See you soon Caroline! Chapter 22 A Bientot Caroline!

Chapter Twenty Two:

À Bientôt Caroline!

 

It was the final day at Argeles. Mr and Mrs Weaver had spent the morning packing up, while Caroline and Simon went to and fro with rubbish, water, and other necessities. Caroline was looking out for some sign of Pierre, but in vain. At last the car was crammed with their belongings, the bills were paid, and they set off through the gates on their way to the campsite at Nice, the first leg of their journey home. Simon was travelling in the front next to his father, while his mother and sister shared the back seats. It was a fairly silent family that saw the now familiar outline of Canigou falling behind them as they sped north.

There was so much to think about, and not a lot to say. They had already discussed all that they had discovered about Grandad’s origins, and what still remained a mystery to them. They knew the name of Grandad’s father, but they didn’t know what had become of him when he had been taken from the camp of Rivesaltes to a labour camp in some unknown destination. They knew that his mother had been transported to Auschwitz and had almost certainly died there. They also knew that Grandad had a sister named Lotte, and that she had somehow survived the deportations and had been taken to a Spanish children’s colony in Toulouse. But there, the trail had run cold, and it seemed that they would never know what had become of her. And they knew now that Grandad had been born in the comfort of the Swiss Maternity at Elne – they had discovered that only the other day.  And finally, they had learned that Marion Oakes, the Irish lady who had rescued Grandad and his sister had at last been recognised and might well be awarded with the ‘Righteous Gentile’ medal by Yad Vashem in Jerusalem.

Caroline was thinking too, but she had other things on her mind. Naturally, she was thinking about Pierre. Would they keep in touch? Would she ever see him again? How could he just say ‘Goodbye!’ to her in that casual manner? But perhaps he was feeling just as devastated as she was, but didn’t want to show it? That made her think of her great grandmother Helga. How could she let her children go like that? She had struggled with it, hadn’t she? But she had done what she thought was right in the end. And her Mum was right of course, the time she had spent with Pierre could be counted in hours – almost in minutes! It hardly seemed possible that a week ago, they had not even met each other! What chance did such a brief relationship stand? She was thinking too about how she had changed over the course of these few days. How her attitudes had altered as she had become aware of what made people different, and how little these differences mattered. Just because someone was an only child, or was left-handed, or had ginger hair, or didn’t use Facebook! Those differences were nothing compared to being a refugee, a Jew in 1940’s France, a gypsy, or just someone the government decided it didn’t like! Yet they could all cause loneliness or misery. She remembered reading about a girl who killed herself because of being abused on some social media. She would certainly think again before making hasty judgements about immigrants and other unfortunate people. Suddenly, it occurred to her for the first time that she too, was from an immigrant family! She owed her very existence to Marion Oakes and people like her! She thought of John Bond, of how unpopular he was, and how she was ridiculed because she was seen with him. Yes, she had changed – and she believed it was for the better!

They were passing the lagoons containing dozens of flamingos when Caroline’s iPhone beeped. To her delight, she saw that it was a text from Pierre. It read: ‘We think we may have found your Grandad’s sister! Please ring!’

“You’ve got to stop Dad!” she yelled above the road noise. “It’s important!”

“I can’t just stop on the motorway!” her father answered, half turning his head towards her. “If it’s important I’ll pull in at the next service area. Is something wrong?”

“No! It’s good news I think! But I’ve got to ring Pierre.”

Her call was quickly answered. Caroline didn’t waste time on introductions.  “Where have you found her?” she demanded.  “Is she OK? How old is she?”

Pierre said “Can you come back? Now? I’ll explain everything then!”

Caroline looked out of the window. They were slowing down and turning off the motorway. “I’ll ring you back in a moment” she answered.

Her father parked the car in a shady spot under some trees, some distance from the service area buildings. “Now, what’s this all about!” he demanded.

“I’m not sure!” said Caroline. “Pierre says that they may have found Grandad’s sister, and can we go back immediately!  I’m going to ring him back now and find out more!”

The family piled out of the car and found shady places to sit while Caroline made her call.

“Look – we’re not certain, that’s why we need you to come back. There’s something you need to see, to identify. But if it is her, I’m afraid that she’s not still alive, she died some years ago” said Pierre.

 Caroline, still shocked by this turn of events, said “Can you explain all this to Dad? He won’t want to turn back unless he knows exactly what’s going on!” With that, she handed the phone to her father.

“Hello Pierre!” he said. “This is Caroline’s Dad. She says that you have some important news for us?”

“Hello Mr Weaver! Yes, it is pretty important I think! We believe we have found what happened to your father’s sister, and we can introduce you to her son.  He would very much like to meet you if it’s not too late!”

“Well, we’re about an hour down the road, but I suppose in the circumstances we ought to turn back! Where shall we meet you?”

“Will you be coming down the main road from Perpignan?” asked Pierre.

“Yes, down the D914”

“OK! Where you turn off for Argeles there’s a shopping centre. We’ll be outside McDonald’s!”

“Right – see you in about an hour! Bye!”

Mr Weaver handed the phone back to Caroline. “Well! This is a turn-up! If he’s right, he says he may have got Grandad’s sister’s son with him! He wants to meet us! That would be my cousin! How on earth has all this come about!”

 

The traffic was heavy going through Perpignan, and it was over an hour and a half before they pulled up outside McDonald’s.

“They’re over there!” cried Caroline, pointing to a car parked in the shade some distance away.

“I’ll drive over” said her father, restarting the engine, and putting his safety-belt back on. He reversed, and then cruised over to park alongside the Citroen C3. Pierre and a middle-aged gentleman rose from the picnic table where they were seated and came to meet them.

“Thanks for coming back Mr Weaver” said Pierre. “This is Carlos Sanchez. He has something he wants to show you.”

Mr Sanchez stepped forward and seized Mr Weaver’s hand which he pumped up and down enthusiastically. He was speaking in rapid Spanish – or was it Catalan? – and of course nobody could understand a word he said!

“ I’m afraid he doesn’t speak any English, so I’ll have to be the translator for you” said Pierre.  He turned to Mr Sanchez and said something to him. Mr Sanchez nodded and smiled broadly. “He believes that his mother may be your aunt” Pierre said addressing Caroline’s father. “He has something here which he wants to show to you!”

 Senor Sanchez then opened a wallet and took out something which he handed to Mr Weaver. It was a faded old photograph, or more correctly, part of a faded old photograph, because it had been roughly torn in half.  Caroline, who had been peering over her father’s shoulder, cried “It’s the other half of Grandad’s photo! Turn it over and see what’s written on the back Dad!”

Mr Weaver obediently turned the photo over. “There’s nothing there” he reported. “It’s blank!” Then turning to the Mr Sanchez he asked “Where did you find this?”

Pierre answered for him. “It belongs to his uncle.” Then addressing Caroline he asked “Are you sure that it’s the same picture as the one that you told me about?”

Before she could answer, Simon interrupted: “Have you got Grandad’s photo with you Caroline?”

“No, but I’ve got the printout you did from the computer when you improved the writing on the back!” She ran to the car, and a minute or so later returned with it in her hands. The others crowded round her.

“But this is only a scan of the writing. It’s the wrong side for the picture! So we can’t be certain that it’s the same photo!” complained Simon.

His father took the printout from him. He turned it over and held it up to the light. “Look!” he said. “Look at the torn edge! You can see where Grandad’s picture was torn on the right hand side. And look at Mr Sanchez’s picture. It’s torn on the left and the tear exactly matches! See that jagged bit at the top? It’s the same on both!”

Then Simon took the picture. “And I remember that Grandad’s picture showed just a part of someone standing at the gate of the cottage, the rest was torn off! Well, look here! There’s the rest of him, holding a baby in his arms!”

Mr Weaver turned to Pierre. “This is the same picture!” he said simply. “Now, tell us what this means. Who is this gentleman, and how is he connected to my Aunt Lotte? Let’s go and sit down somewhere and hear all about it over some drinks!”

They decided that this called for something a bit more exciting than coffee in a plastic cup, so they all trooped over the car-park  to a nearby bistro where they ordered a bottle of local wine, with cokes for the youngsters.

“This is going to be a bit complicated” said Pierre with a strange smile on his face. “I’ll make it as simple as I can! Mr Sanchez here never knew his mother. She died giving birth to him. His father couldn’t manage with a new baby on his own, so he rather quickly remarried.” At this point, Pierre glanced at Caroline who was staring at him in amazement. He went on: “His father moved to a new house to start again with his new wife, and he gave all of his dead wife’s personal belongings to one of his brothers. This upset the family who thought it disrespectful to his dead wife, and so he drifted away from them. So as a result, Mr Sanchez grew up knowing nothing at all about his birth mother. Not that the rest of the family knew much either. They had always assumed that she was one of those Spanish women of the Retirada, an orphan with no known background.  Mr Sanchez knew that his uncle – his father’s brother - had kept the few things which his mother had possessed. I told him about your picture, and he said that he had seen something similar in a box in his uncle’s house when he was a boy. So yesterday he went to see his uncle and asked if he could have a look at the box, and there was this picture!”

He turned to Mr Weaver. “Are you sure that this is part of the same picture?” he asked.

“Absolutely!” said Caroline’s father. “There’s no doubt about it! My grandmother must have kept this half of the picture, and given it to her little girl when she parted with her. What a miracle that it has survived! I suppose that the people who took her in and looked after her realised its importance! So Mr Sanchez’s mother was Lotte, my aunt, and Mr Sanchez is my cousin!” He turned to the Spaniard who was standing there smiling and grasped him by the hand. “If only I could speak Spanish!”

While all this was going on, with the rest of the family hanging on every word, Caroline just sat there with her drink in her hand, and her jaw dropping with astonishment! Her eyes were fixed on Pierre as he was talking, but he carefully avoided her gaze. Then when everybody had finished, he turned to Caroline with a broad smile on his face.

“I think Caroline has worked out that I am holding something back!” he said. “Go on, you tell them!”

All eyes now turned on Caroline. Mrs Weaver’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh my God’ she thought. ‘He’s asked her to marry him!’ But she was both relieved and astonished when Caroline blurted out:

“I think that Pierre knows Mr Sanchez rather better than he’s let on! I believe that Pierre’s full name is Pierre Sanchez, and that this gentleman is his father! So Pierre’s related to us too!”

Amid the gasps of surprise and smiles of pleasure, Pierre strode across to Caroline and gave her a great hug. “I can do that now!” he said. “We’re second cousins after all!”

But Mrs Weaver was still puzzled! “I don’t get it!” she said. Caroline turned to her, hand in hand with Pierre.

“Grandad and Pierre’s Grandma were brother and sister! They were both together in Rivesaltes! Didn’t I tell you that there was something special about Pierre? That I felt that I’d known him before in another life? And you felt it too, didn’t you Pierre? We’re family! We’re never going to be separated now!”

 

 

 

Postscript

 

Of course, the camping holiday in Provence never happened!  Nobody was going to rush away from Argeles having just found Grandad’s family!  Pierre arranged with his father to find somewhere comfortable for the Weavers to stay.  Simon had got on the phone to Grandad and explained the news, never mind the cost! Over the next few days while they stayed on in Argeles, there was a great deal of catching up to do!

It was the middle of October before the Weavers received the invitation to the medal ceremony in Perpignan. Marion Oakes had been awarded the honour of “Righteous Gentile” for her work during the war. Grandad was going of course, he was a guest of honour, being one of Marion Oakes’ many rescued children. Caroline and Simon had both got special permission to attend and to be absent from school. Indeed the whole school was going to be involved with a special television link-up organised by Martin Shaw, the history teacher so that all the pupils could watch the ceremony in the school hall. He was amazed and delighted with the outcome of Caroline’s homework! He and John Bond, who had been so resourceful in making contact with OSE, the Jewish organisation and finding the details of Grandad’s family in the camp of Rivesaltes, were going to present the programme from the British end. Mr and Mrs Weaver, of course, had also had no difficulty in being released from their employments, and seats were booked on the Ryanair flight to Rivesaltes airport, Perpignan.

It would be the first time that Caroline and Pierre had seen each other since that amazing August in Argeles, but scarcely had a day passed without some text, tweet, or Facebook message passing between them. Every one ended with an ‘à bientôt!’. Only time would tell whether their relationship would move on from that of cousins to something deeper.  Caroline wasn’t too concerned about that at the moment, she was only sixteen after all! She knew that whatever happened, she and Pierre would always be together in some way, and just now, that was good enough for her!

 

 

 

About this book

 

Although the Weaver family is fictitious, all that they discovered about the places they visited is true. You can go to Drancy, Rivesaltes and Argeles and see for yourself! If you are not able to make that journey, you can see pictures of all the places in this book at my website by visiting http://campsofshame.webplus.net

Elisabeth Eidenbenz was a real person. She received the medal from Yad Vashem in 2003. The Swiss Maternity at Elne can be visited today.

Marion Oakes was also a real person, her name was Mary Elmes. She too was arrested by the Gestapo, suspected of helping people to escape, but she was released after six months in prison unharmed. She has now been posthumously awarded the same honour as Elisabeth Eidenbenz,  and is the first Irish person to be so honoured.

The group of teachers and others who were working to preserve the memory of what happened seventy odd years ago are real people too. They are called “Les Trajectoires”. The American Professor who was rescued by Mary Elmes is also a real person. It was his search for the individual who saved his life that was the inspiration behind the writing of this book.

Fear and hatred of people who are different is real too! Events similar to those in this story are still happening. They could happen anywhere. They will go on happening until we learn better!