 
The Bee Line

Copywrite 2018 Sandra Maggs

Published by Sandra Maggs at Smashwords

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Chapter One

In the beginning, all I knew about Erik's grandfather was, he was and would always be, Jewish. The past seven years hadn't been very favourable for Jews and the past year hadn't been very favourable for me.

War is a very cruel commander, and even those who don't fight on the front line often have a battle of their own. It was 1945 when peace was declared and the war finished. The soldiers returned and were welcomed home as heroes, well most of them. My dad didn't come back. Missing in action, that's what they told my mum. I remember when we got the news. It came in the form of a telegram and as I sat by her side on the sofa, she crumpled the paper in her shaky hands and her heart broke into a thousand tears, which flowed down her cheeks.

As I sat there, I realised I couldn't cry for my missing father. I had to stay strong for Mum. But my strength wasn't enough and as her broken heart wouldn't mend, she chose suicide over her children. I felt any love I had for my mother die when she did, and then resentment towards her set in. The last day of her life was the worst day of mine and I was ashamed of her.

There didn't seem to be anything unusual about Mum that morning, except, the depression she suffered had somehow been brushed under the rug with some dust and the sad memory of the telegram. While she fussed over us at breakfast and hugged and kissed us goodbye, we didn't realise it would be the final time. Perhaps I should have seen the warning signs from that tiny change. But when my sister and I arrived home at the end of the day expecting to find her still cheerful, she wouldn't wake up. I knocked on the wall to old Mrs Gossip next door. That wasn't her real name, but she always had a tale to tell about someone living in the street. Well, she came over instantly and sent for the doctor to pay a visit to our house. I can't remember much about the whole ordeal, except that Elsie went into some sort of shock and hasn't spoken a word since. Elsie is my seven-year-old sister.

I didn't cry at my mother's funeral. My heart lay stony beneath the black dress I wore that day, as I sat on the cold wooden pew in the church holding my sister's hand. In the other hand, Elsie clutched a small, round, blue bag with a picture of a dog on the front. Inside she kept a tattered photograph of my father. Mum had given it to her because she couldn't really remember his face.

My uncle stood in front of the congregation and spoke of how his sister had been a brave woman and a devoted mother who loved her children, and how she was tragically taken before her time. I wanted to stand up and scream the word liar at him. I wanted to tell them all about how she'd given in and taken the coward's way out, but I sat there and let him hide the truth in his emotional speech.

There was tea and sandwiches afterwards, and people came to Elsie and me with their comforting voices and expressed their deepest condolences. But I didn't want sympathy, I wanted my parents back.

My name's Edith Fricker and I'm thirteen years old. At the end of the war my father was missing in action and my mother had selfishly committed suicide. But this story isn't really about either of my parents, it's the story of Erik's grandfather, oh, and me of course.

Chapter Two

Being an orphan isn't very nice. We had relatives like everybody else, but because of one reason or another, none of them seemed to be in a position to be able to take care of us both together. So the selfish act my mother had decided was the best thing to do, found us alone in the world, and all sorts of thoughts ran through my head. The most important one was, what is going to happen to me? Did you notice I said me? Not to be self-centred of course, but my sister Elsie is a sweet little girl with blonde curly hair, blue eyes, and the kind of face that makes you want to pinch her cheeks. The authorities would most likely be able to find somewhere nice for her, but nobody wants a thirteen-year-old, especially one with brown lifeless hair and a long thin face, sort of like a horse. Unless of course, they're going to put you to work pulling a cart or something. I didn't have any talent when it came to manual labour, all of my skills came from thinking. To be honest, I thought they would separate me and my sister and I would never see her again. But because my father had been so important to the army, a nice man by the name of Sergeant Oliver Luxford stepped in and insisted the family who took us in would care for the both of us and not send me off to an orphanage. Well, that's exactly what happened. Somebody, somewhere in the vast English countryside, arranged to take the two of us.

It was strange leaving everything behind. I'd only ever lived in one place, and it was then I realised nothing would ever be the same again. We would live in another house and go to another school, and I would have to make all new friends. So on the morning we left the gloomy grey city of London, and the end terrace house that had sheltered me all of my life, I was scared. Elsie clung to me as if her life depended on it and although I didn't show it, when we boarded the train with the lady from the Red Cross, I was just as petrified as my voiceless sister. It was November when we left our home and all I knew at the time was I would never live there again.

I had no idea where we were going. I remember they explained it to me, but I just couldn't understand it at the time. There was something wrong with my thinking and I hoped the country air would clear away the muddle. Elsie sat by the window looking out at the changing landscape. Unzipping the little blue bag, she took out the picture of my father, kissed it, and then put it away. I wasn't sure if she would ever see him in person again, but I would never tell her that. We had to stay positive!

When I first met Florence Melhurst, I was a little concerned about living with a stranger. We knew nothing about her and I wondered what kind of person would want to care for two war orphans. Neither Elsie nor I had ever laid eyes on the woman until the moment we stepped from the train. But she was waiting for us on the platform and had a big beaming smile on her round face. Elsie trusted her enough to hold her hand, but that didn't mean I had to like her. I was sceptical, and until she proved me wrong, I was also standoffish and sullen. If Florence Melhurst had noticed my behaviour that afternoon, she never showed it, and we never ever spoke of it.

One of the better things about the stranger was her car. Florence, or Flo as she encouraged us to call her, drove the car from the station with Elsie, myself, and three suitcases filled with our clothing and personal items. My mother had never driven a car. As far as she was concerned, women didn't do that type of thing. So the courageous jovial lady who was taking us into her home impressed me. I thought perhaps I had been a little hasty with my judgement and I regretted my rudeness towards her.

Florence's farmhouse was bigger than our terrace house in London, with a lot of land around it. Instead of having stairs, it was all on one level. It sat well away from the road and there was loads of room for us to run around. Apparently, she had lived there for a long time and it must have been the reason she looked so strong. All the clean country air and working the land had made her a healthy and robust woman.

She told us about her sheep. There were hundreds of them. None of the sheep had names, they were raised for their wool and their meat. Plus there were far too many to name and they all looked exactly alike. The new lambs were born in the springtime and as Florence spoke of them, Elsie smiled. I wondered if we would still be staying there then. Spring was a long way away.

Elsie and I had to share a bedroom which was fine for the moment, but I didn't fancy having to sleep in the same room as the baby permanently. I called her the baby because that's what my mother had called her. The baby of the family. There had originally been three of us. We had a brother too once. His name was Clive, but he died of pneumonia when he was only two. He would have been nine if he had lived. I had a photo of me with my brother and sister in a silver frame. Elsie was just a tiny baby when he passed away, and in some respects, she saved the day by giving my parents a new focus. They didn't forget Clive, but they celebrated the baby, and if there was any crying, they did it when I wasn't looking.

There were two single beds made from iron in our bedroom and they squeaked a little when we lay on them. Plump pillows with pink slips sat at the heads of each one, and patchwork eiderdowns covered the beds. Florence had clearly gone to some trouble to make the room suitable for both of us. Unpacking, we put our clothes away in a wardrobe and chest of drawers which we also had to share, and we were invited to put some of our personal items out to make the room homelier. Elsie had a doll which she propped up against the pillows on her bed, and of course, there was the little round bag with the dog on it that sat beside the doll. But all I had were a few books and the photograph. It was alright though, Elsie and I were together, and I stacked the books neatly on the top of the drawers alongside the picture. We couldn't bring all of our belongings to the countryside and we had to leave a lot behind. I think it was all donated to charity or something, but they were just possessions after all.

Taking my hand, Elsie pulled me from the room to explore the rest of the house. We passed a doorway that led to another room with a double bed in. That was clearly where Florence slept. As we walked quietly along the hallway on the floorboards of the farmhouse, our shoes made a kind of echoing noise in the emptiness. Perhaps that's why Florence had taken us in, maybe she didn't like the lonely echo. I pictured me and my sister on our hands and knees scrubbing the floor wearing nothing but rags and tried to rid my mind of the terrible thought as we continued to explore.

Elsie and I went into another room which was like a living room of sorts. Greying afternoon light was filtered through the multicoloured stained glass windows creating colourful patterns on the walls. It almost felt like there was a touch of magic in the air. But I was too old to believe in such childish notions. Elsie, on the other hand, stood mesmerised by the scene and I nudged her gently to bring her back to reality.

Through an ordinary pane in the window, I could see an old man and a boy working together in one of the fields. It looked as though they were fixing a fence and I wondered who they were.

"Having a look around are we?"

I turned to see Florence standing in the doorway and wasn't sure whether we were allowed to be in there. "Yes, I hope that's alright," I answered truthfully.

"Of course it is, make yourselves at home. There are cakes and tea in the kitchen and I'm just making a few cheese sandwiches. They'll be ready in a couple of minutes if you'd like to join me," she said smiling.

"Who are those people out there?" I asked her, and she came and stood by my side to see who I was talking about.

Florence smelt like the outdoors. It's difficult to describe, but the fragrance that wafted from her was a mixture of wind and rain, and the way a sunny morning smells after an overnight downpour. Perhaps that's the way all country people smell, maybe the outside was caught in her short curly hair or her light brown eyes.

"Those people are Erik and his grandfather Jakob. They live in the little cottage by the shearers quarters and Jakob helps out on the farm. Erik is about your age I think," Florence told me.

As we ate our sandwiches and cake, and drank tea poured from a blue enamel teapot, I thought about what life would be like for me from now on. I'd lost my parents, my home and my friends in a matter of days and although Florence seemed very kind, I wondered what would happen to us, and how long it would be before we were shipped off to somewhere else.

"We'll be going to meet the local schoolmaster tomorrow," Florence explained. "The sooner you get into a routine, the better you'll settle in here. The school's just along the road a bit and I know you're both going to fit in well there."

"I liked my old school," I said picking at a few cake crumbs that were left on the plate.

"I'm sure you'll like this one too," Florence said, as she stood to clear away the cups and plates from the afternoon tea.

Elsie and I helped her with the few dishes and then went outside to have a look around. The air had cooled slightly and the sky was a very pale grey with a few darker patches, and by the looks of it, ready to rain at any moment.

In one direction, fields and sheep were the only things we saw. It was the complete opposite of the city. When I had looked out of my bedroom window in London, I saw another building. Concrete and stone had been replaced by trees and grass, and the walking, white, clouds of woolly sheep. The sounds of people and traffic had been substituted with bleating and the occasional bird twittering.

Erik and his grandfather were still fixing the fence and we stood watching from a distance. I wanted to go and talk to them, but I wasn't sure if that was allowed while they were working. Perhaps after they finished, I would. They noticed us though and they both waved. Elsie and I waved back and as I prepared to take her over to meet them, the rain started to fall. I spent the rest of the afternoon lying on my bed reading a book I'd read about a hundred times before.

Much later when the day had finished and the house was quiet, I started to think about Florence Melhurst. She lived in a big farmhouse alone and there were no signs of children, and it didn't look as though she had ever been married. Perhaps I would ask her about her past, or perhaps not. Sometimes, it's best not to question.

Chapter Three

Going to school in the countryside was completely different than what I was used to. Florence took us both along to meet the schoolmaster the next morning and he was very welcoming. Mr Carruthers looked as though he was in his early fifties and he spoke very well. I think he must have gone to one of those really expensive colleges because he sounded sort of posh. Anyway, he told us there were only seven students currently studying there and they all used the same classroom which took up most of the school building. At first, I thought he was making things up, but when he showed us the one school room with the different levels of artwork displayed on the wall, I understood. He taught all the classes and I could see the concern in his face when I told him that my sister Elsie hadn't spoken a word since my mother took her own life. But he did say she was welcome to come along to class. We were due to start on the following Monday. Florence said it wouldn't hurt for us to have a few days at home to get used to our surroundings. She took us shopping and bought us some new things for school. I was looking forward to meeting the other students and I think Elsie felt the same way.

That evening, the first winter snow began to fall and it didn't stop for two days. Fires burned in all the fireplaces. The house was warm and cosy and the smell of bread baking filled each room. When I looked out of the window, the countryside appeared as though it was covered with a giant white eiderdown and the snowflakes falling from the sky were the feathers that filled it.

Work on the farm didn't stop. There were still the sheep to look after and Florence told us they just wandered in and out of the barns and the doors stayed open. It had something to do with moisture and infection, but I didn't pay much attention. I was more interested in the boy and the old man who lived in the little cottage on the farm than the sheep.

On the day we started school, Elsie and I walked along the road in the fresh snow. It wasn't very far at all. We took some sandwiches with us because the lady who made the school dinners had taken ill and was in hospital, and they couldn't find anybody to cook at such short notice.

A tiny schoolyard surrounded the school building and was separated from the wintery landscape by a grey stone fence. There was a sandpit and some swings, that were, for the moment, covered in snow. Inside we hung up our coats on pegs which had our individual names written on white paper squares beneath them, and it was toasty and warm within the walls of the schoolhouse.

I think Mr Carruthers had spoken to the other students about us because they seemed to be expecting us and everybody was so welcoming. We stood at the front of the small group and I told them where we were from and what it had been like living in London. I left out the part about my mother committing suicide. Some of the children were quite young and I didn't want to have to explain it to them.

That's where I first spoke to Erik, the boy who was fixing the fence with his grandfather. In the strange little classroom with only seven students, now nine of course, I was the eldest. There was Erik, he was twelve. Charlie and Claire Hibbert, they were nine and seven, Audrey Ashton, she was eight, Michael and Timothy Crown they were five and eight, and a girl called Eliza Jenkins who was away on holidays. Erik told me later Eliza was ten and very nice to everybody. All of the students appeared to like each other, it was much better than the crowded classrooms in the London school I had attended and everybody seemed very happy to be there.

Did I mention that I'm quite clever for my age? Well, I'm not usually the kind of person to boast, but I am very studious and I like to learn. When Mr Carruthers noticed, he actually asked me for a little bit of help with some of the younger children in the class. I didn't mind at all and felt quite important. Perhaps that was the moment when I decided I wanted to become a teacher when I grew up. I took a few of the younger ones aside later in the morning and read them a story. It was fun and they asked for another when I was finished. Mr Carruthers told me I could hold story time twice a week, as long as my own schoolwork didn't suffer. I was beginning to like living in the country more and more.

As I've already told you, I'd seen Erik before and I knew he was living in the little cottage on the farm with his grandfather, but that day was the first time we had spoken to each other.

"Hello," he said, as he was getting his lunch from his school satchel.

Erik had a nice smile, not one of those forced grins people have when they know they have to be nice to you and they don't really want to.

"Hello," I said back. We knew each other's names so the conversation sort of ended there.

Sitting down at a table shared by the entire class at dinnertime, he sat across from me.

"Where are your parents?" he asked me.

"Our dad didn't come home from the war and our mum committed suicide," I said, without any emotion for the woman. Erik had a slight accent and it was clear to me he had been born somewhere overseas. "Where are you from?"

"I am from Poland," he told me. "I came here to England because of the war."

I knew where Poland was, I'd seen it on the big map of the world that hung on the wall in the classroom. I also knew it had been taken very quickly at the beginning of the war by the German army, but at that moment when he told me where he was from, I never realised how bad things had been for Erik and his grandfather. "I've seen you on the farm, you live with that old man in the little cottage." I didn't want Erik to know I had asked about him, it seemed a bit nosey.

Erik nodded. "That old man is my grandfather Jakob," he told me.

His eyes were a deep dark brown and his hair was black and shiny. Erik wore a little black circle cap without a peak. There was something in the way he looked at me that told me we would always be friends.

We walked home from school together that afternoon. Erik, Elsie and me. Three kids who had been brought together by one of the most horrific acts in history. From the disaster and heartbreak, and the murder and devastation, an infinite friendship blossomed.

Chapter Four

"Come over here and try this," Erik called to me one afternoon after school.

The snow had melted a little creating puddles and slush, and Elsie and I were outside trying out new wellingtons Florence had bought for us.

"What are you doing to that sheep?" I asked, not quite sure what he wanted me to try.

Erik stood by the sheep with his hands buried deep in the fleece. "If you put your hands in the wool, you can feel how warm the sheep is," he said. "Pick a sheep and try it. They all feel the same and they don't mind if you touch them. They're okay about it. I do this all the time."

Elsie didn't hesitate, she took off her mittens, put them in the pocket of her coat then plunged her hands deep into the wool of a sheep. Instantly she smiled at me so I did the same. I understood then why the sheep were able to cope with the snow. My hands warmed immediately and it felt as though I had just had them by a fire. The fleece was soft and I could have spent the entire winter standing there next to that sheep.

"How did you know about that?" I asked Erik after we'd put our mittens back on.

"My grandfather told me," he said. "He knows a lot about everything. Would you like to come and meet him? I talk to him about you both and I know he would like to meet you."

Agreeing, Elsie slipped her hand in mine and we went over to the little cottage that Erik shared with Jakob. A light shone from within and I could see a fire crackling away in the fireplace.

"What's this?" I asked pointing to a little metal object that was nailed in a diagonal on the doorpost.

"That's the mezuzah. It's a little scroll with Jewish verses and we keep it in that metal case," he explained. "It protects our home from evil."

Running my fingers along its smooth surface, I wondered how the mezuzah worked and looked around before we entered, just to see if there was any evil hanging about that might need to be frightened away by it. But there was nothing so I guess it was working. I felt at home straight away when we went inside. There was something about the cosy cottage that said welcome. In amongst the sofas, with overstuffed cushions and the rugs on the wooden floor, was a sensitivity accepting of anybody who was invited across the threshold. Jakob was busy stirring a pot on the stove and the aroma made my mouth water.

"Grandfather, these are my friends, Edith and Elsie," Erik said, distracting the elderly man from his task.

He turned and looked at us both and smiled. "Ah yes, the young ladies who are staying here with Florence. I am making some mushroom soup. There is enough for two more. Set the table for four Erik."

Erik took four bowls and put them on the little square wooden table in the kitchen along with some spoons and a loaf of bread. Jakob shared the soup evenly between the four bowls.

I looked at the humble offering that lay before us, and then at Erik and Jakob. "It's very kind of you to invite us to eat with you, but I think Florence is cooking something for our supper." I really wanted to eat the delicious smelling soup though, but I just didn't think it was right to take their food and then eat another meal at the farmhouse.

"Nonsense," Jakob said. "You will have a few spoonful's of soup with us and then you will go and eat your supper. It will be our secret."

Elsie smiled and after removing our outer layers, including the wellingtons, we sat down with Erik and his grandfather. I picked up the spoon to tuck into the soup.

"We thank God for our food before we eat," Erik told me.

Waiting, I placed the spoon back on the table and folded my hands in my lap, and my sister did the same. Jakob said a few words in a language I assumed was Polish, and then he broke off some of the bread for each of us. Although there were only a few spoonful's of soup in our bowls, I was grateful for every delicious mouthful and I think if Elsie had found her voice that evening she would have told me she felt the same way.

After the delicious meal, I thanked Erik's grandfather, and Elsie shook his hand smiling at him. He reminded me of Father Christmas without the long beard. His jolly smile and ruddy cheeks were similar to pictures I'd seen on Christmas cards. Jakob was much thinner, but I imagined him in a red suit with a pillow stuffed in the front. If he put on a fake beard he would be able to fool anyone.

When we arrived back at the farmhouse, I told Florence about the soup. I couldn't keep it from her and we still ate the sausage rolls and vegetables she had cooked but decided we would save the cake for the following day and take some over to the little cottage for Jakob and Erik.

"That was a very kind thing you did this afternoon," Florence said later after Elsie had gone to bed.

I really didn't know what she was talking about. "I'm not sure I know what you mean Flo," I admitted.

"Eating the soup Jakob offered. They only have each other Erik and Jakob, and they're very nice people, so sitting with them and sharing a meal at their table was kind of you. They are the only Jewish family in the community and sometimes, through no fault of our own, we forget their customs are a little different than ours. So they get left out. It's important for them to feel accepted," Florence explained to me.

When I thought about it later, I'd never realised accepting a gift when it's offered, even just a small bowl of soup is just as generous as giving someone the soup, to begin with.

Chapter Five

As we approached the festive season, there was a Christmas concert coming up at school which involved all of the children putting on a little play for the parents and singing a few songs. I was looking forward to it, but Erik was upset, and at first, I didn't know the reason why, but when he explained it to me, I understood.

"I won't be going to the concert and neither will my grandfather," he told me. "We don't celebrate Christmas."

"Well, what do you do on Christmas morning?" I asked, quite surprised there were people in the world who didn't celebrate the one day of the year I loved the most.

"We have a celebration called Hanukkah, it goes for eight days and I usually get a dreidel and some chocolate coins and some money," Erik explained. "To us, Christmas is just another day."

"At least you still get presents. Although this year, I don't expect to get anything for Christmas," I told him. I wasn't sure what a dreidel was, and I didn't want him to think I was stupid, so I didn't ask. "But at least I have somewhere nice to stay, and my sister is with me, and that's the most important thing."

"It's been quite some time since I received a Hanukkah gift, but I am alive Edith, and so many of my friends and relations didn't survive the war," Erik said looking very sad.

I was a little shocked by his words, I forgot Erik hadn't been born in England and I really wanted to ask him a lot of questions about what it had been like for him, but something told me not to. Not yet anyway. We needed to get to know each other a little more before I could ask him personal questions about his past. I had revealed my mother's crime the first time I had spoken to him, but for Erik, things were a little different and the pain and suffering he had been through was something I couldn't begin to understand at the time.

We all had costumes for the Christmas play and I was to be Mary. Elsie had a part as one of the three wise men, but nobody expected her to speak. The entire play took no longer than ten minutes, after which we would change into our own clothes and sing some carols.

As it was a special occasion, Flo surprised me and Elsie the day before with new dresses, white stockings, and shiny black T-bar shoes to wear for the carols. It was very kind of her and I still thought so even after I tried on the outfit.

My dress, Florence had chosen, was emerald green with a white lace collar and she said it looked very festive. Since moving from our home in London, it was the first new dress I had received. I liked the shoes, they were very nice, but the dress was green, not my colour at all. Elsie, of course, had a pretty pink dress with frills and a sash that tied at the waist, and when she twirled, the skirt flared out a little. Mine was sort of straight up and down with no real shape to it. Trying it on and looking at my reflection in the full-length mirror, I looked like a skinny plank of wood painted green. There was nothing that would ever make me like it and I certainly didn't want to wear it to the Christmas concert. But as they say, beggars can't be choosers and although I never asked Flo to buy it, I was grateful that she thought of me.

Even though I wasn't happy with the clothing, the Christmas play was wonderful and after we had finished singing there was a nice supper. I met all of the parents that night and although Elsie never said a word, I think she enjoyed herself. When we left, Flo carried her to the car because she fell asleep with her head resting on the table.

The concert had finished quite late, so school started an hour later the next day and I was thankful for the extra time in bed and the delicious breakfast. On most mornings, we ate porridge, but Florence had more time that day and cooked us some eggs and mushrooms. There was cold ham too and toast with marmalade. I was so full, I didn't think I would need any lunch, but Florence made me take some anyway. I think grownups are smarter about things like that because by the time lunchtime had arrived, I was hungry again.

When we walked home from school with Eric that afternoon I told him all about the Christmas play. It was almost dark by the time we reached the farm and I could see Jakob through the window setting something up on the windowsill.

"What's that your grandfather has?" I asked him, pointing to it.

"That's the menorah," he explained as we looked at it. "There's room for nine candles and Hanukkah begins today, so my grandfather will light the first candle tonight with the servant candle and they will burn for a while together. Each day we light another candle so the light shines out into the world, by the eighth night they are all burning, along with the servant candle that sits in the middle of the menorah. We say blessings too," he explained. "We also cook doughnuts. You and Elsie can come and have some if you like. My grandfather would be happy to share them and the doughnuts are delicious. They have jam inside and we sprinkle powdered sugar over the top."

I liked anything with jam in and so I told Flo about it. She said it was okay for us to go over to the little cottage as long as it was alright with Jakob. So on the second night of Hanukkah, when there were three candles burning on the menorah, Elsie and I went to visit Erik and his grandfather. They had just finished singing the blessings, but the doughnuts were waiting and the smell was delightful. We also had some potato pancakes. I preferred the sweet jammy doughnuts though. I didn't tell Erik or his grandfather, but I expect they knew by the amount I ate.

I really enjoyed our visit to the little cottage that night. Jakob was very friendly and he spoke English well. He told me if you go to live in another country, you should speak the language because that is the way they like it. Elsie didn't say a word as usual, but she smiled a lot and got jam all over the front of her dress and some in her hair. I finally found out what a dreidel was too. Jakob had made one as a gift for Erik and he showed us how it worked. The little wooden spinning top had funny markings on each side and they taught us the dreidel song. Elsie didn't sing but clapped her hands to keep the beat for us. It was my very first Hanukkah, and without giving too much away, I can tell you it wouldn't be my last.

Chapter Six

Florence organised our own special ceremony a week or so later at the farmhouse, and as, one by one, we hung the decorations on the Christmas tree, it began its transformation from plain green and spiky, to multicoloured and cheerful. Instead of doughnuts, we ate little gingerbread men Florence had baked and decorated earlier in the day. Our tree was taller than my father had been and as we placed the last piece of tinsel on a branch, it was time to switch on the lights. As the fairy lights came on, we stood back and admired the Christmas tree with the angel on the top. It would have been nice to invite Erik over, but we weren't sure how his grandfather might feel and Florence didn't want to offend him.

We had the tree by the window and the lights shone out into the world just as the flickering candles on the menorah had. In some ways, I felt as though they were similar, but both had their own significance in their singular celebrations.

On Christmas morning, Elsie woke me up very early by shaking me hard. I guess she was excited and wanted to see if Father Christmas had been. I didn't like our chances, but Flo was a very nice lady and I was sure she would have bought something for the baby and slipped it under the tree. As we passed by the bedroom Flo slept in, I took a quick peek and noticed the bed was empty and had already been made. Noises were coming from the kitchen so we went to see what was going on.

"Merry Christmas," Florence said cheerfully, as we entered the room. "I thought I'd get an early start on our dinner. But first, let's go and see if Father Christmas stopped by in the night."

Well, I couldn't believe my eyes when we went into the living room. Beneath the Christmas tree were several brightly wrapped gifts and Elsie's face lit up instantly. A fire was already burning in the fireplace and as the three of us sat on the floor, we opened the presents one by one. I received two new dresses, which were much nicer than the green one I wore for the Christmas play, and a necklace with a silver heart dangling from it. Elsie got a new doll, a new dress, and a jigsaw puzzle. Flo had clearly bought herself something and wrapped it to put under the tree, and she opened the box which contained a new pair of leather gloves. She said they were just the thing for the winter and would keep her hands warm. I wished I had been able to get her a present.

"This is lovely," I said looking at the little heart. "I'm sorry we didn't get you anything."

"Just having you and Elsie in the house and not spending Christmas alone is the best gift I've ever received," she said quietly, and smiled her usual beaming smile we had both grown quite fond of.

For breakfast, there was another surprise for us. Instead of the usual bowl of porridge, Flo produced a bar of chocolate for both me and Elsie and told us on special occasions such as this one, we deserved a special breakfast to go with it. We knew tomorrow it would be the usual bowl of porridge again, but on the day that signified the birth of Christ, we ate chocolate for breakfast.

Both Elsie and I wore new dresses to church that morning. Although Florence wasn't at all religious, on Christmas morning she put her own beliefs aside and took us along for the service. The tiny fellowship gathered in the chapel that day were light-hearted and cheerful, and the sermon wasn't quite as serious as it normally would be.

After church, we wished everybody a Merry Christmas and went back to the farmhouse where the three of us worked hard in the kitchen and put together a spectacular dinner of turkey, roast potatoes, and carrots and peas. A lot of the groundwork had been done earlier by Florence, but I like to think I played an important part in preparing the meal.

Setting the table with a red tablecloth Florence had made especially for the day, we put out plates and shiny silver cutlery which was normally kept in a case in the bottom of one of the kitchen cupboards. In the centre of the table sat a little candle holder made from tiny pinecones that had been painted silver. The red candles stood proud and tall waiting to be lit. There were also three yellow Christmas crackers and glasses of fizzy ginger beer too, and when we sipped it, bubbles leapt from the top of the drink and Elsie sneezed when a few went up her nose.

"That looks wonderful," Florence said referring to the way we had set the table, as she carved the turkey and dished up the vegetables.

"Can we do the crackers before we eat?" I asked, itching to find out what was inside them. We'd been picking them up and shaking them to try to guess what surprises they held, but it was impossible to know just from the sound.

"Yes, let's" Florence agreed.

Elsie went first, and inside, along with the usual paper hat and joke, was a little white scotty dog brooch which she immediately pinned to her dress. I went next and inside mine was a tin whistle which I blew straight away. Inside the last one, Florence found a toy bell. Wearing the ridiculous paper hats, the three of us ate the delicious meal and laughed at the jokes. I had such a good time, and for afters we had trifle. There was Christmas cake too. It was far too much food for the three of us.

"Flo, do you think we could give some Christmas cake to Erik and Jakob? I know they don't celebrate today, but they're nice people, and there's such a lot of cake," I asked after we'd finished clearing up the dishes from the small feast.

"That's a lovely thought Edith. Let's all take the cake over," Florence said. "Perhaps a Christmas cracker for Erik too, what do you both think?"

"Yes," I said, and Elsie nodded in agreement.

Believe it or not, Erik and his grandfather were very pleased with the cake. They invited us in and Jakob and Florence drank some very bitter coffee he had made. They gave me a sip. It was horrible and everybody laughed when I screwed up my face. Erik pulled the cracker which made a loud bang and he jumped, but inside there was a tiny toy car and of course, we made him wear the paper hat until we left. Jakob had also made dreidels for Elsie and me and he actually wished us a Merry Christmas, even though they didn't celebrate it. I was touched by the gift and I sat it by the photograph on top of the chest of drawers in the bedroom.

For supper that night we ate hot mince pies with homemade brandy butter, which is something Elsie and I had never had before. Florence said the small amount of brandy in the butter wouldn't do us any harm at all. I have to say, after thinking about it carefully, it was possibly the best Christmas I've had since my father went away to the war.

But my jubilation disappeared on Boxing Day when I awoke to another not so nice surprise. That morning my stomach hurt and when I found out the reason, I didn't know what to do at first. You see, I was thirteen and growing up, and the sight of the sticky mess that waited for me that morning when I went to the toilet, was a little upsetting. I knew it would happen eventually, but I hoped it would be after I had been living there for a little longer. Slightly embarrassed, I went to Florence to tell her.

"Um, excuse me," I said, not knowing how to bring up the subject.

"What is it Edith?" she asked.

"Well, I'm bleeding, you know, and it's my first time and I'm not sure what to do," I whispered. I could feel my cheeks getting redder by the second and I didn't know how she would react to the news or even how to explain it to her properly.

Florence put her arms around me and gave me a big hug. It was as if I'd won first prize in some sort of menstruation competition.

"Come with me and we'll get you sorted out," she said.

I followed her from the room and she gave me a sanitary napkin, and something called a sanitary belt to keep it in place.

"You get yourself cleaned up and then we'll have a little chat," Florence said, after explaining the finer details of how it worked. "If you need any help with the belt, let me know. There's no need to be embarrassed Edith."

Well, there was, and I certainly didn't want her seeing me semi-naked, so I muddled through and got the thing on. It was awful, and I wished I was a boy. But after I dressed and made myself presentable, I sort of felt as though I'd grown up a little and being a girl wasn't so bad after all. I didn't tell Elsie of course, she probably wouldn't have understood anyway.

Florence was waiting for me in her bedroom and I went to have the chat girls would normally have with their mother.

"Sit down," she said patting the bed beside her, and I did as I was told. "How are you feeling?" she asked me.

"I'm okay, I think," I told her. "I know about girls and boys and where babies come from if that's what you want to talk about. My mum gave me a book about it all and then we talked after I'd read it."

"That's good to know, but I wanted to know how you feel about it more than anything," Florence said.

She had really kind eyes, I'd never noticed before that moment. "Well, I don't like it and I don't like that belt thing either. It's not very comfortable."

"You'll get used to it. I did, but to be honest, I don't like it either," she admitted.

"This is going to be happening to me for a long time isn't it?"

"A very long time. I'd say perhaps every month for another thirty-five years or so," Flo told me.

"And then what happens?"

"It just stops, but you don't have to concern yourself with something that far ahead. The most important time for you is now. It's best for the first day or so to rest and not do anything too strenuous. Good personal hygiene is also important Edith, and if you have any leakage, you need to soak your underwear in cold water so it doesn't stain. I can help you with that."

"Do you think other people can tell when they look at me?" I asked.

"I don't think so Edith."

Florence was amazing that day. It wasn't like having my mum there, but I was thankful at that moment we were staying with somebody so understanding, and female. She hugged me again and we went out to the kitchen where Elsie was waiting patiently for breakfast.

Chapter Seven

Now I was becoming a woman, I felt as though I should behave in a more ladylike manner, but it wasn't to be. Even in the school ground, as the snow began to melt, I enjoyed running around and playing hide and seek with my younger friends. The natural release of energy made me feel more alive than I had when we lived in London amongst the grey buildings and drab surroundings. The colourful countryside had an excitement that couldn't be disputed.

Elsie and I had been living with Florence for almost four months and spring was just around the corner. As the white, marshmallow, landscape slowly changed to a more lively one, the days grew longer and warmer, and walking to and from school with Erik was a lot more pleasant. It was unusually warm for March and daffodil bulbs which had been left to sleep beneath the soil for winter had emerged from hibernation, and their brilliant yellow faces gleamed in the sunshine. In the fields, the lambs were being born and they wobbled about on shaky legs. Elsie must have thought they were funny to watch and smiled at the sight of them.

Florence had asked us if we wanted to help with the lamb docking. We both agreed until we found out that docking meant cutting off their tails. After that, Elsie and I made ourselves scarce at the mention of the word.

It was the first time since I arrived that I felt as though I wanted to explore the area more and Erik and I planned a picnic in the field near the river. Florence agreed to let us go and made us a nice cut lunch with three packages of sandwiches, marked with our names, and some orange juice in a small bottle for us to share. We each had an apple and a home-baked coconut biscuit. Erik and I carried the picnic basket, which was far too big for the contents, but the only one Florence owned. Elsie carried the blanket we would sit on to eat our lunch.

The spot I had chosen wasn't very far from the house, but far enough away to feel like we were actually on a picnic. There were loads of buttercups growing in the field and I picked some. "Let me see if you like butter," I said to Erik, holding the small flower under his chin.

"How can you tell from a flower?" he asked me.

"Well if the buttercup shines a little yellow reflexion on your skin, then you like butter," I explained. "Yes, you do like butter."

"I don't think that's how you tell if someone likes butter," he said. "My grandfather told me these flowers are poisonous and that's why there are no sheep in the field."

We spread the blanket out on the ground and opened the basket. I thought about what Erik had said. He was probably right about the butter and the poisonous flowers. What I'm about to tell you might come as a surprise, but I was a little bit sweet on Erik and it wouldn't have mattered what he said, I still would have agreed with him.

Sitting down together, we took out the packets of sandwiches. Let it be known from this point forward in the story, I hate spam. I don't know who came up with the idea of squishing a nasty meat substance into a can. The only good thing about it was the little key you use to open the tin. From then on, it's all downhill. Florence had been so nice to us I didn't have the heart to tell her, so when she packed us a sandwich to take on our picnic, I kept it to myself. Elsie, on the other hand, gobbled hers up like it was chocolate.

"Do you want to swap sandwiches?" I asked Erik as I opened up the wax paper that my sandwich was wrapped in. "I hate spam."

"I can't eat that, I'm Jewish," he replied. "I can't eat anything that comes from a pig. That's why I have cheese."

"I wish I was Jewish," I muttered as I gave the disgusting meat to my sister and put the slices of bread and butter back together to eat.

"Don't ever say that again," Erik said angrily. "Being Jewish is awful and not something somebody should ever wish for."

Erik had never said anything like that before, and he wouldn't again, especially in front of his grandfather. "What's so bad about it?" I asked him.

He took a deep breath and then sighed loudly. "Before I came to live with Florence, I lived with my family in Krakow. I had a lot of friends and we were quite well off. My parents worked hard and we had a nice house. We didn't do anything to deserve to have it taken from us. We were just Jewish. The Nazis took it all away Edith. They came with their guns and vicious war dogs and forced us out of our homes. My parents had to hand over all of our belongings and they squeezed us into tiny apartments we had to share with other families. But they didn't let us stay there for long. On the day the Nazis cleared out the ghetto where we were living, I ran away. My Polish friend Zofia hid me in her room under her bed. I could hear the noise from the soldiers and the screams from the people in the community, and this lasted into the night. Then when everything was quiet, they came again to find those who had hidden anywhere they could and they shot them. I kept thinking, what if they find me, what would they do to my friend?"

"I was hidden by Zofia for three days before her parents found out. I wet my trousers one afternoon, so I cried. That's how I was discovered. They were angry with Zofia, but they understood why she had done it. After, they arranged for me to travel to England in secret, but the journey was horrible. I went to Warsaw in the back of a lorry hidden in some potatoes. A lady called Irena helped to get me out of the country. She was part of some sort of underground organisation that helped to save the Jewish children. They made false documents, but it was still very difficult. For the whole time, from when they first took our home to when I arrived here safely I kept wondering what had we done to deserve to be treated like this. But it was not our actions Edith, it was only because we are Jewish. I owe my life to Zofia, and she risked hers to save mine because, to her, I was just a boy who was her friend. She never saw me as anything but another person. If it hadn't been for our friendship, I probably would have ended up in one of those awful death camps. I was lucky Edith, I came to live here with Florence. There were a lot of us you know, other children like me who had been fortunate enough to get away. I don't know what happened to the rest of them but I hope they all ended up with nice people."

Erik paused for a while and I could see by the look on his face that it was difficult for him, but after a few minutes of silence, he kept going with his story.

"When the war ended, I asked Florence to help me to find any surviving family members. So we wrote some letters. Soon after, my grandfather came to live here. It was not long before you arrived. He was very thin from not eating enough. His skin was almost the same colour as his grey hair. Someone had given him a few things and all he had was one small suitcase with a menorah and the mezuzah because these are important to him. It was very sad to see. I had never seen him so beaten. Florence helped us a lot and she bought my grandfather some new clothes and let us live in the little cottage. She has a very kind heart, and like my friend Zofia, she sees us only as people. My grandfather works for her and she pays him enough to feed us and buy clothes and the other things we need. We are not hungry or afraid now and we are starting even to save a little money. I wish the world was full of nice people like her. But l know my grandfather misses Krakow and the rest of our family. We don't know what happened to them. He puts on a happy face to fool everyone, but sometimes when he thinks I'm asleep, I hear him crying. He also has terrible nightmares about the camp they held him in. I don't hate being Jewish, but if I wasn't and my family had been Christians, we wouldn't have been treated so badly."

"I'm sorry Erik, I didn't realise how awful things had been for you. Do you hate the Nazis?" It was a stupid question. How could he not hate the Nazis, they took everything the poor boy had ever owned, as well as the people who loved him the most. Surprisingly his reply was one of wisdom I will never forget.

"It doesn't do any good to hate anybody," Erik said, taking a sip of the cool orange drink. "Hate only leads to disaster and death. So I don't hate the Nazis, but I don't like them either."

"Do you think you will ever go back to Poland?" I asked him, hoping that he would say no.

Erik shook his head. "I don't think so. What I really would like to do is finish school and work somewhere for a while and then become a farmer. I could grow some vegetables and keep bees. I know how to do that and I have my grandfather to help me. He's very good at keeping bees and hoping to get some for the farm. I'd like some goats too, and maybe chickens."

"So, no pigs then?"

We both laughed, even Elsie smiled at the joke. I wished she would talk. So many times I had wished for her to just say one word, but Flo had told me that sometimes we have to let things happen naturally. So waiting patiently was what I did. Eventually, she would have to start talking again, wouldn't she?

After Erik's story of how hard things had been for his family, it made me resent what my mother did even more. She hadn't valued her life at all, when so many others had lost theirs against their will, and although I never told anybody, I wished she had gone to war instead of my father.
Chapter Eight

Erik's grandfather had been working hard with some boxes that had arrived on the farm and both Elsie and I were very curious about them. They were taken out into the field away from the house, closer to a small wooded area. Jakob was busy getting them ready for something.

"What's he doing?" I asked Erik one day when he was out in the field with his grandfather.

"He's getting the hives ready for the bees," Erik told me. "Remember I told you that my grandfather knows all about bees? He spoke to Florence and she agreed to buy the hives. Soon we will have lots of delicious honey for our sandwiches and maybe you won't have to eat spam again."

That would be a blessing to me, not having to ever eat spam again. Elsie held my hand as we stood and watched. She seemed a little frightened and I wondered if she was afraid of bees. We hadn't had much to do with them in London, except for one occasion when we had gone to a flower show with Mum. Elsie had received a sting on the hand when she tried to catch a bee that was hovering around the flowers. I remember she cried for about an hour that day, even after my mother pulled out the sting.

"I'm just getting the hive ready for the queen bee. It will take a little time for me to do this and then we will have what you English would call the coronation ceremony of Queen Beatrice the bee," Jakob explained as he came over to see us.

It sounded very important and a lot of fun, and I'm sure if Elsie had spoken on that day, she would have said so too, even though she clearly remembered the flower show.

Beatrice, the queen bee, lived in a matchbox in Erik's grandfather's pocket, but only for a little while. Once the hive was ready, she was set loose to live in there and the coronation service was about to begin, with Jakob acting as some sort of master of ceremonies.

Standing in front of us, he looked at us in an official manner. "Now, put your right hand over your heart and repeat after me," he said. Behind him, the hive was ready with the queen inside and semi-shaded by the trees at the edge of a small copse.

The three of us looked at each other and placed our right hands on our chests, it was all very serious. This was the first coronation I had ever attended, so I didn't know any different. I just did as I was told.

"Long live the queen," he said.

Stifling giggles, we repeated the sentence in unison smiling, except for Elsie, she just smiled.

"Now, when do we get some honey?" I asked, looking forward to the sweet gift from the hive.

"Honey takes time. The queen will leave the hive to mate and then she will lay lots of eggs to make the workers. First come the bees and they will work for their queen and collect the nectar from the flowers, and then comes the honey. But it will perhaps be the beginning of autumn by the time it's ready."

It seemed like a lot of hard work and bees are very small. I wondered how they made honey. It wasn't like there was a tiny factory in the hive. When I lived in London, I went on a school outing to a jam factory and when we left at the end of the tour, they gave us all a little pot of jam to take home. My jam was raspberry, and we had it for tea on some bread that day. I couldn't picture the bees using the loud machinery they had used in the jam factory, so I asked Jakob how they did it.

"First they make the little wax cells to fill, this is called the honeycomb. After this, the bees drink the nectar from the flowers, store it in their honey stomachs, and then fly back to the hive," Jakob told us. "Then they pass it on to the worker bees by their mouths. The worker bees chew it and pass it along from bee to bee until it turns to honey. That's when they store it in the honeycomb cells and fan it with their wings to dry it a little. When it's ready, they cover it with a wax lid, to seal it. When the frames are full we can get them out and take the honey out. But it takes a long time, so we have to be patient."

"So what happens when there are too many bees to fit in there?" I asked.

"This will never happen. They work very hard and they die. Bees don't live very long," he explained. "If the bee dies in the hive, it is carried away so there isn't a pile of dead bees near their home. The queen doesn't want a lot of pests coming around to eat the bodies of her workers, because they might destroy her kingdom."

"A bee stung Elsie once at a flower show and my mother said they only sting once and then they die," I told Jakob.

"Ah yes. Sadly for the bee, this is true. The sting of the bee is a part of its body and when it comes away some of the bee's abdomen comes off with it. After this, the bee cannot survive," Jakob explained. "They only sting to protect themselves, so maybe Elsie was doing something the bee did not like."

Elsie smiled at Jakob and he winked at her.

"Oh," I said. I found it really interesting that bees could make honey and wax, but I was a little sad to think they wouldn't live for very long and the thought of something eating dead bees was sort of disturbing. Until then, I thought they were just a nuisance and stung you if you got too close. After hearing they can't survive without their sting, I realised what a unique creature the bee was, and how important they were in the honey making business. After the coronation of Queen Beatrice and finding out how hard the little creatures work, I began to appreciate them more and couldn't wait to taste the very first honey from Jakob's beehive.

Chapter Nine

As spring turned to summer, the bees started to fly out of the hives to collect the nectar from the flowers and the weather got a lot warmer.

Shearers had arrived on the farm to shear the wool from the sheep. I felt sorry for the sheep and I remembered how warm it was when we had put our hands in their fleece. It wasn't as though they could just take their wool off like a jumper. They looked funny without their thick coats though and a lot thinner too.

Florence had warned us not to get in the way of the shearing and I spent more time down by the river with Elsie and Erik. Beneath the shade of the trees that grew by the water, we lay about and talked, and sometimes I would take a book to read to the others. Erik even tried to teach me some Polish, but I found it difficult. He also knew some Hebrew and Yiddish he had learnt growing up in Poland. But now, of course, he spoke English and I helped him with his reading.

On occasion, we took off our shoes and dangled our hot feet in the cool running water. None of us could swim so getting right in was out of the question, although it didn't seem very deep and we probably would have been alright.

"Look at me," Erik cried, as he walked carefully out onto a log that spanned the water and sat down in the middle to dip his feet in the cool river that ran beneath it. "Come on, it's safe. The wood is very strong."

Elsie and I looked at each other and she shrugged her shoulders, took me by the hand, and pulled me towards the log where Erik was perched. I didn't like the look of it and should have known at the time it was dangerous. Being the eldest of the three, I felt responsible for Elsie, and Erik had become a boyfriend of sorts, but he didn't know it. I wanted to tell him how I felt, but I was afraid for some reason. Once I gave a boy called Arthur Jones a Christmas card and he threw it in the bin in front of the whole class. When the teacher asked him why, he said he didn't want a Christmas card from me because I wasn't very pretty. After that, I always kept my feelings to myself.

Sitting on the log looked like fun though, so we climbed out carefully and sat with Erik dangling our feet in the water. We talked and laughed and let the cool water refresh our feet until they started to get wrinkly like prunes.

"My feet are getting cold," Erik said. "Shall we get off the log and sit in the sun for a while?"

Elsie just nodded, I think she had had enough because her teeth were beginning to chatter.

None of us were prepared for what happened next and as we were about to climb back to the edge of the water, Elsie slipped and fell in. I looked on helplessly from the slippery log not knowing what to do as my sister thrashed about in the water trying to grab a nearby branch, but the twigs snapped off in her hands. Her chubby little arms were flailing and I could see the look of panic on her face. As quick as he could, Erik ran through the field to his grandfather who was working not so far away, and they both came back down to the river. For an old man who had been through hell, Jakob moved quite well and he ran right into the water, shoes and all. Picking Elsie up he scrambled out and lay her on the grass. Coughing and spluttering, she sat up, looked at us and began to cry.

"You are alright now Elsie," Jakob said in a soothing voice, and as she calmed down her breathing returned to normal and the look of dread disappeared from her face.

For Jakob, Erik and myself, who had lost family members in the war, Elsie's survival was important. I wouldn't have been able to bear it if anything happened to my sister.

Elsie sat up, put her arms around Jakob's neck and kissed him on the cheek. Lifting her up in his arms, the heroic man carried her all the way back to the farmhouse. Florence was grateful to Jakob, but the three of us got a good telling off and we all went to bed early that night. It was still light outside and I didn't think it was very fair, but I understood the reason why.

Even though I was punished for being irresponsible, I was probably more angrier with myself than Florence was. Before I went to sleep that night, I thanked God for sending me to live in the country with Florence and I also thanked him for Erik's grandfather, because if it wasn't for Jakob, I wouldn't have a sister.

Chapter Ten

Now the really hot days had arrived, we all got about with short sleeves and there was something odd I noticed one afternoon. Erik's grandfather had some numbers on his left forearm. It looked as though somebody had drawn them on with an ink pen and he had forgotten to wash them off. But the numbers were there every time I saw him and never seemed to fade. At first, I was afraid to ask because I had a feeling it had something to do with the war and I didn't want to upset anybody. So I asked Florence about it, thinking she might know, and she told me all about the numbers and what they meant.

"The numbers on Jakob's arm are a tattoo he received in the labour camp he was in. It was the way they identified him," Flo explained.

"But why didn't they use his name?" I asked her, feeling a little confused about it all. It seemed like a silly idea to me when you could just call someone by their name instead of having to roll up their sleeve and read a series of numbers.

"If truth be known, a lot of the guards probably didn't even know his name Edith. It's been quite sad for Jakob and Erik, but they seem to be a lot better now and it's good to see Jakob out on the land enjoying himself. He appears to have his health back and I think he's pleased you and Elsie are here too. It's good for Erik to be around other kids."

"They're very nice people and I've learnt a lot from both of them, especially about bees and Hanukkah," I told her. "It's like having more family."

When I was sitting in the bath that night, I thought about Jacob and his number tattoo. I wondered what kind of world identified people by numbers and not names. I understood Florence had too many sheep to name and there were far too many bees in the hive to name also, but people? The thought kept me awake for quite some time. It was frightening to think of what Erik's grandfather might have been through, but Florence had told me Jakob was a lot better now. As I lay there in my nice comfortable bed, I wondered if he would ever really get over the time he had spent in the camp. I didn't want to know what went on in there, it seemed far too frightening. From what Erik had told me, I knew they didn't feed his grandfather very much and Jakob had to work really hard just to stay alive.

It also made me wonder what kind of man Adolph Hitler was. I knew he had been the leader of the Nazis and I guess he was the one who had started all the Jew-hating. But it made me question why people had done the horrible things he told them to. I had seen pictures of him with his strange little moustache and mean googly eyes. I thought of him as slightly ridiculous looking, waving his silly flag with the odd looking black cross. Surely if all of those people in the German army had just turned around and said no to him it would have been much better for everybody. That way he wouldn't have been able to do all of the horrible things he did.

It was difficult for me to sleep that night, and when I finally managed, I had the most ghoulish nightmare and woke up in a sweat. Florence must have heard me call out in my sleep because she came running in and I even woke my sister up.

Both Elsie and I got up and sat in the kitchen for a while. A sense of the way the war had affected the world was finally sinking in and I hoped there would never be another one. Florence made us all some cocoa and a midnight feast of chips with bread and butter. When I had calmed down a little, we all slept in her big bed. I remembered why I was in her room in the morning, but the details were vague, all I know was the nightmare was awful and it scared me.

Chapter Eleven

When it was time for the honeycomb to be taken from the hive, we watched from a distance as Jakob removed a frame of the sweet treasure and put it into the largest bowl he could find to take it into the cottage. He had to wear some special clothing so he wouldn't get stung. The bees didn't understand so having some of their precious honey taken away must have made them angry. Jakob had a metal thing called a bee smoker which sort of looked like a strange watering can, and when he puffed the smoke from it near the bees, it helped to make them less aggressive. It was interesting to watch, but none of us wanted to get too close.

We were allowed to help put the honey into the jars and I couldn't wait to get started. In the little farm cottage on the table, there was a large metal dish with a wire strainer over it. Jakob carefully sliced the honeycomb through the centre and placed it wax side up on the strainer.

"Try it," he said pointing to the waxy honey.

Taking a tiny bit each, we tried the sticky substance. I had never tasted honey like it in my life. A lot of people don't know that honey straight from the comb is sweeter than honey from a jar you buy at the shops. Although it was kind of waxy, it was delicious.

"Now we leave it to strain for a little while. It is quite warm in the cottage so it will probably only take about an hour or so for the honey to drip out and the wax will melt from the warmth in here too. It will settle on the top so we will be able to easily peel it from the honey. Meanwhile, we have to boil the jars in some water so that they are sterilized," Jakob explained.

We watched as he filled the large pot with water and placed it on the stove. Once the water started to boil, Erik's grandfather carefully put the small jars and lids into the pan and then put the saucepan lid on. After about ten minutes, he turned it off and removed the jars from the water to drain until they were needed.

Meanwhile, the honey had started to ooze through the strainer into the large bowl like liquid gold, and the fragrance was very appetising. I wanted to get a spoon and eat it before we even had a chance to put it in the jars.

"This honey will be much nicer than the honey that comes from factories," Jakob told us. "It is in its purest form and when you put it on your bread you will be able to taste the difference. It will have the flavour of the farm."

I wasn't sure about the flavour of the farm. Did he mean sheep? Anyway, it smelt really nice and the little bit I tasted didn't taste at all like lamb chops so perhaps Jakob had meant the flowers that were growing in the fields and nearby woods.

We set to work making labels for our honey jars. The three of us each cut a piece of paper the right size for the jar and wrote our names on it. I drew a bee on mine with a little crown on her head. Elsie drew a bunch of flowers and a honey pot, and Eric drew some boxes that looked like the wooden hives the bees lived in.

After all of the honey had seeped through into the bowl, there was some wax on the top of it. Jakob removed the wax layer and gave it a bit of a clean. "We can use this to make some candles for the menorah," he explained.

Picking up each jar individually, he spooned the honey into them and after screwing the lids on tightly, Jakob put them back into the hot water and brought it to the boil explaining we needed to do it a second time just to kill any extra germs that might be on the jar. It wasn't long before we were sticking our labels on though and the thought of having our own little pot of honey each pleased us.

"Thanks ever so much for letting us do this," I said to Erik's grandfather.

Elsie put her arms around Jakob's waist to hug him and he picked her up and kissed her on the cheek. He was such a kind man, and after we went back to the farmhouse with an extra jar of the delicious honey for Flo, I wondered why anybody would ever want to hurt a Jewish person. I had only ever met two, but they were both very nice people.

Flo was thrilled with the honey. She said it was just the thing to have on some toast for breakfast the next morning, and also to use in a honey cake she decided she was going to make that afternoon, with mine and Elsie's help of course.

So with the ingredients for the honey cake all mixed together, we had enough to make two that were shaped like loaves. One for us and the other for Jakob and Erik. Elsie and I took the honey cake over to the little cottage while it was still warm and they were very thankful.

Later that evening, we sat eating slices of the honey cake spread with butter and a little extra honey for more flavour. I told Flo all about Erik's grandfather slicing the honeycomb in half and all of the honey draining from the comb into the large bowl. That was when she had the most brilliant idea.

The next morning the three of us, Florence Elsie and me, went over to the little cottage to talk to Jakob about a business idea which would help to make him and Erik a little extra money. Flo explained if we kept all of our jars and cleaned them, perhaps Jakob would be able to sell some of the honey in the local shop or even set up a little farm store from home. They sat down together and worked out a type of business plan. Florence was really good at that sort of stuff and they also discussed how they would distribute the honey. It was such a welcome idea, Jakob had tears in his eyes when we left. I guess it was from the sentiment he felt from Florence.

For the next two weeks Erik, along with me and my sister, helped Jakob put the honey in the jars. We were kind of like an assembly crew, but Jakob called us his bee line. The jars were all different sizes and instead of labels, we used some tie on tags and we wrote 'Jakob's Honey' on each one in bold black letters. There were about three dozen jars for us to sell and more honey to come from the hive, all we needed were more empty jars.

Mr Twigget at the local grocery store in the village agreed to sit a few on his counter and we put a sign up on the village notice board. Jakob offered a small discount off a jar of honey if the buyer provided a jar of their own. So as the locals arrived in dribs and drabs with empty jars, they paid Jakob, and in return, he gave another jar full of the golden honey. Not only did Jakob make a little money from it, but he made a lot of friends. Mr Carruthers asked if he could bring the entire school to the little cottage to learn how to take the honey from the comb and put it in the jars.

Although it would never make up for the heartache and loss Jakob had suffered, Erik told me since his grandfather had been selling the honey, he had stopped crying in the night and he hadn't had a nightmare for ages. Now when they were out shopping in the village, people actually stopped and spoke to Jakob and Erik and it was all because of a simple jar of honey, and a good idea from Florence.

Chapter Twelve

As we drifted through August, my thoughts shifted in another direction. It was almost my fourteenth birthday and although I was looking forward to it, the occasion was quite sad also. This year was the first birthday I would celebrate without my mother or father being there to share it with me. By the whispers in the classroom and a bit of sneaking around on the farm I had noticed, I knew there was something going on, so I just pretended not to know. Sometimes when somebody is planning a surprise for you and you know about the surprise, the best thing to do is to play dumb so you don't ruin it for those planning it. Does that make sense? Anyway, my special day was almost here and I wasn't sure what was going to happen, but I was sure there would be chocolate cake because Flo had asked me about it.

"Elsie," I said to my sister one night just before bed. "I'm going to give you this pencil and paper. Now you know how to write the words yes and no, so when I ask you the question I want you to answer me truthfully."

Elsie wrote the word yes on the paper.

"Is Florence planning a surprise party for my birthday?" I asked her. It was exasperating having a sister who didn't speak a word. I'm positive that if she was talking at the time, she would have blabbed every secret she had to me.

Elsie just looked at me blankly and then wrote, why don't you ask Flo? I didn't even try to find out anything after that. If the baby wouldn't tell me, then what hope did I have of prying it out of anybody else.

On the afternoon of my fourteenth birthday, I walked home from school with Erik and Elsie as always and Flo met us at the farmhouse door. Erik had told me he would be over later with his grandfather to see me, and he headed off to the little cottage.

"Do you mind running along to the shop for me?" she asked. "I just need a pound of butter."

Taking the money I did as I was requested, feeling surprised she would ask me to go to the shop on my birthday. After purchasing the butter, the shop owner Mr Twigget wished me a happy birthday and offered me a sweet from a large jar on the counter. Taking it, I popped it into my mouth, thanked him whilst chewing the sweet, and left the shop anxious to get home. I expected the trip to get the butter was just a plan to get me out of the house and sneak everybody else in.

As I opened the door to the farmhouse, I thought it odd that there was nobody in the kitchen. Placing the butter and the change on the table, I went into the living room.

"Surprise," they all shouted. Everybody was there. Erik and his grandfather, Flo and Elsie, Mr Carruthers, and all of my school friends. While I had been at school, Florence and Jakob had decorated the room with streamers and balloons and set up a nice buffet for everybody to enjoy. Somebody, I'm guessing Elsie and Erik, had made a sort of banner with pieces of paper, some string, and clothes pegs, that read, 'Happy Birthday Edith.'

So only having a split second to take it all in before reacting, I did what any fourteen-year-old would do at a moment like this, I acted as if I knew nothing about it. "Thank you all so very much," I said. "This is so unexpected."

Elsie came forward from the little crowd and hugged me after which she handed me a piece of paper with the word yes written on it. After getting over my pretend shock, it was time for the gifts. On that special day, I received a book, some colouring pencils, a little silver cat brooch, some hair ribbons, writing paper, and Erik's grandfather gave me a little wooden box that he had carved himself. He told me it was to keep jewellery in. I only had the cat brooch, and the necklace I had received for Christmas, but they would fit nicely inside. I knew the box would be another of the special items that were displayed on the top of the chest of drawers, which as you can imagine, was getting quite crowded.

The cake was delicious. Chocolate is my favourite flavour and when everybody sang happy birthday to me that afternoon, I forgot about the terrible thing my mother had done and enjoyed my newfound family. There was only one candle on the cake and I knew instantly it was made from the wax we had scraped off the honey in the little cottage the day we had filled the jars. Jakob winked at me and I just smiled at him. It was the perfect birthday party.

After everybody had left, we cleared away the glasses and dishes and I finally had a chance to sit down with Florence and Elsie so they could give me their gifts. Elsie, God bless her, had bought me a silver brush and comb set with a little hand mirror. It was one of the prettiest sets I'd ever seen, and it took pride of place on the drawers by the photograph of us, the dreidel, the carved wooden box, and the books I was going to have to find another place for. But the gift from Florence was the best I received that day. Now that I was growing up I wanted things that were more for older girls and she had clearly gone to great lengths to get me a little bottle of lilac scent. They didn't sell anything of the sort in the village and even though I liked all of my birthday presents, the lilac scent was my favourite, but I kept that to myself and haven't told anybody, except you.

Chapter Thirteen

When autumn arrived, the leaves began to turn from green to the hues of the season, and it showed up like an announcement from nature to start getting ready for shorter hours of daylight and cooler evenings. As the sun set behind the trees with their different shades of red and orange, it was like a fire in the sky burning in the distance.

I was reminded my sister's birthday was also on the horizon. Elsie would be eight in a few weeks and when I spoke to Florence about it, she said that given the circumstances, perhaps it would be best not to surprise her with anything. So I asked Elsie if she would like a birthday party with the kind of cake I'd had at mine. Of course, she nodded, she was seven after all and I think all little girls love birthday parties.

I had no idea what to get my sister and no money either, so I came up with a plan and asked Florence about doing some work on the farm for her, and she agreed. She had probably just paid for the gift I had received from Elsie on my birthday, but I didn't care. It was time for me to start acting a bit more grown up and earning a little money to buy a birthday present for my sister was the best way to begin.

There wasn't much for me to do around the house, so Flo sent me over to work with Erik's grandfather. On that particular afternoon we were raking up the leaves that had fallen from the trees and believe me, there were a lot of them and they just kept falling.

Jakob didn't say much, he just got on with the work, so I just got on with it too. I tried to keep up with him, but he was much faster at raking than I was. My rake kept getting stuck in the grass and I had to keep stopping to free it. Jakob just smiled when it happened. "Do you like it here on the farm," I asked him after we had been working for a while.

He stopped for a moment and leaned on his rake. "Everybody here is very kind to me and Erik. I would like to be back in my home country, but for now it is nice," he said. "What about you Edith, do you like it here on the farm?"

It was the very first time anybody had asked me that question, and I hadn't thought about it for a long time. "Yes, I do like it here." I must admit it was strange to hear myself say those words. I never thought I would be able to settle anywhere out of London, but the lifestyle was something I hadn't experienced before and although in some respects it was a little difficult, to begin with, having the wide open spaces and the fresh air was relaxing. Nobody ever rushed, but everything that needed doing still got done.

I worked every afternoon for an hour with Jakob and at the end of the week, Florence gave me a whole shilling and she told me she would take me shopping in the next village to buy something for Elsie for her birthday. On that Friday afternoon, Erik's grandfather shared a secret with me. We finished the raking and when the fire from the big pile of leaves had almost burnt itself out, he asked me to stay a little while.

"Come with me Edith, there is something I would like to show you," he said.

Following him around to the back of the cottage to the little tool shed he did a bit of carpentry work in, we put away our rakes and he lifted up a blanket that was covering something. Hidden away from the prying eyes of the world was a tiny cradle. It wasn't quite big enough for a baby though.

"This I have worked on for a long time. It is for Elsie's dolls to sleep in. Do you think she will like it?"

I couldn't believe it. Erik's grandfather had obviously worked tirelessly as he had with the dreidels. First, there was the little carved box he made for me and now this. "I think she'll love it and I'm sure if my sister had a voice, she would thank you. But for now, you'll probably just have to settle for one of her hugs."

Erik's grandfather had tears in his eyes. "You and your sister, you don't understand what you have done for me and my Erik. We had nothing left in the world, only each other and a few things that were given to me when I left Krakow. Now we have your friendship and for us, it is worth everything. Florence is a saint, and you and your sister are angels," he said, as he wiped his eyes with a handkerchief.

Jakob's little announcement was touching and I would remember it for a long time. Erik had become my best friend and I couldn't imagine life without either of them.

Now I had some money to spend on a gift, the following Saturday morning Elsie was helping Erik and his grandfather with something they told her was very important, and Florence and I went for a drive to the next village. She knew of a toyshop that had loads of things a girl turning eight might want for her birthday. The shops were only open until midday, but we had an hour or so to have a look around. While Florence went to purchase some fabric to make new cushions for the living room, I had a look in the toyshop for a suitable gift for Elsie. A display in the window was filled with some really beautiful dolls wearing dresses with lace trimmings. They smiled their painted smiles at onlookers and those passing by, and each and every one cost more than a shilling. I wondered if there was anything at all in the shop I would be able to afford.

Browsing inside, there were all sorts of toys I knew my sister would love. Teddy bears, dolls houses and furniture, and a little pram I was certain she would really like for her own dolls. As I turned over the price tags, I didn't think I'd ever find my sister a gift, everything was far too expensive.

"Can I help you dear?"

I turned towards the voice. The shop keeper was watching me and although I only had a small amount to spend, I knew instantly if anybody could in fact help, it would be her. "I need to buy a present for my sister's birthday. She's going to be eight soon and we're having a party for her. Elsie's very special to me. You see, our father didn't come back from the war, and our mother, well she couldn't live without him and so she took her own life. When that happened my sister Elsie stopped talking and she hasn't spoken a word since. This is her first birthday without either of our parents and I just wanted to find something nice for her," I explained. After I'd finished talking I didn't know why I'd told a complete stranger a sob story like mine. But she had a nice face and her glasses hung from one of those spectacle chains that you put around your neck. I liked it. I'd only seen those chains a few times in London and I thought the lady in the shop must be quite sophisticated to have one.

"Elsie is very lucky to have an older sister like you," she said to me. "Now, we have these books that have just come in. You press out the cardboard doll and there are lots of clothes in the book you can cut out. The little tabs let you fit them to the doll. Is that something Elsie might like?"

"I think it would be perfect for Elsie," I said, looking at the cardboard doll and flicking through the pages. There were loads of really nice cut out clothes, outfits for all four seasons and different activities. Elsie would have hours of fun with it. "How much is the book?"

"This one is two shillings," she told me.

I felt my heart sink. "I only have a shilling to spend," I explained, as I handed the book back to her.

"You know, I think these books are actually on sale this week. Yes, I was wrong, this one is only a shilling," the shop assistant said after thinking for a moment.

I don't know if she was telling me the truth or whether she felt sorry for me after hearing my story, but I thanked her and bought the book with my hard earned shilling. Kindly she wrapped it nicely in some pink tissue paper and even made a little bow out of some ribbon to brighten it up.

Leaving the toy shop, I felt sure the gift I had chosen for Elsie's birthday was the right one. All I really wanted was for my sister to speak. Just one word, that's all, but you can't buy that in a shop and have it gift wrapped.

I spotted Florence coming out of the fabric store which was a few doors down, so I hurried along to tell her what had happened in the toy shop. Surprisingly, she put an arm around my shoulders and kissed me on the forehead. I'm not sure why she did, but it gave me a nice feeling. As we drove back to the farm, I wondered what Florence was getting Elsie. She hadn't said anything but knowing Flo, she would have a bright idea.

Chapter Fourteen

I'd been doing a lot of thinking about the story Erik had told me about the difficult journey he had coming from Poland to England, and his grandfather having had such a hard time just trying to survive. I wanted to do something nice for Erik's grandfather to repay him for all of the kind things he had done for me and my sister. So after Elsie went to bed that night I sat in the kitchen with Florence. When she heard my plan she agreed to help me just as she had helped Erik. So we wrote a letter to try to find out what had happened to the rest of their family. I sent it to that nice Sergeant Oliver Luxford who had been very kind to us when my mum did the awful thing she did. I wondered if he would be able to find any of them. Florence promised me she would post the letter first thing in the morning.

I waited anxiously for a reply of some sort but kept the letter a secret from Erik. There was no point getting anyone's hopes up for no reason. Each night when I went to bed, I silently prayed for the safe return of every single one of Jakob and Erik's family and each morning I wondered if that day would be the day when some sort of news would arrive.

On the morning of Elsie's birthday party, I woke to find her sitting up in her bed with the tattered picture of our father in her hands. Climbing into her bed beside her, I put my arms around my little sister and hugged her. "Happy birthday," I whispered. Elsie stared up at me and her blue eyes looked as though they might melt into a sea of tears. "Don't cry today. It's your birthday and I have a gift for you." Leaving her for a moment I retrieved the present from its hiding place in Florence's room and handed it to her. Tearing at the neatly wrapped gift, Elsie's face lit up when she saw it and she put her arms around my neck and hugged me. I guess she forgot how sad she was too.

Erik came over to the farmhouse early so he could help with the decorations. Elsie and I were busy cutting out the autumn clothes for the cardboard doll to wear. The outfits were actually quite stylish considering they were just paper and I wished I had some of them for real. Of course, she never said anything, but I know that Elsie liked the gift. It was obvious by the way she was playing with it.

Blowing up balloons isn't hard, it was just the tying off part I found difficult and they kept getting stuck on my fingers, but we had Florence to help us with that and she appeared to have quite a talent for it. Maybe it's an adult thing because Erik struggled with it as well.

Decorating Elsie's birthday cake was a group effort and also a lot of fun, but I think Erik and Elsie ate more of the chocolate icing than they put on the cake. In the end though, Florence declared enough was enough and sent us out of the kitchen to wash our hands and faces and start getting ready for when the guests arrived.

As it had been with my party, everybody from our tiny school would be coming. Elsie had a brand new dress to wear. That was her gift from Florence. It was a lovely blue velvet dress and I was slightly envious, but my clothes were nice as well. I didn't have a new dress, but I had some new shoes I was quite eager to show off.

Florence had organised a few games for us to play, and the party was a lot of fun with a lot of laughing. Instead of music in the background and mingling and talking as we had done at mine, we played hunt the thimble, and pin the tail on the donkey. The prizes were little bars of chocolate, but everybody got one, so it didn't really matter who won the games. The food was a bit different too. Florence had adapted it to suit Elsie and I realised at that moment, the woman who had opened her home to two war orphans from London, was possibly the kindest most caring person on the planet, along with Erik's grandfather of course. These complete strangers had taken me and my sister into their hearts without prejudice and if I ever hoped to be a success at anything, all I would have to do was to think like Florence or Jakob.

When Florence brought the cake out Erik and I looked at each other feeling slightly ashamed. It hadn't quite turned out as we wanted and although Florence had done her best to fix it, there were still a few finger marks in the icing. Elsie didn't care in the slightest, and she smiled continuously.

Once again a candle from the wax Jakob's bees had made was placed on the cake, and we lit the solitary flame and sang happy birthday. Elsie blew it out, and closing her eyes, made a silent wish. You'll never guess what happened next.

"There is a car coming along the track from the road," Erik said, pointing out of the window.

We all turned to see what he was talking about. Everybody who had been invited to the party was there so this was unexpected. As it pulled up, a man got out of the back seat and I recognised him immediately as Sergeant Oliver Luxford. But then the miracle that changed our lives happened. Another man was helped from the car and I knew who he was straight away.

"It's my daddy," Elsie cried. "My daddy's come home to me."

Well, we ran. Elsie and I ran as fast as we could out of the house and into the arms of our father. He was a little delicate, but still our father. They came into the house with us and we introduced him and Sergeant Luxford to all of our friends. Nobody knew what Elsie wished for that day, but when she went to bed that night, she told me her birthday wish had already come true.

By my sister's bed was the cradle that had been hand made by Jakob and he had painted it pink. Her dolls lay side by side in the wooden bed with a blanket Jakob had also given her. It looked as though it had been cut from a larger one and hand stitched around the edge. Elsie didn't care though. It was a bed for her dolls and she had her father back, along with the voice that had disappeared almost a year ago. Gently she rocked the cradle and sang a little lullaby.

Sitting in the living room with my father, after all of the years we had been apart, was strange. I had given up on him ever coming home and after everybody had left the party, we sat getting to know each other again. I told him about Mum and how we had come to live on the farm. I told him about all of the kind things Florence had done for me and Elsie. I told him about Erik and his grandfather and how they had invited us to share their special Hanukkah celebration. I told him about Jakob saving my sister's life when she fell in the river, and I told him about the bees and the honey, and the candles Jakob had made for our birthday cakes. But I didn't tell him about how grown up I was now and I didn't tell him how much I hated Mother for the terrible thing she had done.

"I'm sorry Edith," he said. "I'm sorry you had to be so strong, and I'm sorry for all of the lost time I couldn't be here with my girls."

My father never told me where he was when he was missing in action, instead, he put his arms around me and held me, and although I wanted to, I still couldn't cry. I had to stay strong for my fragile father and my now eight-year-old sister who had finally found her voice again.

Florence made my dad very welcome and she put him up in her guest room. He was tired at first and he slept a lot, but about a week after he had returned, he was outside in the fresh air helping Jakob on the land and he seemed very happy. Elsie followed them around chattering away. I'd forgotten how much she liked to talk, but there was something on my mind which was troubling me, and that afternoon when Florence and I were preparing the evening meal, I decided the time was right to talk to her about it.

"You remember the letter we wrote," I said, as we put some potatoes on to boil.

Florence nodded and looked at me. "Yes, I remember. I expect that's how Sergeant Luxford knew to bring your father here."

"Well, we haven't heard anything about Jakob and Erik's family. What do you think might have happened?" I asked her.

"Let's sit down Edith," Florence said, wiping her hands on her apron and looking very solemn.

Sitting at the kitchen table, I had a feeling that what she was about to say would be upsetting to me, but I listened anyway.

"When Erik came here and the war ended, we wrote the same type of letter about his family and very soon after, Jakob came to stay on the farm. I know it sounds grim, but we have to face the facts. The rest of the family might not have survived. Those places they were taken to were cruel and a lot of families didn't make it through the war. I'm not saying we should give up hope, but it's been just over a year since Jakob's arrival and I would have thought if there were any other relatives, we might have known by now."

After Florence finished speaking, we sat there in silence for a moment. It was awful to think a man like Jakob, who was so giving towards everybody, had in return lost everything, including his family. "But we're not giving up hope," I said.

"No," Florence answered. "Definitely not."

As the first tiny flakes of snow fell, just a little earlier than expected, and Elsie and I celebrated a year on the farm, my father, who had been an accountant before the war, was offered a position in the village at a bank. Florence had put in a good word for him and as everybody in the community knew everybody's business, they had heard our story and knew all about my father. She said we could stay with her as long as we liked and of course, we were grateful. It would take some time before we had enough money to find somewhere of our own and I crossed my fingers it would be close by. I couldn't bear the thought of ever having to leave my new life behind and when I think of how I felt when we first left our home in London, it seems odd to say that now.

Chapter Fifteen

It was time, once again, for Erik and his grandfather to prepare for their Hanukkah celebration. Jakob had made nine beeswax candles for their precious menorah which would take pride of place in the window of the little cottage during the celebration. The honey had ceased production for the moment, but Jakob had started making beeswax candles and selling them, and that was going quite well for him too. There were also talks of Jakob opening a little shop in the village, but the plans were vague and it was a long way off.

After gaining a little inspiration from Erik's grandfather, I had decided to start my own small business making Christmas wreaths. On the edge of the village, a grove of pine trees grew and I had been collecting small pinecones I found lying amongst the beds of discarded needles beneath the branches. Walking in the woods Elsie and I had found some ivy covering a few of the plants, so carefully we removed as much as we could, keeping as many of the leaves intact as they were necessary for the decoration. The ivy was used to make circular wreaths to hang on the front door and I strengthened it with some wire that my father had bought me. He helped by making small holes in the pinecones and we attached them to the ivy with more wire. It was quite festive and after showing Florence, she hunted through her sewing scraps and found some remnants of ribbon for me to make little bows with, just to brighten up the Christmas wreaths a bit.

Elsie and I set up a little sidewalk stall by the farm gate to sell them from, and people were happy to pay for a homemade wreath. I kept two and I put one on the front door of the farmhouse. The other, I delivered to Jakob and Erik. I wasn't sure how they would receive it, but Jakob was thrilled and hung it with pride on the door of the little cottage. I paid Elsie for helping me, after which the two of us had some money to buy a few gifts to put under the tree for Dad and Florence, and each other.

A few days later, we were sitting in the classroom preparing for the Christmas play which was exactly as it had been the previous year, but with one new addition. Erik was allowed to join in and his grandfather even said he would help with the painting of the scenery. Anyway, Florence came into the classroom and, after having a quiet word with Mr Carruthers, Erik was taken home.

All we could think was there might be something wrong with Erik's grandfather, and Mr Carruthers was staying tight-lipped about it. Silently, as we continued through the afternoon with our lessons, I crossed my fingers and prayed Jakob was alright. When the school day finished, Elsie and I ran home to the farmhouse as fast as we could.

"Florence, what's happened. Is Jakob sick?"

Smiling, she urged us to sit down and poured two glasses of milk and put a plate of her delicious coconut biscuits on the table. Instantly, both of us made a grab for the plate.

"A miracle happened today," Florence said looking at me. "You remember the letter you wrote?"

I nodded and Elsie just gave me a puzzling look as I had never told her about writing to Sergeant Luxford.

"It seems that after the war, some of the camp survivors were to taken to hospitals and various homes of people who had volunteered to assist with their recovery. They helped the camp survivors to regain their strength, and in a hospital not far from Krakow, they found Erik's grandmother Gerda."

"Is she here?" I asked. I wanted to meet her and find out all about her. I wanted to know where she had been and whether or not she liked the little cottage they were living in. I wanted to know what it had been like for a woman in the death camps. I wanted to know if she had numbers on her arm like Erik's grandfather. There were so many questions going through my mind.

"Yes, she's in the cottage with Jakob and Erik, but they need to spend some time alone together Edith. You see, Erik's parents Miriam and Aaron didn't survive and although it's a happy reunion, it's a not so happy time for them also. Let's give them a few days together to get over their loss and then I'm sure the both of you will be able to meet her."

It felt like forever went by while I was waiting to meet Gerda and I stared at the little cottage from the window of the farmhouse every moment I could, hoping to catch a glimpse of Erik's grandmother. A few nights later we were invited to meet her. I expected a plump smiling woman with lots of energy bustling around the little kitchen cooking up mushroom soup with her husband. But the Gerda I met was thin, worn, and some of her teeth were missing. Erik told me on another occasion when we were alone, that the Nazis had pulled them out because his grandmother had gold fillings and they wanted the gold for themselves.

Jakob sat beside her on the sofa holding her hand and I bent down and kissed her on the cheek. I never had the chance to ask any of my questions that day, but I had learnt that if I was patient, the answers would come when I least expected.

Chapter Sixteen

When I thought about all that had happened since the war had ended, for the first time in over a year, I finally let myself cry a few tears. One for the loss of my mother, one for each of Erik's parents, Aaron and Miriam. One for the return of my father and another for the return of my sister's voice. One for Florence, who had been our saviour, and one for Sergeant Oliver Luxford who had a very kind heart. One for Zofia who had saved her friend's life so I could have Erik for my friend. One for Adolph Hitler who must have had many demons of his own to turn into one himself, and one for each of his devoted followers who couldn't think for themselves. I cried a tear for the safe return of Jakob's wife Gerda, and one for each of the worker bees that had died making the honey for us. In a way, they were a lot like the Jews that hadn't survived the war. They worked hard, gave everything and paid with their lives. But that night, most of all, I cried for Erik's grandfather. The man who had survived a Nazi concentration camp, been reunited with his grandson and his wife, introduced me to a whole new world with his beliefs, taught me the dreidel song, shown me the way we get honey from the bees, made a little wooden box for me to keep my jewellery in and a cradle for Elsie's dolls, but most importantly of all, saved my sister's life.

My father was doing well at the bank and he borrowed some money and bought us a cottage in the village. Unlike the farm, it only had a tiny garden, but we each had our own bedroom and Dad even let us choose our own furniture and paint colour for the walls. I chose mauve and Elsie chose pink.

On the day we moved into our new home together, Florence gave me a care package with a few things I was a bit too embarrassed to talk to my dad about. She had gone from being my guardian to being a close friend, and she had a conversation with my father explaining I had grown up a lot while he was away. I never did find out why she lived in that big house all by herself, but I was always thankful she did, for both mine and my sister's sake.

A very wise friend once told me it doesn't do any good to hate anybody and when Elsie and I travelled to London with my father to visit our mother's grave, I finally found the grace to forgive her. I never knew what she was thinking and I guess in her own way, she did it so Elsie and I would have a better life. That afternoon we placed a bunch of flowers by her headstone and each said a silent prayer for the war victim who fought her own battle and lost.

We left the farm to live in the cottage before the new worker bees had emerged, but Erik's grandfather promised us we could help him jar the honey again, as we would each and every year after.

As I grew older, I studied hard and actually went off to college to become a teacher. Returning to the village I took over the running of the school from Mr Carruthers. It was time for him to retire anyway. His brown hair had turned to grey and the bald patch had started to spread. He was quite proud to hand over the reins to one of his former students.

Elsie was growing up quite quickly and after more than a year of not talking, discovered she had a very nice singing voice. So she joined the church choir, and as she matured, helped with the Sunday school lessons. When I returned home, she was actually in the process of preparing to head off to do some missionary work with orphans in war-torn countries.

Jakob passed away soon after I took the appointed role at the countryside school, leaving his loving wife Gerda who struggled to continue without him. But the courage living within helped her through the grief and although she had lost one family, she had gained another in us, and she still had her grandson Erik who had grown up into a fine man.

Erik and I became very close and not long after I finished college, he asked me to marry him. I said yes, and we have a little farm not far from the one where we first saw each other. We have chickens and goats, but no pigs, and each year as the first snow falls softly on the ever giving land, we make plans for Hanukkah and of course, Christmas. But it's the springtime that we look forward to the most. The time when we begin to see a lot of movement in the boxes where the bees make their honey and wax. The bottling and selling of Jakob's Honey has now become a ritual, and year after year, with fortitude and heart, we continue the bee line in memory of Erik's grandfather.

About the Author

Born in a library, I was raised on literature and fed off the great and masterful writers of classic fiction. Now it's my turn.

After several attempts to have my work published, I'm doing it myself. Residing in the UK, I spend most of my waking hours researching and writing. This is my life and the characters I create are the imaginary world that hooks me in for hours at a time.

I hope you enjoyed my book as much as I enjoyed writing it, and it would only take a moment of your precious time to leave a rating and a comment on the website you found the book on.

Meanwhile, keep on reading!

Sandra Maggs

The Mystery of the Cornerstone

Bess Hooper is an ordinary teenager, or so she thinks. Drawn to a nearby abandoned building, she begins to investigate when strange occurrences come to light. Bess experiences visits to the past and ghostly whispers from another lifetime. Strange dreams of another family plague her sleep and as the mystery deepens, confusion sets in. Exploring the archives and her own family history, reveal odd events that seem to be tied to the mystery. With the help of her younger brother Tom, slowly Bess peels back the years layer after layer, to reveal what really happened to the girls of Bishops Hall Independent School, and slowly she solves the mystery of the cornerstone.

Other books by the same author

The Mystery of the Cornerstone

The Mystery of Kissing Gate woods

The Mystery of the Stone Arches

The Mystery of Wicklow Hall

The Mystery of the Vanishing Lake

The Mystery of the Cracked Wall

The Mystery of the Clock Tower

The Landowner's Secret

The Musician's Betrayal

Jacqueline and Other Stories

Scavenger

Ravenous

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