bertha. They put the used plates through the hatch into the pantry. Then they brushed the crumbs off the table with a little brush and pan. Then, while they were folding the tablecloth, she remembered Fräulein Lambeck and her message. She waited until Bertha had the tablecloth safely in her hands and ran up to Papa’s room. She could hear Papa and Mama talking inside.

‘Papa,’ said Anna as she opened the door, ‘I met Fräulein Lambeck …’

‘Not now! Not now!’ cried Mama. ‘We’re talking!’ She was sitting on the edge of Papa’s bed. Papa was propped up against the pillows looking rather pale. They were both frowning.

‘But Papa, she asked me to tell you …’

Mama got quite angry.

‘For goodness’ sake, Anna,’ she shouted, ‘we don’t want to hear about it now! Go away!’