Thank you for posting all of this, Frances - I've just had a splendid catch-up!
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| A life of service http://www.the-cbb.co.uk/viewtopic.php?f=14&t=501 |
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| Author: | francesn [ Wed May 31, 2006 12:25 am ] |
| Post subject: | A life of service |
A frail old woman, exhausted by long years of work lay on her deathbed, surrounded by those who had been her family for so long. Her gnarled hands curled limply on the coverlet, the skin papery and thin. Her eyes were sunken and closed, her face pale, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. The end was near. A stream of images, fragments of memories long lost and forgotten, ran through her head. A little boy, waiting for his trousers to be tucked up, a girl running to her in tears to with a torn dress, a sick child whimpering, the smell of fresh baked bread, bottling fruits in summer……. As she breathed her last there came a collective sigh. “She was like a mother to us.” …………………………………… I was born Anna Louise Pfeiffen and Anna Louise Pfeiffen did I die. It was a cold, hard winter on the shores of the Tiern See when I was born. There were murmurs of wolves, a shortage of food – the last thing anyone would want was a new baby. Any baby born into such harsh conditions would surely die. But I did not, I survived and I carried on surviving all through my days. The Pfeiffen family was a large and close one. I was the eldest of seven brothers and sisters, and my father, the eldest son, provided a house for his elderly mother. Often my cousins would be around, especially Marie and Eigen, both of whom were older than me and I worshipped the ground they walked on. I was especially close to Eigen, only three years separating us in age, and our grandmother doted on him. When he was 12 he found work with a school which had opened recently on the shores of the lake. This was the start of my association with the Chalet School, with which my life was to become inextricably linked. Although my life was hard, I was fortunate in so many ways, and I thank God for it. But my story commences many years before Madge Bettany started her school. My brother was born a year after myself, and there shortly followed two sisters and another brother by the time I was seven. As the eldest I was expected to help my grandmother with the running of the house as my mother went out to work, job were hard to come by and we were desperately poor, although our house was always clean, fresh and tidy. My grandmother’s health was failing, and I spent much of my time caring for my siblings as well as cooking, cleaning and washing for the family. In the summers the children were permitted to play outside, they gathered posies of alpine flowers which I strewed on the floor to sweeten the smell of our house. It had only three rooms and with ten of us it was cramped, especially in the winter as we all huddled around the stove, trying to keep out the cold. We relied on wood for fuel, which must be gathered in the autumn, and we soon learned to read nature’s signs. A long autumn, full of nature’s bounty, meant a hard winter – and many new graves in the churchyard come the spring. It was in my eighth winter that my grandmother gave up the fight to survive and the whole family mourned. Upon my grandmother’s death the responsibility for running the household passed on to me entirely – hard work for a hungry eight year old. My younger brothers and sisters could scarcely accept that my grandmother was dead and gone, and there were days when we half expected to see her, gnarled and stooped with age, bent over the cooking pot preparing some delicious stew. With her death too, the family lost a great deal of their wealth of herbal knowledge – for die groβmuttter knew a great deal about the plants of the mountains, and could make tisane’s and compresses to cure most ills. Before she died she had taught me enough to get by, but I missed her advice and correction. My Aunt Klara, mother of Marie and Eigen, took me under her wing and taught me as best she could but somehow it wasn’t the same. So when, in the spring, Karl – the baby of the family – caught a chill I was not sure what to do. I tried my best of course, but my knowledge was limited and we could not afford the doctor’s fees. I did my best, but he was not long for this world. Shortly after Karl’s death my mother entered her sixth confinement. By this time I was nine and well used to running the house. I was quite capable of seeing to all except the heaviest work, and the brother next to me in age, Hansi, did what he could but he was even smaller than I. My grand-mother had always acted as my mother’s midwife before and when the labour started, early one Sunday morning, I ran to the church and begged someone to come. “My mother,” I cried frantically. “What shall I do? Will someone come and help me?” The Tyroleans are a deeply religious people, but they are also kind-hearted and two women from the nearby hamlet hastened to my aid. I knew them by sight but not very well but I did not care – I was so grateful for their help. For all my bravado I was only nine and I was scared. The labour was long and hard. I told Hansi to take the children away and keep them busy but warned him to watch Marta – she loved to play by the stream and I was terrified she would fall in and drown. But I had no choice in the matter – I was needed at home, and it was no place for children. My father went his brother’s house – he was not expected to be involved. It was not his place. I was kept busy throughout that day, fetching clean cloths and hot water, preparing the baby’s cradle and brewing strong coffee for the two women who alternately encouraged and bullied my mother as she struggled to bring the baby into the world. That evening I was brewing yet more coffee when I heard my mother scream – all this time she had been quiet, bearing the pain stoically. Then I heard a faint whimper, which became the weak cry of a newborn baby. I rushed in to see and was greeted by the sight of my mother lying on her bed pale and exhausted while one of the women, Frau Angbach, wrapped my new sister in swaddling clothes before handing her to me. “Here, Anna,” she said, a kindly expression on her face. “Take her.” I knew nothing about tiny babies but I soon learned. I could tell when she was hungry, so I took her to my mother to be fed. I could tell when she was tired, so I would break off from my housework to rock her to sleep, singing a little lullaby. I washed her, changed her, talked to her and loved her and I was learning all the time. When my mother returned to work she left baby Hilda in my care. It never ceased to amaze me, the miracle of life, watching her grow, learn to reach for things, to bring them to her mouth, to roll over. I never tired of her – she was like the doll I never had. When I went out to run errands I would strap her to my chest in a sling and she would sleep there quite contentedly, when we were at home I would barricade her in a corner, or put her in her cradle, safe from the wandering hands of three year old Elsa who was fascinated by Hilda’s eyes. She would reach out to touch them and I would have to remove her and explain that the baby was not a toy like the wooden dog Josef had carved for her, or the ball given to her by a kind tourist. She was heavy for a small child, and it was hard work but I felt a fierce desire to protect Hilda so I did not begrudge it. I have fond memories of that spring – I watched the snows melt, saw the Tiern See come to life again, welcomed the return of the visitors and the increase in our family fortunes. This year Hansi was deemed old enough to go to the pastures with our father and the other herdsmen. I knew I would miss him and his help but he was desperate to go. Besides Marta was six now and could do simple tasks around the house. I became firm friends with Gretchen – the eldest daughter of Frau Angbach, the kindly lady who had helped my mother. She and Rösli, one of my cousins near to us in age, were often found with me, minding the children or cleaning the house. It was amazing how much fun the daily chores became when you had someone to share them with you. We would chatter and laugh together, and describe what our houses would be like when we were married. Of course they were far away from our dear lake, in Innsbruck where I had never been, although Rösli had and she was full of tales of grand ladies and gentleman, like the visitors to the Tiern See but much much richer, or even in far off Wien where we believed the streets were paved with gold. It seemed impossible to me then that I would ever stir from the side of the lake where I was born. |
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| Author: | Cath V-P [ Wed May 31, 2006 12:28 am ] |
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Thank you for posting this Frances - I remember it from last time round, and it was so vey moving. Such a hard childhood.... |
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| Author: | francesn [ Wed May 31, 2006 12:28 am ] |
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One day my cousin Eigen came tearing along the lake-side with momentous news. “Anna, Anna,” he cried. “Come quickly. Such news, such wonderful news.” I picked up Hilda from the floor and settled her on my hip before going to the door. She was big and heavy now, and getting into all kinds of mischief. She gurgled and buried her hands in my hair, which I wore in two plaits. Sighing I disentangled them and presented her with a small square of cotton to play with which she immediately stuffed in her mouth. “Was ist es, Eigen?” I queried. I was a little worried, for he should have been at the pastures with his father and mine. But then he had mentioned wonderful news. I was intrigued. “There is to be a school. An English school, at the large Chalet near Buchau,” he panted, slightly breathless. I motioned for him to come in, and depositing Hilda on the floor poured him a cup of water which was all we had to offer. He drank, gratefully. “Danke sehr,” he said, before continuing with his tale. As he said there was to be a school, for young ladies, at the Chalet near Buchau. An English lady had started it, she had a younger sister who would go there, and there was a French lady also who had a girl with her. It was the talk of the lake-side and many of the wealthy Tyroleans who summered by the lake planned to send their girls there for their education. “But the best part I have not told you yet, cousin,” Eigen smiled. “Marie and I will have work there – good work all year round. And we have holidays, yes, while the young ladies are not there we will not be needed, and one afternoon off each week that we may visit our families. Also we shall be allowed to attend Mass on Sunday mornings. And we shall live at the Chalet which is good and warm in the winter and they shall feed us too. What do you think?” I could hardly speak so pleased was I for them. It was a wonderful opportunity, free meals and board, good pay and holidays – far better than hotel work, which was inclined to be seasonal, or the back breaking labour my mother did. I flung my arms around him and hugged him rapturously. “When do you start?” I asked. “The School is to open in four weeks time,” he replied. “But Marie and I will commence next week for there is much to do. She has charge of the kitchens,” and here I nodded for my cousin was an excellent cook, “and our cousins Gretel and Luise will help her. Fraulein Bettany, the English lady, has engaged them as maids, to clean and help Marie. It is a good day for our family.” And indeed I had to agree that it was, although I could not help wishing that I was old enough to work there. But I was needed at home, and besides I was too young. Eigen was twelve, nearly grown up. It was time he was earning money to support the family. A cry from Hilda interrupted my musings and I was recalled to the present. There was bread to bake, and clothes to wash. Marta and Elsa were gathering posies in the water meadows but they would be home soon demanding to be fed, and I had not begun to sweep the house yet. Sighing I turned my attention to the present and crossed to the sack of coarse grained flour we used to make our bread. A sudden crash behind me caused me to whirl around exclaiming in horror. Hilda had rolled over and grabbed at the leg of the table, which was very unsteady. It had caused two of the pots, which were still filthy from the mornings gruel, to roll off the table onto the floor. I crossed the room swiftly, gathering Hilda into my arms and checking that she was unhurt. I breathed a sigh of relief, for the little girl was very precious to me. I turned my attention to the pots. Thankfully they were unharmed, and praise God, they were empty. For the first time in my life I was thankful that I had not prepared the stew for the evenings meal yet, otherwise it would have been all over the floor and not fit even for the pigs to eat. Picking up the pots intending to wash them, I crossed the room to the shallow barrel I had thought to raise off the floor so only I could reach. I did not want the children to fall into it and drown – that had happened to a distant cousin of mine. Living near the lake I was constantly aware of the danger of the water. However on this occasion I need not have worried for the barrel was empty, but this meant it would need filling. I pushed my hair out of my eyes with a grubby hand and settled Hilda into her sling before reaching for the buckets. Hilda was getting to heavy for me to carry like this but I could scarcely leave her alone in the house, although I knew other women did with their own children. Squaring my shoulders I set off down the narrow path to the lake. My buckets filled I turned to go home when I heard a high-pitched childish scream. Abandoning my buckets without further thought I ran in the direction of the water meadows, one arm curled protectively around Hilda who screamed in protest of this unexpected change of pace. Skirting a large boulder I came across two sorry little figures, a sodden Elsa and a contrite Marta. “But what is this?” I exclaimed. “Why are you so wet, Elsa? Have you been in the water? Marta, what has happened? Has she taken it into her head to go swimming?” Marta shook her head slowly. “Nein, Anna,” she replied quietly. “Well what then?” I asked angrily. “You should take care of her. You are a big girl now, six years old. Can I not trust you with your little sister?” She immediately burst into tears, howling that it was not her fault, that Elsa had wanted to wet her flowers to make them last longer and she had slipped. My heart hammered in my chest. What if she had taken it into her head to do that on her way home? Where we were standing now? The lake was deep hereabouts, and if Elsa had slipped here….. I slipped my arms around the two tiny figures and drew them close. I should not have let them out of my sight. |
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| Author: | KathrynW [ Wed May 31, 2006 12:29 am ] |
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Thank you for re-posting this Fran, it's very moving. Kathryn |
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| Author: | francesn [ Wed May 31, 2006 12:29 am ] |
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It was late April and the English school was the talk of the lakeside. We were all pleasantly surprised by Fraulein Bettany and her pupils – she was always pleasant and courteous and she insisted that the whole school followed suit, unlike most of the English visitors. For the most part we had little to do with them, other than seeing them from a distance. It was mid-May and becoming very warm. My mother arrived home from work one night exhausted and angry. “The English!” she spat. “They come with their riches and their luggage and they think they own the lakeside. Well they do not!” When our mother was in this mood I had learned that it was best to keep the children out of her way, and I hurried them to bed accordingly. It transpired that a an English family travelling home from India had arrived at the hotel where my mother worked and that this gentleman and his wife were in the habit of ordering the servants about as though they were still in India. The lady had ordered my mother to bring some item from her luggage as though she were her personal maid. “I cannot complain, for if I complain I will lose my job. The owner will take their side over mine, for they are paying him good money.” I sat in silence, wishing that there was some way I could supplement the family income but there was no work for a girl of nine, and I was needed to look after the house and children. “And they treat their daughter the same, the poor girl. She has the life of a dog with them.” That made me think how lucky I was. The rich are not always happy. We were poor, but at least I was loved. It seemed that the Chalet School had brought excitement with it, for our usually quiet and peaceful lives were turned upside by the arrival of a film crew, intent on making a film of Life in the Austrian Tyrol. My younger sisters were enchanted by the cameras and actors, and the director was equally enchanted with them. One day I was paid a visit by two men, who spoke to me in English. I did not understand, merely shaking my head. Later that day they returned with a kindly hotelier Herr Braun who translated for us. “They ask me where is your mother. I tell them she is at work. They ask me who is looking after the little angels and I tell them that you are.” The two men muttered amongst themselves for a few moments, I strained to hear, although I could not understand. I had an uneasy feeling they were talking about me. Shortly they turned to Herr Braun and asked him a question. He turned to me with a serious look on his face. “Anna they ask that your sisters take part in this film. They will pay them well for maybe a few days,” and he named a sum of money which made my head spin. “But what will they do?” I asked. He turned to the gentlemen and evidently repeated my question for one of them laughed. The other gentleman embarked on a lengthy explanation which Herr Braun condensed to one concise sentence. – “They will play and look adorable.” I laughed at that. Although I loved my sisters dearly, and they were pretty with their flaxen locks no-one could call them adorable. The man was still speaking and Herr Braun’s face grew brighter and brighter as they went on. It seemed that they wished to provide my sisters with new dresses, and they would feed them well for those days, and they should be paid. My heart rejoiced. I did not hesitate to give my permission and, picking baby Hilda up from the corner, I turned to leave. “Wait, Anna!” Herr Braun cried. “The gentlemen wish to use you and the baby in the film too.” I could scarcely believe my ears. “They asked for just the baby, but I told them that you would not let her out of your sight. They say they will have you too.” “And will I get dresses? And the money? And for Hilda too?” I asked excitedly, for I sorely needed a new dress and Mutti could not afford one. The men laughed again. They seemed to laugh a lot these men, perhaps they found my request amusing but to my nine year old self it was highly practical and very important. “Yes, you will, Anna,” Herr Braun said. “They say you may have all the dresses you want.” My mother, when I finally asked her, gladly gave her consent. I do not think that she understood – certainly I did not know what a “film” was, nor what the big black things that one of the men carried on his shoulder was. The film-makes bought dresses each for us, having sent for a selection from a store in Innsbruck. Hilda looked like a little angel in her white frocks, and they bought blankets, toys and a sweet little hat for her too. For myself I received a white dress, a yellow dress, a blue dress and a pink dress, and also a pair of shoes with two pairs of white socks. I had never had shoes before in my life – this was richness indeed. For two days we played in the meadows and ran around the lakeside, playing with other children and watched over by some of the women as they did their washing. For two glorious days I did not have to watch my sisters constantly and I revelled in playing riotous games with other girls and boys. At other times I played with Hilda who did not seem at all disturbed by all the upheaval. On the third day we were told to come wearing our white dresses, and also our shoes. One of the men who could speak German explained that today we were pretending it was Sunday, and we were all going to church. The kindly priest had been persuaded to open the doors of the church and the cameras filmed us going along the lakeside to the church, and the coming out of the church. Marta and Elsa were thoroughly confused by this. “But why do we go to church today Anna?” Marta asked. “It is not Sunday. Is it a feast day?” “No,” I replied slowly. “The gentleman has said that we must play a game and pretend it is Sunday.” “Frau Angbach is cross,” Marta said shrewdly. “I don’t think she likes this game.” That was the last day of filming. The men paid us, and we were told to go on our way. I skipped home, joy in my heart and money in the pocket of my new best dress. When I reached home my father was there waiting for us. His smile was replaced by an expression of anger as he saw our new finery. “But why is this?” he bellowed. “My daughters accepting charity? This I will not have. Anna, come here!” I went to him slowly, dreading a beating when behind me a little voice piped up: “This is no charity, Papa, this we earned.” “You earned?” he said incredulously. “But how? You are too little to be working, Elsa.” “Oh but we did,” Marta said fiercely. “And we have new dresses and, look, shoes!” Marta extended a foot proudly. “Anna has money, don’t you, Anna? Show Papa our money.” I reached into my pocket and withdrew the little leather pouch. Carefully I deposited it into our fathers hands and waited. His expression changed as he counted the money and from deep within his chest grew a rumble of laughter. “Good girls!” he laughed. “My good, smart girls. You have earned more between you than your mother did in a month! So tell me, how did you do this?” But when we told him his mood changed. “This is not right for my daughters to do. What did your mother say? This I will not have!” We shrank before his anger, for my father was ready with his fist if he thought we had done something wrong. I was scared for my mother; for she had given us permission and my father would take his anger out on her. I was also scared for my sisters – I did not mind a beating, I was used to them but they were only small and my father could hit very hard as I knew. He started towards me. I knew he would blame me, I was the eldest, I should not have allowed it. It was all my fault. Marta and Elsa watched wide eyed as he raised his hand. “Oh please, Papa we only did it to help,” I cried desperately. “We wanted to earn money and clothes so we would not be cold, and we could have food all winter, and….and if we were sick…..” I trailed off. I saw my father’s expression change. He lowered his hand. He knew what I was saying. If we were sick…..without a doctor we would die, like die groβmuttter, like Karl, like so many people we knew. |
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| Author: | francesn [ Wed May 31, 2006 12:29 am ] |
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My father returned to the pastures, and our lives returned to normal. The daily routine, the work which always needed doing – it was all done as cheerfully as we could manage. We slid back into the monotony of our daily lives after the film, Gretchen and Rösli would, when their own chores were finished, come to help me with mine, and we would watch the children play in the grass as we kneaded dough for bread or did the washing. Then the Tzigane came, and with them such excitement. Our mothers warned us to stay away, for the gipsies stole little children. With that in mind I kept the children close and watched from afar but we were fascinated. They were big and dark, with rings in their ears and they wore such bright colours. Day after day we could hear their wild tunes and we would dance to them, gay tunes, mournful tunes, but always beautiful. While the Tzigane were by the lake, Marie came to visit us. Miss Bettany had given her a holiday afternoon as she took the girls to see the gipsies, and they were to have tea at a hotel. Rösli was delighted to see her sister, and we three were all amazed that the girls were so rich they could have such a meal as ‘tea’ at the hotel. Marie explained that the girls had as many as five meals a day, and so did those who worked there. And with the school growing she would need more help. In vain I tried to persuade my mother to let me go. I was only nine, but tall and strong for my age and used to hard work. But my mother would not let me, not until Marta was old enough to run the house. That disheartened me, for that day was some three or four years off, and to me that seemed an eternity. I began to resent the time I spent at home, until Gretchen and Rösli returned with the news that their mothers would not let them work either. Gretchen’s mother said she was too young, and my aunt wanted Rösli to say with her now Marie was gone to work at the Chalet. It seemed that Marie had a very many holidays for next time she visited she regaled us with various pranks the schoolgirls had played. For once Gretchen, Rösli and I ceased wanting to work at the school and longed to become schoolgirls ourselves. Marie told us there was a little girl, barely bigger than us, who had dusted the keys of a piano with chalk. She sounded very annoyed as she had had to clean them herself. And when one of the bigger girls had covered the blackboards in a kind of oil she had had to clean them, for Gretel and Luis were too small to reach the tops. The girl who had done this was being punished very severely Marie seemed to think. Miss Bettany did not beat the girls, or even the servants. Instead she had sent the girl to her room, and no-one was to talk to her. Marie left us muttering about taking her the supper she did not deserve. But although these pranks created more work for Marie, she seemed to take it in good humour and she was very happy in her work there. The very next day we had a visit from Eigen. I hugged him warmly as he arrived. “Dost thou not have work to do?!” I cried. ”For only yesterday we saw Marie, and now you?” “Ach, Marie,” Eigen said dissatisfied. “She has accused me of stealing apples from her fruit bowl.” “Eigen,” I said, shocked. “Did you?” “Nein, Anna,” he expostulated. “But Marie would not believe me. But die gnädiges Fraulein, she believed me. She said I was a good boy.” It was unlike Marie to be so unfair, but I could see how Eigen would have been tempted by the apples. He loved apples as did I, but seldom could we afford them from the little apple woman at Spartz. By the afternoon news reached us that one of the young ladies from the school was missing. Eigen rushed back to see whether he could be of any help, although I doubted it. And I, desperate to find out what was going on, decided to take the children for a walk, somewhere near the school. As we were walking we passed the girls from the Chalet, with one of their mistresses, setting off on a walk. They were so smart in their coats and hats, so neat and ladylike. Such a contrast to the girl who came tearing round a corner nearly knocking Marta down! She was wearing the same coat and hat, but her hair was wild, her cheeks were flushed and she was quite breathless. At the time I didn’t know who she was. Later, of course, I found out that she was Joey Bettany, the young sister of the lady who owned the school. I heard very little after that until term ended and Marie and Eigen came home, for a brief holiday. Eigen told me that Joey had been very ill, and the whole school had been worried, but thankfully she was better now. He also told me the school was growing, and that Miss Bettany was to buy another house and engage more staff. Naturally this set me off wanting to work at the school again, and nothing else would satisfy me. |
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| Author: | francesn [ Wed May 31, 2006 12:29 am ] |
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That summer was a golden summer for me. Fruit was plentiful, the weather was beautiful and the days were filled with laughter. So many visitors to the lake brought odd jobs that we could do and our little hoard of money increased. Some days I took the children to gather blaubeeren which they loved bottled or made into a jam, or we climbed the mountains to gather wild strawberries. Most of these we ate right away, but I preserved some for the winter for they were a favourite of our father’s. The girls were so proud to be wearing their “old” frocks, proud that we had new ones waiting for us at home. I warned them not to be too hard on their clothes though, we had to make the best of what we had. Of course Marta ignored my warning, and ripped the skirt of her frock trying to reach the very juiciest berries, but I laughed and forgave her. I could mend a torn frock any day. What mattered was that they were happy. I learned how to make jam with Marie. She enjoyed her work at the Chalet and adored Miss Bettany, who was so interested in our family. The girls were also interested, and so polite. It made her the envy of the lakeside and everyone wanted a position there. I enjoyed her company, enjoyed hearing her stories of the school. They seemed to have so many adventures! There were mutterings around the lakeside. Such a plentiful autumn must mean a harsh winter and we worried. One of our neighbours had a dog, a beautiful St Bernard, who gave birth to a litter of pups. They arrived too late to sell to tourists so they must be drowned. Marta and Elsa cried bitterly. The pups were so small, so sweet, surely we could find room for one? We could barely feed ourselves, let along a hungry dog. Indeed our neighbours talked of shooting Zita, for that was the dog’s name. There was nothing we could do. Eigen was incensed by this. He had always loved animals and was desperate to save the puppies. Practical boy he was, he realised he could not do it alone. The following day my sisters watched with sad eyes as the little procession left the hut near us for the lakeside. I could scarcely comfort them, my hands were full with Hilda who resented being confined to our house in the rain. Marta and Elsa stood in the doorway. I let them stand there, there was nothing I could do. “Eigen, Eigen!” came childish cries. “Hush!” I said, for I had just managed to rock Hilda to sleep and did not want her disturbed. “Why would Eigen come to visit us in this weather?” Still they persisted. “Eigen, Eigen!” I turned away. They were imagining things. “Anna!” Startled I turned, dropping the needle I held. “Eigen?” I said incredulously. He was covered in scratches and mud, and with him was the sister of the lady who owned the Chalet School. “What are you doing? Why are you here?” Panting he replied. “Zita….the puppies…Fraulein Joey would save them.” “Then Fraulein Joey is too late,” I said dryly. “They have left for the lakeside already.” How much of my German the girl understood I do not know, but her black eyes flashed and she came forwards. “Where did they go? Do you know?” she asked. I shook my head. “The lake,” I said with finality. “That is all I know.” And with that I returned to my work, marvelling at the sentimental English who would travel through such rain and over such ground to save some puppies who were only an unwanted expense. I later heard that she had saved only the one puppy, and Fraulein Bettany came to visit our neighbours. She led Zita away on a chain, and my sisters wept that they were deprived of their playmate. Frau Henkel explained gently that Zita was not gone forever, but the good people at the Chalet were too care for her over the winter. I heard her later say to my mother that Fraulein Bettany had paid enough for the pup they should have enough to eat all winter with that which her husband, a cowherd like my father, had earned. My mother sniffed, and called Fraulein Bettany a fool. Surely to care for a bug hungry animal over the winter was payment enough? Silently I disagreed. To me Fraulein Bettany was a kind angel. |
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| Author: | francesn [ Wed May 31, 2006 12:30 am ] |
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It was a hard hard winter for us. Christmas held little joy. There were reports of wolves on the plains and the chamois was becoming very bold. We could scarcely make our way to church. My father went, and Hans as he was expected to, but my mother stayed at home. I dreaded to think what that might mean. Last year she had stayed home from Mass on Christmas day and three months later little Hilda had come into the world. Was my mother to have another baby? Or was she ill? I was beside myself with worry for my mother. I remember only too well the pain my mother had borne the previous spring, and although Hilda was the delight of my life I could not imagine having another baby to care for. There and then I promised myself that I would never bear children of my own. When I finally got up the courage to ask my mother she scolded me roundly and told me I should not be worrying about such things. Then her face softened and she drew me close. “You will not have any more little brothers or sisters soon, liebchen,” she said, a little sadly. “I did not go to church because it was so cold, and the snow was so deep.” I snuggled close to her. Inside me I could sense that she mourned the child she had lost, little Karl. I wished then that I could have saved him. As if she read my mind, she bent her head and kissed it. “It was not your fault,” she murmured softly. “He was not strong. Not like you.” “And Hilda,” I said, always eager to tell my mother of her progress. “And Hilda,” my mother agreed. “You are survivors, both of you.” We were survivors. It was all we could be. Somehow we struggled through that winter until the thaw came in March. The snow melted and a chill wind blew. The children were desperate to go outside but it was far too muddy and slipperly. So they ran around inside and caused trouble instead. One day I was trying to settle Hilda, who had been crying constantly, when Marta came to me in tears. This was unusual in itself, for Marta was a happy little girl. “Elsa pinched me,” she whined. “Elsa?” I said sharply. “Are you sure?” Marta pouted. “Yes,” she said sulkily. I sighed, exasperated. “Elsa!” I shouted. “Come here at once.” Elsa came slowly. She was in the wrong and she knew it. I spared nothing and by the time I had finished with her she was weeping. Marta received a sharp lecture on telling tales and I sent them both to bed, before redoubling my efforts with Hilda. We were all in a bad temper that night it seemed. Hilda was still crying when my mother came in, and Marta and Elsa had squabbled all afternoon and evening. Hans was sulking, and my father was sitting darkly by the fire smoking his pipe. “Will you all be quiet?!” he shouted suddenly. Silence fell for a few minutes, before there was a scuffle from Marta and Elsa’s direction and a squeal. “She kicked me!” “Did not!” “Did!” “Didn’t.” “Ow! Stop it.” “Stop crying like a baby!” “Silence!” Somehow we all got to sleep that night. I was sandwiched between a sulking Marta and fidgety Elsa. Hilda was fretting in her crib, I could hear her, but I did not dare leave the others alone for a minute. In the middle of the night I was woken by a dull roaring sound. Somehow I managed to get out of the bed without disturbing either of my sisters. I made my way to the door. The night was suddenly cold, and my nightdress was thin. I shivered a little as I opened the door. But what I saw made me shiver even more. The roaring became louder and louder. I looked around frantically. It seemed to be coming from the mountain. It sounded like an avalanche but there was no snow, and no avalanche could get through the pine trees. Then I saw it. A wall of black water, white foam, logs carried like matchsticks. I screamed. Of course my scream woke my family, and those in the huts around, bringing them to the door. Our hamlet was safe from the damage, but we watched in horror as the water slammed into the fencing surrounding the hotel where my mother worked. The water rose and rose, soon it reached the chalets which housed Fraulein Bettany’s school. By the morning the water was lapping around the windows on the ground floor of the school, and we saw that the ground floor of the Kronz Prinz Karl was completely flooded. Obviously Mama could not go to work – no-one could get out of the hamlet. It dawned on us that we were trapped until the water went down, unless someone could walk through the mountains. |
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| Author: | francesn [ Wed May 31, 2006 12:30 am ] |
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Luckily the waters subsided in a few days, leaving behind a thick layer of mud. As soon as she was able to, my mother set off for work, and returned with the news that the hotel had flooded to the first floor and the Brauns with all the guests had been trapped. Luckily they were able to transfer enough food for them to survive but the guests had refused to come out of their first floor rooms until the waters came down. My mother and the other maids were ordered to work as hard as they could to make the place usable as soon as possible. For three days the guests remained in their upstairs rooms, while the mud dried and my mother polished furniture, mopped floors and washed linen. Herr Braun was more concerned with the English school – for he owned the chalet – than he was with his hotel, leaving Frau Braun to oversee the repairs. Frau Braun was a hard taskmistress and my mother returned exhausted night after night. On the evening of the third day my mother returned smiling for they were to be rewarded for their hard work. Herr Braun had sent her home with a hamper full of food, which would last us for many many days if we ate carefully. After the hard winter it was a blessing. My uncle, father of Marie and Eigen managed to reach the Chalet were the school was situated and came to tell my mother and father that all was well with Marie and Eigen, although they were expected to work very hard. It seemed that the staff and the girls were also helping to clean up, and a good time was had by all. It all seemed so different. The hard work continued for my parents, rebuilding and repairing the damage caused by the flood. My father was pressed into assisting with the rebuilding and both left early in the morning, returning late at night to make the most of the daylight. It would not do to find the tourist season upon us and the valley a wreck. We would lose so much valuable income. Everything depended on repairing the guesthouses before the first tourists came. |
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| Author: | Cath V-P [ Wed May 31, 2006 12:37 am ] |
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Thank you for posting all of this, Frances - I've just had a splendid catch-up!
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| Author: | Lesley [ Wed May 31, 2006 5:33 am ] |
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Echoing the others - good to see this back. Thanks Fran. |
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| Author: | Alison H [ Wed May 31, 2006 7:43 am ] |
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Great to see this back! |
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| Author: | LizB [ Wed May 31, 2006 11:15 am ] |
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So, so pleased to see this back again Thanks, Fran
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| Author: | Sarah_G-G [ Wed May 31, 2006 1:55 pm ] |
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I missed this on the old board so have just read it through. It's amazing seeing it so clearly from Anna's point of view. |
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| Author: | Chair [ Wed May 31, 2006 5:11 pm ] |
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Thanks, Fran. It's great to see this back again. Will there be more, please? |
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| Author: | Rosy-Jess [ Wed May 31, 2006 6:32 pm ] |
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Oooh. Hurrah - hope there might be more of this Fran? |
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| Author: | Tiffany [ Wed May 31, 2006 6:50 pm ] |
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Ohhh, it's back! *sings and dances* Will there be more, please? It's fascionating seeing things from Anna's point of view. |
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| Author: | La Petite Em [ Wed May 31, 2006 6:53 pm ] |
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I'm reading it for the first time and it's so interesting! I can't believe how much work poor little Anna had to do; she grew up so quickly. Thanks Fran
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| Author: | Vashti [ Wed May 31, 2006 7:33 pm ] |
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This is wonderful - I'm reading it for the first time, and it's such a contrast to "Scarlet Standard". Really enjoying this. 
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| Author: | Josie [ Thu Jun 01, 2006 1:16 pm ] |
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Really glad this is back, Fran thanks.
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| Author: | Vikki [ Fri Jun 02, 2006 9:40 pm ] |
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Lovely to have this one back Fran!
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