A Sparrow in Terezin

by Kristy Cambron

  He nodded. “We had a tip on the story from a Polish freedom fighter who’d been sent to one of the camps. Auschwitz it’s called, a death camp. Apparently one of the worst. He managed to smuggle a radio into his cell block and has been sending wires to the Polish government exiled here in London. We decoded some transmissions.”

  “Where is the camp?”

  “Near Krakow.”

  “That’s not so far from Prague.” She exhaled a breath. “And what did this man say?”

  “He’s been imprisoned for months, watching people die all around him. He’s been feeding information to the governments here. And what he had to say, well . . . they didn’t want to believe it was true. We had to do our fact-checking, what there could be done. But then again, after the Blitz, we could believe just about anything from Hitler’s army—horrific atrocities and all.”

  “So you’ve known for a while?”

  He countered easily, “I’ve been gone for a while.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “How could I, Kája? Knowing you as I do, I was fearful you’d end up here, waiting to catch a train to goodness knows where. Forgive me, but your stubbornness seems to have overshadowed your will to follow propriety. Or to use your common sense.”

  “Liam, I’m half Jewish.” She whispered the words, almost afraid to admit the truth with others around.

  “Don’t say it like it’s a dirty secret.” He raked his fingers through his hair in acute frustration.

  “Isn’t it? We’re hated everywhere.” She scanned the crowds of people walking by and added, “We’re hated even here in London, though some are just not as forthright about it.”

  “You’re not hated everywhere, and certainly not by me.” He shook his head emphatically. “You may be half Jewish, but you’re a whole person. I won’t let you think any part of you is a bad thing.”

  “But you know it’s real. They’re killing Jews! Rounding them up, sending them away where some are never heard from again. They’ll take my father if they haven’t already. And my mother will choose to go with him. You see? That leaves me no choice. It’s not like hiding in our London shelters while random bombs rain down. This threat is targeted. It’s alive and searching them out. And if there’s anything I can do to stop them from being sent away, I must try.”

  “What can you possibly hope to do against the whole of Hitler’s army? Tell me that.”

  “Whatever I have to.”

  Liam grabbed her up in his arms so quickly that the action startled her. His hands were gentle and his voice whisper soft as his breath warmed her ear.

  “I meant what I said, Kája. That night at Bethnal Green? I want you in my life.”

  She looked away from the directness of his eyes. He’d left the year before and had been back only sporadically since. And though he couldn’t tell her where he was going or just when he’d be back, he had opened his heart and shocked her by voicing the truth of his affections.

  Kája offered a soft nod. “I know.”

  “I’m a flawed man, Kája. I know that full well. But things changed after that day when the bombs first rained down on us. When the whole city exploded and I thought you . . .” Liam shook his head, his voice catching on emotion. “The war has kept me away. And I may have to go back and fight. But I can’t do that unless I can come home and know you’re safe. Don’t you see?”

  She said nothing. Thought nothing. Could barely breathe as the thunder roared in the background.

  Kája leaned into him, thinking of the look in his eyes when he came after her during the Blitz raids on London. They’d rarely spoken of the night she’d almost been killed, but she still knew. She’d seen the fear in his eyes that night.

  “Dear God, Kája. Do you realize what you’re attempting to do?”

  She nodded, leaning in until the top of her head just bumped the underside of his chin.

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t try to talk me out of it. I’m scared already.”

  “Did you ever think,” he said, “I might be scared too? I’m sorry if it sounds selfish to want you alive, but there it is. I can’t accept the thought of you starving or worse in some Nazi death camp.”

  She edged back from him, enough that she could look him square in the face.

  “That won’t happen, Liam.” She paused and wiped a tear from her eye with a gloved hand. “Trust me. I can do it.”

  “I’d never think to doubt you. That’s not what this is about.”

  “You’ve known for a long time, since Columbia Road . . . when I woke at the hospital. I told you then and I’m telling you now—I have to do this. I always knew I’d be called home, I just didn’t know when.”

  His hand met hers, cupping her cheek with ready warmth. He held it there for a brief moment, then leaned back from her and rested his elbows on his knees. The pragmatic side of his personality appeared to have taken over.

  He arched an eyebrow and looked her straight in the eyes.

  “What’s your plan, then?”

  Kája chanced a look up at him and cleared her throat over the emotion that was building there.

  “My father is a physician, so I can only pray his services are needed by the Reich. That’s what he’s been doing up until now. I’d received a letter by way of my sister, who is still living in Palestine. It was dated more than five months ago and it had already been opened, but it found its way to me nonetheless. Maybe they kept him there to work in the city.”

  “If he’s still there, they’ll be watching him for sure.”

  “Yes. I expect so.”

  He nodded. “What do you plan to do?”

  I have to make him believe I’m confident. If I make him believe it, then maybe I will too.

  “With the travel papers I have, I can get to the coast.” Despite her best efforts, Kája felt her chin quiver under his intense scrutiny. “From there, I’ll find a way to cross the Channel.”

  “Where?”

  “I know I can’t go through Portsmouth or Calais so . . . maybe in the north.”

  “Not good enough.” He shook his head. “You may reach the shore, but what then? You’ll just march through the front lines of the German army with an expired visa? Kája, these governments are in a state of anarchy. It’s not like London. We’ve been bombed flat but at least the city is pulling together to get through it. We’ve had bucket brigades putting out fires and a stream of trains to take children to the countryside. There is some order to it. But out there?” He glanced to some place far off in the direction of the fading train tracks. “It’s war. There won’t be hands outstretched to help you. There’s no orderly rationing of goods; there are none to be had. You’ll be running for your life.”

  She closed her eyes. “I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

  “You’re being naïve then.”

  Kája yanked back out of his grasp and shot to her feet.

  “Please, Liam. You said you cared about me once.”

  She wasn’t given a breath of time to finish her sentence before he’d grabbed her up in his arms.

  “I do.”

  “And after losing your father in the raids and both of us surviving that first day”—she said the words softly, sweetly—“I know you’ll understand why I have to do this.” She gently pushed back from his chest. “And if you truly care about me, then you must let me go.”

  Liam stared back at her then, even as they heard the screech of train brakes behind them. She turned slightly, enough that she could see a cloud of steam rising around them.

  Time stopped.

  It seemed that the rain and the people moving around them faded away and it was only the two of them, lost in their own world.

  “The train is early.”

  She nodded, never taking her eyes from his. “Yes.”

  “Then we haven’t much time.” Liam leaned in and brushed his fingertip across the scar that bridged her left temple. “My beautiful Kája—I can’t keep you, can I? You’d never forgiv
e me if I didn’t let you do this, no matter how completely mad you are for trying it.”

  She blinked, content to stare back at him for the last few moments they had together.

  “Never is a terribly long time.”

  He nodded. “Yes. Too long,” he said, and pulled several papers from the inside pocket of his jacket. He held them out to her.

  “What’s this?”

  “There’s enough time here to get in and then get out again—all of you.”

  She scanned the travel papers and immediately looked back at him. “You got me a position with the Red Cross?”

  He nodded. “It was the best I could do. But you’re going to have to temper your accent.”

  “Liam, I don’t know anything about nursing,” she whispered.

  “The Red Cross does far more than nursing. And your father is a physician. Do you have any knowledge you might have picked up from him?”

  “Some,” she muttered, then shook her head. “But not enough to pass as a nurse. Not if I’m traveling under the auspice of medical service.”

  “Then you’ll have to align yourself to some other duty and pray it won’t be called into question. Those papers will get you in but your smarts are going to have to get you out. You’ll have a day or so to gather up your things—don’t wait too long—and catch a train south through Germany. The International Red Cross has been granted access to travel through to Switzerland. Those traveling papers will ensure you get there in one piece.”

  Kája folded the papers, then cradled them to her chest and leaned back so she could look up into his eyes. “But how did you know I’d need them? When I didn’t say anything in the telegram?”

  He shrugged. Almost as cocky as a boy in a schoolyard. “You’re stubborn to a fault.” She thought she saw something sparkle in his eyes as he continued, “I knew you’d go with or without my help, but I’d rather you go with it.”

  She nodded and returned a weak smile.

  “Right then,” he said, and pulled her along toward the train. “We should board.”

  Her head snapped up.

  “What did you say?”

  “The train’s about to leave and I’m going with you.” Liam pulled a ticket from his pocket. “I can escort you as far as Amsterdam. After that, you’re in God’s care.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  July 1, 1942

  Norwich Thorpe Station

  Norwich

  The train had lulled over the tracks with such a soft song, and leaning back on the cushions had felt so right. Kája had closed her eyes just for a moment, not even realizing she’d greeted the solace of sleep until Liam’s hands were gently gripping her shoulders, nudging her awake.

  “You’ve changed?”

  It was the first thing she noticed when she’d opened her eyes and found Liam looking back at her. Gone was his smart uniform. It had been replaced by a pin-striped shirt tucked into black wool trousers and a scratchy-looking tweed jacket that was a touch worn at the seams.

  “Yes. Can’t go past Norwich in a uniform. Not now. Any good spy knows that.” Liam cracked a slight smile and tossed a brown paper bag onto the seat cushion next to her. “Here. You’ll need to put this on before we leave.”

  “What is it?”

  Kája opened the bag to find a thick uniform of dark navy. She ran her fingers over the silvery circle patch sewn just beneath the jacket’s shoulder seam, the stitched cross in the center an unmistakably bright red. There was a white collared blouse and black tie tucked in with the uniform jacket and skirt.

  “A Red Cross uniform.”

  Yes, she supposed she’d need one to travel with the Red Cross. She looked down at her clothes. Liam didn’t need to say anything to confirm that her blue travel suit would never do where she was going.

  “There are shoes and a hat too.” He must have read her thoughts because he noted, “Not that the blue you have on isn’t fetching.”

  Kája smiled in spite of herself. How could he always manage to do that—make her heart lighter no matter the circumstances?

  “Here,” he said, and dropped a leather satchel on the seat cushion. “I’ll get your luggage from the porter so you can put your necessities in this. It’s far more practical than dragging a suitcase behind enemy lines.”

  Kája ran her fingers over the seam of the worn leather.

  She recognized it; the satchel Liam always carried when he popped into the Telegraph offices. It was worn in all the right places; the leather of the handle was soft with the hundreds of times he’d taken it in hand. The hammered brass nail heads had kept the bottom from much wear. But still, she could tell—it was a cherished old friend and he was willingly offering it to her.

  “But this is yours. You carry it everywhere,” she argued softly, and shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

  “Please. Take it.” Liam didn’t appear to be willing to negotiate, given the boorish look on his face. Despite the softness of the request, he looked unwilling to budge. “That suitcase is going to get really heavy after a while. This way you can slip it over your shoulder.”

  It made sense. She decided to give him the victory.

  “I’ll take it in care,” she said, and rubbed a hand over the handle. “Gratefully.”

  “Good.” He nodded once. “Then you’d best hurry.”

  Liam tilted his head to the station sign out the window.

  “We’re at Thorpe. The station services for ladies are right over there.” He motioned to a pair of doors at the bottom of a stairwell and checked his wristwatch. “But watch your step. This station was hit again by the Luftwaffe just a few days ago. The city’s been under the threat of bombs since being thrust into London’s Blitz nightmare with the Baedeker raids in the spring. Some of the major repairs haven’t been completed yet so the platforms could be a bit chewed up here and there. The train leaves in fifteen minutes and it could be rough going out of Norwich. We can’t know what we’ll find.”

  “Then why do we go? There must be someplace else.”

  “Because we can’t hope to get you across the Channel anywhere in the south. Going from Portsmouth into occupied France is out of the question. And Calais is under constant threat.” He looked at her point-blank and said, “Even if we tried that way now, we’d never make it out.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  “Catching a boat from Norwich to Amsterdam is possible if you accompany Red Cross rations. But once we’re there, that will be it—no turning back.”

  “I thought there was no turning back in London?”

  Liam shook his head. “I’m not going to stop trying to convince you to stay,” he admitted.

  “What kind of responsible intelligence officer would you be if you didn’t?”

  He tilted his chin and gave her a more serious glare. “The kind who couldn’t get you into the British Red Cross without pulling every string behind the scenes that I could find.”

  “You could get in trouble for this?”

  “Let me worry about that. Just prepare yourself. I expect I’ll try to get you to reconsider at each stop between here and the German-occupied border. You may very well wish to be rid of me by the time we reach Amsterdam.”

  Kája imagined each stop carrying her farther and farther into the blackness of Germany and shuddered.

  “Then since you’re sticking your neck out for me, I’ll try to overlook your nature for now.”

  “Good.”

  A second or two passed awkwardly as she waited for him to move from blocking the doorway.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Kája hadn’t thought about it until that moment, but a swift rumble in her stomach reminded her that yes, hunger was there in the background. She nodded immediately and stood, clutching the bag under one arm.

  “Yes, actually. I am.”

  “Here. You can take this.” Liam pulled a folded package of waxed paper from his jacket pocket and placed it in her free hand. “Sorry. It’s only a lentil and cheese
pie. I expect it will be bland but it’s all they had left. London ration books are no good up here so I had to pay through the nose to get us that. I did see some fried potatoes if you’re so inclined. And the merchant had cream scones, but knowing there was no sugar in them made me think to pass altogether.”

  Liam’s hands were buried in his pockets. And he’d flown through the explanation with an almost boyish air. Quite unlike the sure-footed and sharp-tongued Liam Marshall. What was it about those tiny glimpses of vulnerability that she longed to see in him, especially when he was trying so hard to seem strong and unaffected?

  Kája smiled lightly, then bit her bottom lip, keeping the thought to herself.

  “I can go back and get them if you want,” he offered, and leaned toward the compartment door. “I’m sure they’ll have a few left if I hurry.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “This is fine, Liam. I’ll just go—” Kája moved to pass by him, noticing how he tried to move out of the way at the same time and faltered. He stepped on the tip of her shoe. “Excuse me.”

  “Right,” he said, and moved quickly to the side. “Sorry.”

  Liam looked like he wanted to say something, like he was battling in a way. Kája waited, expecting something else. But whatever had been there was gone soon enough and he seemed unable to speak of it. He tilted his head to the platform instead of adding anything further.

  “I’ll just wait for you here, then.”

  “Yes. Thank you.” She nodded and then ducked under the doorframe to the platform.

  “Fifteen minutes, mind,” he cautioned, looking up to the station clock out the window. “Or they’ll leave without us.”

  Kája nodded and threaded her way into the crowd.

  Something about knowing he was standing behind her, watching over her even from afar, bolstered her with renewed strength as she weaved in and out of the passersby crowding the busy platform.

  There were officers in uniform and women on their arms, tearful as they let their men go to board the train. She saw pockets of children here and there, huddled together as older adults looked after them. Kája tried not to notice how tired the adults looked. How battle weary they appeared. The children seemed quiet for the most part, and sad perhaps? She saw that some of the young ones had papers pinned to their shirts, likely with the name and address to whom they belonged. It was sad here, too, that the war had changed so many things, even in the north.