'I escaped the Nazis as a child – now I'm fearful for my life in another global war'

My mother fell pregnant with me the month the Nazis marched into Amsterdam. It was May 1940 and life had become terrifying. Her doctor told her to abort me, as bringing a child into this world would be catastrophic. However, she was desperate to keep me, a sibling for her young son. “I came to you to keep the baby,” she told the doctor firmly, “not to take it away”.

And, so I was born on February 6 1941, as the campaign of terror against the Jews intensified. We lived in a quaint apartment around the corner from the Hollandsche Schouwburg Theatre. By the summer of 1942 this beautiful building was turned into a prison and deportation centre. Jews were first crammed into this building for days on end before eventually being forced onto cattle trucks and deported to Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen, Sobibor and Theresienstadt, death camps.

After the first years of my life were spent fighting for survival, I cannot believe that 80 years later, I am battling to stay alive again. The last year has been very challenging as I can’t go out for fear of catching Covid. But when I stop and think of what my parents had to endure during the war, how can I complain?

Shortly after the Nazis invaded Amsterdam, my father was arrested and taken away. My mother bravely went to the authorities and convinced them to release him. She knew if she didn’t, she would never see him again. Then the Razzias (raids) were stepped up and people started disappearing. There was no knowing when the Nazis would bang on our door and drag us to our deaths. It was no longer possible to escape to London, where my uncle and aunt lived. The only option left was for all of us to go into hiding.

Thanks to the Resistance my parents found separate hiding places for me and my brother. I often think how my mother made the 10km journey from Amsterdam to Wormerveer by train, to hand me over to the childless couple who were prepared to risk their lives to save me, not knowing if she would ever see me again. I lived with Aad and Fie Versnel for almost three years. They treated me as their own, taking me to church each Sunday. My most vivid memory was when I had to hide behind the curtains as the Nazis marched past the window.

My parents were lucky to survive the war, especially as at the end they experienced the Hongerwinter famine. As Nazis cut off food supplies in Holland, Dutch people were forced to eat tulip bulbs. Many thousands died of malnutrition.

More than 100,000 Dutch Jews were murdered in the Holocaust. This amounted to around three-quarters of its Jewish population, making it the greatest number and highest proportion in Western Europe. Fortunately, our family was reunited in 1945. Thereafter, my parents found out about all the close family and dozens of cousins that had been killed. My mother discovered her father and stepmother had been sent from Amsterdam to Sobibor extermination camp in Poland, where they were murdered upon arrival on June 4 1943. Only one person was known to have survived this transport; the remaining 3,005 were sent to the gas chambers. My father discovered many of his close family from his home town of Spišské Podhradie in Slovakia had been murdered. His father, his sister, her husband and their child were killed in Majdanek, Poland. His 28-year-old brother Jossel was killed in Auschwitz.

My mother never wanted to talk about the war. On the contrary, she wanted to rebuild her life, to make up for the precious time she had lost seeing her children grow up. She embraced it with a determination not to be a victim.

After what my parents had been through, I became even more determined not to let life pass me by. How could I, given the sacrifices that were made especially for me? I was lucky, to be given freedom and opportunities, that could not be taken for granted. I didn’t want to just survive, I wanted to thrive.

Shortly after I got married, my husband Arthur and I moved to London where we raised our three daughters. I loved London, a city of energy and life. I was drawn to a career in art collecting, which had come to me quite by chance. When I was in Amsterdam to visit my parents, I walked into an auction house, fascinated by the drama in the room. I was sitting too far away to see the picture being sold, but when I heard the name of the Dutch artist – Isaac Israels – of whom I knew, I had this impulse to buy it. I raised my hand and the painting was mine at 400 guilders (around £160). It turned out to be a picture of a cow! It was the beginning of my love affair with art, which has kept me busy for five decades. Having this distraction helped me deal with the enormous loss of my mother, a few years later. She died of colitis at the age of just 61, her condition exacerbated by the tulip bulbs she had to eat at the end of the war.

In recent years I slowed down from the art and was looking forward to spending more time with Arthur. I could never have envisaged that at 80 I would have to face this deadly coronavirus. Too many people we know have died, so we have taken the precaution to stay indoors virtually all the time. My husband could not attend his brother’s funeral and we feel very cut off from the family. The most difficult part is not being able to hug my children and grandchildren, or to see my new great-grandson.

Yes, the pandemic is a global war and I do fear for my life, but I have to put things in perspective. My parents were on the run, for years, with the fear of being hunted down any minute. They couldn’t go outside and enjoy daylight, they didn’t know when their next meal, bed or hiding place was, they didn’t know if they would ever see their children again, or if they would even survive. And just when they thought the end was near, they nearly died of starvation.

The worst that happened to me was that I ran out of toilet paper. I am so lucky to be in the comfort of my own home, with a bed to sleep in and with my husband at my side. I have Netflix, FaceTime, books and food delivered to my door.

My husband has had both his vaccinations and I have just had my first. How lucky we are, thanks to modern medicine, that the vaccination came within the year.

I would have liked to celebrate my big birthday with my family at my side, but that can wait. It has not been cancelled, merely postponed. There will be time for a nice celebration very soon, I hope.

As told to Nadine Wojakovski

Read more: Holocaust Memorial Day: the dress that gave hope after the horror