Judith Kerr - When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit

The other was a book for both children from Gunther’s mum. It was called They Grew to be Great and she had written in it, ‘Thank you for all the lovely things – something to read on the journey.’ It described the early lives of various people who later became famous, and Anna, who had a personal interest in the subject, leafed through it eagerly at first. But the book was so dully written and its tone was so determinedly uplifting that she gradually became discouraged.

All the famous people had had an awful time. One of them had a drunken father. Another had a stammer. Another had to wash hundreds of dirty bottles. They had all had what was called a difficult childhood. Clearly you had to have one if you wanted to become famous.

Dozing in her corner and mopping her nose with her two soaked handkerchiefs, Anna wished that they would get to Stuttgart and that one day, in the long-distant future, she might become famous. But as the train rumbled through Germany in the darkness she kept thinking ‘difficult childhood … difficult childhood … difficult childhood …’

Suddenly she found herself being gently shaken. She must have been asleep. Mama said, ‘We’ll be in Stuttgart in a few minutes.’

Anna sleepily put on her coat, and soon she and Max were sitting on the luggage at the entrance of Stuttgart station while Mama went to get a taxi. The rain was still pelting down, drumming on the station roof and falling like a shiny curtain between them and the dark square in front of them. It was cold. At last Mama came back.

‘What a place!’ she cried. ‘They’ve got some sort of a strike on – something to do with the elections – and there are no taxis. But you see that blue sign over there?’ On the opposite side of the square there was a bluish gleam among the wet. ‘That’s a hotel,’ said Mama. ‘We’ll just take what we need for the night and make a dash for it.’

With the bulk of the luggage safely deposited they struggled across the ill-lit square. The case Anna was carrying kept banging against her leg and the rain was so heavy that she could hardly see. Once she missed her footing and stepped into a deep puddle so that her feet were soaked. But at last they were in the dry. Mama booked rooms for them and then she and Max had something to eat. Anna was too tired. She went straight to bed and to sleep.

In the morning they got up while it was still dark. ‘We’ll soon see Papa,’ said Anna as they ate their breakfast in the dimly-lit dining room. Nobody else was up yet and the sleepy-eyed waiter seemed to grudge them the stale rolls and coffee which he banged down in front of them. Mama waited until he had gone back into the kitchen. Then she said, ‘Before we get to Zurich and see Papa we have to cross the frontier between Germany and Switzerland.’

‘Do we have to get off the train?’ asked Max.

‘No,’ said Mama. ‘We just stay in our compartment and then a man will come and look at our passports – just like the ticket inspector. But’ – and she looked at both children in turn – ‘this is very important. When the man comes to look at our passports I want neither of you to say anything. Do you understand? Not a word.’

‘Why not?’ asked Anna.

‘Because otherwise the man will say “What a horrible talkative little girl, I think I’ll take away her passport”,’ said Max, who was always bad-tempered when he had not had enough sleep.

‘Mama!’ appealed Anna. ‘He wouldn’t really – take away our passports, I mean?’

‘No … no, I don’t suppose so,’ said Mama. ‘But just in case – Papa’s name is so well known – we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves in any way. So when the man comes – not a word. Remember – not a single, solitary word!’

Anna promised to remember.

The rain had stopped at last and it was quite easy walking back across the square to the station. The sky was just beginning to brighten and now Anna could see that there were election posters everywhere. Two or three people were standing outside a place marked Polling Station, waiting for it to open. She wondered if they were going to vote, and for whom.

The train was almost empty and they had a whole compartment to themselves until a lady with a basket got in at the next station. Anna could hear a sort of shuffling inside the basket – there must be something alive in it. She tried to catch Max’s eye to see if he had heard it too, but he was still feeling cross and was frowning out of the window. Anna began to feel bad-tempered too and to remember that her head ached and that her boots were still wet from last night’s rain.

‘When do we get to the frontier?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know,’ said Mama. ‘Not for a while yet.’ Anna noticed that her fingers were squashing the camel’s face again.

‘In about an hour, d’you think?’ asked Anna.

‘You never stop asking questions,’ said Max, although it was none of his business. ‘Why can’t you shut up?’

‘Why can’t you?’ said Anna. She was bitterly hurt and cast around for something wounding to say. At last she came out with, ‘I wish I had a sister!’

‘I wish I didn’t!’ said Max.

‘Mama …!’ wailed Anna.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, stop it!’ cried Mama. ‘Haven’t we got enough to worry about?’ She was clutching the camel bag and peering into it every so often to see if the passports were still there.

Anna wriggled crossly in her seat. Everybody was horrible. The lady with the basket had produced a large chunk of bread with some ham and was eating it. No one said anything for a long time. Then the train began to slow down.

‘Excuse me,’ said Mama, ‘but are we coming to the Swiss frontier?’

The lady with the basket munched and shook her head.

‘There, you see!’ said Anna to Max. ‘Mama is asking questions too!’

Max did not even bother to answer but rolled his eyes up to heaven. Anna wanted to kick him, but Mama would have noticed.

The train stopped and started again, stopped and started again. Each time Mama asked if it was the frontier, and each time the lady with the basket shook her head. At last when the train slowed down yet again at the sight of a cluster of buildings, the lady with the basket said, ‘I dare say we’re coming to it now.’

They waited in silence while the train stood in the station. Anna could hear voices and the doors of other compartments opening and shutting. Then footsteps in the corridor. Then the door of their own compartment slid open and the passport inspector came in. He had a uniform rather like a ticket inspector and a large brown moustache.

He looked at the passport of the lady with the basket, nodded, stamped it with a little rubber stamp, and gave it back to her. Then he turned to Mama. Mama handed him the passports and smiled. But the hand with which she was holding her handbag was squeezing the camel into terrible contortions. The man examined the passports. Then he looked at Mama to see if it was the same face as on the passport photograph, then at Max and then at Anna. Then he got out his rubber stamp. Then he remembered something and looked at the passports again. Then at last he stamped them and gave them back to Mama.

‘Pleasant journey,’ he said as he opened the door of the compartment.

Nothing had happened. Max had frightened her all for nothing.

‘There, you see …!’ cried Anna, but Mama gave her such a look that she stopped.

The passport inspector closed the door behind him.