by Lily Graham
Sofie nodded. ‘I understand.’
Asta looked at Esther in sympathy. ‘My mutti would probably have reacted the same way, don’t worry.’
Goran agreed. ‘Sofie is like that too. The grandkids are always saying, “Bubele, enough…”’ He smiled, then looked at the twins. ‘Who are your parents?’ he asked, looking at Ruth and Lars, who shook their heads.
‘Not ours. Esther would be flat on her back if she said that to my face about my children.’
Jürgen shook his head. ‘They’re not here,’ he said, and the twins once again repeated their story.
Goran frowned, like he didn’t know what to say.
Suddenly there was a loud bang, as a tyre went over something, and the van swerved off the road, hitting gravel and skidding uncontrollably. They held on to each other, fighting to contain their terror as the van, at last, came to a stop. Esther breathed into her knees, panting heavily. There were white finger marks on Jürgen’s hand from where Asta had clutched at him.
After several anxious minutes, they could hear loud, angry voices. It sounded like arguing. There was someone else there – someone with Herman.
‘Quick,’ whispered Lars, pulling a large blanket from the back and throwing it so that they all grabbed a corner to huddle together beneath it.
Jürgen looked at Asta, her hand clutched in his. What good would the blanket be if someone checked? They were like children playing hide and seek, thinking no one could see them if they had their eyes closed.
Asta’s heart began to beat so loudly in her chest it was a wonder that whoever was outside, barking at the driver, couldn’t hear it. A pair of boots seemed to make their way towards the rear, and there was a bang on the back of the van. They all jumped.
Asta thought she might be sick.
There was a rattle, and Esther clutched onto her tightly – later there would be red lines on her hip from where she pressed her hands against her skin, but right then she felt nothing. They all held their breaths, watching the inside of the door through the small holes in the knitted blanket, as the handle moved. Then someone said something, low and muffled.
Finally, they could hear Herman’s drawling, sarcastic voice. ‘I have a delivery for Frau Grudel, in an hour – her husband is in the Party – he’s a rather senior officer. It’s for a shindig they’re having tonight to celebrate. Will I tell him that his men will have to wait, because you were checking his stock? I believe he is patient man, oh wait… no, he’s not. So, I’ll be sure to mention your name. Officer Smidt, is it?’
There was the sound of someone swearing softly, a veiled threat to ‘get that tyre sorted immediately, and not keep Grudel waiting,’ and then suddenly, blissfully, the booted heels started to retreat.
They dared not release the breaths they were holding until the van started to move again. The blanket was torn off them, as Goran jumped up and vomited the chicken pie he’d wolfed down only moments before on the side of the door.
No one said anything. They all understood.
At some point, despite their fear, despite wondering if the officer was following them, and wondering just where in Germany they were now – not being able to see a thing, with no windows or word from Herman, with the monotonous, never-ending drive, and the stuffy air – the twins fell asleep on each other’s shoulders.
Asta woke up with a start a few hours later, as the van swerved on the road, then started to reverse, as if the driver had made a wrong turn. As the van continued on its way, they wondered what the time was. ‘How long have we been driving?’
‘Almost two days for us,’ said Esther to their surprise.
It was hot, the air stale and rank from the press of bodies, combined with the overwhelming stench of dried vomit. They were thirsty, having finished their water hours before. Lars was the first to give in and open a jar of pickles, and take a sip of the water inside, which he passed along. ‘If he’s not even going to let us stop for water or to relieve ourselves, well, then he can’t be surprised.’
Asta and Jürgen took a small sip of the pickle juice, Herman’s warning riding strong in their minds. But it was the press of their bladders that was the most urgent. Asta crossed and recrossed her legs, uncomfortably.
The men had created a makeshift bucket from a box, which they lined with sheeting, and she didn’t know what might be worse, using that or making a mess on the floor. The smell was already bad, and there was nothing to do but close her eyes when someone used it as there was nowhere to turn to offer any privacy.
Jürgen squeezed her fingers. ‘I’ll make sure no one sees if you use it,’ he whispered.
She squeezed his hand in return. It would be impossible, but she appreciated him saying it nonetheless.
She was just gearing herself up to risk it, when the van came to a sudden, grinding halt. They all gasped. There were rapid footsteps, and then the door was pulled open fast.
‘Change of plan,’ said Herman, wrinkling his nose at the smell that wafted out to him, a stench that incorporated sweat, urine, unwashed bodies, vomit and fear. ‘Get out.’
They all blinked up at him, shielding their eyes in the early afternoon sun. They were parked alongside a long stretch of open woodland.
‘How long are we stopping for?’ asked Esther. ‘It would be good to stretch my legs for a bit.’
‘Stretch them forever,’ he snapped. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? I said, change of plan – you’ll be stopping here. It’s close enough,’ he said.
They all blinked at him in shock, as his words dawned on them in horror, and as one they turned and stared at the forest that swept out from them.
‘Where are we?’ asked Asta. ‘Are we across the border?’
He scoffed. ‘Are you stupid – you heard what happened – as soon as I’m in Flensburg, they’ll come for me. There’s no order for Grudel, and by the time they realise that… well, they’ll come to investigate.’
At their looks of confusion, he explained about the officers. ‘They’ll be waiting for me at the border, I can guarantee it. No doubt they’ve telephoned ahead. You want to be killed?’
Hershel frowned. ‘Where have you taken us then?’
‘Just outside the Marienhölzung forest,’ he said.
‘What?’ cried Lars. ‘You can’t be serious – we’re miles away.’
‘Barely – a few hours’ walk perhaps.’
‘Are you mad?’ said Esther, looking from him to the forest behind. There were tall beech, spruce and alder and it went on for what looked like miles.
‘Where is this?’
‘North Germany, in the Schleswig-Holstein area – not too far from the border,’ explained Goran, as the other men started to argue with Herman. Hershel looked ready to throttle him.
‘Look, I don’t know what you want from me but this is the best I can offer.’ Then he swore, muttering something about ungrateful pigs as he made his way back to the van, saying over his shoulder, ‘I’ve got you this far – that way is Denmark,’ while pointing through the woods to the right. ‘If you keep walking you’ll get there.’
He was gone before Goran could even tell him that his sense of direction was wrong; if they went the way he’d pointed they’d just enter further into Germany.
The adults were still arguing, and Asta and Jürgen were getting impatient. ‘We need to get off the road. Now, follow us,’ said Asta, heading towards the trees.
There were a few cars that passed, looking at them oddly, with their assortment of luggage, and their strange dress.
‘The further we go, the better – or like that idiot says, stay out here and make it easy for them – it’s not exactly like we look like regular Germans out for a stroll.’
Hershel touched his side curls, and nodded.
‘Come on,’ said Goran.
The temperature began to drop as they made their way into the woods, rushing as fast as they could into the unknown.
They would need that miracle now more than ever.
&n
bsp; Goran had a book of maps, which he unearthed from his satchel sometime later. ‘I brought this along, in case this happened.’
Asta and Jürgen weren’t the only ones who were impressed.
Not long afterwards, he’d plotted out a route. ‘It’ll take us a couple of hours, I think. We’ll have to stay off the main roads as we go from this forest into countryside.’ He eyed the older members and said, ‘Maybe a bit longer. If we make it that far, we’ll cut through the border to Frøslev. I’m hoping that there will be less patrols, if we do it after midnight.’
‘How sure are you?’ asked Lars.
He looked up at him. ‘I have never been less sure of anything in my life.’
Which wasn’t at all reassuring.
Lars swore and kicked a rock out of his path. ‘Yet we are meant to follow you because you have a book of maps?’
Hershel clamped a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder. ‘Do you have another suggestion?’
When he kept quiet, Hershel shrugged. ‘Well, then – we will use the only one we have. Hopefully, whoever patrols around here takes a break at night.’
They were already tired, hungry and thirsty from their ordeal in the van. But they’d been walking for close to an hour when they heard the sound of running water. Asta and Jürgen raced towards it, cupping handfuls of the cold, fresh liquid into their mouths. It was sometime after they’d slaked their thirst, and washed their faces and hands, getting rid of a week’s grime, and longing for a proper rinse, when they heard the sound of dogs barking.
They turned to each other in horror.
13
Goran was pale, his hand shaking as he cupped it around an ear.
Then he tested the wind by licking a finger and seemed to visibly calm, muttering, ‘Upwind, they’re on the other side of the river, thank God for that.’
‘How do you know that?’ demanded Lars, who looked sceptical. ‘It sounded like they’re coming from the right to me – what if we run straight into them?’
Goran frowned at him. ‘If you go right, you will. Trust me: I worked as a forest ranger for twenty years, before they told me I couldn’t anymore. I know how to keep us safe. Grab your things, quickly – once those dogs catch our scent, we’ll be done for.’
Asta’s heart thundered in her chest, thinking how lucky they were to have Goran with them. She’d agreed with Lars – it had seemed to her that the sound was carrying from the right.
The twins followed quickly after him. The others didn’t move as fast. They had more to carry, and Asta fought the urge to scream.
‘We need to get moving, that way!’ Goran pointed ahead.
The air was cold and crisp; their breath made clouds of steam as they hurried, hampered down by their possessions. They didn’t dare leave them behind, as it would announce who they were just as well as their actual appearance.
Their booted feet crunched onto dead leaves and mud, and they kept their chins tucked towards their chest as they raced into the wind, their eyes alert, startling at every sound, every rustle from the forest, which stretched before them.
They’d been running for ten minutes when Goran at last allowed them to stop. It wasn’t just the older folk wheezing and struggling for breath. Even Asta and Jürgen held their knees as they gasped for air. Jürgen helped Sofie, who he’d fairly dragged along with him.
Goran opened his rucksack again, and brought out a battered pair of binoculars. ‘There,’ he said, pointing a gloved hand in the distance.
They frowned, until he passed it around, and they could see a small wooden structure far away. There were patches of frost on its roof.
‘Is that a cabin?’ asked Sofie, hopefully.
‘It’s just a pergola – it helps to keep out the rain and the other elements,’ he explained. ‘It’s a simple structure for campers. I think it will serve us well for now.’
The sun was beginning to set as they walked the rest of the way between the tall woods. They heard the caw of a crow, and watched as a squirrel darted across their path, as they approached the structure. It was very basic, with no walls but at least it had a roof, and it offered, for now, at least, a place to rest.
‘What if the dogs come this way?’ asked Jürgen.
‘It’s unlikely – they were heading away from where we were, but at least from here, we’ll be able to see them,’ said Goran, handing over his binoculars again, and Jürgen realised they were on higher ground, looking down towards a valley. ‘These are good lookout points,’ he explained.
No one said anything for a while, then of all people, Esther looked at Goran and said, ‘It was a piece of good fortune, the day Herman picked you up – thank you.’
They all nodded.
Goran inclined his head, then took out something wrapped in green canvas and tied with leather strings, which he began to unravel, to reveal what looked like some kind of kit for starting a fire.
‘You’re welcome – but it’s no lucky accident, if that’s what you’re wondering. It’s one of the things I paid every last cent we had for.’
They looked at him in confusion and he explained.
‘When Herman said he’d take us – Sofie and I – across the border, I said if anything went wrong, this was where he should leave us. Well, actually I asked for Klues Forest, which is further up, but I suppose this is as close as he could get us. It’s not where I would choose to cross the border – especially at my age.’ He ran a hand through his hair, looking weary. ‘Trust me. They’re not my woods, of course, but with my experience, well, we have a chance.’ Then he looked at the map again, and said, ‘Though, whoever it was with those dogs turned us around. I’m thinking a change of plan; midnight might not be best – let’s wait here and start again at dawn. We’d be best to keep to the more densely forested path as much as possible, and avoid as many urban areas and open countryside as we can. So we’ll head towards Klues… and then on to the border town of Kruså, God willing’ he said, as if thinking out loud.
Asta blinked. She’d thought that Herman was just pure evil, taking Polgo’s money, leaving them on the side of the road to fend for themselves, but this made her feel a little better.
‘Herman knew to take us here?’
‘He knew.’
Then he looked up at them all, puffed out his cheeks, and rubbed his eyes. ‘This was going to be near impossible, if it had been just Sofie and I…’
Sofie nodded. ‘My knee is badly damaged – I should have had an operation but it was hard to get treatment and the Jewish clinic was so full,’ she said.
They looked at her and Goran nodded. ‘If it wasn’t winter or we were all fighting fit we could cross over to Denmark in a few hours, but with the patrols and our age and number – it’s likely to be double that or even longer as we’re going to have to be very careful. I didn’t factor in all of you.’
No one said anything. None of them had factored in the others either.
Sofie touched one of his bags. ‘Also. We might have to take turns in the tent.’
‘At least you thought to bring a tent,’ said Esther, pulling out a toaster from her large carpet bag. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking with this!’
Despite everything, they all laughed uproariously. ‘What?’ asked Esther. ‘I like this toaster, who knows how well they make things in Denmark?’
Which made them all laugh harder still.
As night fell, and they were greeted by the sound of an owl from one of the nearby trees, Goran switched on a flashlight, which he handed to the twins.
‘Asta, Jürgen, will you look for dried twigs and leaves, anything to start a fire?’
‘Won’t that be dangerous?’ asked Jürgen. ‘A fire, here?’
Goran nodded. ‘Yes. But the temperature is dropping substantially. We’ll need it – even if we all huddle together there’s a danger we could get hypothermia – these woods get freezing at night. It’s a calculated risk we’ll have to take.’
The twins shared anxious looks. The
y weren’t alone in wishing the odds were more in their favour, but dying of hypothermia while trying to escape wasn’t something they wanted to try either.
They combed their nearby surroundings looking for dry twigs and leaves, but most of it was wet and swollen from the weather. They kept searching, the flashlight’s beam casting its rays low to the ground. It was nearing midnight, and above their heads the moon was bright amongst the stars.
The cold, cloudless night displayed a blanket of stars, and with the wind whistling amongst the trees, it was beautiful. It seemed somehow unfair that the world could still contain so much beauty after all that they had been put through – all their pain and fear, all their anxiety for their future – but then, the world had stopped being a fair place for the pair of them long ago.
After twenty minutes, however, they had a change of luck, and found a stack of firewood beneath a tarpaulin alongside a metal drum.
‘Probably something the rangers use to keep warm,’ said Jürgen wisely, as they began filling their jumpers with the wood. It was good to have this moment to themselves. To talk freely, and to process all that they had gone through so far.
‘Polgo is going to be so mad when he finds out that the driver left us,’ said Asta. ‘I wish there was some way we could let him know we’re all right.’
Jürgen nodded, adding another piece of wood to his pile, ignoring his concern that they weren’t all right, not yet. ‘Come on, let’s head back.’
After a while he said, ‘I was thinking,’ looking at his twin, her face drawn in the harsh flashlight which highlighted the deep shadows beneath her eyes, ‘what are the chances of us all getting across safely?’
Asta frowned. ‘We can’t think like that, Jürgen.’
He stopped walking. Some animal skittered past in the dark, possibly a rat, thought Asta. The sound of insects increased in volume, loud and humming, alongside the howling whistle of the wind.
