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hannahgrunberg-blog · 6 years ago

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Chapter 3: Meeting the Pevensies

Everyone knew that Hitler was gearing towards France, and the war was escalating to the point where things weren't looking so well for Hannah. There was a constant aroma of fear that took over. The news of possible bombings from Germany certainly distracted her. The fact that her own country was now threatening the country she learned to love gave her mixed feelings. This wasn’t her Deutschland. Not the one she grew up in, at least.

Hannah stared down at her dinner, picking the food with her fork. A single fried egg lay on her plate, waiting to be eaten. The yolk dripped down slowly, like lava from a volcano. However, a volcano would’ve been more interesting to look at. Rationing, as a person with a big appetite, was something Hannah did not like. It was introduced as a way to save food, due to the war going on.

“Child, stop daydreaming,” Ms. Macready snapped. “If the yolk drips I’ll have you clean the entire dining room floor before you go to bed.”

Her voice snapped Hannah back into reality. She picked a bite with her fork, not wanting to make the Macready mad. A cool breeze of wind swept through the floor, causing goose bumps to appear on her legs.

The Professor shivered, “Looks like I didn’t close the windows.”

Before he was able to get up, Ms. Macready panicked and rushed to him, convincing the man to sit back down. “No, allow me. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Ms. Macready, I’m not that old,” the Professor joked, winking at Hannah. She liked his humor. The way he talked about himself in a sarcastic demeanor always lightened the mood. The door was shut with a loud slam, nearly causing the lamp to shatter.

"I wasn't joking," Ms. Macready said, in a softer tone. Hannah rolled her eyes at the way she talked towards the Professor, when she always was a bit harsher with her. "When it comes to you and that history novel you're writing, you're locked in that room for hours. Look at what it's doing to your health."

The Professor sighed, admitting his defeat. Hannah spent her days wandering alone, talking to herself and reading the books in the library. Meanwhile, the Professor was crammed in a room all by himself. She enjoyed the fresh air, kicking her football around like she used to when she played with her friends back in Berlin. This made her feel selfish. Hannah never thought of the Professor's health, and he was the man who cared for her all this time.

"My Father was a doctor," Hannah stopped to correct herself, "A dentist, but he still gave great advice about everything, even though he worked with teeth."

The Professor cocked his eyebrow, leaning in to hear her. His expression looked like an exaggerated face of the "Ponderer."

"Would you like to play some football with me tomorrow?" Hannah asked. "Not sure if there'll be bad weather though."

"These legs don't work like they used to," the Professor patted them for emphasis.

"It would be good for you," Ms. Macready agreed.

"Now if you two are agreeing at something," the Professor said, smiling. "Then I guess football it is."

The three of them shared a laugh. Before Hannah knew it, she was in her blue night gown, her hair bushy and down.

As Hannah slept soundly, German bombers flew silently. They blended in with the dark night. In just a few moments, what would be known as the Blitz would begin. When a bomb fell, the ground shook. Then came the screams. The cities of England woke with a display of murderous fireworks, while the peaceful countryside was greeted with the bright, morning sun.

It was clear that Hannah's greatest fear came true that night, but she wouldn't know until morning. She was greeted with a golden ray of sunshine piercing through her window. The leaves that were visible from the outside were bright green, and trimmed grass was perfect for running on. After putting on a light shirt and shorts, she hurried down the stairs for breakfast.

"Good morning Professor," she greeted him, cheerfully. "Did you rest well?"

Her question was ignored. Hannah looked closely as she approached the dining room. The Professor was studying a paper with a serious expression on his face. She stopped in her tracks, slowly approaching him.

"Professor?" she repeated.

"Good morning, Hannah," the Professor replied. "There's a piece of bread and some jam left for you."

"You seem like you're in a rush," Hannah said. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm afraid not, Hannah," the Professor said, quietly.

Hannah raised an eyebrow. She listened to him intently as she spread some cherry jam on her bread.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"The city was attacked last night. German bombers," he explained.

Hannah shivered. This was all too familiar. She couldn't believe what she heard. Was this really happening? Her stomach started to hurt. Slowly, she put her sticky piece of bread on the plate.

"Does it look like Germany is going to win the war?" Hannah asked, her voice shaking.

"You never know how the tables can be turned when it comes to war," the Professor stated.

He explained how the Government placed an ad about the bombing. It asked for those with large homes in the countryside to consider hosting children for safety, in case there were more attacks.

"At least you won't be so lonely anymore," the Professor said. "You'll have company. I don't know how long they'll have to stay. Attacks could go on for days, weeks! The children are nearly in the same position as yours. I expect you'll get along with them quite nicely."

"And you'll also have to help tidy the house for the guests," Ms. Macready said, firmly.

"So that means I won't get to play football with you, doesn't it?" Hannah asked.

The Professor shook her hand a bit to comfort her, looking at her with his gentle eyes. "There will be other children to play football with."

The news about German bombers attacking the English city was something that Hannah never expected would happen. She was sent here to be safe. England was supposed to be safe. Now, it was just as vulnerable as any other European country.

After Hannah finished breakfast, Ms. Macready had given Hannah a list of more chores for the day before the four siblings arrived. Hannah rushed to do them with excitement. For the first time in years, she wouldn't feel alone. Even if she was in a large house with so many things to do, finding something to entertain herself shouldn't have been a hard task. Most of the activities, such as the games and sports equipment, would've been used to play with others. They were stored in dusty cabinets and closets, not touched in years. The Professor was so busy that he never had time to play with her. On the other hand, the Macready wouldn't have been interested.

The radio rung throughout the manor. While Hannah was cleaning, the voice of the wireless accompanied the sounds of the mop-sweeping and dish-washing. "In just the early month of September, children are being evacuated to safer parts of the country due to the German bombers' unexpected attack." This was followed by some classical music played, the soft sounds calming the nervous atmosphere.

Hannah imagined what it must've been like for the children to find out that they had to leave their mother behind. This led her to think about the rage and frustration she experienced. Her mother said it was for her well-being. "A mother's greatest blessing is knowing that her child will be safe," were the exact words spoken. "Please give me that blessing, Liebling."

Blessings were very important to her mother. She strongly believed that a blessing would protect her. It was linked to the blessing being a ritual of the Jewish faith. Her mother believed that if you were blessed, then by God's Will, you would be protected. But where was God at this moment? Where was He when He was needed most?

"I need a sign," Hannah muttered to herself. "If you're real, then give me a distraction."

That distraction came in the form of the children. Hannah heard about how their father was fighting in the army. They didn't know if they were going to see him again. That feeling was one she had known for a long time.

The next day, the Manor was ready for the children's arrival. There were two extra beds placed next to Hannah's for the two girls. One was no older than sixteen, and the youngest already turned eight. Hannah wasn't going to be alone in this room anymore.

There was a sharp knock from the door. Hannah quickly got up from her bed and got dressed. She had to help Ms. Macready with the horse and get it ready for the carriage.

The horse that Ms. Macready owned was a beautiful white horse with a silver mane that looked like it could've been a unicorn if it had a horn. One thing that the two of them had in common was their fascination with the creatures. Although Hannah didn't admit it, but whenever Ms. Macready flared her nose, it grew so wide that it reminded her of a horse's nostrils. If there was one thing that the woman loved the most, it was her horse she named Adam.

The air surrounding the small barn was damp and had a nasty stench. Scraping the poop wasn’t a task Hannah enjoyed to do. She had to cover herself up to makes sure nothing got stuck onto her skin. Ms. Macready even looked sweaty by the time they cleared all the dirt.

"It looked like Adam has been eating a lot," Ms. Macready chuckled, turning to the horse. "You're getting a bit fat, aren't you?"

Watching how she cared for the horse made Hannah realize that there was more to The Macready, the supposedly evil wicked witch of the west. There was a softer side in her. The way her eyes gleamed when she looked at Adam and rubbed his back.

"I always thought he could've been a charming unicorn," Hannah laughed.

"A beauty, isn't he?" Ms. Macready smiled. "I used to take riding lessons, and when I was eighteen, my father gave Adam as a gift. Now he's getting a bit old, like myself."

"You surely don't look it," Hannah said, sincerely. "You don't look past forty!"

Ms. Macready chuckled. Her voice, for once, sounded sweet and genuine. She couldn't believe that she had a nice conversation that didn't end with her telling to do a chore. That made her think, perhaps The Wizard of Oz would've ended differently if Dorothy tried to be friends with the Witch.

"To be honest, Hannah," Ms. Macready said. "This was a nice trip."

"I always thought you didn't like anything," Hannah admitted. "It always looked like you never liked me."

"Well, now you saw a different side of me," Ms. Macready replied. "You shouldn't be so quick to judge someone," she paused to adjust the reigns on Adam, "Besides, it's best to make friends than enemies, especially in a time like this."

Ms. Macready was already in the carriage. Hannah untied the dirty wrapper that was over her formal clothes. She wore a blue dress that went down to her knees with no sleeves. Her hair was tied in a braid due to the hot weather, two curls dangled on the side. Hannah sat straight in the carriage, watching the countryside whizz past her. She even saw some cattle and bigger farms; much bigger than the Professor's. The big patches of green grass sparkled in the sunlight. Even though it was beautiful, it quickly became a boring sight after what seemed like hours of traveling.

Professor Kirke must've written a whole novel by now, Hannah thought. Adam moved quickly, but his steps were quite heavy and it took some force for him to push the wooden carriage. As the time flew by, Hannah was more anxious about meeting the children. She wondered if they really would've been a pleasant lot. Maybe there was even a boy or girl her age? There weren't many twelve year old children that lived near the Manor.

It looked like she was going to get her answer soon, however. Hannah spotted a few metal patches not to far off.

"The train tracks!" she cried. "We're nearly there! Come on, Adam! You could do it, we're just a few more feet away!"

The horse neighed loudly, as if he was answering to her. It really did look like he was moving faster. He picked up his head and neck, pushing the carriage faster.

Soon Hannah approached a familiar site. Her head slightly spun a bit, making her feel nostalgic. Adam started to slow down when Ms. Macready stopped flicking her reigns. In front of her, was the same station that the two of them used to get to the Manor from Liverpool two years ago. Hannah blinked at the four faces in front of her. They were the only people there. Tags were clipped onto their clothing. Hannah looked down, touching the left side of her coat. She remembered wearing one herself.

"Small favors," Ms. Macready muttered to herself.

The horse came to a stop, allowing Hannah to look closer at the faces. The eldest boy had blonde hair and blue eyes; the picture perfect Aryan. His hand wrapped around the youngest sister protectively. She lowered her head in submission, looking no older than eight. There was a boy with dark hair and eyes who had a moody expression. Hannah noticed the eldest sister's beauty right away, but she looked quite scary when she started to scold her younger brother.

"Ms. Macready?" the eldest boy spoke up.

"I'm afraid so," she replied, looking at there suitcases. "Is this is it, then? Haven't you brought anything else?"

"No m'am," the eldest boy said, politely. "It's just us."

Ms. Macready scoffed to herself. "Small favors."

Hannah stood up to to help the children. She couldn't help but smile as they looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"My name is Hannah," she introduced herself. "I've been staying with Professor Kirke for a long time."

"Nice to meet you Hannah," the eldest boy said, letting his hand out to shake after he fit his luggage into the carriage. "I'm Peter Pevensie."

The eldest girl pushed her suitcase in gently. "That's Susan," he continued.

The little girl with the short hair that reached her shoulders eagerly approached Hannah, "I'm Lucy!"

"And-" Peter started.

"I'm Edmund," the dark haired boy finished for him, glaring at his older brother. "I can introduce myself, and why do you sound so weird?"

Hannah stepped back a bit, startled by his comment.

"Ed!" Peter scolded.

Hannah knew right from the start that she had to be wary of the boy. He seemed to be quite rude and she felt like he didn't want to be bothered. She tried to look into the boy's dark eyes one more time, letting out her hand. Once again, Hannah was rejected.

It must've been hard for the family to leave their home because of the war. She certainly empathized with them. That boy was probably hit hard because of his Father.

The ride back to the Manor seemed to be quicker than the ride to the train station. Hannah got along with the eldest children quite nicely. The youngest was friendly and sweet, like a little sister Hannah always wanted. Edmund was just sulking in his seat. Hannah didn't want to bother with him yet.

"Come on. Good boy, come on!" Ms. Macready praised the horse. Slowly, Adam pulled closer and closer the Manor.

The way they reacted to the Manor made Hannah giggle. They had the same wide eyes and smiles, but Edmund didn't look so pleased.

"It looks like a castle!" Lucy exclaimed.

"It does look exquisite," Susan agreed.

Hannah raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"How do you not know what that means?" Edmund piped up from the back cart.

"I think the question is, if you know what it means," Peter teased.

"Of course I do," Edmund answered back.

The five of them entered the Manor. Hannah couldn't stop watching the Pevensies as their jaws dropped. It was a common reaction; she watched tour guests gasp at the site of the artifacts, the paintings, and sculptures. Ms. Macready approached them quite rapidly, interrupting the silence.

"There will be no shouting!" she said. Hannah giggled softly, already knowing what else she was going to say. She stood in her best posture, mouthing each and every word. "Or running! No improper use of the dumbwaiter!" Lucy smiled at Hannah when she copied her movements, "No-!"

Hannah nearly jumped as Ms. Macready's voice echoed through the walls. She turned to see Susan, her eyes gleaming with fascination at a sculpture. Susan paused in her tracks, slowly lowering her hand.,

"Touching of historical artifacts!" the woman continued. "And above all," she turned to face the children, furring her eyebrows. "No disturbing of the Professor!"

With that, Ms. Macready was on her way to set up for supper. Hannah lead the four Pevensie siblings through the corridor, opening her bedroom. There were two extra beds already laid beside her own.

"This is going to be the girl's bedroom," Hannah spoke up. "Peter, Edmund, your bedroom will be next door in the guest room."

"The lady scares me a bit," Lucy admitted.

"In any case it makes you feel better, you may call her The Macready," Hannah replied, giggling a bit.

"The Macready?" Edmund repeated. "Why would you call her that?"

"It's just a joke," Hannah said. "She's not that bad once you get to know her."

"Don't worry," Peter reassured me. "He's just like that."

Hannah certainly hoped he wasn't always like that.

***

For the rest of the night, Hannah managed to get to know the Pevensies quite well. She gave them a tour of the Manor. Edmund didn't join them, but that was alright with her. She didn't want to deal with his attitude anyway.

Before Hannah knew it, the day was coming to an end. She led the sisters to their bedroom, showing them where to put their belongings. The Professor had many spare rooms for guests, meaning the boys were able to easily find one on their own. The echo of the radio accompanied them as they got ready for bed.

"German aircraft carried a number of attacks on Great Britain last night. The raids, which lasted for several hours-"

The radio was shut off by Susan. Hannah was thankful for that, since she did not want to hear anything about German attacks anymore. Each time she heard about Germany, the thought of homesickness plagued her mind. She missed the old Germany. Hannah had no idea what was going on back home.

"I was getting tired of hearing that anyway," Hannah said.

Lucy, who was already in her pink nightgown, seemed like she couldn't go to sleep. "The sheets feel scratchy."

"I always feel it too," Hannah agreed. "You'll get used to it."

Susan sat beside her sister, while Peter and Hannah stood near them. "Wars don't last forever, Lucy."

Hannah looked down, "Although, it might seem like it. You just have to hope."

"Yes," Susan nodded. "Let's hope that we'll get home soon."

"Yeah, if home's still there," Edmund piped up from across the room.

Just from the first glance, Hannah didn't like the boy, but did he have to make himself so unpleasant?

"Isn't it time you were in bed?" his sister asked, sighing.

"Yes, Mum," Edmund retorted.

"Ed!" Peter scolded. His scowl quickly turned into a gentle smile as he spoke to Lucy. "Don't worry, Lu."

"Peter's right!" Hannah acknowledged him. "This place is huge! I've lived here for a long time and I haven't run out of things to do. We'll all have fun."

"Yes," Peter said, smiling. "Tomorrow's going to be great, really."

With that, the boys left the room. The light was turned off, both of the sisters were sleeping. Hannah went back to her own room. She buried herself with her bed sheets. She was trying to force the excitement from leaping back into her heart. It was hard when thoughts were plaguing her mind. Thoughts of her four new friends. Before she closed her eyes, Hannah looked around, taking in the fact that she wasn’t alone.

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hannahgrunberg-blog · 6 years ago

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Chapter 2: What Happened At The Manor

May 28, 1940

Hannah squirmed under the covers of her scratchy bed sheets. Fire danced wildly in her mind, growing to the point where she could almost feel it with her hands. The pain was sharp and hot. The eyes of her mother and father were paralyzed with fear. A man stood in front of them, his eyes blue with cruelty. When Hannah looked into them, her body tensed. His face was full of malice and murderous intent. The legs of the crooked cross adorned on the wrists looked animated, ready to snatch her as prey.

“Jews,” the soldier spoke in a commanding voice. “From this moment on, this is no longer your property. I ask you to cooperate-”

“I will not let you take our home,” her father said, firmly standing his ground. Both, the mother and child, huddled together behind him as he prepared himself for whatever may come. “You have taken away my job and the right for us to live peacefully. I am not going to give everything that I’ve worked for without a fight.”

“I’m afraid you shall not, Mr. Grunberg,” the soldier sneered. The girl gasped as her father was taken forcefully by the hand, a gun pointed to his back. The pain in his eyes was frightening. She watched the soldier pin him to the ground, tying his hands. “There is no place for you in Germany,” was the cold, ghostly response. “There would never be a place for Jews.”

That was when the family looked down in defeat. There was no way to deny it. They were just going to be pushed away. Would it be best to just put a stop to this sooner?

“That is what I thought,” the soldier saw the scared looks of the family, smirking to himself. “Let this be a reminder of what I am capable of.”

In a blink of an eye, her father and the soldier were both gone. The girl’s mother lost control of herself, falling onto her knees. In her dark pupils, she saw the reflection of the world. Bodies littered the streets. Shadows moved in and out of the bright lights. Piercing cries were heard. Glass showered the streets with ashes. Behind them, Germany burned.

Hannah gasped, lifting her head up in exasperation. She quickly looked around her dark room. The bed sheets have become uncomfortably scratchy, but they always seemed to be that way. Her eyes landed on a photograph of her mother and father. They looked like the picture perfect family. She took the picture and examined it closely. It was very clear that she looked more like her mother. She had her mother’s dark curly hair, while her father’s was bushier and untamed.

The memory of her parents made her feel sick. It had been nearly a year since Hannah last saw them. While her mother was trapped in Germany, she had no idea what the Nazis were doing to her father. All she knew was that he was sent to work and hasn’t heard from him since. Guilt overwhelmed her constantly. The journey to England was difficult for her, and it was all to keep her safe.

The light in the room flicked on. Hannah lifted her head, only to see a man with a small, pointed white beard, circular glasses perched on the tip of his nose, and dressed in a crimson and gold robe. It was no other than Professor Kirke. As soon as she saw him, the gentle sparkle of his grey eyes calmed her. He was the one who cared for her all these months, as she adjusted to living in England. If it wasn’t for him sponsoring her, Hannah knew she wouldn’t be there.

“Hannah dear, what is it with all this whimpering?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I’m starting to get worried about those nightmares-“

The Professor was interrupted by a sound of footsteps rushing towards them.

“Sir, you don’t have to get up and deal with the child. I could-"

A stern looking woman with brown hair streaked with grey walked into her room. Her cold brown eyes softened at the site of the Professor with the girl. Hannah tightened, hoping not to get into trouble with Ms.Macready. She knew how cross the woman could be. From the first glance the two shared at Liverpool Station over a year ago, Hannah knew that the woman did not like children.

“How many times have I told you not to disturb the Professor?” Ms. Macready asked, harshly.

“It wasn’t really my fault,” Hannah replied, avoiding her accusing stare. “It was the nightmare. I didn’t mean to wake the Professor up.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, Hannah,” the Professor reassured her, turning to Ms. Macready. “I’m sure that I’m not in need of any assistance.”

Reluctantly, Ms. Macready headed out the room, leaving the two be.

“I was really trying not to have any nightmares,” Hannah said sincerely. “I even avoided dairy as I read from the library.”

“You can’t just stop the nightmares from coming,” the Professor explained in a calm tone. “They’re creatures of the night, very unpredictable.”

“My nightmares are nothing more than predictable,” she replied, simply.

“They will disappear through time, like your accent.”

Hannah chuckled to herself, knowing that this was true. She noticed that her German accent wasn’t as sharp as it used to be, but there were those who still noticed that slight reminder of her past.

“There’s that smile,” the Professor said, “Hopefully you could think happy thoughts and sleep soundly. Think of how well you’re improving with your English.”

“That's not much of a happy memory,” Hannah laughed. “I can’t go to sleep because of that.”

The Professor rubbed his chin, exaggerating a thinking pose by cocking his eyebrow. “What about the summer holiday? Isn’t that something to look forward too?”

“I don’t think I’d be able to follow asleep while thinking of summer,” she replied, slightly cheerful. “It’ll make me hyper.”

“Then perhaps a story will do,” the Professor made his final decision. If any story was to put the girl to sleep, it would be The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. It was one of the first books she read in English. The pages were already torn because of the amount of times she read it.

With a hushed voice, he told her the story of the little girl named Dorothy who was whisked away by a tornado into the Land of Oz. He smiled with satisfaction as he saw the girl’s eyelids were starting to close.

“Professor?” the girl asked, weakly. “Every time I finish reading this book, I wonder about how it's possible for a place like Oz to exist."

“The logic in books is different than ours, Hannah,” the man spoke.

“But is it really possible for a magical world to exist?”

The Professor pursed his lips, looking down before answering her. “Why shouldn’t it be?”

“But-“she said, startled at his response. “That’s impossible, isn’t it?”

“You never know unless you believe that the impossible is possible,” the Professor said. “Now that is something schools don’t teach.”

Before the lamp was turned off, the Professor brushed Hannah’s hair from her long eyelashes. Her breaths were deep, and before he knew it she fell asleep.

The Professor locked the door behind him, rubbing his eyes as he entered his room. Ms. Macready was there, fixing his bed sheets and fluffing his pillow. She looked at the Professor with a concerned expression.

“This has been going on for the past few months now,” she whispered. “I’m starting to get worried that you’ll be up every night.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” the Professor said, reassuringly. “A traumatic experience isn’t something a child could easily forget.”

With that, Ms. Macready left him to sleep. The rest of the night was silent, unlike the following morning. Dozens of tourists from the city showed up. The once peaceful manor growing crowded by the minute. The sound of footsteps shuffling through the wooden floors could be heard. Professor Kirke’s manor was a landmark for tourists. The house was very old, and filled with antiques and paintings.

This was one thing Hannah liked about the manor. It looked like a house you could find in a fairy tale. It almost had a castle-like experience; grand with beautiful pavements. Decorating the manor was a garden surrounding the porch. Each item had a story to tell, and it was Hannah’s duty to give the tour today.

She wore a presentable beige color blouse and frilly green skirt. Her dark hair was tied into a braid with two curls left dangling. She quickly tied the shoelaces of her black shoes, her hands fiddling with nervousness. This tour was very important for her, as they paid money specifically to support the orphanages that held Kindertransport children- that was why she needed to be a good host.

“The guests are ready for you,” Ms. Macready told her.

Hannah lifted herself from her chair, leaving the room. As soon as the tourists saw her, she was greeted with looks of sympathy.

“It’s the little Jewish girl,” spoke a feminine voice.

“Welcome to Professor Kirke's Manor,” Hannah said, clearly. “My name is Hannah, and I am going to be the tour guide for today. As a warning, the artifacts are not to be touched.”

A few children that gathered around two paintings paused in their actions. The tourists’ eyes lit up in awe as they saw the fascinating objects that looked old and fragile. Hannah remembered each of their stories by heart, as she told them many times. She led them through the corridors and some of the Professor’s rooms. However, there was one room that Hannah loved showing off the most. There was a wardrobe that the Professor said he had made himself. Beautiful designs of dancing fairies and different creatures were carved on it.

“Be careful in this room,” she led them through the entrance. “The floors are usually wet and slippery.”

By the time Hannah made it there, her energy started to wear out. While the tourists were busy looking at thr pictures, Hannah leaned her back against the wall. She would have sat down on the floor if it wasn’t wet; she always wondered why the floors were usually slippery, and not only that, but cold. The windows were usually open to let it dry, but the shoes were always making squeaky noises.

"The wardrobe in this room was made by the Professor himself. As you can see, creatures of mythology are delicately carved. This gives the wardrobe a magical presence."

The guests stared at the wardrobe with fascination, examining all corners of it. The tours usually stretched out to the middle of the day, and Hannah always felt exhausted by the time. She leaned against the wall, trying to tune out the murmurs. Hannah noticed a boy and a girl look up at her with curious eyes. The little boy had neatly combed brown hair and wore a plaid shirt with dress pants, while the girl wore a frilly pink dress and her blonde hair were in pigtails. Both seemed innocent, looking no older than ten. The two glanced at each other warily, and then at Hannah. This was nothing new to her, as she was used to those types of stares.

"It's not polite to stare," said a woman, who must've been their mother. She sent her an apologetic look. The lovely blonde curls on her hair reminded Hannah of her own mother.

Before things could've got more awkward, the tour came to an end. After a bunch of "thank you's," the guests left with satisfied looks on their faces. Once again, the manor was silent. The Professor went on to read his newspaper in the study room.

Meanwhile, Hannah blissfully sat herself on the sofa, resting her head until she heard a harsh voice call to her. "Don't think you're free, young lady. You have chores to do."

Hannah sighed, knowing there was no way to get out of doing chores with The Macready. She always pictured her as "The Wicked Witch of the West" in some situations. It was obvious that she didn't like children, especially when they were brought along during the tours. There was this nasty look on her face, a roll of the eyes, and sharp sigh. Even when Hannah couldn't understand her years ago, The, was a good fit for a nickname.

Liverpool, February 4th, 1939

Just from the first glance of eye contact, little Hannah got a cold look from the woman standing in front of her. The woman had a strict disposition; her tall, poised stance made her feel intimidating.

"You may call me Ms. Macready," the woman said, sharply.

Hannah looked at her cluelessly. Her heart beat rate increased quickly. To this moment, she had limited interactions with the English people, only having arrived to this country just a few hours ago. What was she supposed to say? The woman looked at her with a smile that was clearly forced, causing even more tension in her body.

"The... Macready?" Hannah choked.

The woman furrowed her eyebrows at her, looking at the little girl crossly. "Excuse me?"

Hannah gulped, her eyes scattering around face. It didn't take her long to notice that what she said might have been incorrect. Foreigner or native, body language was a global language. The girl lowered her head in shame, avoiding her cold stare.

Hannah bent down on her knees, and started to whimper. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!"

Ms. Macready tried to avoid the questioning faces of others. Her face turned pale as men, women, and children looked at her with a raised eyebrow. The wailing echoed through the walls of the station, not to her surprise.

"Child? Child?" she asked, her voice filled with tension. Ms. Macready took the girl forcefully by the arm, helping her up. She smiled with satisfaction as the crying immediately stopped.

"It's alright, just stop crying please," she said. "Would you like it if I get you some sweets on our way?"

Even though this moment was quite nerve-wrecking to think about, Hannah couldn't help but giggle to herself at the memory. This was the origin of the nickname that she used as mockery. Ms. Macready shared a good resemblance to the green witch from Oz. If only she could use the bucket of water and melt her away.

The Macready believed that if Hannah was given a place at the Manor, then she should help take care of it. Even though that was fair, Hannah's strength was drained due to the tour. Talking to people and not being able to sit for hours was exhausting. The only thing she wanted to do now was lay down and sleep.

She hoped the squeaking noises the wet mop made didn't interrupt the Professor in his studies. He must've been tired as well, dealing with all the noise that disrupted his peace.

Just a few more inches, Hannah thought. She pushed her mop until it reached each corner of the kitchen. The fact that she was almost finished raised her adrenaline level. She reached a black surface, quickly scrubbing the dust until she realized that standing in front of her, was the Macready.

"There's some important mail from the orphanage that came for you," Ms. Macready informed her. "You're free to go."

With that news, Hannah picked up her speed until she was stopped by a scolding voice, "Don's run in these halls."

She continued on to her room, making sure not to step on the cracks. Ms. Macready had bat-like ears, and was able to hear even a soft giggle that would come from her room. Hannah passed the guest room until she made it to hers. A stack of letters were piled on her work desk. Those were mostly from the orphanage that were in the Kindertransport program. There was one in particular that she was looking forward to reading.

Her eyebrows raised at the sight of the scribbled name: Dinah Klein. She quickly teared the envelope open, looking closely at the words. Dinah wasn't the one for neat handwriting. The edges contained dried up ink stains. There were many spelling mistakes that were crossed out and corrected, but it was the message that was most important to her.

Dear Hannah,

When I heard you and your sponsor were holding a tour as a charity event for our orphanage, I immediately wanted to write to you. I'm happy to hear you're helping us. I'm miserable here. I have no idea what is going on with my mother, and she hasn't written back. I constantly feel lost. You're lucky you don't have to work in a factory, unlike Miriam and I. Aviva is living with Jewish a family in London. I knew no one would've wanted teenagers.

The pictures of the Manor are beautiful! I stole a newspaper, and the first thing I saw was that house. I was jealous, but you're incredibly lucky. Not to mention you're humble, which is something I admire.

Any news from your Mother? Have you been listening to the radio? Did you know that Germany attacked France? It doesn't seem like the war is turning in our favor. On a happier note, hopefully the small things in life are turning in yours.

Sincerely,

Dinah

The first thing Hannah would've done was to write back, but a thought made her stop in her tracks. Her mother really hasn't written anything back lately. The last letter she received was dated February 7th, 1940. The only thing Hannah knew was that she was in hiding, but very little details were given. It was very vague, as if her mother was trying to protect certain information from her.

Hannah brushed those thoughts away, focusing her attention to her response. She took a pen and dipped it in the ink that laid beside her. It seemed to take hours for Hannah to write back. Her eyes dropped and she wanted to rest her head against the hard, wooden desk. Hopefully, when she did, she wouldn't have any nightmares tonight.

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hannahgrunberg-blog · 6 years ago

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Chapter 1: Hannah’s Exodus

February 2nd, 1939

The crisp, cold early morning wind swept through the frost-covered railway platform. Parents and children (as old as seventeen) milled about the platform, where a train sat on the track in the middle of the crowd. The exhaust from the old, rusty train emitted hot steam, creating a false illusion of warmth for many. There were hundreds of crying toddlers, who were too young to understand what was going on; why they were forced to wear these large tags around their necks, or why they were handed over to men and women wearing red armbands with hooked crosses. However, there were a number of children who did understand. One of them was eleven year old Hannah Grunberg.

The fear of leaving her mother behind was very clear in the little girl’s eyes. Hannah nervously grasped the small bag that was handed to her. It was filled with necessities, and would soon be all she owned in the world. She wasn’t allowed to bring a lot of material items, only those that would serve her well in a foreign country. Cold sweat crept down her neck as bodies shifted around her. This caused the prickly string that was tied around it to scratch her skin. The worries increased as she heard the sound of her thudding heart mixed with the echoes of footsteps.

She knew she would have to leave Germany eventually. It took her parents long enough to realize this—that they couldn't be safe. Their rights as citizens had been stripped away from them. First Hannah couldn't go to school with her friends, then she wasn't allowed to go to the park or movie theater, and then her Father lost his job as a dentist. Her mother wasn't allowed to teach. They were very smart people, but they weren't smart enough to understand that they weren't wanted. Jews were no longer normal people.

Hannah’s mother knelt down to fix her daughter’s tag, a piece of cardboard that was tied with string. The number 1428 was printed in bold colors. She made sure it was tightly fixed onto her thin red coat. She fiddled with her daughter's braids, caressing her dark hair for what may be the very last time.

"Do you remember your English lessons, Leibling?" her Mother pestered in a quiet tone, "I want you to be able to communicate, even if it's only a little."

"Yes," Hannah replied, though it wasn't very clear English with her strong German accent. She only learned a few words her mother knew, but they may help her communicate a bit.

Her mother's face fell. She has always been a spirited person, but it was rare to see a smile nowadays. She was always beautiful when she smiled; her cheekbones lifted and her short, wavy hair framed her perfectly. After her father was taken away on that dreadful night, her mother couldn't smile. It was as if Hannah reminded her too much of him, with her bushy brown hair and hooked nose that was quite big for the face of a ten year old.

If only she could've seen her mother smile before she left, but of course the Nazis had taken away her spirit too.

"Come here," her mother said, gently. Hannah nearly tackled her, as she wrapped her arms around her.

"I'm scared," Hannah whispered. “I don't know if I'll ever see you again. What if they take you away like they took Papa?"

"Hush, hush," she tried to calm down her child. Tears streamed down the little girl's face. "Everything will be alright."

"No, it won't!" Hannah whimpered. "I can't think of happy thoughts when I know I have to leave you!"

"I'll never leave you. I'll always be right there," she softly pointed to the right side of her daughter's chest. "Your heart will have room for me, won't it?"

"If it's big enough," she said, trying not to choke on her tears.

"There is no one with a heart as big as yours," her mother said, her voice low and mellow. "Make sure that the English don't allow you to forget who you are."

The little girl slowly nodded. She nearly jumped when she heard the announcer's loud voice echo through the station. "Final call to all the kinder! Final call to all the kinder!"

As she heard the announcement, Hannah’s mother grabbed her daughter by her hands, pushing through the pool of people. A guard with a stern, menacing face checked her number before ushering her onto the train. "By, my Liebling," she whispered. With that, she was pushed backwards and into the sea of teary-eyed parents.

Hannah was shoved into a compartment with three girls whom all wore long skirts, black stockings, and plaid shirts. The tallest must’ve been no-older than sixteen. Her brown, thick braided hair separated her from the other two blonde girls. All of the children nervously looked out the window, waving to their parents. Hannah joined them by the window. She pressed her face against the cold glass. She locked her eyes with her mother, who was all the way in the background.

This was the last image of her Mother she'd ever see. No smile, just droopy, watery eyes. There was no place for her in Germany, and she knew it. What she didn't know, was that this was one of the many moments that would haunt her forever.

"Hannah! Hannah!" a voice whined in her ear.

The girl was awoken by a rough shake. Even though she met her just a few moments ago, she felt as if little Aviva's hands were stronger than her own. No wonder her sisters sometimes got annoyed of her. This adorable, button-nosed six year old really couldn't calm down! She was quite small for her age, but her blonde hair that was braided into tightly weaved German braids made her appear older. Hannah thought the style looked really nice on her. They brought out her big, innocent blue eyes.

"Are we in London? I could feel the train stopping!" she cried.

Hannah rubbed her eyes, the image in front of her started to get clearer. Aviva's older sisters Miriam and Dinah were looking at her with a teasing smile. She got to know them the last half hour before she passed out into a deep slumber. Miriam was a sixteen year old girl with a very straight, mature posture. On the other hand, Dinah slouched in her seat, blowing the short strands of her wild, curly blonde hair out of her eyes. Hannah learned that the Klein sisters lived in Munich, and that they were also orthodox. She thought that orthodox people were rather fascinating because of how tightly they followed the rules. Although Hannah celebrated holidays like Hanukkah and Passover, her parents were never strict about religion.

They all agreed that life was peaceful for them until Hitler grew into power. Miriam told her that her family struggled very hard to get all three of them passports. She originally wasn’t planning on going, but her chances to get selected increased as their father was put into labor. The girls found common ground through that, bonding as they also tried to calm the youngest.

"We won't be in London for ages," Hannah replied. "You're just imagining it.”

"You've been asking us for the past five minutes," Dinah sighed. "I’m getting tired of you asking the same question thousands of times."

"Dinah," Miriam scolded in a gentle tone. "Just tell her that she should be more patient."

"I've been patient," Aviva said.

"No, you weren't," Dinah countered.

"Dinah," Miriam used a harsher voice.

"Alright," the girl sighed, mockingly. "You should be more patient."

Miriam rolled her eyes as her younger sister spoke. "We're not going to be there in a long time. We won't get to London right away. We'll ride on a Ferry from Holland on the Dutch border."

The little girl made a pouty face. Just by the way the three talked to each other, Hannah was able to read them like an open book. There was this inner desire to have at least one sibling to talk to; to grow up together and argue with to pass time. Even if she were going away, she'd still be alone.

"Do you know if you're going to get separated?" Hannah asked, as gently as possible.

The three sisters gave each other uneasy looks. They didn't need to say in words that they were worried—their eyes said it all. Despite all their bickering the last moment, they couldn't live without each other.

"I think we are," Miriam answered, unsure. "The last group of children was from an orphanage. I'm sure siblings were separated."

Aviva's eyes drooped, "I don't want us to be separated."

"We're probably going to be put in foster care," Dinah said, bitterly. "No one wants a girl who’s already in their teens."

"Of course we'll all have a foster family even if we're not together," Miriam said, calmly.

"Who would want to take care of us?" Dinah said, before turning to Hannah with a sneer. "You're lucky you're eleven."

Hannah looked down as she spoke. There was no feeling of shame, but a feeling of sympathy. She knew what it was like when you felt unwanted. It was all too familiar ever since the Fuher declared that all Jews were schwein. Aryan classmates would throw rocks and kick dust into her eye. She heard their taunting voices echo through the walls of her mind: “Jüdisches Schwein! Jüdisches Schwein!“ Her friends couldn't play with her; their parents wouldn't allow their child to be friends with a Jewish girl. This moment caused a black hole to grow in her heart, one that eventually took away her innocence.

"Don't say that," Hannah said.

"If it weren't for Hitler," Dinah spat, gritting her teeth as she spoke. "We wouldn't have had to leave."

"Dummkopf," Aviva agreed.

Miriam shook her head. Hannah couldn't help but smile. Children learned that "bad language" in school. When parents argued, they always called each other names because they were angry. Children easily picked them up, especially if they were the target of those words. She remembered the first time her Mother told her that she shouldn't be a dummkopf and repeat those phrases. Though it was hard to ignore, Hannah made sure to not speak like that in front of her parents.

Memories of her parents seemed to flood her mind, even the ones Hannah usually couldn't remember. She lived in a small, but simple little house in the busy streets of Berlin. Since both of her parents were very smart and hard-working people, they didn't struggle as much after the events of the Great War. Hannah was well aware that most people were struggling and living off of whatever they could fend for. However, she had food on her table every day and didn't have to worry. Hitler thought that they didn’t understand real true suffering, but that changed ever since the Nuremberg Laws were passed.

As the train rattled on, the rhythm of the wheels nearly pulled her into a slumber. She wanted to sleep. Her mother had woken her early this morning. At the thought of her mother, a knife stabbed Hannah's heart, jogging all the memories she'd tried to forget back into place. Her sluggish mind focused on nothing but her weariness, slowly making her memories hazy. The noise around her slowly deafened as her mind’s theatre played a series of short films. She remembered when she'd tried to enter the park and been told she wasn't allowed, and that day when her teacher had called her to the front of the class and dismissed her as sub-human.

It was impossible to be accepted in Germany as a Jew. This caused her to wonder if she was going to have a hard time being in England because she was from Germany. She always heard of Jews being tortured just for their religion. Sephardic Jews who dared not to convert to Christianity in Spain were banished or persecuted. According to the Torah, Jews were enslaved by the Egyptians (the whole story of Moses was confusing to her, no matter how many times she heard it on Passover). Now Hannah was on her own exodus along with more than a hundred Jewish children.

As a dark curtain fell over her war-torn world, Hannah slept. In a few days, she thought, I'll be in England. There, I'll be safe. There, I'll be free. With that, the train swept her away from the German border and into the unknown.

#Narnia Fanfiction Hannah World War Two Kindertransport history historical fiction fNarnia fanfiction narnia

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