CHAPTER THREE

STORY OF LENKA

The next day I woke late. Going downstairs I discovered Maminka had already left for her surgery. I made coffee, got dressed and decided to take my old bike out for a ride. In Paris, I didn’t own a bike so if I wanted to do any cycling, I had to borrow one, which wasn’t always easy. Besides, cycling there, in the heavy traffic, had none of the pleasure of riding through small muddy paths in the green forests of Kraslice. This was one of the things I loved most to do. Just me and my bike, surrounded by nature. I was hoping that getting out in the fresh air would help me shift the heavy feelings I had been carrying with me since leaving Paris.

Here in the Ore mountains, each season has its own charm. Winters are cold with temperatures reaching below zero. The mountains, glistening white with snow, are like a scene from a fairytale. The beauty of winter gives way to bleaker landscapes with the arrival of the first rains and drizzle in spring. Summers are mild, with brisk misty mornings scented with moist grass and wildflowers.

Cycling on the half empty road, I passed by the huge red-brick lace factory when a familiar voice called out to me from the other side. I turned to see Mrs Richter, Oma’s friend, who used to visit her when I was a child.

Still tall, her heavy figure was now bent forward with age. She leaned on a walking stick and with her free hand beckoned me over.

I crossed over to her side of the road. With a warm smile, she reached out to embrace me, struggling to keep her balance. Her wrinkled hand gripped the stick tightly, blue veins clearly showing through her tissue-paper skin, almost transparent with age. I was scared if she might actually lose her balance and fall on top of me. I wasn’t sure I would have the strength to stop her knocking me and my bike to the ground.

She leant in and gave me a kiss on the cheek smelling of mint bonbons and washing powder.

‘You’ve become a real young lady, Lenka. Paris must suit you,’ she said. Her voice was full of pride. One might almost have thought she was herself my grandmother, not just a family friend.

‘I don’t blame you for wanting to leaveKraslice! What is there for a clever girl like you here?’

I guessed she wasn’t expecting an answer and she went on without waiting for one. ‘When I was young this town was a different place, you’d never want to leave, everything you needed was right here. That factory over there used to be full of girls all making lace. We made the best lace here, everybody knew Graslitz lace. Now it’s half empty, and we buy lace imported from China. Imagine that!’ she said, using the old German name for the town. ‘And our musical instruments, we were famous for them too.’

‘Well they are still making trumpets at least,’ I said, trying to look for something positive to say.

‘And it’s doing very badly. Reinhard told me it’s only a matter of time before they go bankrupt. I bet you, that factory will close down soon, like the hospital of ours,’ she pointed her walking stick in the direction of the building where Oma had once worked.

‘What a disaster. Things go from bad to worse in this town…,’ she sighed.

I had the feeling that if she started talking about the past, I might be standing there all morning. Eager to get on my bike but not wanting to offend the old lady, I enquired about her health, hoping that the litany of complaints would not last too long. I knew from Maminka she suffered from diabetes and high blood pressure.

‘I’m getting old, you see… I’m nothing like I was in the old days, now I have to take this blasted stick with me everywhere I go,’ she shook the stick vigorously in front of my face, ‘otherwise, I might fall!’

I leant back, away from her stick, afraid she might hit me in the face with it.

‘But I keep walking every day. And your mother has been looking after me very well. I’m telling you, she is a good doctor, your mother…How long will you be staying here?’

‘I leave next Sunday.’

‘Excellent!’ her eyes twinkled. ‘You’ll still be here for our annual meeting of Sudeten Germans this Friday. Will you come?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, refusing to commit.

‘I have already sent an invitation to your mother. You must come with her,’ she said grasping my hand, ‘I would be so happy to see you both there.’ Without giving me a chance to reply, she added, ‘You youngsters barely know about your own history… There is so much you don’t know Lenka.’

With her last words, she was looking meaningfully into my eyes.

She was a nice lady but I would barely know anyone there. People at these gatherings were from the old generation.

She looked in the direction of her home.

‘I must go now. Reinhard is waiting for me. He is on his afternoon shift today and I must be home before he leaves. Otherwise, he will worry. He treats me like a child,’ she apologised, laughing. ‘I will see you at the meeting,’ she added.

I jumped on my bike, saying goodbye to the old lady. As I was leaving, I glanced back at the red brick factory, thinking it had been standing here as a silent witness of the passing time. I turned away and set off towards the edge of town heading for Rolava, leaving Mrs Richter behind.

CHAPTER TWO