Roskov, Book 2 by Geoff Wolak

Roskov, Book 2 by Geoff Wolak

Author:Geoff Wolak [Wolak, Geoff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-09T18:30:00+00:00


Henrick had my grandfather’s old address, so we wrapped up warm and drove around in two minibus taxis, pulling up in a street of small and very dated terraced houses compared to Rolf’s tall house.

It was cold, but for now it was not raining as the day grew darker. Outside the house, and Rolf snapped it with his digital camera, a face soon peering out the window, an old lady. She opened the door so I approached.

‘Do you speak English?’

‘Yes, I was teacher of English. You were on the television.’

‘Yes, Ricky Roskov. My grandfather’s Jewish family were living here, up to 1943.’

‘Roskov? Come inside, I have something for you.’

I asked for just Rolf and Henrick, or we would swamp the old lady, and inside the damp old house she led us through the kitchen and to a type of small conservatory that was now badly in need of repair.

From under a white cloth she revealed a dusty old suitcase. ‘It is for you.’

‘Why … is it for me?’ I puzzled.

‘I find it in attic, when I come here twenty-six years ago.’

I opened the old suitcase, and inside found a treasure trove of old memorabilia, photographs and hand written certificates. ‘Rolf, Henrick, can you translate?’

They moved in as I moved back, soon taking things out of the suitcase, and I could see down the garden, a few vegetables being grown.

‘An ID card, 1942,’ Rolf noted. ‘Henrick Roskov.’

‘An ID card for local travel,’ Henrick added.

‘Property purchase deeds, this house,’ Rolf noted, and he shot me a look.

I turned to the old lady and quickly got out, ‘We make no claim to this house, even if it’s valid.’

‘My husband bought this house before I met him, and he died here. Soon I move, it is in need of money for repairs and I have only pension.’

‘I have money for repairs,’ I told her. ‘And you can stay here if you wish.’ I turned to Rolf. ‘Would the claim be valid?’

‘Surviving Jewish family? Yes, but not for Henrick’s father, it would need to be your father making the claim.’

‘He won’t,’ I firmly told them. To the old lady, I said, ‘You saw the house purchase deeds, so why not destroy them?’

‘I would never do such a thing!’ she protested. ‘I know my history.’

‘Many others would have,’ I noted as Rolf handed me a dusty old photograph, a happy family sat in the garden here.

‘I am not like those people, I am a Christian,’ she protested.

‘And you shall reap the reward for being a good Christian.’ I took out the large wad of cash I had, but it was just a thousand Euro anyhow. ‘Rolf, got any cash?’

He had a thousand euro and handed it to me. I told the old lady as I handed it over, ‘Start to make the house warmer, and some small repairs. I’ll be back with more money.’

‘Why repair it?’

‘Because I may want to visit, my father as well, and – someday – maybe my kids will want to visit.’

Henrick had five hundred Euro and handed it over, chatting in Danish.



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