The rainbow never sets

administrator on a property which he rented. But a job, he said, was only secondary, safety should come first.

I passed this message immediately on to my parents, again in veiled terms, and I think it made them think even more urgently about their escape. Mutter was discharged from hospital on 10 January 1953, and Onkel Helmut a day before. Vater wanted to finish the accounts and the budget for the current year before 'going on holidays'. Even when in danger for his own life, he was still conscientious, though it could have also been a calculated risk, as they did not want to raise any suspicions.

In her last parcel to me, Mutter had included Oma's silver tray, hidden among mended socks. It was obvious to me then that she tried to send away as much of their silver and valuables as possible. I hoped only that it would not be discovered.

By then I was convinced, that a decision to escape had been taken. But then came a most disconcerting letter from Mutter dated 19.1.53, where she asked for some goodies for her birthday, like dried figs, a chamois, pencils, hair pins, and hankies. They wanted to go 'on holidays' after her birthday, 8 February, because of Onkel Helmut, as he was very dependent on them.

Another delay or procrastination? Why on earth could they not take the plunge? I knew it was not easy, but to delay any further was too dangerous. Then, four days later, this letter arrived from Mutter:

"Vater has a terrible lot of work to do. He is run down, has headaches and it is time that he takes his holidays and goes to a sanatorium. I am asking you not to send any dirty washing, nor anything else, have no time to wash or mend. Please send wrapping paper to Mally, not in a roll but in an oblong carton. Onkel Helmut is going to the doctor today and hopes for a lighter bandage." (23.1.53).

This was to be the last letter from Emersleben. On 28 January I sent Dm100 to Frau Grube, Mally's sister, our only contact in Berlin. I knew they would contact her on arrival. Anxious days of waiting followed. Over the news I heard that the refugees through Berlin had swelled to ten thousand a day. I hoped my parents would be among them.

The weekend of 31 January to 1 February 53 I spent in Otterstedt with friends of my parents from Poland. When I came back in the evening of
1.2.53, a telegram was awaiting me at home. It was from Berlin. In haste I opened the envelope:

EBEN GUT ANGEKOMMEN = VATER + MUTTER

(Just arrived safely)

The time sent: 22.03 on 31 January 1953. My first thought was: where was Gerda? Surely, they couldn't have left

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