Free Living with Strangers by Elizabeth Ellis

the front room and Jakob serves coffee from white china cups set out on a side table with crisp linen. He also serves a huge lemon torte, much of which Josef and I devour gratefully, having eaten nothing since our station breakfast. We sit bemused while Saul talks intimately with this familiar stranger in a language I’ve only just begun to learn. Every so often he will pause and explain some point or other as if suddenly remembering we’re there. He seems to feast on this reunion, on this reconnection after twenty-six years.
    Jakob is a perfect host. With only two bedrooms, he has gallantly given them up for us and arranged to stay at a guesthouse close by. Saul and Josef are to share, while I have the spare room to myself. Up a steep staircase, under the roof, it’s reminiscent of home on a minute scale. Home seems a long way away. That night I lie awake in the narrow bed, covered with something like an eiderdown but thinner and big enough to wrap round me completely. The sound and motion of the train still rush in my head; there are images of Oma and Jakob and Saul, fusing one into the other, speaking in words I cannot understand. Eventually, I sleep.
    In the morning, Jakob’s housekeeper comes and prepares breakfast for us; coffee, a selection of jam, warm rolls and cheese, all beautifully placed on fresh table linen. Josef and I look at each other, afraid to spill or drip or drop crumbs.
    Saul holds his cup carefully. ‘Perhaps we should do this at home. What do you think your mother would say?’
    I think of our breakfast times, yo-yo meals with Molly presiding, standing by the stove dishing out bacon and eggs.
    ‘I think she’d have a fit.’ Josef spreads his roll generously with butter. ‘We’ve never used a tablecloth since Oma died.’
    ‘Well,’ Saul says, ‘Jakob’s life has been a little different from ours.’
    ‘Has he always lived alone? Did he never marry?’
    ‘No, he never married. He lived with his sister, Aunt Reine, when they came here. You remember? She was Oma’s sister too. She was a good woman – very…understanding.’ Saul stops, a little flustered, as if he’s said the wrong thing.
    ‘Was that when you and Oma came to England?’ I ask.
    ‘A couple of years later. They had to leave Berlin – it was no longer possible to trade, even with other Jewish families. Then the government took over the factory – it was very dangerous.’
    ‘What work did they do?’
    ‘Jakob owned a small clothing factory. He’d been very successful until the troubles started. Aunt Reine was a seamstress, she worked in the factory and looked after the other workers.’
    ‘Couldn’t they come to England too?’
    ‘Reine was unwell by then, she had arthritis – it was hard for her to sew. She couldn’t imagine leaving Germany anyway – in spite of what was happening. Jakob decided to stay with her, so they came to Lübeck – it was far enough away from Berlin and there were cousins here. They had somewhere to stay that was safe – at least, that’s what they’d hoped.’
    I sip my coffee, holding the cup carefully too over the saucer. ‘So what happened to her – to Aunt Reine?’
    Saul helps himself to more bread, chewing thoughtfully, about to speak, but Jakob arrives then and sits down to share breakfast and we have to wait for the answer.
    ‘You all slept well I hope?’ Jakob asks. ‘Your little room in the roof was alright?’
    I empty my mouth and mumble something again.
    ‘I see you’ve met Lenchen – she looks after me now,’ Jakob winks, ‘or so she likes to think.’
    The housekeeper comes back into the living room with another pot of coffee. She wears an apron with faded flowers, her hair tied back in a bun. She looks about the same age as Molly.
    ‘What would you like to see while you’re here?’ Jakob asks. ‘The waterfront is impressive and we have some fine buildings still. Some were left standing, though many were not.
    And it’s later, as we tour the city