sunrise.
There was still no postcard when she came home from school, nor was there anything in the last post at seven o’clock. It was the first time that Mama and Papa had not written. Anna managed to get through supper thinking cool thoughts about postal delays, but once she was in bed with the light out all the terror of the previous night came flooding back with such force that she felt almost choked by it. She tried to remember that she was a Jew and must not be frightened, otherwise the Nazis would say that all Jews were cowards—but it was no use. She kept seeing the room with the strange ceiling and the terrible rain of coins coming down on Papa’s head. Even though she shut her eyes and buried her face in the pillow she could still see it.
She must have been making some noise in bed for Max suddenly said, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” said Anna, but even as she said it she could feel something like a small explosion making its way up from her stomach towards her throat, and suddenly she was sobbing, “Papa ... Papa ...” and Max was sitting on her bed and patting her arm.
“Oh, you idiot!” he said when she had explained her fears. “Don’t you know what is meant by a price on someone’s head?”
“Not ... not what I thought?” said Anna.
“No,” said Max. “Not at all what you thought. Putting a price on a person’s head means offering a reward to anyone who captures that person.”
“There you are!” wailed Anna. “The Nazis are trying to get Papa!”
“Well, in a way,” said Max. “But Herr Zwirn doesn’t think it’s very serious—after all there’s not much they can do about it as Papa isn’t in Germany.”
“You think he’s all right?”
“Of course he’s all right. We’ll have a postcard in the morning.”
“But supposing they sent someone after him in France—a kidnapper or someone like that?”
“Then Papa would have the whole of the French police force to protect him.” Max assumed what he imagined to be a French accent. “Go away, pleeze. Ees not allowed to keednap in France. We chop off your head with the guillotine, no?”
He was such an awful mimic that Anna had to laugh and Max looked surprised at his success.
“Better go to sleep now,” he said, and she was so tired that very soon she did.
In the morning instead of a postcard they had a long letter. Mama and Papa had decided that they should all live in Paris together and Papa was coming to collect them.
“Papa,” said Anna after the first excitement of seeing him safe and sound had worn off. “Papa, I was a bit upset when I heard about the price on your head.”
“So was I!” said Papa. “Very upset.”
“Were you?” asked Anna, surprised. Papa had always seemed so brave.
“Well, it’s such a very small price,” explained Papa. “A thousand Marks goes nowhere these days. I think I’m worth a lot more, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Anna, feeling better.
“No self-respecting kidnapper would touch it,” said Papa. He shook his head sadly. “I’ve a good mind to write to Hitler and complain!”
Chapter Twelve
Frau Zwirn packed the children’s clothes. They said good-bye to their friends and their teachers at school and then they were ready to leave Switzerland for their new life in France. But it wasn’t a bit like leaving Berlin, said Anna, because they would be able to come back and see everyone at the Gasthof Zwirn any time they liked, and Herr Zwirn had already invited them for next summer.
They were to live in a furnished flat in Paris which Mama was busy now getting ready. What was it like? Max wanted to know. Papa thought for a moment. If you stood on the balcony, he said at last, you could see the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe both at the same time—these were famous Paris landmarks. But beyond this he seemed unable to remember much about it. It was a pity, thought the children, that Papa was sometimes so vague about practical matters. But
There was still no postcard when she came home from school, nor was there anything in the last post at seven o’clock. It was the first time that Mama and Papa had not written. Anna managed to get through supper thinking cool thoughts about postal delays, but once she was in bed with the light out all the terror of the previous night came flooding back with such force that she felt almost choked by it. She tried to remember that she was a Jew and must not be frightened, otherwise the Nazis would say that all Jews were cowards—but it was no use. She kept seeing the room with the strange ceiling and the terrible rain of coins coming down on Papa’s head. Even though she shut her eyes and buried her face in the pillow she could still see it.
She must have been making some noise in bed for Max suddenly said, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” said Anna, but even as she said it she could feel something like a small explosion making its way up from her stomach towards her throat, and suddenly she was sobbing, “Papa ... Papa ...” and Max was sitting on her bed and patting her arm.
“Oh, you idiot!” he said when she had explained her fears. “Don’t you know what is meant by a price on someone’s head?”
“Not ... not what I thought?” said Anna.
“No,” said Max. “Not at all what you thought. Putting a price on a person’s head means offering a reward to anyone who captures that person.”
“There you are!” wailed Anna. “The Nazis are trying to get Papa!”
“Well, in a way,” said Max. “But Herr Zwirn doesn’t think it’s very serious—after all there’s not much they can do about it as Papa isn’t in Germany.”
“You think he’s all right?”
“Of course he’s all right. We’ll have a postcard in the morning.”
“But supposing they sent someone after him in France—a kidnapper or someone like that?”
“Then Papa would have the whole of the French police force to protect him.” Max assumed what he imagined to be a French accent. “Go away, pleeze. Ees not allowed to keednap in France. We chop off your head with the guillotine, no?”
He was such an awful mimic that Anna had to laugh and Max looked surprised at his success.
“Better go to sleep now,” he said, and she was so tired that very soon she did.
In the morning instead of a postcard they had a long letter. Mama and Papa had decided that they should all live in Paris together and Papa was coming to collect them.
“Papa,” said Anna after the first excitement of seeing him safe and sound had worn off. “Papa, I was a bit upset when I heard about the price on your head.”
“So was I!” said Papa. “Very upset.”
“Were you?” asked Anna, surprised. Papa had always seemed so brave.
“Well, it’s such a very small price,” explained Papa. “A thousand Marks goes nowhere these days. I think I’m worth a lot more, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Anna, feeling better.
“No self-respecting kidnapper would touch it,” said Papa. He shook his head sadly. “I’ve a good mind to write to Hitler and complain!”
Chapter Twelve
Frau Zwirn packed the children’s clothes. They said good-bye to their friends and their teachers at school and then they were ready to leave Switzerland for their new life in France. But it wasn’t a bit like leaving Berlin, said Anna, because they would be able to come back and see everyone at the Gasthof Zwirn any time they liked, and Herr Zwirn had already invited them for next summer.
They were to live in a furnished flat in Paris which Mama was busy now getting ready. What was it like? Max wanted to know. Papa thought for a moment. If you stood on the balcony, he said at last, you could see the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe both at the same time—these were famous Paris landmarks. But beyond this he seemed unable to remember much about it. It was a pity, thought the children, that Papa was sometimes so vague about practical matters. But
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