“Fat pig?” said Anna weakly.
Mama very gently touched one of Anna’s swollen glands.
“This is fat pig,” she said. “It’s the worst of the lot. The one next to it isn’t quite so bad – it’s called slim pig. And this one is called pink pig and this is baby pig and this one …what shall we call this one?”
“Fräulein Lambeck,” said Anna and began to laugh. She was so weak that the laugh sounded more like a cackle but Mama seemed very pleased just the same.
Mama kept putting on the hot fomentations and it was not too bad because she always made jokes about fat pig and slim pig and Fräulein Lambeck, but though her neck felt better Anna’s temperature stayed up. She would wake up feeling fairly normal but by lunch time she would be giddy and by the evening everything would have become vague and confused. She got the strangest ideas. She was frightened of the wallpaper and could not bear to be alone. Once when Mama left her to go downstairs for supper she thought the room was getting smaller and smaller and cried because she thought she would be squashed. After this Mama had her supper on a tray in Anna’s room. The doctor said, “She can’t go on like this much longer.”
Then one afternoon Anna was lying staring at the curtains. Mama had just drawn them because it was getting dark and Anna was trying to see what shapes the folds had made. The previous evening they had made a shape like an ostrich, and as Anna’s temperature went up she had been able to see the ostrich more and more clearly until at last she had been able to make him walk all round the room. This time she thought perhaps there might be an elephant.
Suddenly she became aware of whispering at the other end of the room. She turned her head with difficulty. Papa was there, sitting with Mama, and they were looking at a letter together. She could not hear what Mama was saying, but she could tell from the sound of her voice that she was excited and upset. Then Papa folded the letter and put his hand on Mama’s, and Anna thought he would probably go soon but he didn’t – he just stayed sitting there and holding Mama’s hand. Anna watched them for a while until her eyes became tired and she closed them. The whispering voices had become more quiet and even. Somehow it was a very soothing sound and after a while Anna fell asleep listening to it.
When she woke up she knew at once that she had slept for a long time. There was something else, too, that was strange, but she could not quite make out what it was. The room was dim except for a light on the table by which Mama usually sat, and Anna thought she must have forgotten to switch it off when she went to bed. But Mama had not gone to bed. She was still sitting there with Papa just as they had done before Anna went to sleep. Papa was still holding Mama’s hand in one of his and the folded letter in the other.
“Hello, Mama. Hello, Papa,” said Anna. “I feel so peculiar.”
Mama and Papa came over to her bed at once and Mama put a hand on her forehead. Then she popped the thermometer in Anna’s mouth. When she took it out again she did not seem to be able to believe what she saw. “It’s normal!” she said. “For the first time in four weeks it’s normal!”
“Nothing else matters,” said Papa, and crumpled up the letter.
After this Anna got better quite quickly. Fat pig, slim pig, Fräulein Lambeck and the rest gradually shrank and her neck stopped hurting. She began to eat again and to read. Max came and played cards with her when he wasn’t out somewhere with Papa, and soon she was allowed to get out of bed for a little while and sit in a chair. Mama had to help her walk the few steps across the room but she felt very happy sitting in the warm sunshine by the window.
Outside the sky was blue and she saw that the people in the street below were not wearing overcoats. There was a lady selling tulips at a stall on the opposite pavement and a chestnut tree at the corner was in full leaf. It was spring. She was amazed how much everything had changed during her illness. The people in the street seemed pleased with the spring weather too and several bought flowers from the stall. The lady selling tulips was round and dark-haired and looked a little bit like Heimpi.
Suddenly Anna remembered something. Heimpi had been going to join them two weeks after they left Germany. Now it must be more than a month. Why hadn’t she come? She was going to ask Mama, but Max came in first.
“Max,” said Anna, “why hasn’t Heimpi come?”
Max looked taken aback. “Do you want to go back to bed?” he said.
“No,” said Anna.
“Well,” said Max, “I don’t know if I’m meant to tell you, but quite a lot happened while you were ill.”
“What?” asked Anna.
“You know Hitler won the elections,” said Max. “Well, he very quickly took over the whole government, and it’s just as Papa said it would be – nobody’s allowed to say a word against him. If they do they’re thrown into jail.”
“Did Heimpi say anything against Hitler?” asked Anna with a vision of Heimpi in a dungeon.
“No, of course not,” said Max. “But Papa did. He still does. And so of course no one in Germany is allowed to print anything he writes. So he can’t earn any money and we can’t afford to pay Heimpi any wages.”
“I see,” said Anna, and after a moment she added, “are we poor, then?”
“I think we are, a bit,” said Max. “Only Papa is going to try to write for some Swiss papers instead – then we’ll be all right again.” He got up as though to go and Anna said quickly, “I wouldn’t have thought Heimpi would mind about money. If we had a little house I think she’d want to come and look after us anyway, even if we couldn’t pay her much.”
“Yes, well, that’s another thing,” said Max. He hesitated before he added, “We can’t get a house because we haven’t any furniture.”
“But …” said Anna.
“The Nazis have pinched the lot,” said Max. “It’s called confiscation of property. Papa had a letter last week.” He grinned. “It’s been rather like one of those awful plays where people keep rushing in with bad news. And on top of it all there were you, just about to kick the bucket …”
“I wasn’t going to kick the bucket!” said Anna indignantly.
“Well, I knew you weren’t, of course,” said Max, “but that Swiss doctor has a very gloomy imagination. Do you want to go back to bed now?”
“I think I do,” said Anna. She was feeling rather weak and Max helped her across the room. When she was safely back in bed she said, “Max, this …confiscation of property, whatever it’s called – did the Nazis take everything – even our things?”
Max nodded.
Anna tried to imagine it. The piano was gone …the dining-room curtains with the flowers …her bed …all her toys which included her stuffed Pink Rabbit. For a moment she felt terribly sad about Pink Rabbit. It had had embroidered black eyes – the original glass ones had fallen out years before – and an endearing habit of collapsing on its paws. Its fur, though no longer very pink, had been soft and familiar. How could she ever have chosen to pack that characterless woolly dog in its stead? It had been a terrible mistake, and now she would never be able to put it right.
“I always knew we should have brought the games compendium,” said Max. “Hitler’s probably playing Snakes and Ladders with it this very minute.”
“And snuggling my Pink Rabbit!” said Anna and laughed. But some tears had come into her eyes and were running down her cheeks all at the same time.
“Oh well, we’re lucky to be here at all,” said Max.
“What do you mean?” asked Anna.
Max looked carefully past her out of the window.
“Papa heard from Heimpi,” he said with