Far To Go
They were talking again. Words buzzed in the air, bouncing off the walls, colliding with each other to form a tornado above his head. Mouths flapped like stunned fish. Eyes widened with expectation. He knew they were waiting for him to speak, but what was the point? What was there to say? There was no sense to be found in the madness.
His gaze travelled over the room. There was Mama, smiling bravely despite the tears glistening in his eyes. There was Papa, laughing a little too loudly as though they were all off on a jolly holiday. His 25-year-old brother stood soldier-straight, proud and strong, but the tremble in his left leg told a different story. There sat his sister, only just 18 and pretty as a picture, dreaming of being a movie star one day. She’d styled her hair especially for the occasion, the blonde locks the envy of anyone seeking Aryan perfection; only the badge on her arm gave her away as one of the imperfects.
And there was his tiny suitcase, an object that usually meant excitement and wonder, but now spoke of danger and dread. The few precious possessions he was allowed to take with him on this peculiar journey were crammed inside it. But the only precious things he had were the people standing before him. How he wished he could fold up his family and pack them in his case! How he yearned to take them far away to a place where they weren’t spat at in the street, where they could go where they pleased whenever they chose. A place where a yellow star didn’t label them unclean.
“We should go,” his father said, the words snagging in his throat as though tiny barbs were trying to stop them being spoken. “Have you got everything you need?”
Walter nodded, but of course he didn’t have everything he needed! Everything he needed was right here in this room. Everything he needed was staying behind to face God knew what.
Outside, all was noise. People hurried by, everyone going somewhere, everyone having something to do. Voices called out, greetings and catcalls, friendliness and hostility churning the air around them. Walter kept his eyes on the ground, watching the feet march past: high heels, shiny shoes, heavy boots, dainty slippers. They all went past in a confusing blur. How many of them were joining him on this journey into the darkness?
His father murmured gently beside him, pointing out landmarks Walter had seen every day of his life with little regard. Would he ever see them again? Would he ever throw a ball in the park again? Would he ever climb the tree in old Mr Samuel’s garden? Would he ever eat pastries in Mrs Kammerling’s bakery?
He forced himself to look. The streets he loved so much, the city he’d called home for ten glorious years, enveloped him in their warm embrace. Overwhelming greed took hold. He drank in the sights, devouring them, savouring every memory, and all the while knowing it would be for the last time.
All too soon, the train station loomed above them. Mirror-images of his own family met his eye at every turn. Small groups clustered around tiny suitcases. Labels attached to luggage and children fluttered in the breeze. Parents were dressed in their finest clothes, making an effort to give their babies a special send-off. Everyone pretending that it was all perfectly normal. But nothing had been normal in such a long time.
“This way,” his father said, leading the way through the crowds outside the station entrance.
Walter followed mutely, his mother’s hand warm on his shoulder. A small girl, scarcely old enough to hold herself upright, caught his eye. A fat tear slid down her chubby cheek. Walter tried to smile, but his lips wouldn’t obey the command and he turned away instead.
Inside the groaning building, heavy emotions drenched the walls. It saturated the platforms, oozing through every crack in the brickwork until it took on a life of its own. Sobbing and wailing reached up to the ceiling as though it could find an escape route. But Walter knew there was no way out of this.
Smoke and steam billowed from the mighty engines waiting for their cargo. Sooty particles clung to his hair and settled on his clothing.
“Such a mess,” his mother said, absently picking at the minuscule fragments.
“Look! Isn’t that your friend over there?” Walter followed his father’s pointing finger and sighed.
“Yes, that’s Otto.”
Otto couldn’t be any further away from being a friend, but his father didn’t need to know that.
“Perhaps you can sit together,” his mother said, desperation straining her voice. She didn’t sound like Mama anymore.
He had to be brave for them, had to let them know he’d be all right.
“Yes, I shall.”
A piercing whistle screamed for attention. It was time.
Walter took his suitcase from his brother, his knuckles white with the vice-like grip he had on the handle.
“I can’t bear this,” his sister cried, her face twisted with agony. “This isn’t right. None of this is right!”
She fell into Joseph’s waiting arms, their big brother doing what big brothers do best. But even he couldn’t make the nightmare go away.
Someone was speaking, a voice he didn’t recognise. “I’ll be fine. It won’t be for long.” Where did that come from? he wondered.
Strong arms wrapped around him and he embraced his father’s smell of wool and soap. Mother came next, crushing him in her slender arms as though she’d never let him go. Anita hugged him so tightly she left a trace of her face powder on his sleeve, but he wouldn’t let her wipe it off. She fumbled something into his pocket.
“Read it later, Liebling,” she said when he moved to retrieve it.
Joseph came next, so tall and tough. “You stay strong, hear me? Eat your vegetables and don’t let anyone bully you or they’ll have me to deal with,” he said, ruffling Walter’s hair before swooping down to hug him close. Joseph’s shoulders shook. Walter had never known him cry before.
“All aboard,” a gruff voice said behind them. The guard smiled tightly and gestured to the open train door.
Tears prickled Walter’s eyes, but he swallowed them down. The pain of holding them back burned in his throat.
One foot moved forward, then the other until he stood before the door.
Don’t look back, he told himself. But how could he not?
At the last minute, he turned around to see his beloved family huddled together, holding each other upright. They didn’t look like them anymore. They stood so still as though carved by stone, misery and loss etched onto their faces. How small they looked, how desperately alone. Walter raised a hand in silent farewell and boarded the train.
He’d never seen so many children all in one place before. Walter squeezed his way along the corridor and into a crowded compartment where one seat beside the window remained. Children of every age sat shoulder to shoulder. Some wore the dazed expression of people swept along a river of confusion and finding themselves in No Man’s Land. Others giggled and gossiped, trading secrets to keep the strangeness at bay. Tears streamed down faces, cold bewilderment in anguished eyes.
Ignoring them all, he clambered through the bodies and baggage, and sat down. Overwhelming tiredness washed over him and he closed his eyes.
“Hey, Kaufmann! Such a big fuss about nothing, isn’t it?”
Walter opened his eyes and found Otto’s face an inch away from his.
“I’m sorry?”
Otto jerked his head. “This lot, crying their eyes out. It’s the adventure of a lifetime. And besides, it won’t be for long. We’ll be home in no time. My dad said so and he knows everything.”
Ah yes, Otto’s father, the self-appointed expert on everything. How many times had Walter been lectured on what Otto’s father knew to be fact when the opposite was always true?
“Perhaps,” Walter said. He shifted in his seat and turned to look out of the window. They were leaving the station now, the crowds on the platform surging forward to take a last look. And then they were gone, his family among them.
A gaping chasm opened up in his chest where his heart should be.
“You know, we will come home,” Otto said quietly. “My father promised. Just as soon as the Nazis are beaten, you’ll see. Dad promised.”
Something akin to rage fired in Walter’s blood. How could Otto be so stupid? How couldn’t Otto see the truth? Parents were sending their children away to England to keep them safe because they knew what was coming. There’d be no end to the unrelenting Nazi machine.
Angry words sprang to Walter’s lips, but the look on Otto’s face stopped them dead. Behind the bravado was just another frightened little boy. Of course Otto knew what was happening, but he wanted to believe it would be okay.
Paper rustled in Walter’s pocket and he remembered the secret something Anita had tucked into it. Read it later, she’d said. Well, it was later now. Her familiar handwriting danced over the scrap of paper. His lips twitched into a smile when he saw what it was. A train ticket, one her clever fingers had painstakingly copied from the genuine article. There was the price, and there was the name of the railway company: Kaufmann Travel Extraordinaire. She’d thought of everything in creating the perfect replica ticket.
Only this had a very special destination. One word stood out: HOME. The date of travel was open-ended.
“We’ll be all right, won’t we?” Otto added, his voice growing smaller. Hope burned in his eyes, a flame so bright it hurt Walter to look at it. “I mean, we’ll probably get to live on a farm. I’ve heard England has loads of them. Maybe we’ll even see London. Won’t that be something? We’ll have so much to tell everyone when we get back. We’ll find the way home again, just you see.”
Home. That word again. A word with so much inside those four little letters.
Walter looked at the piece of paper in his hand. He didn’t know how he’d do it, but he had to try. One day.
“Yes, Otto. Of course we will,” he said firmly.
Walter tucked Anita’s train ticket back in his pocket, and closed his eyes. Images of home, of his family, filled his mind. The journey ahead would be long, he knew that, knew that they all had far to go. But he would always know the way home and he would find it.
One day.
