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Authors: Jackie French
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them. She could take a little from the kitchen of course, but it might not be enough.
So she took jars from the cellar, just one each day—things like plum jam and cherries in liqueur and honey—and she hid them in the hay. There were some tins in the kitchen and she’d have liked to take them too, but Fräulein Gelber might have noticed and blamed Frau Leib. If she and Frau Leib both took food from the kitchen, Fräulein Gelber was sure to notice sooner or later.
It took her a month, and then it was finished. Then she settled down to wait.
‘When did the Jews come?’ asked Little Tracey eagerly.
‘They never came,’ said Anna. ‘Of course they never came. It was late in the war by then and they were in concentration camps and very few escaped from those. But it was all that she could do.’
‘But surely she could have done something else?’ demanded Mark.
‘What? Locked herself in her room and said she wasn’t coming out or wouldn’t eat till they shut down the concentration camps?’
‘Something like that,’ said Mark lamely.
‘What good would that have done?’ asked Anna fiercely. ‘Do you think they would have paid any attention?’
‘But she was Hitler’s daughter!’
‘But no-one knew that, and besides, who listens to kids?’ demanded Anna. ‘Especially not back then. Even today…’
She was right, thought Mark. She’d done what she could, even if it was no use at all.
‘Maybe it would have been different when she grew up,’ he said at last. ‘She could have organised protests then. People would have listened to her if she said she was Hitler’s daughter.’
‘Maybe,’ said Anna. ‘But that never happened. There was never any chance of it happening. Because things changed, just a few months later.’
‘Hey kids!’ It was Mrs Latter’s voice. Mark stared. They’d been so engrossed in the story they hadn’t even noticed the bus.
‘Thought you’d changed your minds and decided not to go to school today,’ joked Mrs Latter as they climbed on. She was wearing her teapot hat today, the one with the emu embroidered on the front. ‘What were you all gabbing on about down there?’
‘Oh, just things,’ said Mark. He hated to thinkwhat Mrs Latter would say if she’d heard Anna’s story. She’d be on at them about racism and all that.
He glanced at Anna. She sat remote in her seat, not looking at him. She had become quieter ever since she started telling the story, he realised. As though it disturbed her—just like it was disturbing him.
chapter fourteen
Wednesday
Drip, drip, drip went the water as it drizzled from the bus shelter roof.
The drips had dug a sort of trench along the edge of the shelter. There was quite a big hole now.
It had become a routine, thought Mark, as he looked at Anna. As soon as she arrived with Little Tracey the story began. He and Little Tracey listened. It was Anna’s story, and she’d tell it till it was finished.
How would it finish? wondered Mark suddenly. Would it go on and on till Heidi was grown up? Or did she die in the war?
Hitler had killed himself, he remembered, and that woman he married right at the end of the war. Eva Braun, that was her name. They had both killed themselves.
No, that couldn’t happen to Heidi. It couldn’t! Anna couldn’t make it end that way!
Anna frowned across the shelter, as though she hunted for the words that would make the story exactly right. Anna could make the story turn out any way she wanted.
Couldn’t she?
‘…and she could hear the sounds of planes above the house during the night,’ Anna continued. ‘More and more planes came now.’
Mark tried to empty his mind. He was missing the story. And anyway he was silly to worry. All of Anna’s stories ended happily. Like the one about the disappearing fish and the secret passage under the school.
But this was different.
‘That night was different,’ Anna said. ‘It was just before they went to bed. Fräulein Gelber had let the
So she took jars from the cellar, just one each day—things like plum jam and cherries in liqueur and honey—and she hid them in the hay. There were some tins in the kitchen and she’d have liked to take them too, but Fräulein Gelber might have noticed and blamed Frau Leib. If she and Frau Leib both took food from the kitchen, Fräulein Gelber was sure to notice sooner or later.
It took her a month, and then it was finished. Then she settled down to wait.
‘When did the Jews come?’ asked Little Tracey eagerly.
‘They never came,’ said Anna. ‘Of course they never came. It was late in the war by then and they were in concentration camps and very few escaped from those. But it was all that she could do.’
‘But surely she could have done something else?’ demanded Mark.
‘What? Locked herself in her room and said she wasn’t coming out or wouldn’t eat till they shut down the concentration camps?’
‘Something like that,’ said Mark lamely.
‘What good would that have done?’ asked Anna fiercely. ‘Do you think they would have paid any attention?’
‘But she was Hitler’s daughter!’
‘But no-one knew that, and besides, who listens to kids?’ demanded Anna. ‘Especially not back then. Even today…’
She was right, thought Mark. She’d done what she could, even if it was no use at all.
‘Maybe it would have been different when she grew up,’ he said at last. ‘She could have organised protests then. People would have listened to her if she said she was Hitler’s daughter.’
‘Maybe,’ said Anna. ‘But that never happened. There was never any chance of it happening. Because things changed, just a few months later.’
‘Hey kids!’ It was Mrs Latter’s voice. Mark stared. They’d been so engrossed in the story they hadn’t even noticed the bus.
‘Thought you’d changed your minds and decided not to go to school today,’ joked Mrs Latter as they climbed on. She was wearing her teapot hat today, the one with the emu embroidered on the front. ‘What were you all gabbing on about down there?’
‘Oh, just things,’ said Mark. He hated to thinkwhat Mrs Latter would say if she’d heard Anna’s story. She’d be on at them about racism and all that.
He glanced at Anna. She sat remote in her seat, not looking at him. She had become quieter ever since she started telling the story, he realised. As though it disturbed her—just like it was disturbing him.
chapter fourteen
Wednesday
Drip, drip, drip went the water as it drizzled from the bus shelter roof.
The drips had dug a sort of trench along the edge of the shelter. There was quite a big hole now.
It had become a routine, thought Mark, as he looked at Anna. As soon as she arrived with Little Tracey the story began. He and Little Tracey listened. It was Anna’s story, and she’d tell it till it was finished.
How would it finish? wondered Mark suddenly. Would it go on and on till Heidi was grown up? Or did she die in the war?
Hitler had killed himself, he remembered, and that woman he married right at the end of the war. Eva Braun, that was her name. They had both killed themselves.
No, that couldn’t happen to Heidi. It couldn’t! Anna couldn’t make it end that way!
Anna frowned across the shelter, as though she hunted for the words that would make the story exactly right. Anna could make the story turn out any way she wanted.
Couldn’t she?
‘…and she could hear the sounds of planes above the house during the night,’ Anna continued. ‘More and more planes came now.’
Mark tried to empty his mind. He was missing the story. And anyway he was silly to worry. All of Anna’s stories ended happily. Like the one about the disappearing fish and the secret passage under the school.
But this was different.
‘That night was different,’ Anna said. ‘It was just before they went to bed. Fräulein Gelber had let the
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