Magda’s eyes flick between the doctor and nurse. She reads concern and sincerity on their faces. She herself has heard talk of the Germans needing young people to work for them, she just never imagined these ‘young people’ might include her and her sisters. Her heart begins to race. Her sisters! Is Cibi still safe in the woods? And Livi?
‘My sisters!’ she breathes, now gripped by a fear so strong her voice is barely audible.
‘It’s OK, Magda. Cibi is not at home, and Livi is too young. You just need to stay put until the guards have found enough young people to send away, and after that you’ll go home. I need you to be strong for just a little while longer. Let the staff here take care of you. Remember that your mother and grandfather gave their permission, so please don’t disappoint them, Magda.’
The nurse takes Magda’s hand and smiles at her reassuringly, but Magda is not reassured. She made a promise to her father, formed a pact with her sisters, and now each of them is in a different location, with no way of knowing how the others are faring.
Magda can only nod her consent to stay in hospital. She lies down in her narrow bed and stares up at the ceiling, tears of anger and frustration – and fear – welling up in her eyes.
CHAPTER 6
Vranov nad Topl’ou
March 1942
‘D
on’t look back, please, Livi. I beg you, don’t look back,’ Cibi urges her sister.
The girls step off the front path, out onto the street. In the doorway, their mother is sobbing in their grandfather’s arms. Livi had glanced back as she pulled shut the front gate. Her whimper of pain at witnessing her mother’s distress felt like a club to Cibi’s heart, but she had to be strong for Livi, for their mother.
Cibi straightens up and, transferring her small suitcase from one hand to the other, she grasps Livi around the waist, and the two sisters march on and away. ‘Just keep walking, that’s it, keep step with me, you’re doing well, Livi. We’ll be back home before you know it.’
It is a bright spring afternoon. The air is crisp and clear, the sky a deep cerulean blue. Livi’s dark brown curls glint in the sun, while Cibi’s waves bounce and settle, bounce and settle as she walks. They are aware of the neighbours lingering in their front gardens, watching, as the sisters, and the other Jewish girls, make their way towards the synagogue. Instinctively, maybe stubbornly, Livi and Cibi stare straight ahead.
Cibi is not sure her words of comfort are having any effect on Livi. Her sister leans into her, trembling a little. Where are they going? What will be expected of them? But the question which plagues Cibi more than any other, concerns Livi: will she be allowed to stay with her sister?
Fifteen years old and small for her age, how would Livi cope on her own?
‘Magda should be here with us,’ says Livi, cutting into her thoughts. ‘Aren’t we always meant to be together?’
‘Magda is safe, that’s what’s important now. You and I have each other – we’ll do the work, come home and then we’ll be together.’
‘And our pact, Cibi, to never be apart—？’
‘There’s nothing we can do about that now.’ Cibi didn’t mean her words to sound so strident: Livi is crying now.
‘Promise me, Cibi,’ says Livi, between sobs. ‘Promise me we will come home, and that we’ll be with Magda, Mumma and Grandfather again.’
‘My sweet kitten, I promise you that one day soon, we’ll walk back down this street and go home. I just don’t know when – but I will protect you until my last breath, which will be a long time coming. Do you believe me, Livi?’
‘Of course I do.’ Livi’s tears have abated for the moment. She squeezes Cibi’s arm. ‘You’re Cibi. Nothing stops Cibi getting what she wants.’ The sisters exchange a watery smile.
Cibi takes in the other young girls, carrying small suitcases just like theirs, walking in the same direction. She notes the weeping mothers dragged back inside their houses by distraught fathers. They are walking through a nightmare. Some of the girls are on their own, others with their sisters or cousins, but no one crosses the street to walk with their friends. For some reason, they know this journey must be made alone.
‘Livi, do you know why there are no boys here?’ Cibi asks.
‘Maybe they’ve already taken the boys.’
‘We would have heard if they had.’
‘Why only girls, though, Cibi? What good are girls for hard work?’
Cibi forces a laugh, anything to ease the tension. ‘Maybe someone has realised we can do anything boys can do.’