By popular request
- I'm reposting this from last year.
Thanks, everyone who's asked me for it. ‘You utter cads! Leave them alone! You should know better than to pick on two little girls, that great big pack of you! Go on, be off with you, and don’t let me see you chasing them again!’ Thus Jo Maynard, at full pitch of her golden choirboy tones. The small boys looked ashamed, as well they might, and slunk away, trying to hide behind one another. Jo watched them go, with an unpraiseworthy desire to shake them. Even the most untrained village urchins should know better than to set upon two small girls.
Meanwhile, the two causes of the trouble watched from a safe distance. Indeed, they had no choice, because the larger of the two, a dainty damsel of about eight, had fallen in the headlong flight from their tormentors, and her sister, a small maid some two years younger, had her fists stuck in her eyes with determination not to cry. Jo, having seen the village children into the distance, turned her attention to them.
‘Now then, you’re not killed, so buck up and let’s see that knee,’ she said, in tones kinder than her words. Small Gretel redoubled her efforts not to cry, and stood her ground bravely. She would not desert her older sister. ‘Bitte, Fraulein –‘ started eight-year-old Marta, then bit her lip and turned all colours of the rainbow.
‘A German kid! Well I’ll be gumswizzled.’ Turning to the two, she addressed them in German. ‘Won’t you tell me your names? And what two little German girls are doing on the Welsh borders in the middle of a war?’ Marta’s eyes opened widely.
‘Not German – Austrian,’ she answered in her own language. ‘We escaped over the mountains into Switzerland when the Nazis wanted Daddy to fight in the war. Daddy wouldn’t fight: he says he is proud to be Austrian, and he would rather leave everything behind than fight for the - the beasts who have taken over our country.’ And Marta suddenly ran down, worn out with emotion. ‘Now we have come to live here, in a small house. Daddy says we have to stay, but no-one here likes us. They say we are German, and they call us names and try to chase us.’
‘Those boys threw stones,’ added little Gretel, in aggrieved tones. ‘Why did they throw stones at us? We never hurt them.’
‘She doesn’t understand,’ remarked Marta, in elderly tones. Joey decided Fraulein Marta was altogether too grown-up for her years, ‘And I’ll do something about that before I’m very much older!’
Tucking her hand into Gretel’s Jo ascertained where the children lived. ‘Come on, I’ll take you back,’ she said, and suited the action to the word.
‘Mother! Mo-ther,’ rang out a silvery voice, as Joey and the two girls approached the small house on the corner. ‘It’s Gretel and Marta, and a lady!’ Five faces appeared at the various windows, all wide-eyed with astonishment. This was their first caller since they had arrived in Howells village, and the family had become used to being left severely alone. Accustomed as they were to life in the captain’s mansion with no near neighbours, this was not quite the trial it might have been: nevertheless, a visitor was An Event.
Maria raised both hands to her head, in her characteristic gesture of consternation. What a state the house was in. And as for herself, well, she had been so busy with the unfamiliar tasks of housekeeping that she looked positively like a scarecrow. ‘Lieserl, you’ll have to receive her. Take her into the drawing-room and keep her talking, I’ll join you as soon as I can.’ And Maria fled to make herself as tidy as time and circumstance would allow.
Lieserl went to the door to meet her small sisters and their new friend. As they drew nearer, she was surprised to see them talking. Evidently the tall lady with the hair coiled round her head spoke German, for Lieserl was sure her sisters hadn’t suddenly learned English. Not from the village children at any rate!
Opening the door, Lieserl smiled a welcome. ‘Won’t you come in,’ she said, in the carefully enunciated English learned from Fraulein Betty, four or maybe five governesses ago. Joey extended her hand. ‘Delighted, I’m sure,’ though her eyes were like saucers. What on earth was this Austrian girl with such perfect manners doing in the small worker’s cottage? Jo made up her mind there was a story here, and she meant to know all about it. Meanwhile Lieserl, for so the young woman introduced herself, was showing her into a small parlour. ‘This is our drawing room. Won’t you sit down?’ she said, as if she were showing her guest into the drawing room of a mansion. ‘Let me get you some coffee. Or will you take tea? My mother will be down in a few moments.’ Joey accepted the offer of coffee, though she couldn’t begin to imagine where it would come from. ‘Or maybe it’s the ersatz kind,’ she mused to herself. Not that she was left to her own thoughts for long. Lieserl sent a fair-haired child of fourteen – presumably her sister – to make the coffee, and proceeded to make conversation about the weather.
Joey, for once, was nonplussed. The girl, who was seventeen or so, evidently had the most exquisite manners, but Jo was used to a much more hail-fellow-well-met approach. Still, her name was not Josephine Mary Maynard for nothing. She rose to the occasion, and began joining in the small talk. After a few well-chosen comments, her quick ear detected the sound of light footsteps on the stair, and a young woman of her own age, or maybe a year or two older, burst into the room. Another sister, maybe? Jo rose for the introductions.
‘Mrs Maynard, may I present to you my mother, Frau Maria von Trapp?’ Jo was startled out of her beautiful manners.
‘Your mother? But – ’
Mrs von Trapp burst into a merry peal of laughter. Speaking German, she addressed herself to Lieserl.
‘Darling, you really must learn to introduce me as your stepmother. What will this lady be thinking of us?’
Joey grinned broadly at the Austrian accent, bringing back as it did the much-loved Tyrol.
‘Gruss gott, meine Frau,’ she began, and it was Frau von Trapp’s turn to look startled. Was she hearing aright?
‘But how - ?’
‘Do you - ?’ The two ladies’ voices came simultaneously. It was too much for Frau von Trapp who collapsed into the nearest chair, holding her sides with laughter born of immense relief. Imagine meeting an Austrian in this small village on the Welsh borders. And a lady of her own age, as well. Joey, not understanding yet, could not help but be drawn into the hilarity, and her golden laugh joined Frau von Trapp’s silvery one.
By the time they had sobered up, all pretensions at formality were at an end.
‘Please call me Maria, for I know we shall be friends.’
‘Gladly. I’m Josephine Maynard, and I hope you’ll repay the compliment by calling me Joey. Everyone does and always has done, except for when I was a kid at school and one of the mistresses wanted to rag me.’
Soon explanations were made, and Joey knew all about the story of the family von Trapp. The seven motherless children, Maria’s time in the Abbey, the wedding, the flight from Salzburg, the hazardous journey across the mountains, and finally the trip to England. ‘And now,’ Maria remarked sadly, ‘They have interned Georg, and I’m left alone with all the children in a village where we are mistrusted. But at least we have each other, and now,’ brightening, ‘We have a friend.’
In return Joey told of her own experiences, and her own dramatic escape from her beloved Austria.
‘You really do understand,’ said Maria, with a sigh of contentment. ‘But what am I thinking of? I haven’t introduced you to the children yet. ‘Children, come here!’
Four more girls, and two boys tumbled into the little room. They evidently had not been far away! Standing in height order as best they could in the cramped space. Maria gave their names one by one, ending with six-year-old Gretel. Joey was charmed. ‘What a lovely family,’ she said to herself, as one by one the girls curtsied and the boys bowed. ‘I must see about adding to my own flock. A boy or two would be nice.’
The children were whispering and giggling about something. Small Gretel crept over to her stepmother and whispered something in her ear.
‘Yes, yes, good idea. Let’s sing a song for Frau Maynard. Where’s my guitar? The instrument was produced. ‘Now then, how about an English folk-song, in honour of our new friend? Let’s have “Sweet Polly Oliver” shall we?’ And Maria struck up the chord. Joey was enchanted as the eight sweet voices with their pretty Austrian accents were lifted up in the old melody. What lovely voices these children had! One song led to another, and soon Jo was joining them in folk songs from every corner of the globe, her golden tones for once equalled by Maria’s.
Eventually the singing came to an end, and Maria suggested to Joey that they take a walk while Lieserl took care of the children. Jo, realising that opportunities for Maria to set foot outside her new home were limited because of her reception by the villagers, agreed readily. As they strolled, her respect for the young Austrian deepened. Maria had been through so much, and yet here she was, bight-eyed, optimistic and as full of life as Joey herself.
‘I say, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what are your plans? Are you going to settle here? What about school for the children? It’s holiday time at the moment, but sooner or later they’re going to need lessons. I hope you don’t think it’s frightful cheek.’
Maria, however, had no false pride. ‘I was their governess, and I ought to be able to teach them, but with no servants there is so much to do to run the home. They need to learn English, and to have friends, but I can’t give them that. There is money enough to send the two boys to school, but I have no idea which schools are good ones. As for the girls, well, when we left Austria we couldn’t take everything with us, and there simply isn’t the money to educate them. To be frank with you, I’ve tried to live one day at a time, and I try not to think too hard about the future, but there are times I lie awake and worry. Not for myself, but for Georg and the children.’
Joey looked thoughtful. ‘I have to go in a moment, my own family will be wondering what has become of me. But perhaps I could call on you again tomorrow? I might be able to help.’
The two young women embraced, Joey explained where she lived, and both ran off to their respective homes, cheered by the encounter.
The following afternoon Joey made her way to the von Trapp family cottage again. She was greeted at the door by Marta, who curtsied and presented her with a bunch of wild flowers gathered from the tiny garden at the back of the house. The house rang with the laughter and song of the family, going about their everyday business.
‘Joey, it’s so nice to see you again!’ exclaimed Maria, with a beaming smile full of sunshine and fun. Just looking at that smile took Joey back to the Austrian hills. ‘Won’t you have some more of our rather strange coffee? Or was one cup enough?’ She smiled at Jo in a conspiratorial way. ‘Do say if you’d rather have tea. I won’t be offended.’
‘No, the coffee is fine. That’s if you can spare it. What I really came for, though, was to put a proposal to you. It’s about the children. I telephoned my sister Madge last night. She’s got sons, and she knows all about decent boys’ schools. I can give you her address, if you like, and you can write and ask her. She’s expecting to hear from you, you needn’t be shy.’
‘That’s so good of you. And of your sister. I’ve never exactly been known for my shyness, and if she’s anything like you I wouldn’t dream of being diffident. I’ll write to her this evening, when the children are in bed.’
Now, about the girls. You remember I told you I was at school in the Tyrol? And that the school is now here, at Plas Howell? Well, I may not have remembered to tell you that the Chalet School was founded by my sister Madge. I was its first pupil.’ And despite her years, and her motherhood, Joey couldn’t help the pride creeping into her tones.
‘I discussed your family with my sister last night. We’ve been considering the question of scholarships for some time. We feel we are so blessed to have escaped from the Nazis that we owe it to God to give something back, and what better way to do it than to establish scholarships for refugees from Nazi-controlled countries? We are proposing to set up five scholarships in the name of the Chalet School Peace League.’ Here, Joey broke off to explain the Peace League to her new friend, who was beginning to look nonplussed.
‘It’s not charity, truly, it’s not,’ and Joey leaned forward in her earnestness. ‘We who live in the free world are lucky, and its easy to forget that, what with the privations of war. We need to have those amongst us who will remind us of what it is we stand to lose, and how much we need to cherish our freedom. Won’t you help us by sending us your daughters – your stepdaughters – to be educated? We would consider it a blessing. Please, Maria? Your girls have such a lot to give to the Chalet School, and our girls would make them welcome.’
Maria sat, deep in thought, with eyes glistening. Such kindness in a strange land was something she had never expected to find. But five scholarships! How would Georg feel about his girls being educated at someone else’s expense? The words of the Reverend Mother came back to her. ‘When the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window.’ The doors to the Von Trapp family’s beloved homeland were, for the present, closed to them. Did that give her the right to refuse to walk through this window, opened by the tall Englishwoman who sat gazing at her with such sincere friendship in her eyes?
‘Yes, yes, I accept!’ said Maria joyfully. Joey caught hold of her hands, and wrung them joyfully.
‘Girls! Lieserl, Luise, Brigitta, Marta, Gretel! I want you!’
The girls piled into the room, wondering what could have happened to make their stepmother look as if she’d just inherited a fortune.
‘Girls, rejoice! When September comes you will be going to a new school. To Frau Maynard’s school – the Chalet School!’
‘Hooray for the Chalet School!’ cried its five newest pupils.
