... And the Policeman Smiled (21 page)

It did not take long to realise that what really worried Mrs Baran was Franziska's relationship with her husband, although: ‘… from the way in which Mr Baran talked about Franzi I did not at all get the impression that there is any reason for Mrs Baran to be jealous'.

The flow of complaints was by no means one way. Foster parents were as likely as their wards to find a justifiable cause for bellyache.

Mrs Coles phoned to ask if it would be possible for us to place Mary in a hostel, as her own child was on the verge of a breakdown and she could not cope with both children. Mary was getting rather difficult and was also bed wetting.

Shortly afterwards:

Mrs Coles phoned to say that Mary had thrown a bottle of gripe-water over the baby and she wanted her removed as soon as possible.

Perhaps such behaviour was more easily endured if the children were one's own. Mrs Coles expressed great regret when she parted with Mary, continued to provide her clothes and had her back to stay for the Christmas holidays.

Lutz, who at twelve was three years older than Mary, was even more of a handful:

Letter from Mr Speakman complaining about Lutz's behaviour, bad manners and disobedience. Mrs Speakman had been ill and found it impossible to cope with the difficult boy… Mrs Speakman had had to undergo a serious operation and her husband explained to the two children that they must be helpful and prevent her having extra work and trouble. This had no effect whatsoever on Lutz's behaviour. It seems apparent that the boy realises he can do what he likes with her and ‘plays her up'.

The Speakmans decided to keep Lutz with them but he continued to have problems. Four years later in Birmingham, he was arrested for breaking and entering.

Only about fifty children actually had to be removed from their foster homes. Friederike was one of the most serious cases. From the age of thirteen in 1939, ‘Fritzi' lodged with Mr Argles, a former refugee worker in his sixties, and his wife in Staffordshire. In October 1944, Mr Argles telephoned the Birmingham office and said that his wife was severely indisposed. He asked that Fritzi and her brother Mickey be removed from his house at once. The Argleses were closing up their house and leaving the district on the advice of their doctor. Later, the doctor himself telephoned to explain what had happened. Owing to an ‘indiscretion', Fritzi must be removed from the household immediately.

Gradually the unpleasant truth emerged. Fritzi had been forbidden by Mrs Argles to reveal what had happened but, once she had left the family, she spoke:

She admitted having had intimate association with Mr Argles for the past three and a half years, the first time occurring shortly after she joined the family. The intimacies have taken place early in the morning when Mr Argles called her to get up, on several occasions at night when Mrs Argles was away, and also in the grounds of the house. She denies that such relationships have occurred with any other men but, after I left her for a few moments, she was in tears when I returned and told me that she did not give a truthful answer and that the first time actual sexual intercourse had taken place was when she was alone in the house with Mrs Argles's son, nineteen years of age, who forced her to acquiesce to his will. She had been extremely frightened and had screamed but no one had heard her. She told Mrs Argles when she came home, who promised to deal with the matter, but Fritzi never heard anything further about it except that she was never allowed to be alone in the house with the boy.

It would have been hard for an outside eye to have detected anything wrong, although Fritzi's brother Mickey had provided a clue. For some time, he had suffered psychological problems which were attributed to his experiences in Germany. It was later revealed that Mr Argles had employed a boy who had been convicted of offences against young children. Doubtless this was the source of Mickey's difficulties.

Fritzi's file ended on a positive note:

I do feel that given the right start and real friendship and guidance from a strong-minded and broad-minded woman, she will live down this episode …

Missing the affection of friends and relatives, and short of material goods and luxuries, the young refugees were open to temptations which were liable to shock the ladies at Bloomsbury House. But they were quickly on to Mr Schwartz, who had paid young Freddy large sums of money for running errands for his shoeshine business.

FJW saw Mr Schwartz. He is a Czech refugee and helps Freddy out of the goodness of his heart. FJW explained the legal position of the Movement regarding Freddy and got Mr Schwartz to appreciate that we were responsible for Freddy and like to know what kind of friends he had. He told him we are suspicious of people who give away one pound notes.

Mr Schwartz promised to tell if he gave Freddy any further money or clothes. Soon, Freddy was asking if Mr Schwartz might buy him a suit. His RCM contact tactfully pointed out that, unless he started to buy his own clothes out of his savings, he would not learn to be self-reliant. Some months later, came the denouement.

FJW learned that Mr Schwartz of the Shoe Shine is a homosexual. Freddy called in to see FJW, who had a long and open talk with the boy. Freddy confirms that Mr Schwartz is homosexual and he knows that another boy Wolfgang was approached. Wolfgang has refused to go there any more and Mr Schwartz has promised that he will not ask Freddy or Tommy to continue to go. Freddy has promised not to have any further contact and to let us know if Mr Schwartz asks him to go there again.

In cases where a young child was formally adopted by a family, visits were usually discontinued. At the top of Elfriede's file appear the words, ‘No action! No visits!' Elfriede came to England at the age of three and stayed with the Lewis family in Newport, Monmouthshire. In 1942 she was described as ‘a normally developed, healthy little girl who has no memory for any other home or country. She is as much a part of the family as Mrs Lewis's own
baby sons … we think she is very fortunate to have found such a wonderfully happy home.'

Few cases were so simple. For Liesl whose mother had been able to escape to this country, a battle royal developed between her parent and her foster parent.

Liesl's mother called with Liesl. The mother is in a terrible state as Mrs Wynne, the child's foster mother, came up with the child last Sunday and confronted the real mother, who is just out of hospital after an operation, with the request to sign a form handing over the legal guardianship to Mrs Wynne. Mrs Wynne said that unless this was done she did not want Liesl back and would in fact adopt another child … Liesl's affection is divided between mother and foster parents … She promised to explain to the Wynnes that she loves them and that she sees no need for a guardianship form to be signed and does not want to hurt her mother.

After more skirmishes, a compromise was reached which allowed for Liesl to stay with the Wynnes until her real mother was able to care for her.

Though those parents who were able to escape to England might have been expected to accept immediate responsibility for their offspring, this was often not practicable. Hampered by their lack of English, traumatised by events in Germany and Austria and, in most cases, with very limited resources, they were invariably in need of care themselves. Knowing the risks, Bloomsbury House kept an eye on those children who were reunited with their parents. They were anxious about seventeen-year-old Joseph:

… a very squalid home … the boy occupies the same bedroom as his mother, though in a separate bed. Miss Smith does not think the mother is a fit person to have charge of the boy and thinks he should be removed as soon as possible …

In fact, Joseph and his mother stayed together, moving eventually to a larger flat.

Families were often separated, mothers and daughters being sent into domestic service many miles apart. Magda Chadwick remembers:

My mother left a week earlier than I did with my sister. Mother went as a housekeeper and my sister at seventeen was a children's
maid. We thought if we all got out there was a chance for my father, but things happened too quickly. I remember he sent us some pictures. He was learning butlering and he sent pictures of himself with a tray of silver and glasses …

If a reunion with parents took place quickly enough, the result was ecstatic. Sonia Altman's parents followed close behind her
Kindertransport
.

My parents were sent for by the people they were going to work for. A car came to London to pick them up. They knew by then that I was in Middlesbrough but they didn't know where. They couldn't speak English. They got to Middlesbrough – it was a hot day in August just before the war broke out – and the car windows were open. They stopped at traffic lights and my mother heard a child screaming. She said to my father: ‘That's Sonia!' They asked the driver to stop and she made her way to where the child was screaming. It was a dentist's on the corner and I was sitting in that dentist's chair. Can you imagine the reunion?

Alice Staller (now in California) was glad of her mother's support, even from a distance. She had been guaranteed by several people and entered Michael Hall School. When the school evacuated to Minehead, Alice was taken out of the classroom to become a full-time household help:

I later learned that the school's headmaster had given his wife an allowance of 2/6d for me, which she kept for herself. I was without means and recall phoning my mother in London, courtesy of a kind garage owner in the village. She then forwarded some money to me for a rail ticket to come to London and join her. The family where she was working as housekeeper let me stay with her to get my act together.

Gerda's mother was living with a man to whom she was not married. She was very anxious to have her daughter with her.

Mrs Howe of the Bromley Committee phoned stating that her committee would be averse to the child leaving her present foster mother and going to a household where there is this irregular union … We endeavoured to keep the child away from her mother as long as possible, but under the circumstances it might perhaps be best that Gerda now returns to her mother.

Gerda kept contact with her foster mother, visiting her in the holidays, which satisfied Bloomsbury House that the decencies were being preserved.

The strains of life in a strange country without parents could cause conflict between brothers and sisters.

Selma called, having found out Solomon's address from their landlady. He is now staying with a friend. Selma said that towards the end of his stay with her and Anni he had refused to speak to either of them, had not taken his meals with them, had kept his room locked and had generally ignored them completely. Their landlady, who is fond of the two girls, strongly disapproved of the atmosphere prevailing and told Selma that, unless their quarrel could be patched up, she thought they would be much better off without him. He had also taken with him all the linen, sheets, etc., which he had brought as his share towards the household.

The two girls could not afford the rent which they had paid as a threesome, so they have moved to a smaller room through the kindness of the landlady. Solomon should be seen and have it made clear to him that, in these present days of separation and bereavement, it is not only undutiful but vey wrong not to maintain friendly relations with one's own flesh and blood.

Solomon might have replied (the records do not give his side of the story) that it takes two to quarrel. Having relatives in England was not always the bonus it was made out to be. Uncles and aunts were likely to be out of touch with what was happening to their family on the continent, and sometimes there were tensions and disagreements which had caused them to move away in the first place.

Elli Adler remembers the reception her aunt gave her:

My aunt unpacked my suitcase and said what a lot of rubbish I had brought because I had brought books. My mother had packed classical books and also some of my own books, one in particular I was very fond of – a book about Greek mythology – and she deprived me of these books. She just took them away except for the
Jungle
books. I didn't get on with her very well. She said my mother should have packed more clothes, but I think my mother had packed all the clothes I had. I don't think my aunt realised just how hard up we were.

Not exactly overjoyed at the prospect of looking after her niece, Liesl Silverstone's aunt secretly attempted to shift the responsibility without her niece knowing:

I remember being shocked when I found my aunt's letter trying to farm me out at four pounds a week to an elderly couple. But I knew that she didn't want me. I also knew that my aunt was the one sister who couldn't cope in her family and who was constantly overprotected and smothered. She found it very difficult here as a refugee. I suppose I was all she needed.

In fact, I was the mother in that household, which was quite a burden. I was trying to hold it all together. I wasn't just seeing to my schoolwork, I was looking after her.

Some of the happiest memories are of small hostels that provided more of a family atmosphere than did foster homes. This was particularly noticeable when hostels were set up by individuals or by groups of sympathisers, rather than by religious or other charitable organisations. There was the contact with friendly adults, but not so close as to suggest to the children that their real parents were being supplanted – a common resentment in foster homes. At the same time, the children could draw emotional strength from a shared experience.

Among those who set themselves the task of creating a hostel for orthodox children was Sybil Wulwick. Married in the summer of 1938 to the Reverend Geza Wulwick, who had been brought up in Czechoslovakia, and who spoke fluent German, she and her husband settled in Middlesbrough and almost immediately started collecting money for refugee children. Their breakthrough was the free loan of a large Victorian house. Reverend Wulwick dedicated himself to the children's needs: