Thankfully, before anything could escalate, a teacher named Herr Staeler intervened. He snatched the sketchbook from Udo and looked at it.
‘I was just fixing it,’ said Udo, a smirk on his face. Frau Hinkel’s face, despite his graffiti, was recognisable. The teacher shrugged, then nodded, and handed the sketchbook back to Jürgen. ‘Good job,’ he told Udo, his eyes daring Jürgen to object.
Jürgen didn’t say anything, though his eyes spoke volumes.
‘Leave, Schwalbe,’ dismissed the teacher, finally looking away.
There was more talk that year of moving but for the moment it was only that. The twins’ parents were often arguing, stressed and anxious.
‘I flat out refuse, this will blow over and then what – we will have smashed up our lives for nothing,’ argued Mutti.
‘I promise you, if that is the case, if it’s all nothing, we can move straight back,’ implored their father.
‘Don’t be silly, we won’t get any of this back – not our jobs – it was a miracle I got in at the clinic as it was, with so many Jewish doctors and nurses out of work, or our home – besides, what do you want the children to do – go to school in Denmark, learn a whole new language while we live in some barn in the middle of nowhere?’
‘Is that really such a bad idea?’
‘To live in a barn? She keeps her horse there – and she hasn’t even offered to get rid of it.’
‘She will, I’m sure.’
‘Mmmh,’ said Mutti, who wasn’t convinced. ‘Besides, it’s cold in Denmark.’
Papa snorted. ‘It’s not much different than here. It’s beautiful too.’
Mutti shook her head. ‘Could we even get work there? I wouldn’t know how to be anything but a nurse – and would they let us when we don’t know the language? It’s just too much to decide. I still don’t think we need to yet. Six more months, then we’ll make that call – if things get worse.’
But six months came and went and there was no more talk of leaving. The twins were relieved. They didn’t want to have to move. Though one sunny June afternoon, Asta changed her mind.
Jürgen found her at home, crying on her bed. ‘Hey – where were you, I waited for you outside your school but they said you left early, what happened?’
From her prone form on her small single bed, Asta groaned. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
Jürgen frowned, then took a seat next to her, almost on top of her knees. ‘Budge up,’ he said.
She didn’t, so he hovered over them. She sighed, then shifted over. ‘Go away,’ she sniffled.
‘Nope.’
She flung herself the other way around, and from under the curtain of her light hair, she asked, ‘Did they do that thing with the rulers to you yet?’
He frowned. ‘Rulers?’
She nodded, tears filling her eyes. ‘Frau Klein, our biology teacher, measured my head. She told me it’s smaller than an Aryan’s – that it shows how weak Jews are and how… inferior.’
Jürgen frowned. ‘Did she measure the others’ heads?’ he asked.
‘No, I’m the only Jewish girl there.’
He made a huffing sound, like he disagreed.
‘What – it’s true.’
‘Yes, I know that’s true – but how would she know your head was smaller than any of the others’ unless she measured theirs too?’
She frowned. ‘Well, she’s a biology teacher so maybe she knows how big Aryan heads are.’
‘And they’re all exactly the same?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Let’s ask Papa.’
‘No!’
‘Why not? He’s a surgeon – I’m sure he knows more than some biology teacher.’
‘A surgeon of bones.’
‘So – they have bones in the head!’
Asta wiped her eyes; she wanted to be like Jürgen, to just dismiss what her teacher had said, but the woman had been so sure, so convinced. Asta was someone who lived her life in facts, in science, in biology. So it had hit her harder, because she so admired the woman. The teacher was even rather sympathetic, patting her shoulder afterwards and saying, ‘It’s not your fault you were born inferior – it’s just a condition of birth, you couldn’t help it. Other than that, I think you are quite clever, really.’
Of course, that had only made things worse.
She didn’t know exactly why she didn’t want Jürgen to tell their father – perhaps in some small way that didn’t quite make sense, she feared he would see her as inferior too.
Unfortunately, their father was on call that night. At dinner, though, Jürgen was not to be deterred.
Their mother paused, a piece of mashed potato poised on a fork before her mouth as he relayed the tale despite Asta’s scowling face.
Then she blinked. ‘She measured your head?’
Asta nodded, not meeting her mother’s eyes.
‘And she said it made you inferior?’
Asta didn’t respond.
Jürgen interjected. ‘You know it’s nonsense, Mutti – she didn’t even measure the other girls!’
‘Because they are Aryan, she didn’t have to,’ said Asta.
‘I see,’ said Mutti, putting her fork down. Tears splashed down Asta’s face and onto her plate.
‘I’m sorry, Mutti.’
Mutti blinked. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for. I can assure you that there is nothing inferior about you at all.’
Asta didn’t say anything. Mutti stared at her for a long time. Then she said, ‘Tomorrow you’re coming to work with me for the morning, and in the afternoon, we’re going to find you a new school.’
Asta looked up in surprise. Their mother’s face was grim, determined.
‘In the morning, we’re going to visit my old hospital and the children’s ward – where we will measure some heads ourselves, and you’ll see that your teacher is nothing but an idiot. Then in the afternoon I will have the satisfaction of telling her so before we enrol you both.’
‘Both?’ asked Jürgen in surprise.
‘Both,’ she agreed. ‘To the Jewish school – at least there you’ll get treated with some respect – and I can be sure they won’t fill your head with any of this sort of nonsense. It’s bad enough that people out there believe this sort of rubbish, I will not stand by and let them force it down my children’s throats too.’
‘We’ll get to be at school together?’ asked Asta in delight.
‘Yes.’
Their mother was true to her word. The next morning, they went over to the hospital in which for the past twenty years Mutti was head nurse, and she was quickly indulged by one of her former colleagues and allowed to measure the heads of several young girls in the children’s ward, as well as four nurses and an intern, Mutti proved her point. By then she hadn’t needed to – Asta had already started to see that what Jürgen had pointed out the day before was true, but it was nice to have it confirmed, to expose the lie once and for all.
‘Everyone’s head is different – it’s not the size that makes it worth something, it’s what you do with what’s inside of it that counts,’ said Mutti.