Bound by the Scars We Share Page 2

  Although Zoshia continued avidly with her studies and played the piano, which comforted her, she still felt isolated. The more lonely she felt and the more her inferiority plagued her, the greater her success became in all her achievements. She developed into a gifted piano player who had been taught well by her German teacher, Gunther Bohm.

  Gunther was a very tall, pencil-thin man with an unruly mop of blonde hair which sometimes seemed unkempt. He was a perfectionist and instilled this into Zoshia, who dared not make a mistake in case he rapped her tiny fingers with his baton. While she was playing, he would wave this instrument in the air in time to the music and only lowered it when his ears felt insulted by the notes that she played incorrectly from time to time. Zoshia knew that the only way to escape her teacher’s wrath was to practise until she knew each piece perfectly. This was sometimes very difficult for her, as Hannah would deliberately scream at the top of her voice so that Zoshia could not stand the noise a moment longer. Frequently, Zara would ask Zoshia to refrain from playing in order to placate Hannah. Zoshia’s mother was inwardly extremely proud of her daughter’s talent but she had to appease her older child or life would have been totally unbearable. So to avoid such confrontation, Zoshia would sometimes play the notes in silence with her fingertips hovering over the keys and hear the music in her head.

  Despite Zoshia’s loneliness at home, she had two close school friends, Regene and Anna, who supported her emotionally and went some way towards giving her the comfort she needed. Zoshia adored them. Regine was very petite with copper-coloured hair in a mass of curls, and her heart shaped face was covered in freckles. She had a cheerful toothy smile which made her very endearing. Regine loved to play with Zoshia, and her friend sensed her love and admiration. They both enjoyed their friendship with Anna, a large round child, with thick black curls which formed a halo around her head. Her large brown eyes glistened with excitement when they sang together and danced holding hands.

  Like her father, Zoshia was unable to bear injustice. Despite her detached relationship with her mother, she often spent some time with Smule when Hannah was with Zara. Her father would speak to her about his life in Poland and how the Jews were unfairly treated. He informed Zoshia about her relatives who still lived in Warsaw, who were suffering harsh discrimination and had found it difficult to leave. Zoshia was horrified. She could not stand cruelty in any form and was always helping others in school who may have been bullied or felt that they were lonely. Zoshia would always offer them friendship and somehow this would compensate for her feelings of rejection by her own mother. The older she grew, the more her sense of morality gained in stature. Zara would often rebuke her for getting involved in her friends’ problems or difficulties, but Zoshia always felt that she had accomplished something worthwhile when she helped others.

  As the Freedman family went about their daily routine, a darkness grew unnervingly within the community and there was no escape from uttering the name Adolph Hitler, whose armies were marching into the surrounding countries. Germany was at war. Everyone was frightened, but the Jewish people of Antwerp were petrified. Antisemitism was flourishing once again and threatened the Freedman family, like all other Jewish families who sensed that their days of freedom and peace would soon be crushed by war. The cruel insect of persecution had followed them. “Was it a crime to be Jewish?” Smule would ask his wife, in desperation. Zara could not bear to answer.

  With Germany at war, Zoshia felt an overwhelming sense of doom. She knew this life she had grown to love would be fractured beyond repair. It was this dread that compelled her to gather all her Jewish school friends for a photograph. It might be the last time they would all be together like this. Smule made the arrangements with Zoshia’s schoolteacher. When the photograph was developed, Zoshia knew she would treasure it forever, despite the uncertainties of an unknown future. It would remind her that somewhere in her life, there had been fondness, tenderness, warmth and compassion. Her childhood innocence was encapsulated in this tiny memento.

  Grace 2

  Lyme Regis, once a large port, proudly boasted a breakwater and harbour that nestled by the sea on the West Dorset coast. The rugged surrounding landscape was reminiscent of a world dominated by dinosaurs and large reptiles who once ruled the earth. Here was a picturesque scene of beauty as the froth laden waves would nod gently onto the sandy shoreline. This deceptive landscape could often change at any moment when Lyme Regis was exposed to a south-westerly gale. The menacing wind would howl like a wildcat and, even though invisible, it could create immense damage to the delicate, pretty cottages which framed the steep, narrow streets that rushed directly down to the massive stone clad jetty named The Cobb, which majestically guarded the harbour. Lyme Regis, gracefully described as ‘The Pearl of Dorset’ was framed by the dark, threatening cliffs that boldly ruled the charming landscape with an iron grip. The clouds that crowned the mountains would create a sullen shadow displacing the sun’s rays and replacing them with gloom.

  Edward Brookfield was born in this area with its abundance of fossils. He was the seventh child from an authoritarian family and his father, Herbert, was a forceful disciplinarian and was uncompromising in his beliefs. His austere attitude contrasted with his engaging, amiable wife Beatrice, who Herbert treasured and cherished. The couple loved their children but their father insisted upon strictness as he believed that this would help them develop into worthy adults. Secretly, Beatrice would disobey her husband and give her children the affection and humour which their father lacked. Sometimes, Beatrice would cry herself to sleep at night because of what she believed to be the cruelty that her husband inflicted on their precious ones. Her anxiety escalated, and one Wednesday morning in 1913, when Edward was just four years old, Beatrice put on her hat, scarf and coat, walked out of the house and was never seen or heard of again. Edward, as the youngest child, adored his mother and was utterly crushed and horrified when he realised that she was never to return. A gentle boy, Edward’s hurt turned to suppressed anger. He grew up feeling intense shame at Beatrice’s behaviour. This consequently caused him to develop a hatred towards the opposite sex.

  As a young man he found it difficult to make friendships with women. He saw them as ‘the enemy’; believing that all females had loose morals and that he would never be ensnared by one. He thought that his mother had tricked his father and himself by making a pretence of sincerity and love. Edward imagined that Beatrice had betrayed them all and had left them for her lover.

  In church, which he attended every Sunday, he found himself attracted to a local girl, Jean Loftus, who would sit with her head lowered and her hands clasped on her knees. Could he allow himself to develop feelings for this plain unassuming person? Edward wasn’t sure and felt very nervous at approaching the situation. As a young boy, he had seriously injured his arm and as a result it hung limply by his side. This made him inwardly doubt his manhood and consequently he hid his insecurities by behaving like his father in a strict and disciplined manner. His attitude to life was dictated by Beatrice’s behaviour. Despite this, he eventually married Jean who was a meek and timid woman. She had been brought up to speak only when spoken to by her clergyman father. Jean knew nothing about life as she was overprotected by her parents, who believed that they were ensuring she would come to no harm.

  Edward would visit church each Sunday and sit near to the Loftus family. After many months, a friendship ensued, and a marriage was arranged. Jean was a woman who firmly believed that it was a man’s world and all her life she had wished to become a dutiful wife just like her mother. Adoring her husband, she lived to make him happy, thinking absolutely nothing of her own needs. Edward loved Jean’s demeanour and temperament. She never really looked into his eyes and usually walked with her head bowed in subservience. The match was approved by her parents – Edward was an accountant and was financially stable enough to provide for their daughter.

  It was Easter Sunday 1932 (one year
after Edward and Jean’s wedding), at 11am, when Grace Brookfield was born. It was an easy delivery and Jean stoically endured the discomfort. The church bells rang loudly at the exact time of the birth but it seemed as if Grace’s cries were even louder. Jean would say to Grace, years later as a young adult, that her cries on that day foreshadowed the cries she would be bellowing throughout her life.

  Being the first-born child, Grace often wished she had been born a boy as this is what her father told her he had longed for. Edward’s animosity towards the female sex had an enormous effect on his daughter. When Jean gave birth to a son, four years later, it was a total shock but an utter delight for the proud parents. He was worshipped and doted on, beyond anything that little Grace could imagine. Even at the tender age of four, she could see how much adoration her little brother George received. From the moment he was born, Grace felt forever his inferior.

  While growing up, she fervently tried to hide the girlishness which she hated in herself and became a tomboy, all in the hope that this would guarantee the love and attention which George received, just because of his sex. She would tuck her hair away haphazardly and love to run freely in the mud and jump in puddles in their large garden. She was, in fact, much tougher and stronger than George, who was more reserved and sullen. Grace loved to push him over playfully so that he would become dirty and unkempt, just like her, hoping that he would get into trouble. This would result in him crying and running to his mother. Jean would always blame Grace and she would often receive a merciless beating by Edward as punishment. Grace would scream in pain and run into the garden, rolling in the soil and greenery to help admonish the stings on her skin. A child of nature, Grace relished the sensation of the soft grass on her body. Somehow, it gave her inner comfort. She often appeared, despite her beauty, dishevelled and scruffy, but she didn’t care how she looked. Even as a child, her beauty was mesmerising. Her steel blue eyes and flaxen curls made her look like a china doll, but her external appearance concealed inner cracks. She felt a misery inside her which she constantly hid, in case her father shouted at her. Her looks attracted attention and adoration from family relatives and friends, but never from her parents.

  Edward was determined that his daughter would not grow up like his mother. He would continue to subdue and control her with his coldness. He criticised her continually during mealtimes for not holding her spoon properly or slouching at the table. She was not allowed to speak and was forced to eat in silence. Grace became terrified before each meal and could not bear to eat. Keeping her food in her mouth and refusing to swallow gave her a feeling of control. Jean was determinedly patient and would gently press the morsels held in her cheeks until there was no choice but to swallow. The little child could not understand why her parents, particularly her father showed no warmth. She wondered why he did not love her. Edward believed that it was his duty to prepare his daughter to become exactly like his wife, obedient. When he looked at Grace, he could not bear her angelic allure which made people comment. Whenever her beauty was praised, he would always mention his son. Jean was silent and stoic, with a deference to her husband which made her ignore his emotional cruelty to their daughter. As a result, Grace became sad and sullen, causing her to misbehave at school, where she was continually reprimanded.

  Ballet was Grace’s passion. It was during her ballet lessons that she felt permitted to become the female part of herself. Attending classes with her ballet teacher, Mrs Ellison, Grace adored the warm-up exercises and the different movements but best of all she became alive when she had to perform a dance routine as the final part of the session. Lillian Ellison had once been a principal dancer with a London ballet company. Unfortunately, she had sustained an injury to her fibula which had only partially healed and was therefore forced to abandon her promising ballet career. She was devastated for many months until she decided to move to Lyme Regis, where she lived with an old schoolfriend, who encouraged her to become a dance teacher. Lillian’s hair had turned grey and she wore it hanging freely despite encouraging her pupils to wear the traditional hair style of a ballerina. Her face displayed a permanent smile, reflecting her love of dancing. When she noticed Grace performing with such poise and refinement for a six year old, she realised very quickly that this star pupil was extremely talented and so pushed her much further than the other young dancers. Mrs Ellison encouraged her to participate in various local performances as well as entering her for graded ballet examinations. At six years old, Grace showed much promise and her talent was clearly evident. She excelled with her innate flair and technical prowess which earned her numerous awards. Frequently she would show her parents each certificate or a medal she had won, in a vain attempt to receive their praise and pride. “We pay for your lessons, Grace, so you should be excelling,” Edward would repeatedly reply in an arrogant and condescending manner. “You don’t, however, seem to be achieving very highly at school, now do you? You are poor at your sums and you are behind with your tables. This is not good enough. Try harder.” Grace would run out into the garden and weep violently until she felt completely empty. Her tiny fingers would dig into the cool grass, as she gripped the blades for the solace it gave her.

  Alongside dancing, drawing and painting allowed Grace to express her deepest feelings. Having a vivid imagination, she invented all kinds of unusual creatures to sketch which she believed existed in other worlds. “I will never understand how you could possibly draw such horrible monsters,” Jean reprimanded. Grace did not reply, because she felt her mother knew best. She also loved to copy the free flowing grace and beauty of the dancers in her ballet books. This her mother approved of and admired her little girl’s talent, although she never voiced it. Edward was uninterested in Grace’s drawings and she was unable to consult him about anything to do with her pictures. Even though she was barely seven years old, she was discerning and understood the wrath of her father and the delirious rages which might occur should she endeavour to do something wrong in his eyes. The balance between harmony and discord was precarious and Grace lived part of her childhood in fear and the other half enjoying her talents and playing in the outdoors, inspecting ladybirds and making daisy chains.

  Britain and France declared war on Germany when Grace was seven years old, following Adolph Hilter’s invasion of Poland. When Neville Chamberlain announced that Britain was at war with Germany, everyone in the Brookfield family was devastated. Whole communities were shocked in disbelief. Another war! Could this really be true? They all knew that life would never be the same again. Prior to the announcement, Edward had been offered a lucrative position as an accountant in Harpenden, Hertfordshire. Given that his new position offered much more money than they had been used to, Edward and Jean felt this was too good an opportunity to pass up despite the risk of possible bombings. The Brookfields decided that Grace would stay with Edward’s brother and his wife in Lyme Regis for her own safety and they would take George with them, unable to be separated from their precious child.

  Uncle Peter and Aunt Margaret lavished affection upon their niece as they had been unable to have children themselves. Peter Brookfield had also been brought up strictly by Herbert and often had to supress his excitable feelings, due to his extreme fear of his father’s wrath. He was a tall, thin man with carrot-coloured wispy hair and his poor eyesight caused him to wear brown round-lensed metal glasses. His thin lips displayed a wry smile and his watery grey eyes twinkled whenever Grace was around. Unlike his brother, Peter was not academic. He loved nature and always wanted to be a farmer. Margaret Brookfield was a buxom wholesome woman who yearned desperately for a child. Her rosy cheeks prominent and round, framed a large smile which seemed to envelope her whole face. With her dark-brown, thick hair tied into a bun, on top of her head, Margaret appeared as a friendly, jovial woman who adored her niece. She was delighted to have sole charge of this tiny little girl, even for a short while. This was a perfect gift, a young child who seemed to adore them.

  P
eter and Margaret lived on a small farm and they worked hard on a daily basis to maintain their income which their smallholding provided. They had several cows and during the early hours would ensure that the milk was ready for collection. The chickens cackled each day to be fed. Grace loved to watch Narla, their sheep dog, barking at them from the farmhouse. She also loved to help pick the strawberries, some of which she took and ate in secret. There was a contentment when she visited the farm as she delighted in the natural world. This atmosphere filled the vacuum of loneliness which had been created by frequent condemnation and fault-finding from her parents. She had always dreamed of being able to live there and to help take care of the animals.

  Grace was very thrilled to be allowed to stay on the farm, yet she was a bit apprehensive about her parents going away. Her excitement was compounded by the fact that the constant criticism would be abated. She worshipped her aunt and uncle, particularly Uncle Peter who would swing her round and round until she felt dizzy – she loved the exhilaration.

  “Now Grace, you must behave yourself while we are away. There is a war on, and we all must be very brave. Your brother is still very young, so we have to take him. Your uncle and aunt will take care of you. Please do as they say.” Edward spoke this in a low, unemotional voice, as might be spoken to a pet dog. “We know that you can be a good girl if you try. So, listen to your father and obey Uncle Peter and Aunt Margaret,” he added pointing his finger directly between her eyes. Grace took hold of her aunt’s hand, as her mother, father and her brother walked down the path to their car. Jean fashioned a wave and promptly patted her son on the head.