Perfectly Ordinary People(17)

Because of the war?

Yes, most of the men had been called up. And no one was in a very go-out-and-have-fun mood. We were all very anxious. People tended to stay at home and listen to the radio.

OK. Tell me about Johann a bit – Pierre’s lover – what was he like?

Oh, Johann was gorgeous. Even I could see what the attraction was. He was tall and dark with jet-black hair and huge eyes. He had beautiful long eyelashes, I remember, and one of those 1930s haircuts where it was long on top and short at the back and sides. So when he leaned forwards, his hair used to flop over his eyes, and he’d have to brush it out of the way. He was very shy, and very subtle. But funny too. Yes, Johann was quite lovely.

Were Pierre and Johann called up?

No, they were too young. You had to be twenty, I think, to fight. Pierre took over his father’s plumbing business – because his father had been mobilised – and Johann was a postman. Neither of them seemed to suit their jobs, if you know what I mean. Once you’d seen Pierre in one of his Zazou suits, it was hard to believe you were looking at the same person when you bumped into him in plumber’s overalls. Johann was the same. He looked like a writer or a poet rather than a postman. But Pierre’s father was a plumber, and Johann’s father worked at the post office . . . That’s how things were in those days. Lots of people did the same jobs as their parents.

And did it feel like the country was at war?

Not really. There were soldiers everywhere, mostly heading towards the border, and people evacuating in the other direction all the time. They evacuated the whole of Strasbourg, you know? I saw an exhibition, and there are photos of empty streets full of the starving cats and dogs people had left behind. But in Mulhouse we carried on as normal, and nothing happened for months – I think it was eight months, from September to May. The Germans were busy building weapons and an army and harassing the Jews, herding them into ghettos and building camps and such. And the longer it went on, the more the French got demoralised. I don’t know how to put it really, but there was a feeling that the mobilisation had all been a bit of an overreaction. The men who’d been conscripted got bored. People would say – and it’s amazing to say it, but it’s true – people would say, ‘If they’re going to invade, I wish they’d just get on with it.’ People either wanted to fight or go home to their families.

This is the period people called the ‘phoney war’, right?

They did teach you something in school!

I think I saw it on television, but anyway . . . Things stayed that way until May, you say?

Yes, May 1940. When Germany invaded.

So, eight months?

Yes. But it honestly felt like eight years.

And how long did France hold out for? Was that defence system you mentioned any good?

The Maginot Line? <Laughs> No, the Germans just went through Belgium instead. It seems the French hadn’t thought of that.

The Belgians fought though, didn’t they?

Yes, they started off neutral but had to defend themselves when Germany invaded. But they couldn’t stop the whole German army.

How long did it take? From them attacking Belgium to arriving in Mulhouse?

I think it took a month, maybe a month and a half. But you know, I’m not a history teacher. So you’ll have to check all of this.

I realise that. I’m just trying to imagine how things were for you, knowing the Germans were close.

Our family were pretty scared, but not everyone was. Lots of families in Alsace had links to Germany and some of them admired Hitler. Lots of people hated the Jews, too. So not everyone was aghast at the idea of the Germans arriving. But we were. My father had lost a leg in the first war. He was under no illusions about the Germans.

But your father still wouldn’t let you join Ethel? Actually, were you still getting her letters, despite the war?

Surprisingly, yes. They’d arrive in batches, maybe once a week. I’d sort them by the postmarks and read them in order, over and over again. But yes, the post carried on working quite well. As for joining her in London, nothing had changed. Dad wanted me to forget her. If he got to the post before me, he’d destroy her letters. Plus, we were at war by then. There was a feeling that it was too late to leave. Travel, especially international travel, had become complicated, impossible, perhaps. I don’t really know, but that’s how things felt. Plus London was evacuating millions of people to the countryside in case of bombing raids so there was a feeling that London wasn’t necessarily any safer. And on top of all of that, Ethel was having problems with Hannah’s family. She was saying she might have to leave.

What sort of problems?

She messed up, really. It was silly. She told Hannah the truth – about us being in love. I think Hannah had wanted to read the letters I was sending, so Ethel told her. Hannah, who I think just wanted her room back, told her father about it, and he wrote to Ethel’s father and then dragged her off to see the rabbi. So that was all a right unholy mess and it wasn’t entirely clear whether they were going to send Ethel back to Mulhouse or not. In one of the last letters I received before the invasion, she said that she’d probably have to find a new job, because Hannah’s father was being horrible to her, and that she’d either leave Hannah’s house and find somewhere else to live so that I could join her, or she’d come home. She promised we’d be together soon. My God, how I treasured that letter, that promise! I read it so many times that the paper fell apart at the folds. I still have it upstairs, actually. Perhaps I’ll show it to you later.