“Are we really leaving on Sunday?” asked Anna.
“Saturday,” said Mama. “It’s a long way to Switzerland. We have to spend a night in Stuttgart on the way.”
“Then this is our last week at school!” said Max.
It seemed incredible.
After that everything seemed to go very quickly, like a film that has been speeded up. Heimpi was busy sorting and packing all day long. Mama was nearly always out or on the telephone, arranging for the lease of the house or for the storage of furniture after they had gone. Every day when the children came home from school the house looked more bare.
One day Onkel Julius called while they were helping Mama to pack some books. He looked at the empty shelves and smiled. “You’ll be putting them all back again, you know!”
That night the children were woken up by the sound of fire engines. Not just one or two but about a dozen were clanging their bells and racing along the main road at the end of their street. When they looked out of the window the sky above the centre of Berlin was brilliant orange. Next morning everyone was talking about the fire which had destroyed the Reichstag where the German Parliament met. The Nazis said that the fire had been started by revolutionaries and that the Nazis were the only people who could put a stop to that sort of thing – so everyone must vote for them at the elections. But Mama heard that the Nazis had started the fire themselves.
When Onkel Julius called that afternoon, for the first time he did not say anything to Mama about her being back in Berlin in a few weeks’ time.
The last days Anna and Max spent at school were very strange. As they still were not allowed to tell anyone that they were leaving they kept forgetting about it themselves during school hours. Anna was delighted when she was given a part in the school play and only remembered afterwards that she would never actually appear in it. Max accepted an invitation to a birthday party which he would never be able to attend.
Then they would go home to the ever emptier rooms, the wooden crates and the suitcases, the endless sorting of possessions. Deciding which toys to take was the hardest part. They naturally wanted to take the games compendium but it was too big. In the end there was only room for some books and one of Anna’s stuffed toys. Should she choose Pink Rabbit which had been her companion ever since she could remember, or a newly acquired woolly dog? It seemed a pity to leave the dog when she had hardly had time to play with it, and Heimpi packed it for her. Max took his football. They could always have more things sent on to them in Switzerland, said Mama, if it looked as though they were going to stay there a very long time.
When school was over on Friday Anna went up to her teacher and said quietly, “I shan’t be coming to school tomorrow. We’re going to Switzerland.”
Fräulein Schmidt did not look nearly as surprised as Anna expected but only nodded and said, “Yes …yes …I wish you luck.”
Elsbeth was not very interested either. She just said she wished she herself were going to Switzerland but that this was not likely to happen because her father worked in the Post Office.
Gunther was the hardest person to leave. Max brought him back to lunch after they had walked back from school together for the last time, though there were only sandwiches because Heimpi had not had time to cook. Afterwards they played hide-and-seek rather half-heartedly among the packing cases. It was not much fun because Max and Gunther were so gloomy and Anna had a struggle to keep down her own excitement. She was fond of Gunther and sorry to leave him. But all she could think was, “This time tomorrow we’ll be on the train …this time on Sunday we’ll be in Switzerland …this time on Monday …?”
At last Gunther went home. Heimpi had sorted out a lot of clothes for his mum in the course of her packing and Max went with him to help him carry them. When he came back he seemed more cheerful. He had dreaded saying goodbye to Gunther more than anything. Now at least it was over.
Next morning Anna and Max were ready long before it was time to leave. Heimpi checked that their nails were clean, that they both had handkerchiefs – two for Anna because she had a bit of a cold – and that their socks were held up properly by elastic bands.
“Goodness knows what state you’ll get into by yourselves,” she grumbled.
“But you’ll be with us again in a fortnight,” said Anna.
“There’s a lot of dirt can settle on a neck in a fortnight,” said Heimpi darkly.
Then there was nothing more to do until the taxi came.
“Let’s go right through the house for the last time,” said Max.
They started at the top and worked down. Most of it no longer looked like itself. All the smaller things had been packed: some of the rugs had been rolled up and there were newspaper and packing cases everywhere. They ticked off the rooms as they went through them, shouting “Goodbye, Papa’s bedroom …goodbye, landing …goodbye, stairs …!”
“Don’t get too excited,” said Mama as they passed her.
“Goodbye, hall …goodbye, drawing room …!”
They were getting through too quickly, so Max shouted, “Goodbye, piano …goodbye, sofa …!” and Anna took it up with, “Goodbye, curtains …goodbye, dining table …goodbye, hatch …!”
Just as she shouted, “Goodbye, hatch”, its two small doors opened and Heimpi’s head appeared looking through from the pantry. Suddenly something contracted in Anna’s stomach. This was just what Heimpi had often done to amuse her when she was small. They had played a game called “peeping through the hatch” and Anna had loved it. How could she suddenly be going away? In spite of herself her eyes filled with tears and she cried, idiotically, “Oh Heimpi, I don’t want to leave you and the hatch!”
“Well I can’t pack it in my suitcase,” said Heimpi, coming into the dining room.
“You’re sure you’ll come to Switzerland?”
“I don’t know what else I’d do,” said Heimpi. “Your mama has given me my ticket and I’ve got it in my purse.”
“Heimpi,” said Max, “if you suddenly found you had a lot of room in your suitcase – only if, mind you – do you think you could bring the games compendium?”
“If …if …if …” said Heimpi. “If my grandmother had wheels she’d be a bus and we could all go for a ride in her.” That was what she always said.
Then the doorbell rang to announce the arrival of the taxi and there was no more time. Anna hugged Heimpi. Mama said, “Don’t forget the men are coming for the piano on Monday”, and then she too hugged Heimpi. Max could not find his gloves but had them in his pocket all the time. Bertha wept, and the man who looked after the garden suddenly appeared and wished them all a pleasant journey.
Just as the taxi was about to drive off a small figure rushed up with something in his hand. It was Gunther. He thrust a parcel at Max through the window and said something about his mum which they could not understand because the taxi had started. Max shouted goodbye and Gunther waved. Then the taxi went up the street. Anna could still see the house, and Heimpi and Gunther waving …She could still see a bit of the house …At the top of the street they passed the Kentner children on their way to school. They were talking to each other and did not look up …She could still see a tiny bit of the house through the trees …Then the taxi went round the corner and it all disappeared.
It was strange travelling on the train with Mama and without Heimpi. Anna was a little worried in case she felt sick. She