Here’s someone arriving now.
It’s not Anya, it’s Bolek and the other gang boys with the cart to transport Dimmi’s paintings.
Hang on, there’s somebody in the back of the cart.
It’s Vladek.
I hurry outside.
Vladek is lying in the cart, barely conscious. Bleeding and battered.
‘What happened?’ I say, a horrible fear about Gabriek starting to grow inside me.
The other boys swap concerned glances.
‘It’s not good news, Felix,’ says Bolek. ‘Gogol picked up Vladek a couple of hours ago. He beat it out of him.’
‘I’m sorry,’ whispers Vladek.
‘Beat what out of him?’ I say, panic rising.
‘Your address,’ says Bolek.
I run.
Rubble doesn’t stop me, crowds don’t stop me, painful legs don’t stop me, rising terror squeezing all the air from my chest doesn’t stop me.
Please, not Gabriek.
I can survive anything else, but not Gabriek.
No security precautions this trip. No fast turns. No point.
I should probably slow down as I get close to our place. Gogol could be waiting for me. I could be in the sights of his gun right now.
I don’t slow down.
I crash into our ground floor entrance.
And stop. The ladder is out. But something’s not right. It’s hanging at a strange angle, away from the wall.
Then I see something even worse.
Half of it is on the ground, twisted and broken.
Oh.
Someone is lying under it, also twisted and broken.
And stiff and dead. Looking like they’ve fallen at least one, maybe two storeys.
It’s Gogol.
Gabriek is waiting for me at the top. I scramble up the wall and the rest of the broken ladder like a demented monkey. One who can put up with any amount of leg pain.
I hug Gabriek for ages
Then I look back down at Gogol’s twisted body.
‘What happened?’ I say.
‘Terrible accident,’ says Gabriek. ‘Ladder broke. Very shoddy workmanship.’
I stare at him.
Gabriek sits on his bed with a wince. His leg looks like it’s been bleeding through the bandage. I’ll have to fix that.
Then I see what’s lying on the bed next to him.
His gun.
And something else.
Two of the securing bolts from the ladder. Which I know were installed properly. I helped Gabriek do it.
I look at him. Our eyes meet briefly. I catch a very quick twinkle before he looks away. Back down at Gogol’s body.
‘Oh, and I might have to give up vodka,’ says Gabriek. ‘Been another tragic accident. Distilling equipment’s broken.’
I can see it is. It’s lying next to Gogol in pieces. Some of it seems to have blood on it, as if it was dropped onto Gogol from a great height.
Well, two storeys.
Gabriek puts his arm round me.
‘Well done both of us for sticking to our agreement,’ he says. ‘Both here safe and sound.’
Over Gabriek’s shoulder, I see Pavlo’s cot.
And suddenly I can’t keep the sadness in any more.
‘Oh, Gabriek,’ I sob.
Gabriek can’t either when I tell him.
We hold each other.
Sometimes in life it’s all you can do.
Wait for the sadness to be over. Hope one day it will be.
, I hope, this is what will happen.
People will start to get better.
The city will start to heal.
Me and Gabriek and Anya and her baby will live together in our hideout, safe and happy behind our sack curtains.
A family.
With a very fine cot.
And nearly a thousand medical books. Which will only be fair, when you think of all the books the Nazis took from Mum and Dad.
Anya and I will further our education. We’ll read a lot and get lots of medical experience in food-drop square.
Gabriek will do good work for our customers, and babysit, drunk with baby love.
And in the evenings, when Anya and I walk together among the moonlit rubble heaps, I’ll slip my arm through hers and our hearts will be full.
This is what I hope will happen.
And I think it will.
Soon.
A special insight from Morris Gleitzman into his books Once, Then, Now, After and Soon.
A special insight from Morris Gleitzman into his books Once, Then, Now, After and Soon.
Dear Reader
So far there are five in this family of books.
In Once, Then, After and Soon, we share Felix’s early years as he struggles to keep his friends and optimism alive through World War Two and what follows.
Between writing Then and After, I wanted to find out how Felix’s childhood experiences, in particular the terrible years of the Holocaust, would shape his adult life. So I wrote Now, in which the 80-year-old Felix is still battling and still optimistic, and finally happy.
There are two reasons I call this a family of books. The first is that years ago, when I started my work with Felix, I quickly came to see him and his friends and the brave adults who look after them as just that, a family.
The other reason I prefer not to call these books a series is that I’ve tried to write them so they can be read in any order. Most of us prefer reading to queuing, and sometimes we can’t choose when we get our hands on a book.
If Soon is your first encounter with Felix, please don’t be perturbed. You now know a few things about Felix’s earlier years, but not enough to spoil the other stories.
For their help with the publishing, research, editing, design, marketing and distribution of Soon, my heartfelt thanks to Laura Harris, Kathy Toohey, Heather Curdie, Tony Palmer, Tina Gumnior and Kristin Gill. And my warm appreciation to the other wonderful Penguins in Australia and the UK, and to the non-avians at publishing houses in other countries. Thank you all.
Felix’s stories come from my imagination, but also from a period of history that was all too real. I couldn’t have written any of them without first reading many books about the Holocaust and what came after – books that are full of the real voices of the people who lived and struggled and loved and faced death in that terrible time.
You can find details of some of my research reading on my website. I hope you get to delve into some of those books and help keep alive the memory of those people.
This story is my imagination trying to grasp the unimaginable. Their stories are the real stories.
Morris Gleitzman
April 2015
www.morrisgleitzman.com
ONCE
Once I escaped from an orphanage to find Mum and Dad.
Once I saved a girl called Zelda from a burning house.
Once I made a Nazi with toothache laugh.
My name is Felix.
This is my story.
‘ . . . moving, haunting and funny in almost equal measure, and always grip-ping . . . ’
The Guardian
‘This is one of the most profoundly moving novels I have ever read. Gleitzman at his very best has created one of the most tender, endearing characters ever to grace the pages of a book.’
Sunday Tasmanian
‘ . . . a story of courage, survival and friendship told with humour from a child’s view of the world.’
West Australian
THEN
I had a plan for me and Zelda.
Pretend to be someone else.
Find new parents.
Be safe forever.
Then the Nazis came.
‘ . . . an exquisitely told, unflinching and courageous novel.’
The Age
‘[Gleitzman] has accomplished something extraordinary, presenting the best and the worst of humanity without stripping his characters of dignity or his readers of hope.’
‘Gleitzman’s Felix and Zelda are two of the finest and sure-to-endure characters created in recent times.’
Hobart Mercury
AFTER
After the Nazis took my parents I was scared.
After they killed my best friend I was angry.
After they ruined my thirteenth birthday I was determined.
To get to the forest.
To join forces with Gabriek and Yuli.
To be a family.
To defeat the Nazis after all.
‘ To say After is one of the finest children’s novels written in the past 25 years or so is no idle statement.’
Saturday Age
‘At its heart, After is about love and we are edified by reading it.’
Sydney Morning Herald
‘Morris Gleitzman is a writer who has moved generations of children . . . After does this and far more besides.’
Hobart Mercury
NOW
Once I didn’t know about my grandfather Felix’s scary childhood.
Then I found out what the Nazis did to his best friend Zelda.
Now I understand why Felix does the things he does.
At least he’s got me.
My name is Zelda too.
This is our story.
‘Now is an edifying and tender, nuanced novel from an exceptionally compassionate author.’
The Age
‘Gleitzman has a special way of seeing the world through the eyes of a child, and generations of readers are grateful to him for it.’
West Australian
‘Gleitzman’s trademark fine balance of tragedy and comedy is as sure as ever.’
The Guardian
VIKING
UK | USA | Canada | Ireland | Australia
India | New Zealand | South Africa | China
Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies
whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
First published by Penguin Group (Australia), 2015
Text copyright © Morris Gleitzman, 2015.
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Cover and text design by Tony Palmer © Penguin Group (Australia)
Cover photography: #a0170-00003 Brad Wilson/Getty Images
Anthony Suau/Gallery Stock/Snapper Media
#542034727 Joseph Church/Eye Em/Getty Images
#106672241 photonewman/Shutterstock
Front cover illustration of boy © Jeremy Ley
Inside cover photograph: #124033570 Mediagram/Shutterstock
puffin.com.au
ISBN: 978-1-76014-133-2
THE BEGINNING
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