Читать книгу Out of the Hitler Time trilogy: When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit, Bombs on Aunt Dainty, A Small Person Far Away - Judith Kerr - Страница 19

Just before the end of the summer holidays Papa went to Paris. There were so many German refugees living there now that they had started their own newspaper. It was called the Daily Parisian and some of the articles Papa had written in Zurich had appeared in it. Now the editor wanted him to write for the paper on a more regular basis. Papa thought that if it worked out they might all go to Paris to live.

The day after he left Omama arrived. She was the children’s grandmother and had come on a visit from the South of France.

“How funny,” said Anna. “Omama might pass Papa in the train. They could wave to each other!”

“They wouldn’t, though,” said Max. “They don’t get on.”

“Why not?” asked Anna. It was true, now she came to think of it, that Omama only came to see them when Papa was away.

“One of those family things,” said Max in an irritating would-be-grown-up voice. “She didn’t want Mama and Papa to marry each other.”

“Well, it’s a bit late now!” said Anna with a giggle.

Anna was out playing with Vreneli when Omama arrived, but she knew at once that she had come because of the hysterical barking that issued from an open window of the inn. Omama never moved without her dachschund Pumpel. She followed the sound and found Omama with Mama.

“Darling Anna!” cried Omama. “How lovely to see you!” and she hugged Anna to her stout bosom. After a moment Anna thought the hug must be finished and wriggled, but Omama held on tight and hugged her a bit more. Anna remembered that Omama had always done this.

“It’s been such a long time!” cried Omama. “That dreadful man Hitler …!” Her eyes, which were blue like Mama’s but much paler, filled with tears and her chins – there were two – trembled gently. It was difficult to hear exactly what she was saying because of Pumpel’s noise. Only a few phrases like “torn from our homes” and “breaking up families” emerged above the frantic barks.

“What’s the matter with Pumpel?” asked Anna.

“Oh, Pumpel, my poor Pumpel! Just look at him!” cried Omama.

Anna had been looking at him. He was behaving very strangely. His brown hindquarters stuck straight into the air and he kept flattening his head on his front paws as though he were bowing. Between bows he gazed beseechingly at something above Omama’s wash basin. Since Pumpel was the same tubby shape as Omama the whole operation was very difficult for him.

“What does he want?” asked Anna.

“He’s begging,” said Omama. “Isn’t he sweet? He’s begging for that electric light bulb. Oh, but Pumpel, my darling Pumpel, I can’t give it to you!”

Anna looked. Above the basin was a perfectly ordinary round bulb, painted white. It seemed an eccentric thing even for Pumpel to wish for.

“Why does he want it?” she asked.

“Well, of course he doesn’t realize it’s a bulb,” Omama explained patiently. “He thinks it’s a tennis ball and he wants me to throw it for him.”

Pumpel, sensing that his needs were at last being taken seriously, bowed and barked with redoubled vigour.

Anna laughed. “Poor Pumpel,” she said and tried to stroke him – but he immediately snapped at her hand with his yellow teeth. She withdrew it quickly.

“We could unscrew the bulb,” said Mama, but it was stuck fast in its socket and would not be moved.

“Perhaps if we had a real tennis ball …” said Omama, searching for her purse. “Anna darling, would you mind? I think the shops are still open.”

“Tennis balls are quite expensive,” said Anna. She had once wanted to buy one with her pocket money but had not had nearly enough.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Omama, “I can’t leave poor Pumpel like this – he’ll exhaust himself.”

But when Anna returned Pumpel had lost interest in the whole business. He was lying on the floor growling, and when Anna placed the ball gingerly between his paws he gave it a look of utter loathing and sank his teeth straight into it. The tennis ball expired with a sigh. Pumpel got up, scratched the floor twice with his hind feet, and retired under the bed.

“He really is a horrible dog,” Anna later told Max. “I don’t know how Omama puts up with him.”

“I wish we had the money for the tennis ball,” said Max. “We could use it at the fair.”

There was a fair coming to the village – an annual event which the local children were very excited about. Franz and Vreneli had been saving up their pocket money for months. Somehow Anna and Max had only just heard about it, and as they had no savings they did not see how they could go. Their combined assets would just about pay for one ride on the roundabout – and that, said Anna, would be worse than not going at all.

She had thought briefly of asking Mama for some money. This was after her first day back at school when no one had talked about anything except the fair and how much money they would have to spend. But Max had reminded her that Mama was trying to economize. If they were going to live in Paris they would need every penny for the move.

Meanwhile Pumpel, though no one could call him lovable, made life a lot more interesting. He had no sense at all. Even Omama, who was used to his ways, was surprised. When she took him on a steamer he made straight for the side and was only restrained with difficulty from throwing himself overboard. The next time she wanted to go to Zurich she tried to take him on the train, but he refused to get on it. However, as soon as the train pulled out of the station, leaving Omama and Pumpel on the platform, he tore himself free from his lead and pursued it, barking wildly, right down the line to the next village. He was brought back exhausted an hour later by a small boy and had to rest for the remainder of the day.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with his eyesight?” asked Omama.

“Nonsense, Mother,” said Mama who felt she had more important worries, what with possibly moving to Paris and having no money. “Anyway, even if there is you can’t buy him spectacles!”

It was a shame because Omama, in spite of being silly about Pumpel, was really very kind. She too was a refugee but her husband was not famous like Papa. They had been able to move all their belongings out of Germany and now lived comfortably by the Mediterranean. Unlike Mama, she did not have to economize, and often devised little treats which Mama would not normally have been able to afford.

“I suppose we couldn’t ask Omama to give us some money for the fair?” said Anna one day after Omama had bought them all éclairs at the local cake shop.

Max was horrified. “Anna! We couldn’t!” he said quite sharply.

Anna had known really that they couldn’t – only it was so tempting. The fair was only about a week away.

A few days before Omama was due to travel back to the South of France, Pumpel disappeared. He had escaped from Omama’s room early in the morning and she had thought nothing of it. He often went for a sniff round the lake and usually came back quite quickly of his own accord. But by breakfast time he was still missing and she began to ask people whether they had seen him.

“Whatever has he got up to now?” asked Herr Zwirn. He did not like Pumpel who upset his other customers, chewed the furniture and had twice tried to bite Trudi.

“Sometimes he seems to act just like a puppy,” said Omama fondly, though Pumpel was nine years old.

“It’s more like his second childhood,” said Herr Zwirn.

The children searched for him half-heartedly, but it was nearly time to go to school and they were sure that sooner or later he would turn up – probably accompanied by an angry victim whom he had either bitten or whose property he had destroyed. Vreneli came to call for Anna and they set off for school, and Anna promptly forgot all about him. When they returned at lunch-time they were met by Trudi with an air of great importance.

“They found your grandmother’s dog,” she said. “He’s drowned.”

“Nonsense!” said Vreneli. “You’re making it up.”

“I’m not making it up,” said Trudi, outraged. “It’s true – Pa found him in the lake. And I’ve seen him myself and he’s quite dead. One reason I knew he was dead was because he didn’t try to bite me.”

Mama confirmed Trudi’s story. Pumpel had been found at the bottom of a low wall at the edge of the lake. No one ever discovered how he got there – whether he had leapt down in a fit of madness or mistaken one of the large pebbles in the water for a tennis ball. Herr Zwirn suggested that it might have been suicide.

“I’ve heard of dogs doing that,” he said, “when they’re no good to themselves or to anyone else.”

Poor Omama was dreadfully upset. She did not come down to lunch and only appeared, red-eyed and silent, for Pumpel’s funeral in the afternoon. Herr Zwirn dug a little grave for him in a corner of the garden. Omama had wrapped Pumpel up in an old shawl and the children all stood by while she put him in his last resting place. Then, under Omama’s direction, they each threw a shovelful of soil on top of him. Herr Zwirn briskly threw on a whole lot more and then flattened and shaped it into a low mound.

“Now for the decoration,” said Herr Zwirn, and Omama tearfully placed a large plant-pot with a chrysanthemum on top.

Trudi watched her approvingly.

“Now your doggie can’t get out!” she said with obvious satisfaction.

This was too much for Omama and to the children’s embarrassment she burst into tears and had to be led away by Herr Zwirn.

The rest of the day was rather gloomy. Nobody really minded about poor Pumpel except Omama, but they all felt they owed it to her not to look too cheerful. After supper Max went off to do his homework while Anna and Mama kept Omama company.

She had hardly said a word all day, but now she suddenly could not stop talking. On and on she went about Pumpel and all the things he used to do. How could she face travelling back to the South of France without him? He had been such good company on the train. She even had his return ticket – both Mama and Anna had to inspect it. It was all the fault of the Nazis, cried Omama. If Pumpel had not had to leave Germany he would never have drowned in Lake Zurich. That dreadful man Hitler.

After this Mama gradually turned the talk into the usual list of people who had gone to live in different countries or had stayed behind and Anna began to read, but her book was not very interesting and bits of the conversation kept filtering through.

Somebody had got a job in films in England. Somebody else who had been rich was now very hard up in America and his wife had to go out cleaning. A famous professor had been arrested and sent to a concentration camp. (Concentration camp? Then Anna remembered that it was a special prison for people who were against Hitler.) The Nazis had chained him to a dog kennel. What a silly thing to do, thought Anna, as Omama, who seemed to see some connection between this and Pumpel’s death, talked more and more excitedly. The dog kennel was right by the entrance to the concentration camp and every time anyone went in or out the famous professor had to bark. He was given scraps to eat out of a dog dish and was not allowed to touch them with his hands.

Anna suddenly felt sick.

At night the famous professor had to sleep in the dog kennel. The chain was too short for him ever to stand up straight. After two months – two months …! thought Anna – the famous professor had gone mad. He was still chained to the dog kennel and having to bark but he no longer knew what he was doing.

A black wall seemed suddenly to have risen up in front of Anna’s eyes. She could not breathe. She clutched her book in front of her, pretending to read. She wanted not to have heard what Omama had said, to be rid of it, to be sick.

Mama must have sensed something, for there was a sudden silence and Anna could feel Mama looking at her. She stared down fiercely at her book and deliberately turned a page as though absorbed. She did not want Mama and especially Omama to speak to her.

After a moment the conversation started up again. This time Mama was talking rather loudly not about concentration camps but about how cold it had been lately.

“Enjoying your book, dear?” said Omama.

“Yes, thank you,” said Anna and managed to make her voice sound quite normal. As soon as possible she got up and went to bed. She wanted to tell Max what she had heard but could not bring herself to talk about it. It was better not even to think about it.

In future she would try never to think about Germany at all.

The next morning Omama packed her bags. She had no heart to stay the last few days, now that Pumpel was gone. But there was one good thing that came of her visit. Just before she left she handed Anna and Max an envelope. She had written on it, “A present from Pumpel” and when they opened it they found that it contained a little over eleven Swiss francs.

“I want you to use this money in any way that gives you pleasure,” said Omama.

“What is it?” asked Max, overcome by her generosity.

“It’s Pumpel’s return ticket to the South of France,” said Omama with tears in her eyes. “I got it refunded.”

So Anna and Max had enough money after all to go to the fair.