Finding Rebecca: A Novel of Love and the Holocaust (19 page)

“What, what are you talking
about?”
 
Steiner said, casting a
glare at Christopher.
 

Stefan tried to force a smile as
Steiner led Christopher out the door. Christopher had never been called to see
the Commandant before. His father had, but not like this. Christopher
immediately thought of Rebecca as he walked down the stairs and onto the
street. He looked down at Steiner’s pistol, safely holstered on his waist and
he thought to grab it and shoot, to run back and find her and….

Steiner held the door open for
Christopher and he climbed inside the car. The journey out to St. Brelade, to
the Durrells’ mansion, was about fifteen minutes. The only other cars on the
road were German troop transports. Steiner sat beside Christopher for the
duration of the trip, but neither man spoke. The fifteen minutes seemed to last
years and Christopher was sweating heavily as the car finally arrived at the
gates of the mansion where the Durrells still lived, although in a tiny corner
and cordoned off from the rest of the house. Christopher hadn’t seen them since
the day of the evacuation, over two years before. The gates opened and the car
moved slowly up the driveway, coming to a halt just outside the main entrance
to the house. Steiner got out and Christopher opened the door himself, stepping
out onto the gravel in the summer sun before Steiner could move around the car
in time. Christopher could feel his heart beating, could almost see the bulge
of it through his faded white shirt. His feet crunched on the gravel as Steiner
led him into the house and upstairs. Steiner told him to sit down outside the
Commandant’s office, which had once been one of seven guest bedrooms in the
house. Christopher sat down on the soft red velvet of the couch and waited. His
shirt was sticking to his back. He imagined Rebecca at home, the guards coming
for her. He imagined her in this house, where she could have lived. The door
opened.

Dr. Casper stood at the door and
extended a hand to Christopher. He was a stout, almost portly man with a round
face and thinning hair sprinkled across the top of his rounded head.
Christopher felt the strength in his wrist as he shook Christopher’s hand.

“Herr Seeler, good to meet you. Come
through into my office,” he said in English.

Christopher nodded and walked
through, taking a seat in an antique wooden chair facing the large desk.
Hitler’s portrait watched over the wood paneled room.

Casper sat down and looked across at
Christopher for a few seconds before a smile appeared on his face. “We really
appreciate the work you and your father do for us here on the island. It is
most important that the people know that we are not here to enslave them or
anything of that nature, and it is most fortunate that we have pillars of the
community such as your father and yourself working with us.”

“Thank you,” Christopher said,
resisting the urge to ask him to get to the point.

“My predecessor, Dr. Von Stein, set
up an efficient system here on the island and, despite some difficulties, I
think we are achieving our goal as a model of German occupation here.” Casper
smiled again and Christopher did his best to reciprocate. “There are always
problems however. You are aware of the laws in the German Reich concerning the
Jewish population, are you not?”

Christopher’s blood froze. He managed
to nod his head. “Yes, Herr Commandant.”

“Please understand that this is not
my decision, this has been passed down by my superiors all the way from the
Führer himself. You understand that, don’t you?” Christopher nodded despite the
muscles in his neck feeling like steel rods. “There has been much pressure on
me from above to register and control all the Jews on the island. Not just some
of them, you see, but all? You understand, don’t you?” he said smiling once
more. Christopher’s legs were shaking and he could see the fabric on his
trousers waving like a flag in the breeze.
 
“It’s very important that we have the full co-operation of everyone on
the island on this matter, particularly such close colleagues as the likes of
yourself and your father, don’t you agree?”

“Of course, Herr Ca-, I mean Dr.
Casper.”

Casper laughed to himself and dropped
his eyes to the desk before clamping them back onto Christopher. “Let’s not
stand on the ceremony of titles here, Christopher, I want you to think of the
German occupying forces here as friends, after all, are we not all German?”
Christopher did not answer, just stared as he imagined soldiers breaking down
the door of the apartment, wrenching her out. “Anyway, it’s been brought to my
attention that there are several Jews on the island that have not registered
with the pertinent office. It is of utmost importance that these Jews be
registered with the proper authority. I’m sure you understand this as much as
the States, your local government, does, and it was with this in mind that they
gave their co-operation to us in this matter. It didn’t surprise me that little
protest was raised. They realize what an important job this is.” Christopher
felt the skin in his face, clammy and cold. Casper smiled again. “I have a
letter here. I can’t say who it’s from you understand.” He held up a sheet of
paper in the air. “Before I read it, is there anything you want to tell me? I
understand mistakes can be made, but for you and your father to retain your
jobs and the privileges that go along with them, I do expect a certain amount
of loyalty.” Christopher just stared, his entire body heaving. It was taking
everything within him not to cry in front of him. He tried to make out the
writing through the paper, but couldn’t. “I won’t ask you again, Christopher.
Have you anything to say to me?”

Christopher looked back at him and
mouthed the words once without making a sound before they finally came out. “No,
I don’t, Dr. Casper.”

“You disappoint me, Christopher,
really you do, and you also leave me with the job of finding someone else on
this island to do your job, as well as that of your father.” The smile had
faded. Christopher’s whole body was shaking through his torso and down his
legs. “Would you like to hear the letter? Yes? All right,
Dear Dr. Casper,
blah, blah, blah…” Casper’s eyes moved down the
page. Christopher looked down at the envelope, torn open on the desk, there was
no stamp; it had been hand delivered. “Here we are,
I have to inform you that the Jewess, Rebecca Cassin, did not in fact
leave the island as previously stated. She has since the occupation been living
with Christopher Seeler in his apartment in St. Helier
.” Casper put the
letter back down onto the table. “They have a way about them, don’t they, the Jews?
They have a way of looking into you, almost seeing your soul, what your
weaknesses are. I don’t blame you, Christopher, I feel sorry for you. You
really should be treated by a doctor for this sickness she has inflicted upon
you. The person who wrote this letter has done you a service, just as I am
going to do by not telling my superiors about this.”

Christopher stared back across, his
fists balled into iron knots below the table. “What are you going to do with
Rebecca?” The words came as a whisper that caught in his throat. The sounds
mutated so much that he was surprised that Casper understood him at all.

“What are we going to do with Rebecca
Cassin? Nothing. We’re just going to see to it that she’s registered and then,
of course, she will be subsequently bound by the rules concerning all Jews on
the island.”

“What about resettlement…?” Every
guard was down now.

“Enough questions, Herr Seeler. Unfortunately
I have had to relieve not just you of your position with us but your father
also. It is regrettable, but necessary.” Casper stopped and the door opened.
“That will be all, Herr Seeler.”

Christopher sat there, didn’t move for ten seconds until
Casper looked up at him again and then bumbled to the door and down the stairs
and out onto the gravel of the driveway where the car was waiting for him.
 

Those last six months they had
together were a strange mix of joy and fear, trepidation and contentment.
 
They rarely spoke about their present,
the scarcity of food, the deportations, and Rebecca’s complete lack of freedom.
She almost never left the apartment and could not visit anyone, as she was only
allowed to be out for that one solitary hour in the day. They spent their days
wading through the past and dreaming of a shining future. Christopher stayed
with her most of the day, as there was little work available. Christopher’s
father would often stay with them and Alexandra and Tom also. Rebecca rarely
mentioned her father, although she was sure it was not him, but the Durrells
who had denounced her, as some kind of delayed revenge for the shame she had
brought on their family. If she were deported, the shame might leave with her,
but she wasn’t angry at them, not like Christopher was. The thoughts of revenge
surged through him, only soothed by her reassurances that anything he did would
be futile. There was no gain to be had from vengeance, especially when they
would never be sure who had informed the Nazis. She amazed him. He longed to
confront them, but was afraid of what he might do if he did meet them,
particularly as they had the protection of the German garrison, a protection
that he and his father no longer had. The walls of the apartment and the island
itself seemed to close in further and further, gripping them from all sides.

The deportations began in September
of 1942. A number of Jews were taken, as well as hundreds of non-Jersey born
citizens. There seemed no reason why Rebecca was not chosen to leave. As non-born
natives of the island, the Seelers were also eligible, but were passed over for
deportation, perhaps as some remnant of the protection they had never sought,
but once enjoyed, but perhaps not. The Nazis seemed to have little logic in
their decision-making.

The letter arrived on 12
^th
January 1943, typed in brief, formal language and signed at the bottom by Dr.
Wilhelm Casper. Rebecca had been selected for deportation to Germany. The boat
was scheduled to leave on 13
^th
February. She was told to gather one
bag of belongings and to be at the Savoy Cinema, at 2 pm on that day. That was
all. Christopher tried to go to Dr. Casper, but he refused to see him or his
father. Captain Voss feigned sympathy but promised nothing. There was nothing
he could do, he explained. There was no court of appeal. The decision was
already made and had come down from the Führer himself and who could question
the Führer himself?

It was easy to fake it, to pretend
that the day would never arrive, to live in denial, and that is what they tried
to do, at first. They tried to pretend that everything was the same, but as the
day got closer, her demeanor changed. They went through the plans about escaping;
trying to get to France or England, but that was impossible. They tried to
think of somewhere she could hide for the duration of the war, but who knew how
long that was going to be. There was nowhere, and with little enough food to
keep themselves alive, no one was willing to hide Rebecca. The acceptance of
what was to happen gradually came over them and the mourning began. They didn’t
know what was to happen to her, but there were rumors everywhere of
concentration camps and slave labor. They saw film of the camps in the local
cinema and saw well fed, happy-looking Jews bounding around, busy with outdoor
activities and healthy pursuits, and while Rebecca was filled with brief hope,
even in his wildest dreams Christopher couldn’t believe it to be true. Rebecca
cried for several days in a row, only happy when he was holding her. But then
she stopped. It was as if she emerged from a fever with a new clarity and began
taking risks, for as she rightly pointed out, what had they to lose? They began
leaving the apartment together and went to visit Tom and Alexandra,
Christopher’s father and their other friends still left on the island. There
were so many goodbyes. Those still brave enough to listen to the BBC had heard
of the Allied victories in Stalingrad and El Alamein and assured her that the
war would be over before long and that she and all the other deportees would be
back soon. There was nothing else to say.

Christopher awoke early on the
morning of Friday the 12
^th
of February 1943. Rebecca was already
awake, sitting by the window, watching the orange glow of the sunrise as it
came up over the sea and flooded the streets below them. She turned to smile at
him as he opened his eyes, somehow knowing that he was awake. She tiptoed back
towards him across the cold floor, barely covered by the thin carpet and put
her arms around him. Christopher felt her kiss him but couldn’t respond and, as
he looked into her eyes the pain inside grew and he heard himself whimpering. She
held him against her for a minute or more before pushing his head back. Rebecca
took his face between her two hands, drying his tears with her thumbs.

“Oh, be quiet now Christopher. Don’t
cry. We’ll be together again when all this is over and then nothing will ever
come between us again.” She even smiled.

“This is all my fault,” he said. “If
it wasn’t for me, you would have left and you would have been safe in England.”