by Lily Graham
Sofie nodded fast. ‘Yes, you know her?’
There was a pause and Sofie handed over the other half of the potato. The woman nodded. ‘I did.’
Sofie’s knees felt like they were about to give way before the woman’s words confirmed her deepest fear. ‘They killed her last week, she was sick, and they took her away with the others. Gassed.’
Sofie was caught by the Blockalteste – the senior officer – who was in charge of their barracks. She was a tall woman named Geneva with dark hair and black slanted eyes. She had been a gynaecologist in Prague, one of the first female doctors. An educated, accomplished woman before she’d been brought here, forced to work at the hospital and perform the sorts of horrible tasks she had never imagined for herself when she had been at medical school. People like Geneva with special skills, even though she was a Jew, had protected status in the camps.
Sofie had only spoken to her once before, she wasn’t all that sure if she could trust her or not. ‘What are you doing out of bed?’ she asked, her eyes suspicious. She was not the sort of woman who would easily be fooled.
Sofie swallowed. She was devastated at what she’d found out. With Lotte’s death, she felt as if her best chance of finding out where her cousin had taken her son had died too. Still, there was a part of her that knew she couldn’t give up just yet. That Eva had been right – she could still make it out of this place alive, somehow, and search Lotte’s neighbourhood – knock on doors, speak to orphanages, someone would have to know something, and for that she had to stay alive, keep her wits about her.
‘I was at the hospital,’ she lied.
Geneva looked at her for a minute, eyes narrowing slightly, and Sofie swallowed.
‘And yet you came here to a different barrack afterwards?’
Sofie kept quiet, her brain whirring as she tried and failed to find a good enough excuse for being in the wrong barrack.
‘Come with me,’ said Geneva, and Sofie’s heart started to thud in fear.
Sofie followed her on leaden feet to a private room at the back. It was neat and clean, and there was even a small kitchen area. ‘I’ve seen you working at the hospital,’ Geneva noted.
Sofie nodded. ‘I’m a nurse.’
The woman’s eyes were appraising, she made a moue with her lips as she considered her. There was a long silence and the blood started to rush behind Sofie’s ears.
‘No, you’re not.’
Sofie blanched. ‘W-why do you say that?’
Geneva considered her. ‘The simple things give you away – the way you make a bed, no nurse would do it the way you do. I noticed too that you always seemed to volunteer for the cleaning tasks – anything that won’t give you away. Soon, someone will notice.’
It wasn’t a threat, Sofie realised, just a statement of fact. A warning, perhaps.
It was true. She’d been doing that now for weeks. There had been a few close shaves, like when she hadn’t known how long to sterilise a pair of scissors or the correct way to bandage a leg, but as the doctors didn’t perform rounds, this had mostly only been observed by the other nurses – so far no one had tried to turn her in, and one of the others had shown her how to do the task properly, keeping her secret, rather than risking her life.
Sofie swallowed. ‘Are you going to tell?’ she asked.
Geneva didn’t answer and the silence seemed to stretch forever. After a while she said, ‘I think I have another idea. You might have to prove something to me first, all right?’
Sofie swallowed. ‘Like what?’
‘Like, contrary to what I’ve seen – that you can be trusted.’
Sofie blinked. ‘With what?’
Geneva didn’t answer her. She frowned, then said, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
Sofie blinked. ‘Tea?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay,’ she answered.
Seemingly out of nowhere, the Blockalteste said, ‘I was pregnant when I came here, did you know that?’
Sofie shook her head.
‘One of the other doctors – before Mengele arrived this year – delivered the baby. He said it looked Aryan.’
At Sofie’s frown, she explained. ‘My husband wasn’t Jewish, and the baby took after him. He took him away, he made it sound as if it were a great honour – a credit to my skill, which he said would help abort all these other unwanted Jewish children. Except the irony was that mine would get to live – just with Nazis.’
She took a sip of her tea. ‘I’m not sure if death would have been better. Mengele probably would have killed my child.’
It was clear that she despised him. Sofie didn’t blame her.
Sofie didn’t know what to say, except, ‘I’m sorry.’
Geneva shrugged and looked away. ‘Just another casualty.’ She waved a hand, indicating the rest of the complex. ‘One of many, not half as interesting as others.’ Then she looked up, her gaze direct. ‘So did you find her?’
Sofie frowned, ‘Who?’
‘The woman who gave your child away – the one you snuck out of your barracks to find?’
Sofie’s eyes widened. ‘How did you know?’
‘Word gets around. Not much more to do here besides talk. The other woman – the one who looks like her told me.’
‘Oh,’ said Sofie, cursing herself for not being more discreet.
‘So, did you find her?’
‘No, she’s dead.’
Geneva shook her head sadly. ‘I’m sorry too.’
She seemed to stare at her mug for a long time, then she looked up. ‘I won’t tell anyone about you – but I need your help with a case – I need someone who can be discreet. Someone who isn’t afraid to break some rules – to lie if need be. Can you do that?’
Sofie nodded.
‘I need an assistant at the hospital, but there will be other tasks, off the books, women we will care for.’
‘You want me – even though you know that I’m not a trained nurse?’
‘I can train you – it might just save your life. But I warn you – if you betray me, or tell anyone what we’re doing, I will not hesitate to have you killed. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’
‘Now get back to your barracks. And report to me tomorrow at the hospital.’
Sofie nodded, and left, wondering what she’d just agreed to do.
Chapter Nineteen
Eva had frostbite in two of her toes. Her stockings were sodden from the relentless weather. If it wasn’t snow, it was rain and sleet and freezing cold mud.
Her body ached no matter which way she moved and hunger was a constant companion. Rations had been slim to begin with but they had got even more so in recent weeks. Some days if she were too slow to get there in time, she missed the midday meal entirely.
Eva was transporting rocks – her sore, swollen feet making it ever harder as she hobbled on in her clogs – when she heard someone call her name. She looked up in surprise. It was Herman.
She rushed forward, looking over her shoulder, to make sure that no one was watching.
There was. Just the Kapo, Maria. She was lazy, and not particularly observant, it was their good fortune to have her overseeing them.
‘Herman!’ she greeted.
‘I didn’t know if you were still alive,’ he said. His bushy eyebrows rose in surprise to take in the sight of her. ‘You look terrible.’
She gave a hoarse laugh. ‘Thanks, you look good too.’ He was thinner than she remembered from the last time, his face drawn. His eyebrows though were as bushy as ever, and his dark eyes, warm.
He chuckled. Then looked over his shoulder. ‘Here,’ he said, handing her a thick wedge of black bread. Her eyes widened. ‘Eat, take it – I was going to trade it later for extra socks, but you need it more.’
She shoved a piece into her mouth and chewed, stopping when one of her teeth at the back seemed to wriggle. She paused, swallowed and felt it with her finger – made a low gasp when it came away and she d
ropped it on the floor.
Herman looked horrified. ‘They aren’t feeding you enough – especially not to do this.’
‘No,’ she agreed, shoving more food into her mouth and chewing on the other side. She looked at him; he would probably have said something by now, but still she couldn’t help but ask.
‘Have you heard anything? About Michal?’
He looked behind him as a group of women went past, pretending to be helping with the stones.
‘Yes, that’s why I came to find you.’
She stopped chewing, her mouth opening.
‘And? What did you find out? Is he alive?’
He stared at her, his face giving nothing away, and she waited breathlessly for his reply.
Chapter Twenty
Prague, Autumn 1938
At home things were getting tense.
Eva came inside, to find her father, her always-calm, straight-laced father, having a shouting match with her uncle Bedrich.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked, hearing the raised voices in the kitchen, just off the hall. Her mother steered her away.
‘Come, let’s go for a walk, let them have it out alone.’
But her uncle, hearing their voices, strode out into the entryway. His hat was still on his head, his dark eyes angry. ‘Come and talk sense to your father,’ he implored.
‘Don’t bring her into this, Bedrich!’ hissed her father, following him out into the hall. Eva could see that his face was red and blotchy, she’d never seen him look so cross.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Eva, setting her bag on a chair, next to the photograph of her mother’s dog, Chatzy, which Anka had placed there partly as it amused her to see her father’s beleaguered expression every time he saw it.
‘He is being stubborn as usual,’ said her uncle. ‘Believing in the authorities and what little “power” they pretend to have – but look at what has happened with this stupid agreement – they all decided our fate and didn’t even invite us to have a say!’
He was speaking of the Munich Agreement, where the heads of Britain and France and Russia had met with Hitler in Munich to discuss Czechoslovakia’s fate, and agreed to hand over large swathes of the country under Nazi control.
‘But we know about this already,’ said Eva. ‘It’s worrisome, yes, but he’ll be satisfied with that and—’
Bedrich scoffed. ‘Worrisome is an understatement. And satisfied? A man like that? Never. He has been shown that he can take the hand, of course he will come for the arm too. It’s time we got serious as a family and made plans to leave, and the sooner the better – like the Jews who got out of Austria.’
‘Leave?’ repeated Eva. ‘And go where? What are you talking about – abandoning our homes?’
Bedrich stared at her, then shook his head. ‘Listen to me, Eva. Things are getting worse for Jews all across Europe, many of them as you know have fled here, thinking they would be far from this maniac and his plans—’
‘But that’s not happening here,’ protested her mother. ‘We’ve heard rumours, of course, of how things have been in Austria and Germany – the animosity towards Jews, of course, but it won’t stand here.’
Most of their friends were non-Jews, there was no such anti-Semitism from their friends, colleagues, or the people of Prague.
Bedrich showed them a paper; it was a terrible story of Jews being victimised and attacked in the streets of Austria since the Anschluss, as if someone had lit a match and the low-level grumble of anti-Semitism that was sometimes still felt in pockets of Europe was suddenly whipped into a frenzy. ‘They said that about Austria too. Look, I have a British friend – we were in the army together – he has a summer home in Sussex and he said we could use it if we needed to restart our lives. I think it’s worth considering.’
‘England,’ said Anka, her eyes incredulous. He may as well have said the moon.
‘Yes, and why not? They are our allies.’
‘Our allies?’ breathed Otto. ‘After what they did at that agreement, you think so?’
‘But it’s so far away,’ said Anka. ‘And only Eva knows the language.’
‘Not much of it,’ said Eva.
Bedrich looked hen-pecked. ‘Do you have a better option, Otto?’
‘Yes, I do – we don’t run away just because some bully is at the school gate threatening to take our sweets. We stand our ground.’
Bedrich blinked. ‘I wouldn’t underestimate the Nazis, they are far more than some schoolyard bully.’
Eva nodded. ‘But they’re thugs and soon someone will put a stop to it – there’s no reason for us to worry about it here. He’s just using the Jews as some kind of scapegoat for everything that went wrong for them after the war: people will see through it, uncle. And besides, this is Prague, it is such a multicultural city – I mean, most of my friends aren’t Jewish, and they’re absolutely horrified – just as much as us – at the news. Michal says that everyone at the symphony feels the same way too.’
Anka nodded. ‘Besides, apart from my visits to the synagogue on holy days, which I am made to do by myself because no one here is religious,’ she said with a look of reprimand at her family, ‘and Kaja’s excellent challah bread, we’re not that observant… even you sometimes eat pork,’ she teased. ‘Should we really worry so much?’
Bedrich shook his head, exasperated with them all. ‘You think they care about that? How religiously we behave or not? I see it every day, there’s a feeling, something stirring with his words, things are getting worse, even here.’
Eva’s father shook his head. ‘Bedrich, I know you are worried, but I don’t think it will come to that. Not here. I don’t think we should just run away just yet. It can’t go on for much longer, this is a very different situation to Austria – they were very much affected after the war, their heads were turned by that madman wanting someone to blame. Here, I just don’t see it happening, but if it looks like we will definitely be occupied, then you have my word, we will leave if we need to, all right?’
Bedrich stared at his brother, his dark eyes resigned. ‘All right. But I worry that by then it will be too late.’
Otto clamped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘You worry too much, Bedrich. Anyway if worst comes to worst I have faith in you and your connections to get us out of here.’
Bedrich laughed, but it didn’t meet his eyes. ‘Let’s hope so, brother.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Eva stared at Herman, her heart thundering in her ears as she waited for him to reply.
When he spoke, she didn’t hear it above the roar inside her ears.
‘What?’
He touched her arm. ‘He’s alive, Eva.’
Eva started to breathe, but it was too fast and she couldn’t control it – or the smile that ripped through her. The rush of adrenalin that made her want to run to find him. She was overcome. ‘Alive!’ Tears fell from her eyes in streams, making it hard to see.
‘Where is he? Can I see him, can someone take me to him?’
Herman’s eyes were grave. ‘There’s something you have to know.’
Her eyes snapped towards his, and a chill entered her heart.
‘What?’
‘There’s a man that might be Michal who is alive, one of the Kapos – one we can trust – said it was possible it’s him – they aren’t sure, though. They’re keeping him in a room by the hospital. That’s all I could find out.’
Eva’s eyes were huge. ‘I have to go to him, somehow.’
Herman looked at her, then his eyes scanned the distance, checking to see if they were being watched, and he nodded. ‘I can’t get you in, I’m sorry – even Vincent – my Kapo, can’t – but your friend might, the one who works at the hospital.’
Eva looked at him. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because Vincent said he saw her with the guard – the one who put the man in that cell.’
‘Hinterschloss?
‘The other one, Meier.’
&n
bsp; Eva waited for Sofie to get home – she was on the nightshift, and the wait felt interminable. Finally, at three in the morning, she arrived, and Eva told her what she’d found out.
‘And Meier is keeping him there?’ Sofie sounded shocked.
Eva shrugged. ‘That’s what Herman said. Look, can you find out?’
Sofie nodded. ‘Yes, and I’ll make sure you can see him – if it’s him.’
Eva looked at her friend. ‘Sofie, I can’t ask you to put yourself in that kind of risk – people are already starting to talk about Meier. It’s dangerous.’
Sofie shook her head. ‘I can handle it. Trust me. There’s nothing to worry about.’
‘So, he hasn’t forced you or anything?’
Sofie shook her head. The truth was he had begun to push harder, he was always at the hospital, and he wasn’t satisfied with simple kisses any more. He found excuses to take her away, to lead her to a nearby storeroom, and push his hands up her skirt, his hard fingers touching her roughly, in what he no doubt presumed was pleasure, taking her hand and putting them in his trousers, while he kissed her. She knew that if she managed to convince Meier to help, she would have to sleep with him ‘He’s a gentleman,’ she lied. ‘I’ll get you to see this man – Michal or whoever he is, all right? But he might not be – and trust me you don’t want to get your hopes up.’
Eva closed her eyes. It was too late for that.
It took a few days, but Sofie told her to go to the hospital after curfew. ‘You’ll have to dodge the spotlights, but you can make it. I’ll be there waiting for you – give Maria this,’ she said, handing her a large wedge of salami, which Eva squirrelled up her sleeve quickly.
She nodded. Maria was bribable, they’d proven it a few times in exchange for washroom privileges and other necessities.
‘Thank you.’
She shook her head. ‘Don’t thank me yet. But maybe you can see him, even if it’s – for the last time. The man – Michal – if it is him – was beaten. Badly. He’s been taken to a holding area near the hospital. Apparently, he intervened when some boy was caught stealing extra food, they punished him instead.’
