“Well, that’s a good idea—writing to the rabbi,” Martha said.
“If they went to the synagogue.” Kitty folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. “We weren’t a particularly religious family—not what you’d call observant. Being Jewish was more about our heritage and our culture than anything spiritual. We hardly ever went to the synagogue in Vienna.”
“But that might have changed when they moved to a foreign country,” Martha said. “It might have helped them get to know people.”
“I suppose it would.” Kitty nodded. “Do you think I should try writing to synagogues in the other countries they might have gone to as well?”
“It’s worth a try. But how would you get the addresses?”
“I’d just have to put ‘Chief Rabbi’ and the name of the capital city of the country.”
“That would probably work for Cuba and the Dominican Republic,” Martha said. “But what about Palestine? There must be hundreds of them.” She glanced at the envelope lying on the desk. “If the Joint has an office in Shanghai, it’s quite likely there are representatives in these other countries, too—especially Palestine, I should think. Why don’t you write back to Laura Margolis and ask her if she’d forward your parents’ details to her colleagues in the other places they might have gone to?”
“That’s a much better idea—why didn’t I think of it?” Kitty shook her head. “Since I got back, I feel as if my brain’s turned to mush.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Martha shot her a wry smile. “You’ve been on an emotional roller coaster since you were twelve years old—and in the past few weeks you’ve been hanging on by your fingernails.”
“It does feel like that sometimes.” Kitty glanced at the window. “I wouldn’t mind if I knew they were there, waiting for me, at the other end. I could put up with anything if I knew that.”
Within a week the road outside the camp was impassable. A night of heavy snow and high winds had left drifts six feet deep against the gates. Martha couldn’t open the door of the cabin. She went to wake the others. Kitty decided the only solution was to get out through the bedroom window.
“Please tell me you’re not going to jump,” Delphine said. “You could break your leg.”
“The snow looks deep enough to give me a soft landing—but if it makes you happy, I’ll use a sheet. You two can hold one end and I’ll lower myself down.”
When Kitty finally managed to prize the front door open, she looked like an Arctic explorer, her clothes and her hair encrusted with snow and her cheeks rosy from the effort of digging her way through the drift.
“We’d better get the children out.” Martha glanced at the neighboring cabin. “What about Dr. Jankaukas?”
“He was on duty at the hospital last night,” Delphine said. “I suppose it’ll be as bad down there as it is here.”
“I’ll go round up some help. Can I leave you two to get the others out?”
It wasn’t easy, getting through the snow. It had settled unevenly, making every footstep tricky. At one point, Martha sunk up to her thighs in it and had trouble extricating herself. When she reached the first of the blockhouses, she saw that people were already outside, using yard brushes, rakes, and their bare hands to clear the snow.
The same thing was happening across the camp. Once the doors were freed up, the leaders of each blockhouse organized teams to clear the paths. Within a couple of hours, the hospital and the kitchens were accessible. By lunchtime it was possible to get from one building to another with relative ease.
Kitty went to find Charlie, who had been on duty at the warehouse during the night. She took him a pan of soup swathed in cloths to keep it warm.
“Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes!” He grinned as she came through the door.
“Me? Or the soup?” She arched one eyebrow as she laid the pan on the desk-cum-table in the corner of the cell-like room where he’d spent the night. “Does this snow mean I’m going to have to put up with you being here all the time?” she teased him.
“I guess so.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t look like I’ll be going back to base anytime soon.”
“What on earth will you do, cooped up here, all on your own?” She sidled up to him and nuzzled his cheek. He slid his arms around her waist. There was no need to worry about being seen; the window was covered with snowflakes. They’d become much closer since the trip to Vienna. He hadn’t been pushy—she had been the one who’d taken the initiative. Their first proper kiss had been a revelation: she’d never felt that way with Fred.