A Mother Puzzle

A Mother Puzzle

Mother was good at puzzles. It didn't matter which sort, number, word, or whatever, but her favourite were jigsaw puzzles. The bigger and more challenging the better. She had a large table set up in the centre of the lounge and it would be very unusual for there not to be a part-finished jigsaw lying there waiting to be completed. She had a system. The unfinished puzzle would be at the centre. The pile to the right were the pieces still to be fitted. To the left were pieces that showed promise for adding to the puzzle being worked upon, that had the correct colours or a promising pattern. Some of pieces might already be fitted together in assemblages of up to say five, ready to be added to the centre construction.

Mother had a daughter. She actually had two. The older, Tamara, had married almost three years ago and moved away, first to England and from there to Spain, where John her husband had been set the challenge of establishing the first Thomas Cook travel agency. The younger daughter Isa was lonely and frustrated. She missed her older sister. They had shared life together since she was born. Now all she had for company were the chickens, ducks, cows and pigs and other animals. The family lived on a farm 30 km from Berlin where all the interesting fun and nightlife took place, but it was not easy to get there. The farmworkers were dour and unfriendly. They were always giving Father problems. He called them Communists. 

            'Stalin could be over the border and swamp us in a few hours and this lot would welcome him. We should have found a place much further west, much further like America. Hitler is a demagogue and a madman, but at least he would sort out Stalin and his awful Cheka secret police.'

Isa regularly exchanged post cards and letters with both John and Tamara and with John's younger brother, Lionel. The two English brothers had arrived at the farm, staying as lodgers, while improving their German. Father had been concerned that these strangers from England would lead his girls astray. In a way he had been proved right when Tamara and John became engaged. But he was content that the two boys had turned out to be honest, educated fine young men of whom he approved.

Mother decided something needed to be done about Isa's loneliness and frustration. But first she wanted assurance that the plan she was about to implement was the correct one. She sneaked two pages from Isa's room. Firstly, the draft of a letter Isa had written when applying for an office job in a Berlin bank. Why a bank? Perhaps because Lionel was now working for the Credit Lyonnaise Bank in Paris. She felt quite guilty about the second letter that she borrowed. This was from Lionel and was top of a little packet tied together with pink silk ribbon. It had been written in almost perfect German and while not erotic was certainly very friendly. This gave her confidence that she was on the right track. She took the two documents to the Graphologische Auskunftei, at Potsdammer Straße 134 in Berlin. It had been highly recommended by her friends. She was greeted by a Madame Durand and addressed her in French. It immediately became clear that this graphologist was as German as Berlin itself. So before the embarrassment became too great Mother reverted to the native tongue. Why did that woman have to pretend to be French? She wondered as she returned home. Two days later the post delivered the evaluation. Fortunately, Isa was out in the farm enjoying the frolicking of some newly born, squeaky piglets. Madam Durand had discovered small weaknesses in both parties. However, she opined that the two were admirably suited. Mother just hoped that Madam's expertise at interpreting writing was better than her pretence at being French. The manuscripts were returned as surreptitiously as they had been borrowed. Mother moved to action.

To progress her plan she sold a precious ruby and diamond ring, a relic of the family's former wealth in Russia before being forced to flee the Revolution, leaving all behind. Next, she purchased train tickets for Paris and a decent suitcase for Isa. 

            'Isochka let's go to Paris. We could visit the galleries in the Louvre, view some Matisse paintings and do a little shopping. Perhaps Lionel might have some time to spare.'

            'Next week?' from Isa.

            'No, no next month. The weather will be better and you need to let Lionel know our plans. A surprise is not a good idea. We could arrive and then discover his work will not allow him to spend time with us.'

So, off to Paris they went. Speaking French was no problem. In Russia Tamara and Isa had had a French governess, Mademoiselle Voutaz.  It was practically their first language. Mother and daughter shopped together. Mother, Isa and Lionel visited galleries, dressed up and went to the theatre. But mother was wise. Often, she was too tired to stay up late or to go to yet another show, or even to manage a walk in the Tuileries Gardens.

The day before the end of their fortnight stay, Isa announced that Lionel had proposed. Mother expressed shock, surprise and of course pleasure. An urgent telegram was sent to Father. He gave enthusiastic approval by return. The family in London and Tamara and John in Spain were informed. More congratulations. 

The proceeds of the ruby and diamond ring had to be stretched yet further and arrangements made to travel to London. Isa didn't have second thoughts about Lionel but still she worried. English was her poorest language. The best common language between them was French, and they had discussed settling in Paris, so that Lionel could continue with his job. However, the boys' father had offered to put down the deposit on a pair of semi-detached houses in the London suburbs. This would allow the two brothers and two sisters to set up home side by side. This option appealed especially to Tamara and Isa.

Isa and Lionel were married six months later, on Boxing Day, 1933, at the Lutheran church in London. Mother, kneeling during the blessing, thanked God for her puzzle solving skills.