Page 32 - My Story

Peter had found us a large flat in a brand-new building. We were immediately above a beautiful
china and glassware shop on the main road in Kleve, Hagschestrasse, and we had two parking spaces in
the underground garage. The flat was spacious but lacked rooms, so we had a large kitchen, huge
living/dining room, bathroom and two bedrooms. We had a single elderly lady living next to us, Frau
Schultz, Fraulein Balkenbourg, the manageress of the shop downstairs, had another one of the smaller
apartments, and the other two big apartments above us housed the Wolfs, a nice young couple with two
small children and the other one a large family with about six children who had gallons of milk delivered
every day. The milk was brought in a large churn and decanted into whatever container you produced.
The milkman’s measuring cup dangled from the churn and rested on the dusty stairs and I preferred to
get my milk ready packaged from the supermarket down the hill, Schaetzlein – little treasure!

Back in England I happened to meet some people who were interested in purchasing our house
and were willing to pay £5,000 for it, a fortune for us and nearly twice what we had paid for it. Little did
we know that by the time we returned from Germany house prices would have sky rocketed and we would
no longer be able to afford to live in London. Peter was so pleased with the proposed offer that he agreed
to let me have Auntie Fanny’s Persian lamb coat that I had inherited made into a more modern looking
jacket.

The house was sold and moving day arrived. Peter had been shopping and we had a brand-new
dining room suite – the same one we have to this day. The treasured one we had watched and waited for
went to Jackie and Peter.

The German removal company arrived and had us packed, including a trash bin full of garbage,
within two hours. Nowadays, we have accumulated so much stuff, it takes two days! Peter dropped the
girls and me at the airport and then returned to the house to make the journey with the furniture. We
girls were all dressed to the nines, as one was to travel in those days. I was wearing a linen dress and
toning summer coat with high heels. We were flying to Dusseldorf where the Bachs would pick us up to
await Peter’s arrival.

The cabin crew seated us in one row, the two girls and me with the baby on my lap and strapped
us in. We took off and we were brought drinks – juice for the girls and a cup of tea for me. Hilary started
fidgeting and waving her arms around and the tea was spilt all over my new linen dress. I stood up,
strapped the baby into the seat and knew I was about to throw up. I grabbed a kindly air hostess, “look
after my children”, I said and fled for the rest room, where I stayed for the remainder of the flight! I
emerged, feeling very green, for the landing. We stepped out of the airport into the welcoming arms of
all the Bach ladies, looking not quite as elegant as we had started out. Hilary and I had large tea stains all
over us and the girls had traces of juice and candies all over their hands and faces. It turned out that Lisa
was the driver and Lisa had very little experience of driving. I sat at the back of their large Mercedes
clutching my children while Lisa drove slowly and haltingly and her daughters, still too young to drive,
shouted instructions at her.

Peter arrived next day and whisked all of us to Kleve, about a hundred kilometers. Lisa promised
that Elke would follow in a few days to help us unpack and settle in. It was early September and school
hadn’t yet started after the summer break. Helen and Susan were of Kindergarten age and there were
two Kindergartens in town – the Catholic one and the Protestant one. We took a walk past both and asked
the girls which one they would prefer to go to. Without hesitation they answered, “The one with the
swings”, so we became Evangelisch. As soon as the schools opened, we took the girls along, Helen four
and three quarters and Susan very nearly three. We met Tante Henni, who happily spoke some English,
and she agreed to take them both. The girls loved it there from day one, were not the least bit phased by
everyone speaking a different language although Tante Henni would explain things in English if necessary.
Within a very short time they were both speaking German and by Christmas were indistinguishable from
the other children in the nativity play. I meanwhile struggled somewhat – food shopping was a complete
mystery to me because I didn’t know the words for sugar or flour and the packets were different from
English ones. Many of the parents introduced themselves when we picked up our children from
Kindergarten and seemed very keen on knowing how much rent we were paying in the new building!
Later we discovered that small town Germans also like to ask how much money you are earning – but
maybe that has changed now.

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