Their orders had been clear: to report to the synagogue at 5 p.m. on Shabbat. They are greeted by the sight of Hlinka guards standing either side of the doors to the education block next to the temple. The block houses a large classroom where the girls, since early childhood, have received religious instruction. Cibi, as ever, is in awe of the synagogue, the towering building where she and her family have prayed and been comforted by friends following the death of their father and grandmother. Forever a place of safety and security amongst her own people, today the building offers no such comfort. The Nazis have ruined it. The Hlinka guards have ruined it.
The girls are herded inside the classroom while the few parents who had chosen to ignore the order to stay away are screamed at, hit with batons and told to go home.
‘Stay here,’ Cibi says to Livi, letting go of her sister and dropping her suitcase. Hurrying outside, Cibi grabs hold of a young girl who is clinging to her mother, refusing to be parted. A guard is striking the woman on the back, over and over, but she won’t let go of her daughter. A small crowd watches this brutal spectacle in horrified silence.
‘I’ve got you, come with me.’ Cibi’s courage is more evident than her fear at this moment.
The girl loses her grip on her mother as Cibi pulls her away. Crying, screaming, the girl reaches out for her mother again, who is now being dragged away by the guards.
‘I’ve got her, I’ll take care of her, Mrs Goldstein,’ Cibi shouts, as she chivvies the girl – Ruth – inside.
More and more girls enter the room, their fear written large on tearful faces. The room is full of grief and desperation.
‘Ruthie, Ruthie! Over here,’ a voice calls.
Cibi looks around to see Evie, her young neighbour, beckoning Ruthie Goldstein.
‘That’s your cousin, isn’t it?’ asks Cibi, and Ruthie nods.
‘I’ll be OK now,’ she tells Cibi, with a watery smile. ‘She’s my family.’
Cibi goes back to where she left Livi. ‘We should find a space by the wall if we’re to be comfortable,’ she tells her, leading Livi away from the centre of the room.
The sisters stay standing, waiting for instructions, watching as more and more girls are ushered into the room. Despite the crisp morning air the room is stuffy, and noisy, as girls call to one another, and sob. Once a room full of happy childhood memories, it is now a hostile space.
As the daylight fades, two small bulbs in the ceiling are turned on to emit a dull, yellow glow over the room.
Suddenly, and without warning, the door is slammed shut and the girls’ fear intensifies.
‘I’m scared, Cibi! I want to go home!’ Livi cries.
‘I know, me too, but we can’t. Let’s just sit down for a bit.’ Now, with their backs against the wall, Cibi places Livi’s suitcase between her legs before doing the same with hers. ‘You must look after your case at all costs, do you understand? Don’t let it out of your sight.’
‘What will happen to us?’ Livi asks.
‘I think we might be staying the night, so we should get comfortable.’ Cibi places her arm around Livi’s shoulders, drawing her head onto her chest, holding her tight. ‘Are you hungry, Livi, my kitten?’
Livi is crying again, shaking her head.
‘Just close your eyes and try to get some sleep.’
‘I couldn’t possibly sleep.’
From somewhere deep inside, Cibi recalls the words to the Czech lullaby she sung long ago to baby Livi. Softly, she begins to sing.
My Little Angel
Hajej m?j andílku
Lie my little angel, lie and sleep,
Hajej m?j andílku hajej a spi,
Mum is rocking her baby.
mati?ka kolíbá dě?átko svy.
Lie, sleep sweet, little one,
Hajej dadej, nynej, malej,
Mum is rocking her baby.
Mati?ka kolíbá dě?átko svy.
Lie my little angel, lie and sleep,
Hajej m?j andílku hajej a spi,
Mum is rocking her baby.
mati?ka kolíbá dě?átko svy.
Lie, sleep sweet, little one,
Hajej dadej, nynej, malej,
Mum is rocking her baby.
Mati?ka kolíbá dě?átko svy.
Cibi hugs Livi tight. Within a few minutes she hears her breathing slow. Cibi sends all the love she feels for her little sister into the sleeping child. ‘I won’t let anyone hurt you,’ she whispers into her sweet-smelling curls.
Leaning back against the wall, Cibi watches as other girls struggle for space to sit down, negotiating a back to lean against, a spot by the wall. Some of them open their suitcases and remove small tins, hunks of bread, cheese. They offer the food around. Cibi thinks about Hachshara, and wonders what everyone is up to at the camp. On Sunday they will question where she is, why she hasn’t come back. She tries not to think about Mother and Grandfather, sitting down to a meagre supper at home. Will they even be able to eat? Cibi wonders whether Magda is better. She wishes she was here, but maybe she’s better off in the hospital.