A Change In Interest

“Sorrow. Sadness. Grief. Every sad word you can think of. That is how all of those children felt.”

I roll my eyes at this absolute nutjob. A bit of a backstory, My parents decided to take me to Prague for our summer vacation this year. Honestly, it’s pretty gorgeous in Prague, but I would rather spend my time exploring the area instead of learning about the World War 2 Kindertransport and being taught by the most insufferable know-it-all. God, if I could just make his squeaky lips come to a close, even for just two seconds.

My mum nudges me to listen, giving me a wipe that dirty look off your face look. I sigh deeply through my nose, shrugging her arm off my shoulder. She knows how much I despise history. Let alone fun historical outings. Like, no I don’t want to learn about some psycho who brutally executed six million people because he didn't like what they believed in. Dad is holding my little sister's hand. I can tell it's no use. I can easily compare it to holding a slimy fish; they both can't stop wriggling. My 2 year old sister, Vera, came along with us to Prague. She used to be cute, now she is just annoying. She follows me around everywhere. I can hardly go to the toilet without hearing little fists against the door. 

I take a deep breath, trying to listen to the irritating voice. It's sad. The tourist guide is trying so hard but he is so terrible at this.

“Again, in case anyone didn't hear, the Kindertransport was an organised rescue effort to take kids to safety, away from big cities ruled by Nazis. Trains were the mode of transport,” said the tour guide, his booming voice bouncing off the nearby walls and sending shivers down people's spines. 

This is honestly so stupid. If I'm being honest, World War 1 or 2 or whatever one we're talking about, it probably wasn't that serious. Those little pipsqueaks that had to take the Kindertransport have to suck it up. I don't believe in the World Wars, it is probably just some stupid propaganda used to scare today's people into pitying some supposed soldiers and their dead friends. Probably like a fable. If you do this, such and such will happen. Moral of the story, don't do this. Blah blah blah. I can't wait to leave. 

“Now. Now that everyone knows the history of the Kindertransport, we will do something similar. All of the children, the under- eighteens need to board this train. The kids will ride the Kindertransport for thirty to forty five minutes, whilst the parents have an option of coffee at our café or you may hop onto the second carriage. All of those over- eighteen that are here with a friend or alone, you may board the third carriage. Safe travels Kindertransportees, this train leaves in five minutes, good luck and see you all in thirty minutes.”

Great. This is the last thing I want to happen. Being stuck in a train with my little sister for half an hour. Just great. 

“Alright, Ivy. Take Vera with you to the first carriage. We are gonna stay here, you know how Mum gets when she has to go on a train,” says Dad in his usual assertive voice, the corners of his sterling grey eyes crinkling into his usual grin.

“We trust you enough, Ivy. We will be right here. Don’t let Vera out of your sight, okay?,” avowed Mum with her usual bubbly voice. Her thin rosy lips curl into her usual smile. I never want to admit it, but I love her smile. Even if she bugs me to death.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s go, Vera. Mum and Dad are shipping us off,” I mutter loudly enough for them to hear. 

We pass by this bronze statue of children holding suitcases, with bewildered looks on their faces. I internally curse at them, I feel like they deserve it for being so overdramatic. Sure, they are just some statues but still.

I pull Vera close to me, making sure she doesn't get devoured by the flood of children. I watch her wave goodbye to Mum and Dad, watching her sniff and rub her eye.

We get into a compartment together and look outside the window, watching Mum and Dad wave in harmony, nearly wacking a few people in the eye. I wave back at them, giving them a poor attempt at a smile. I sit back on the dusty maroon seats, laying my head against the dirty window. Vera continues to vigorously wave at our parents through the window she somehow managed to open. The train starts to move. Slowly, very slowly at first. Vera bursts into tears hiccupping Mum and Dad’s names. I look through the window, sighing.

“You know we are going back. It’s not like we are leaving forever,” I say in a vexed tone. Faster, faster the train moves.

“I don’t care. I want to go off. What if something happens?” Vera continues to wave vigorously. Faster and faster the train moves. Mum and Dad are jogging lightly to follow our compartment.

“Nothing bad will happen, trust me,” I give her a knowing look, “Look up at the sky, there are lots of airplanes. You love airplanes.” I look at the sky. What are those things falling out? 

A big, looming boom ripples through the air, immediately draining the blood from my face. Vera screams, jumping off the seat and sitting on the floor with her ears covered and bawling her eyes out. I look out of the window immediately. The train is gathering haste. I look out trying to catch a glimpse of Mum and Dad. It is chaos. Everyone is running, screaming, shouting, cursing as more similar booms occur. Bombs. More importantly, World War 2 bombs. I can’t see my parents anymore. I duck down to Vera, catching her in a tight vice like hug, setting her on my lap and rocking back and forth to try lessen her shaky sobs. 

“Shh, it’ll be ok. Mum and Dad are ok. We will circle back and meet them.”

I’ve never been considered religious. But at this very moment, I brought my sweaty palms together and prayed. Prayed that Mum and Dad are safe. Prayed that everyone else back there is safe. Prayed that Vera and I will be safe.

After what felt like ages, Vera’s heartbreaking sobs came to a stop, her eyes now red and raw from shedding so much tears and continuously rubbing them dry; she was fighting a losing battle.

“Come on, we need to see if we can find anyone else. First people we see, we will sit with them. A lollipop to whoever will find someone first,” I say in a poor attempt to cheer her up. To distract her. It’s pathetic, I feel like the tourist guide. 

Vera holds my hand tight with her tiny little hand, not letting go. I don't dare let go either. Because at this very moment, the only thing we have right now, is each other. And I’m afraid of losing what could be my only precious ‘belonging’.

We step out of our compartment and look at the one in front of us. No one. I look to the compartment just down from ours, again no one. Third time must be the charm because I look at the compartment up one from ours. Bingo. 

Quickly, I head to that compartment, knocking on it before entering. Inside, there is a thin boy, a little older looking than me, a girl Vera’s age, another boy a whole lot younger than me and another girl with round spectacles perched on her nose. In her hands lay a peaceful baby, one with some strange looking blanket swaddling the baby. They give us all a quizzical look. I’m the first to break the long awkward silence.

“Umm, can we sit here? With you? We don’t really feel comfortable sitting alone in a compartment,” I stutter awkwardly. Spectacles girl just looks away without saying anything. The eldest boy clears his throat and starts.

“You may. Hey, did you see what happened back there? Our parents were still there,” he says firmly with an edge of shock in his voice. 

“Is that… normal? I mean, Czechia is a fairly peaceful country. How could literal bombs be falling out of the sky? That hasn’t happened since… World War 2, has it not?” I nibble on my nails, now an apparent habit for when I’m stressed.

“I don’t know, but we should stick together. This will be a long ride, so we may as well get to know each other. How about we go around introducing ourselves?” suggests a boy quietly, sitting next to Spectacles Girl.

“I’ll start. I’m Nancy and I’m three years old. I like Victoria sponge cake and kitty cats,” says Nancy in a sing-song voice, nudging to the eldest next to her.

“Nancy, you clearly don’t understand what’s going on,” sighs the eldest before continuing. “My name is Arthur. I’m sixteen years old,” says Arthur, giving a weak smile.

“I am Thomas and I am nine years old,” says the boy who suggested we introduce ourselves. I notice he starts to crack his knuckles, releasing a harsh popping sound. My turn comes and I clear my throat, trying to clear my mind as well.

“I’m Ivy. I’m fifteen years old,” I mumble, looking away and gently nudging Vera. Vera jumps slightly and starts her introductions.

“Hi everyone. I’m Vera and I’m two years old,” says Vera hoarsely, twirling her chestnut brown curls around her little thin finger. Dang, looks like everyone picked up a coping habit since the bombs dropped. Now it’s Spectacles Girl’s turn. 

“My name is Jaqueline. I am thirteen years old,” she murmurs in a near whisper, adjusting her spectacles. “And this is Dorothy. She is six months old. I am sure of it,” says Spectacles girl, gesturing to the sleeping baby on her lap. I look at the baby. She is so calm and peaceful; it’s hard to believe that such an innocent soul can be exposed to such cruelty in this world.

“How did your parents let you take her? Dorothy, I mean. My mum wouldn’t dare,” I say curiously, trying to sound as polite as possible.

“We had no choice. We either had to take Dorothy or risk her being found. We are all siblings. We need to look out for each other. We are Jews. If the Nazi’s found us, then…” Thomas, the youngest boy, murmurs, trailing off. 

Jews? Nazis? No choice? Is this all staged? I don’t think there has been any disagreements between the two since World War 2.

“Arthur… are we going to see Mama and Papa again?” Nancy’s bottom lip starts to quiver as she looks at her eldest brother. Brother, tell me,” Nancy swallows sobs bubbling out of her throat. Everything must have clicked for her. Then something in me clicks. 

My family and I went to see the Kindertransport train, the one that takes children away from danger of the second world war. These kids don’t look like they are from the 21st century. They don’t even have names or speech that relates them to the 21st century. So that means-

I’m dragged away from my puzzling thoughts, ones that are trying to put two and two together as Nancy starts crying and Thomas stands up and takes her out of the compartment to calm herself down. Vera too stands up, hastily following them, holding her stuffed rabbit she took with her. Baby Nancy starts to wail after being pulled away from her soft drowsy dreams. I watch as Jaqueline stands up, trying to soothe and hush Baby Nancy’s harsh screams. Eventually, Jaqueline leaves the compartment with Nancy to join the other three still out there. Now it’s just me and Arthur. 

As soon as Jaqueline is out of sight, Arthur springs to his feet and sits down beside me. 

“We don’t have much time, but I’m going to explain everything to you,” says urgently in his husky voice. “You probably figured it out, but we are not from your time. We are from the 1930’s. We were due to leave Prague because of Hitler and the war. We went on the Kindertransport and the train, it never left because the German soldiers wouldn't let us leave. We were too late. We didn’t get off the train. We hid. In this compartment. They found us and-” Arthur swallows hard, clenching his jaw before looking at me- “They shot us. One by one. But I’m the only one that remembers. And I wish I didn’t.” He looks away, scratching his chin a little too hard.

I think, trying to process all of the information, immediately feeling sympathy. How could someone live with this all on their shoulders? Wait, how is he living if..?

“I’m… I’m so sorry that happened to you. I had no idea… If you don't mind me asking, but how are you and your family still.. here?” I ask him softly, trying not to offend him. 

“I don’t know, I really don’t. All I know is that our family is stuck, riding this bloody train for the rest of eternity. Meeting no one and reliving that very day, in a different way. The worst part is that they don’t even know. They don’t know what happened or what will happen. So I need you to listen closely. Take your little sister and get out of this cursed compartment. Go back into the one that you rode in before, but whatever you do, whatever you hear, don’t leave your compartment. And be quiet. It was nice meeting you, Ivy. I hope that in another life, our paths will cross again, under different circumstances,” he says with a faint smile on his face, taking my hands in his and slipping a ring into my hand. 

“I.. I don’t know what to say, I.. Thank you for sharing your story with me.” I begin, speechless.

“Don’t say anything. Take Vera and go. Don’t say anything and don’t look back.” He looks into my eyes before releasing my hands. I stand up and head for the door. I look back at him.

“Thank you, Arthur. Goodbye,” I say softly, mustering up a weak smile before heading out and picking up Vera. I hug her against her struggles to break free against my hold. 

I quickly get into our previous compartment and snuggle up with Vera.

“I wanna go back, let’s go back,” cries Vera. I sigh and reach in my pocket and grab a strawberry flavoured lollipop and hand it to her.

“We can’t go back. It was too crowded and we will be back to Mum and Dad soon, you know? Just go to sleep and we will be back before you know it.”

I don’t like lying, especially to someone as naïve as my little sister. But right now, I don’t have a choice. 

I can tell when Vera has fallen asleep. Her short, quick breaths now turned into deep breaths, her chest rising and falling on my lap. I put my head back, spinning the ring on my thumb. It is silver, with some leaf embroidery. I stop as soon as I hear heavy footsteps way back in the train. I hold my breath, shutting my eyes to block out the thought of what I know will happen next.

Minutes pass. Indistinct words can be heard. Then the first gunshot, followed by cries and pleas of mercy. The rest of them are painstakingly slow. Then the second one. The third. The fourth. And lastly, the fifth. I shut my eyes and bite my tongue, swallowing the tears and sobs threatening to bubble over. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe all of these young children, adults too, had to face such loss. 

Go to sleep. Go to sleep. Go to sleep. I continue to think these words continuously in my head until I finally go to sleep, drifting off into a land elsewhere.

My eyes flutter open as I realise the train is slowing. I look out of the window, watching the moving trees slow down and reveal a platform. With people, all there. Now very much awake, I scour through the people, looking for two very important individuals. Praying that they are safe. There. There they are, Mum and Dad. 

I wake Vera up quickly, tossing her unfinished lollipop under the seat. 

“Ivy, Ivy I had the scariest dream ever! There were bombs and it was so scary,” Vera says abruptly. She jumps to her feet quickly.

“It’s all over now, Vera. Let’s go see Mum and Dad.” I stand to my feet, taking her hand in mine and leaving the compartment. We pass by Arthur’s compartment and I don’t dare look back, mindlessly spinning the ring on my thumb.

“Mama! Dada! I missed you so much!” Vera runs into their arms, nearly knocking them over like bowling pins. I too go up and embrace them in a tight hug. 

“Well, did you all have fun? Because we better get going,” chirps Dad, taking Vera’s hand in his. I walk alongside them.

“Yes. Thank you for taking us here, I actually really enjoyed it,” I say rather truthfully, plastering a smile on my face.

“Well would you look at that. Someone changed their mind about history,” laughs Mum. “By the way, you two went on the wrong carriage. You were supposed to take the first one. I don’t know how you ended up on the fifth one,” tuts Mum, leading us out of the busy area.

Indeed I have changed my mind about history. My encounter with Arthur and his siblings really changed my perspective about the whole World War 2. And I will never stop learning and giving sympathy towards them.