by Ella Zeiss
‘You must get some rest,’ Maria said on the fourth night. Anna was on her way to do more sewing but could hardly keep her eyes open.
Anna looked at her friend sadly. She was one to talk. The rims of Maria’s eyes were reddened and she could barely stand on her own two feet after all the hours she had spent carrying her little daughter around, as though her mere presence could do something to cure the child. It didn’t take a doctor to know that things were not going well for Ruth. She was so small and delicate. Her tiny body had no strength left to sustain her. Anna thanked God that Yvo hadn’t caught anything yet.
She nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right. I’d better go to bed.’ It would be no use to anyone if she collapsed with exhaustion. ‘And so should you.’
‘Yes,’ Maria said, straightening her back. Her pregnancy was still at a relatively early stage, but because of her emaciated body, the curve of her belly was already showing. The baby was taking all her strength.
‘Things will get better soon,’ Anna said, but was shocked to hear how hollow and flat her voice sounded. Tired as she was, she checked on the children as usual before going to her bunk to lie down at last.
Did Erich’s brow feel slightly cooler?
Please, dear God! she pleaded. Please let him get better.
Yvo and Rita were cuddled up together, sleeping peacefully, and she stroked their cheeks gently before checking on Friedrich. His lips were dry and chapped; his skin felt burning hot. Anna sank down onto the bunk in despair. She had no idea where to find the strength to carry on. Not him too . . .
There was nothing for it but to persevere. His mother had entrusted him to her care and she would look after him.
She allowed herself a brief moment to close her eyes and rest her head against the wall. In her mind she slowly counted to ten, then she stood up and dragged herself outside to collect fresh snow for the compresses.
‘Mama? Mama, wake up!’ A voice pulled her out of sleep. Erich’s voice.
She forced her eyes open and found herself staring into his pale face. She put a hand on her throbbing brow as she sat up. Black dots were dancing in front of her eyes and she took a deep breath while she waited for them to disappear again.
‘Are you all right, Mama?’ Erich asked. He sounded slightly panicky.
‘Yes.’ Carefully she climbed down from her bunk. ‘I’m just tired, that’s all. How are you feeling?’ She touched his face, pressed her lips against his head. The fever was gone! He was pale and weak, but he could stand and speak to her. Euphoric, she pulled her son into her arms. He was over the worst.
‘Mama, there’s something wrong with Rita. You have to help her.’ The worry in his voice dampened her spirits immediately.
Like a robot, she felt the girl’s forehead.
‘Is she sick now too?’
‘Yes.’ There was no point in pretending.
‘Does she have the same illness as me?’
‘I think she probably does.’
‘Oh good, she’ll be better soon then.’ He looked relieved.
Anna nodded. She didn’t want to dash his hopes, but she knew that Erich had been lucky. In the other huts three children had already died.
‘Erich?’ Maria came over and smiled for just a moment. ‘Are you feeling any better?’
‘Almost,’ Anna said, answering on his behalf, ‘except that Rita and Friedrich have caught it now. How is Ruth?’
Maria’s eyes filled with tears. ‘There’s no change. I keep rubbing lard on her chest, and I give her honey to suck on, but her breath is rattling so much, and I can’t make her eat or drink a thing.’
‘You have to keep trying, even if it’s only a few drops. I’ll go back to the village today. Maybe someone will sell us another hen.’
Maria nodded.
‘Erich, I think you should lie down again,’ Anna told her son. ‘You’re not well yet and I don’t want you ending up having a relapse. I’ll make some more tea; I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘Yes, Mama.’ Obediently he crawled back beneath his blanket.
Anna threw on her coat and went outside to fetch more snow. The frosty cold air was almost pleasant after the fuggy smell of sickness inside the hut. She took several deep breaths and felt the pressure in her head lighten a little.
The sound of footsteps crunching in the soft snow caught her attention. Grossmutter Beate was shuffling across the yard. Anna watched her go, astounded. She had never seen the old woman looking so forlorn. She had always seemed so steadfast and strong. What must have happened to change her so?
Unsteadily Beate made her way through the snow towards the guard hut. She kept wiping her face as if she were brushing away tears.
Anna dropped her bucket and ran after her. ‘What happened?’
The old woman stopped and turned round. Sorrow marked her face and it took her a moment to recognise Anna. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she muttered.
‘What happened?’ Anna repeated quietly.
Beate’s shoulders started to shake and her lips trembled.
‘Is it Adam?’ Anna asked, voicing her worst fears. Beate’s grandson had become ill about the same time as Erich.
‘No,’ Beate said, shaking her head. ‘We were able to pull the wee lad through, but our Christine . . .’
She fell silent and tears streamed down her lined cheeks. ‘Our Christine is dead.’ She clutched her mouth and choked back a desperate sob. ‘And now I have to report it so they can take her away. The ground is too hard to bury her here.’ Beate’s voice broke.
Anna put her arm round the old woman’s shoulders to comfort her. She wished there was something she could say, something she could do, but she knew that nothing could stop the pain of a mother for the loss of her child. No matter how old the child might already have been.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said hopelessly.
‘I know, my dear, I know.’ The old woman stared at the ground, looking grim. ‘And this is just the beginning.’
‘What do you mean?’ Anna asked, alarmed. She had thought they were over the worst now. Surely things would be getting better soon. Erich’s recovery had sown a small seed of hope in her heart.
‘It’s measles,’ Beate said darkly. ‘Believe me, I’ve seen it twice before.’
‘Measles?’ Anna repeated, horrified. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, but none of them will listen.’ She pointed angrily at the watchtower. ‘They’ll find out soon enough. Once the rash starts spreading.’
Anna’s heart sank. She had had the disease when she was a child and knew that few survived. That meant her son wasn’t out of danger yet. If Beate was right, then everyone who survived the first bout of fever would face another, as well as pneumonia perhaps, because they would be too weak to fight back. ‘We need a doctor,’ she exclaimed. ‘And medicine!’
Beate sniffed bitterly. ‘I tried.’ She moved on again.
‘Should I come with you?’ Anna asked uncertainly.
‘No, you go back to your little ones.’ The words as long as you still can hung in the air without being spoken. Anna shuddered.
While she filled the bucket with snow, she kept telling herself that Beate wasn’t a doctor. She could be wrong. Until someone proved it was measles, she could still hope.
Chapter 9
‘Here’s some broth.’ Gently Anna touched Maria’s shoulder to attract her attention. ‘It should have cooled down by now.’
The young mother barely looked up. She was completely absorbed by the little girl in her arms. ‘Shush,’ she said quietly. ‘She’s fallen asleep at last.’ Her voice was shaking. ‘I don’t want to accidentally wake her up.’
Anna nodded. She prayed every day that the little one would start to get better soon. She was so thin and weak by now that Anna’s heart ached at the sight of her. She couldn’t imagine what Maria must be going through. Thank goodness Yvo had been spared so far.
Her daughter had grown quiet over the past few days, and earnest. Her green eyes shone alm
ost unnaturally in her pale face beneath her red hair. The women had organised a sort of camp for the healthy children in one corner of the hut, to try and minimise the risk of them catching the disease. Yvo stayed out of her mother’s way, sensing that Anna was too busy tending to Rita, Erich and Friedrich.
Anna swallowed and smiled at Yvo across the room.
Her daughter waved back.
‘I love you,’ she mouthed without a sound.
Yvo nodded and turned back to the other children.
Anna put the cup of chicken broth beside Maria’s bed and couldn’t resist the urge to stroke Ruth’s little head.
She faltered. The brow felt cold and clammy. Relief flooded through Anna. For a moment she thought the child’s temperature had dropped at last, but then she saw her waxy skin, the small sunken chest no longer rising and falling.
Her fingers dug into Maria’s shoulder. Fear, pain and grief streamed through her.
No. Not little Ruth. It couldn’t be.
The lump in her throat made breathing almost impossible.
Without thinking, she moved her hand to measure the child’s pulse but Maria held her back.
‘She’s fallen asleep at last. Leave her in peace.’ Her voice sounded hollow and flat.
Tears came to Anna’s eyes as she slowly shook her head. She sat down next to her friend and put an arm round her. ‘She’s dead,’ she whispered quietly.
‘No, she’s not,’ Maria hissed, ‘all she needs is some rest. The fever has gone – she’ll wake up soon!’ She broke away from Anna’s embrace and hugged the lifeless body of the little girl, burying her face in her soft hair. ‘Mama is with you, my darling. Everything will be all right. You’ll see. Get some rest, my little one.’
‘Maria.’ Anna tried to speak, her voice full of tears.
‘Leave me alone!’ Maria pushed Anna’s hand away and started to hum a soft lullaby, all the while rocking the child gently in her arms.
Stunned and shocked, in a daze, Anna stood up and stiffly walked away. There was nothing she could do for Maria. Nothing she did would ever take away the terrible pain that was breaking her friend’s heart.
She had no idea what to do, but it didn’t matter anyway. Maria would have to face the awful truth very soon; she probably knew that already. If she found it consoling to hold on to happiness gone forever for a few more moments, Anna was not going to stop her.
‘How are Rita and Friedrich?’ Anna asked her son, who was sitting beside his foster-sister’s bed, changing her compresses. Erich was getting better with every passing day. He helped his mother as best he could, although she made sure that he didn’t do too much. Perhaps he would be able to go back to school in a few days’ time, even though she would prefer to keep him with her for just a little longer.
‘Rita drank some broth, but Friedrich’s cough is getting worse.’
Anna didn’t need to bend down to the boy to hear his breath rattling in his chest. She had enough experience to know that this meant pneumonia. She closed her worried eyes. Was she going to lose another child?
Briskly she sat down next to him and unbuttoned his shirt, baring his tiny chest. With her fingertips she scraped the very last of the lard out of the jar and started to rub it in with vigour.
‘Mama,’ Friedrich asked in a feeble voice, and Anna felt wretched to the core.
‘It’s all right,’ she said, and stroked his cheek.
‘Mama, I’m cold,’ he whined, and rolled up in a ball on his side.
Anna tucked him in gently, feeling helpless. There was almost nothing she could do for him. What he needed most was a doctor, and his mother.
All of a sudden, she straightened up and grabbed her coat.
‘Where are you going?’ Erich asked, sounding worried.
‘I want to have a quick word with the Commander. I’ll be back in a minute.’ Her mind was made up. Maybe it was the shock of Ruth’s death, or maybe the knowledge that Friedrich and many of the others – children and adults alike – were unlikely to survive the coming weeks, that made her throw caution to the wind again, but things could not continue like this. They were humans after all, and they were Soviet citizens.
She walked boldly towards the furthest hut and rapped on the door. Not a movement inside. She rattled the door and found it locked. Irritated, she walked around the low hut until she found a window she could peer through. Everything was dark and quiet inside. Her eyes wandered over towards the watchtower at the entrance to the camp. She could see light shining through the shutters. There was someone there at least.
She went over and knocked on the wooden door.
One of the windows opened. ‘What do you want?’ a man called sternly.
Anna came round the corner to be able to see him better.
‘That’s far enough – step back!’ he shouted, sounding worried.
She stopped in her tracks at once. ‘I want to talk to the Commander,’ she said in the firmest voice she could muster.
‘That’s not possible. He’s in Luza.’ The man reached to close the window again.
‘When is he coming back?’
‘When the danger is over.’
‘What danger?’
He looked at her as if he thought she was mad. ‘There’s a measles outbreak in Luza. Didn’t you know?’
No, she didn’t know. No one had thought it necessary to inform the people in the camp.
‘The school has been closed for two days.’
They hadn’t heard that either. Nearly all the children were ill, and the few who weren’t were helping their mothers.
‘How is Nadezhda Nikolaevna?’ Anna asked, stunned. She liked the woman, who had always been honest and friendly towards her.
‘I have no idea,’ the man said with a shrug. ‘All I know is that our orders are to stop the epidemic spreading.’
‘But it’s here already,’ Anna cried in despair. ‘Women and children are dying every day.’
‘I know. So you had better get back.’ The threat in his voice was all too clear.
She hadn’t realised that she had moved closer to the window. Quickly she stepped back again. ‘I’m not sick,’ she assured him.
‘I don’t care,’ the soldier said, and moved again to close the window.
‘Wait!’ Anna shouted. Her mind was racing. It was one thing to suspect they were dealing with an outbreak of measles and a very different matter to hear their worst fears confirmed. ‘We need help. A doctor! Too many people are ill. The children are dying,’ she shouted desperately. Her eyes filled with tears again and she stopped trying to wipe them away.
‘I’m sorry.’
She stared at him, aghast. ‘We need a doctor!’ she repeated bleakly.
‘One arrived in Luza the day before yesterday. As soon as things are under control there, he will come here.’
Anna’s heart sank. It could well be too late by then.
‘Please,’ she pleaded.
The man nodded reluctantly. ‘I will report the urgency of the situation.’
‘Thank you.’
She hesitated because she knew how unlikely it was she’d be listened to again, but at least she had to try. ‘The work gang that has been sent away includes a comrade – Martha Gerz. Her son is seriously ill. He needs his mother . . .’
The guard shook his head before she had even finished speaking. ‘The camp is under quarantine. Any contact with the work gangs is strictly forbidden.’
‘He might die,’ Anna said quietly, ‘and his mother doesn’t even know.’
‘If she did know, there would be nothing she could do to help,’ the man replied, closing the window for the last time.
Crushed, Anna stayed where she was. From one of the huts she could hear the heart-wrenching wail of a child calling for its mother.
She banged fiercely on the wooden side of the watchtower.
‘What do you want now?’ the guard barked.
‘I would like permission to organise a quarantine station in
the administration block.’
‘No, that one must stay as it is, but you can clear out another one if you want.’ He shrugged almost apologetically. ‘There should be enough room now.’
Anna nodded. Because the men were gone and more and more people were dying, they had plenty of empty berths.
Her first glance when she got back to her hut was at Maria. She had finally put down Ruth’s little body, but still couldn’t manage to let her go. Gently her hand rested on the child’s chest, as she sat there listlessly sunk in thought.
Dreadfully sorry for her, Anna went closer. Maria lifted her head. Her eyes reflected such an abyss of emptiness and pain that Anna was at a loss for words. Silently she sat down next to her friend and took the other woman in her arms, wanting just to hold her. Maria’s sorrow was so deep that she wasn’t even able to cry. She sat there as if she had turned to stone, staring at her beautiful, wonderful, dead little girl.
‘Let her go,’ Anna whispered at last.
‘I can’t.’
‘You need to eat and rest.’
‘No, I can’t leave Ruth on her own.’
‘I’ll take care of her while you go and eat something.’
Maria turned her head. Her eyes started to glimmer with tears. ‘You’d do that?’
‘Of course.’
‘Thank you.’ She stood up, swaying, and dug around for a piece of dry bread.
‘Drink some broth,’ Anna said, pointing to the now cold cup still standing by the bed.
‘That was meant for Ruth.’ Maria’s voice faded away.
‘You need it more at the moment.’
‘Maybe she’d still be alive if I’d looked after her better.’ A hysterical fit of sobbing took hold of her and she cowered on the ground, shaking. ‘Maybe I could have saved her . . .’ Her words were drowned in floods of tears. Her fingers clawed the trampled earth floor as if searching for something to hold on to while she screamed out her unfathomable pain.
More than one head turned in her direction in sympathy, and feeling scared, some of the children started to cry, but Anna just let them. Gently she stroked her friend’s back, soothing her until the tension slowly diminished in her muscles and her tears dried up at last.
