The Upstairs Room Read online

  But there was so much work to be done, and not enough people volunteered. The tree no longer spoke nicely. “You must go,” the notices said.

  What would happen if you didn’t? Father wasn’t planning to go. “I’m looking for a place to hide,” he told us. “I know many farmers, and one of them is bound to take us.”

  I stamped my foot. Mother had been wrong about the new house. Wrong. Wrong. Bobbie came running after me.

  When I got to school the next morning, Mr. Herschel had not yet arrived. We stood outside, waiting for him, until Mr. Cohen, the other teacher, came. “You’d better go home,” he said. “Mr. Herschel won’t be back.”

  The first person I met when I came home was Sini. “How come you’re home already?”

  “German soldiers picked up Mr. Herschel. He won’t be back. No more school.”

  Sini threw herself in a chair and started to cry. I didn’t know what to say. Awkwardly I shuffled out of the room. Was that what happened if you didn’t volunteer and they needed more workers? The truck would come? But Mr. Herschel had been working. He had not been sitting around the house like the father of Frits Droppers, who did nothing all day long. He should have to go, too.

  There were many rumors that spring of 1942. The war would be over soon, some people said. Germany should never have invaded Russia. That country was just too cold for them and too big. German soldiers were also fighting in North Africa. “Sure, Italian soldiers are helping them there, but they don’t amount to much.”

  How many soldiers did Hitler have? Enough to send them all over the world? Would they even get to Uncle Bram? Because the Germans were now at war with America too. Father said that was a terrible mistake. Hitler should have known better. He laughed when he said it, and I was not scared, not when he laughed like that.

  There were other rumors, not such nice ones. Soon women could go to the labor camps too—if they felt like it. Mrs. Gans was already packed, waiting. Father said Rachel and Sini should start a nursery school in our house. Then the Germans would not expect them to go. They would be too busy doing useful work.

  Every morning about ten children came on the backs of their mothers’ bikes. I was waiting for them by the gate, wearing my star, just like the mothers. I took the children inside, and Sini showed them where to sit. I walked around checking on the pasting. “Look, the picture’s getting all crooked, and don’t wipe your sticky hands on your clothes. That’s why we give you a rag.”

  Rachel shoved a little girl in my direction. “Annie, take this one to the bathroom.”

  “C’mon,” I said, “this way. Hold my hand.”

  The summer turned out to be very nice. That poor Frits, having to go to school as a pupil. This was a school, too, where I was an assistant, and I was only ten.

  “Today we’re going for a walk in the woods. Line up here. Nice straight line, please.” My voice even sounded like Rachel’s. I was waiting for Rachel and Sini to come.

  “Why are you wearing a rucksack?” I asked a little boy.

  “I’ve got cookies in it,” he answered.

  When Rachel and Sini came, he took his neighbor’s hand and hitched the rucksack up higher on his shoulders. “Let’s go to Poland,” he said. And away we walked, to pick flowers.

  Mother’s headaches became so bad that she had to go to the hospital. The hospital couldn’t prepare kosher food for her, and Rachel went on making it at home. She took it to her every day in a wicker basket. At the hospital kitchen they gave Rachel yesterday’s dirty dishes to bring home.

  The only visitors Mother was allowed were the four of us and Grandmother. Grandmother sat at Mother’s bed and didn’t know what to say, except “Sophie, Sophie.” But we didn’t say much either. Everything made Mother nervous, especially news about the war. But what didn’t have to do with the war? Frits Droppers didn’t, and for the first time everybody listened to me when I talked about him. Until the nurse spoke to Father. “I’m sorry, Mr. de Leeuw, it doesn’t affect only Mrs. de Leeuw. The two other Jewish patients we have can’t receive any more visitors either.”

  “But this isn’t possible,” Father yelled. “What kind of new regulation is this? What harm is there in visiting sick people?”

  “None,” the nurse said. “I sympathize with you, but please don’t shout. You’re inside a hospital.”

  Silently we walked home. The tree had no business talking about Mother.

  Still, every morning Rachel walked to the hospital to bring Mother’s food. In yesterday’s dishes Mother would put a note. They all said the same thing: “The days are so long. I miss you.”

  Father thought that Willy Bos’s father might give me a permit to see Mother if I asked him.

  “That NSB-er,” Rachel said, “you don’t want to ask favors of him.”

  But he was the mayor now, Father said, and why not try?

  So I walked over to the town hall in my best summer dress. “Where’s the mayor’s office?” I asked a man. He pointed to a door upstairs.

  I climbed the stairs that led to the first floor. Outside Dr. Bos’s office I sat down on a bench with the others who wanted to see him.…

  It should have been my turn now. That person should not have gone in ahead of me. He came only a few minutes ago. He shouldn’t … I half got up. I tried to catch the attendant’s attention, but I couldn’t. I sat down again.

  I was not going to stay on that bench all day just because I was a child! Maybe it was the star on my dress? But I had something to ask, too. Determinedly I got up.

  “When will my turn come?” I asked the attendant. He didn’t answer. Again I sat down.

  “You.” His voice made me jump. I walked into the office. Dr. Bos was sitting behind a desk. He went on reading, paying no attention to me. I came closer. Wasn’t he ever going to stop? Maybe he didn’t know I was here.

  “Hello, Dr. Bos,” I said.

  He looked up from his papers. “Now there’s a surprise. You used to go to school with Willy, didn’t you. What’s your first name again?”

  “Annie.”

  “Right. Well, Annie, don’t tell me that you have something that I can do for you? You don’t think there’s enough candy in the stores? Your mother should be thankful. How is she anyway?”

  “She’s in the hospital, and we can’t visit her anymore. Can you give me a permit so that I can see her? Just me?”

  He took a pad and wrote something on it. He tore a piece of paper off and gave it to me.

  I read the note rapidly. “Thank you, Dr. Bos.”

  I ran all the way home. They would be proud of me.

  They were—but not for long. Everybody was busy worrying. The tree asked for more and more volunteers. Young girls even. How much work could there be? Rachel secretly packed suitcases to take to the camp. Father wasn’t allowed to know. He would have been mad. “We’ll never go,” he said. And every day he asked another farmer whether he could take us in. He had stopped dealing in cows.

  “I’m not going to hide,” Sini said. “Sitting somewhere in a room is no life.”

  Father told her she’d have no choice if he found a place. I wouldn’t like to hide either. Maybe Rachel was right, and he wouldn’t find anything. Then I could get on the train with my new little suitcase.

  Some parents did go away to the camp or to a hiding place. Fewer and fewer children came to our school.

  “Let’s have a vacation,” Rachel said to those who still came, “so that everybody can rest up. Okay?”

  The children nodded. That poor Frits. He kept saying he wished he were in our school, so that he could have a rest, too. Like me.

  After dark, when we weren’t supposed to be out anymore, we were busy, taking our furniture over to the Droppers’. It was a pity, Rachel said, to leave the furniture in the house for the Germans, in case we had to go to camp.

  “Into hiding, you mean,” Father said.

  I mustn’t tell Mother about it when I visited her. She wouldn’t like to know. I couldn’t t
alk to her about anything, not even about Frits because I might make a mistake and talk about his new furniture. I secretly looked at the clock when I went to see her. Thirty minutes is a long time. I didn’t mind having to go back to Dr. Bos for three more permits when Mother became very sick. Now I would have company during my visits.

  A few days later when Sini and I came back from the hospital, Rachel met us at the kitchen door. “One of us is no longer here,” she said, “and it’s Bobbie.”

  “Where is he?” I screamed.

  “Father took him to a farmer who’ll take good care of him.”

  I kicked the door as I went in. I hoped my foot would leave a mark. Bobbie was gone, and nobody had told me about it. Not until it was too late.

  3

  IT was a lovely late summer day, and Father wanted me to come with him.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “To the Abbinks. I’m going to talk to them about hiding.”

  “Be careful,” Rachel warned, “and don’t ride through town.”

  “I know, I know,” Father said impatiently.

  I knew, too. There were German soldiers in town. Now we couldn’t ride bikes any more. We should have turned our bike in, but Father had refused.

  “Let’s go, Annie,” Father said.

  I climbed on the back of his bicycle.

  It was warm. Father took a red handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. Bicycling must have been hard, the path was so narrow. On the right side were bushes; on the left, deep ruts caused by cart wheels. We were the only ones on the path. Most farmers were busy getting in their hay. But one passed us, sitting on his cart, the reins held loosely in his hands. The horse went slowly, head down, as if walking was almost too much trouble. Lazily the farmer raised a hand. “Morning,” he said.

  “Morning.”

  We went on. The mosquitoes were pesty that day. Impatiently I slapped at my face.

  It was so quiet that I could hear a bluebottle fly buzz by.

  “There it is,” Father said, “and the farmer working in the field is Abbink.”

  “Morning.”

  “Hello, de Leeuw, and… eh?”

  “Annie.”

  “Ja. Haven’t seen you in a while, de Leeuw.”

  “I know. I’m not in business anymore. How’s the haymaking coming?”

  Abbink looked up. “If those clouds will just stay as white as they are now, we’ll get the hay in on time.” He put his fork down, and with the back of his arm he wiped the sweat off his face. “How’s the wife?”

  “Not very well.”

  “I never thought we’d be living in this mess, de Leeuw. I said to the wife the other night, I’ve got no stomach for work this summer. I don’t know what I’m doing it for.”

  “What did the wife say?”

  “She agrees.”

  “You know, Abbink, it won’t be long before the Germans will pick us up and send us off.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes. Unless I can find people who’ll take us in.”

  Father and Abbink looked each other straight in the eye.

  “I wish I could help you, but my kids are too small. They wouldn’t keep it a secret if we hid you.” Abbink took off his cap and scratched his head.

  Neither man said anything for a minute.

  “De Leeuw, I’ll tell you what. My wife’s sister is married to a minister in town. He’s a good man, and he knows a lot of people. I’ll talk to him about you.”

  “I wish you would, Abbink.”

  “I don’t know whether he can help, but I’ll ask him to get in touch with you.”

  “Thanks. Well, you’d better get to work. I don’t trust those clouds.”

  “Go in the house. My wife will give you some eggs.”

  On the way back to the bike, Father stopped to pick a cornflower. He stuck it in the buttonhole of his jacket. Absentmindedly he scratched a mosquito bite on the back of his hand. He waited for me to climb on the bicycle. “It’s nice to be out with you again,” he said.

  It was. I looked up at him and smiled.

  Carefully he got on the bicycle, holding the bag with eggs in one hand. “Rachel can make an omelet for Mother,” he said softly. “She used to like them.”

  A few days later a boy slipped a note under our door: “Be home tomorrow afternoon. Reverend Zwaal.”

  We were all home, waiting for him. But when he came, Father and he went into the living room and left us in the kitchen. It took a long time for them to come out. When they did, Father had red blotches on his cheeks. He had a place, he said, near Rotterdam.

  But Rotterdam was hours away, maybe even half a day! We’d have to go that far?

  “One place?” Sini asked.

  “Yes, and it has to be for me,” Father said. “Mr. and Mrs. Hemmes… that’s their name… want a man.” And Reverend Zwaal would get him to Rotterdam, Father said.

  “When are you going?” Rachel asked.

  “After I’ve found a place for the three of you.”

  “Four of us,” I said.

  Father looked at me. “No, Annie. Mother’s too sick to hide. She’ll be safe in the hospital. Don’t look so upset. Please? And don’t tell her anything.”

  I swallowed. I said I wouldn’t.

  Early one morning in September, Uncle Phil rang our doorbell. He wanted to talk to us, he said, right away. “A Gentile friend of mine has offered to take Billa, Hannie, Grandmother, and myself in his house,” he said.

  “Where?” Father asked.

  “A couple of hours from here by bicycle.”

  But he wasn’t going to accept, Uncle Phil said, because Aunt Billa didn’t want him to.

  “Why doesn’t she?” Father asked.

  “They won’t keep a kosher household for her,” Uncle Phil said.

  We all looked at him. His face was red, the part that I could see. He had come, he explained, to ask Father whether he would like to talk to his friend. Maybe we could stay in his house.

  After Uncle Phil left, a man we had never seen before got off a bicycle in front of our house. He looked through the kitchen window.

  Rachel opened it. “Who are you looking for?” she asked.

  “Ies de Leeuw,” said the man. “I’m Gerrit Hannink, a friend of your uncle’s.”

  Curiously I looked at him. He was tall, his shoulders were bent. Together Father and he went into the living room. The door closed.

  When Mr. Hannink had gone, Father called us in. “Come, come, hurry.” Now we had a place, too, he said. All three of us would stay in Mr. Hannink’s house. Miss Kleinhoonte, Rachel’s and Sini’s old high-school teacher, would plan with Mr. Hannink how we would get to Usselo, where he lived.

  “I’m not going,” Rachel said suddenly.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Father asked.

  “Who’s going to cook Mother’s food?”

  We all looked at Rachel. What about Mother’s food? She would have to eat the hospital food, Father said. But Rachel said she wouldn’t go. One of us must stay to look after Mother.

  “I won’t have it,” Father shouted. “You’ll go when Sini and Annie do. Soon you’ll have to leave Winterswijk anyway. You can’t do anything for Mother. Nobody can. Why risk your life?”

  Father was stamping up and down the room. But Rachel wouldn’t come to Usselo, she said, not until she absolutely had to.

  Early in October Father received a letter in the mail. By next week, the letter said, your family must go to a Dutch work camp. Report at the station. But they might not take us to a work camp. That letter could be lying. Father said so. Lots of times the train rode right on to Germany, or Austria or Poland, to those concentration camps. Didn’t Rachel hear what Father said? She didn’t want to get beaten by Hitler’s soldiers! Then wouldn’t she have to come with Sini and me?

  The next day somebody would come to take Father to Mr. and Mrs. Hemmes. That afternoon Father and I went to the hospital to see Mother, but we said nothing
about the letter or the Hemmeses. On the way home I held his hand tightly.

  “Annie, you be a good girl in Usselo. Miss Kleinhoonte will give you some textbooks. You learn something while you’re in hiding. Rachel or Sini will help you. After the war you and I’ll go to the farmers again … buy cows.”

  I held his hand even tighter.

  We got up early the next morning, long before Father was supposed to leave. On my way downstairs I heard “Rachel … must … Usselo.” Poor Father was always fighting. When I came in, he stopped. “Let’s go,” he mumbled, pulling his fingers one by one. A few of them made cracking noises.

  “Please, Father,” Rachel said.

  “Don’t sound like your mother.” Father’s voice was sharp.

  Nobody said anything.

  “Well, okay, I’m going. It isn’t quite time yet, but Reverend Zwaal said the man might come a little early … you never know.… Take the money I gave you to go to Usselo.… Take care.” He put on his coat and hugged us. “After the war.… ” He stopped abruptly, picked up his suitcase, and left.

  The door closed with a bang.

  Just before noon a frail old lady came. It was Miss Kleinhoonte. “Your father has arrived safely,” she said. “I just talked to Reverend Zwaal. Now I’ll tell you how you’re to get to the Hanninks’.” She turned to Rachel. “Your father told me about you. Do you still want to stay?”

  Yes, Rachel wasn’t ready to go yet, she said. She would certainly stay until next week, till the deadline.

  “You shouldn’t. But as long as you feel that way, Reverend Zwaal wants you to spend every night at his house.”

  Then Miss Kleinhoonte said that Sini was to bicycle to Usselo the next morning. Sini was to dye her hair and dress as a farm girl. Mr. Hannink would meet her just outside of Usselo. “Don’t show that you know him. Just follow him. After a little while he’ll turn into a drive. That’s the drive to his house. Go into the garage and wait.”

  I listened excitedly. What about me?

  I was to get a boy’s haircut, Miss Kleinhoonte said, and wear a sailor suit.