‘Two,’ insists Livi, said with a grin.
‘Two it is, then.’
Magda and Livi watch until the bus carrying their sister is out of sight.
*
After dinner, Magda and Livi corner Menachem and ask him to take a walk with them outside. Boys and girls wander through the trees hand in hand. Excited chatter from the dining hall reaches every corner of the kibbutz; it is like this most evenings, and the sisters will miss it.
‘We’re thinking of leaving,’ Livi tells him. She wants to feel sad about it, but she can’t. More than anything she needs to be with both of her sisters.
‘It’s lovely here, and if it wasn’t for Cibi we’d stay.’ Magda picks up a leaf from the ground. She breaks it in half and holds the citrus smell to her nose. The evening is warm, almost too warm, but it’s still cooler than being inside. ‘This is a wonderful place, but it’s not for families.’
‘I understand,’ says Menachem. ‘I’ll be sad to see you go. Do you know where?’
‘Not really,’ says Magda. ‘We were hoping you could help us with that too.’
Menachem laughs, and thinks for a moment. ‘There is an area, about a hundred kilometres from here, called Kfar Ahim. It’s where a lot of migrants are choosing to settle and start farming. You could be part of something special there.’
*
Two days later, Magda and Livi are standing outside the quarantine facility with the car and driver provided by Menachem. Their father’s namesake has come through for them.
The sisters talk incessantly on the way to Kfar Ahim, but Karol won’t stop crying, unable to settle in the heat. Mischka is the only one who is quiet, taking in the noise and the scenery with a big smile on his face.
The government has assured all new migrants they will be housed, and now the family stand before a row of identical prefabricated dwellings, each with two small bedrooms, a kitchen and bathroom. Inside their allotted accommodation, Cibi and Mischka take their cases into one room and Magda and Livi take theirs to the other. Instead of half the world, the only thing that stands between the siblings now is a thin wall.
They are together again.
Kfar Ahim, with a population of 200, is an emerging farming town, its fertile land perfect for growing and processing oranges. The sisters are soon back on familiar territory, working amongst the orange groves. Mischka finds work too and soon he and Cibi and Karol move into a small one-bedroom home, only a few streets away from the sisters, with enough land to start their own farm.
The sisters watch the town grow and, as migrants continue to arrive, the need for accommodation grows. When Livi hears the local authority is asking for volunteers to help build new homes, she and Magda immediately put themselves forward.
‘I’m going to help too,’ says Cibi, when she hears the news. ‘I want to give something back to Israel for taking us in.’
‘But you’ve got Karol,’ Livi reminds her.
‘I will find someone to watch him.’
For three days a week Cibi joins her sisters at the building site. They aren’t the only women, they are pleased to discover. Dressed in trousers and shirts the sisters get to work. More than once Livi and Cibi exchange a glance, and even a tear, as they recall their ‘jobs’ at Auschwitz and Birkenau. The bricks, the mortar, the rubble – it is complicated, but over time, and in the company of so many new faces and new stories, the sharp edges of their brutal recollections dull a little.
Long lines of women form to pass the bricks all the way to the construction site. The first brick is picked up by the first woman in line and passed on to the next, who receives it with the words, ‘Koszonom, Hungary.’
‘Dyakuyu, Ukraine,’ says the next.
And on it goes, each woman saying ‘thank you’ in her mother tongue and then her country of origin.
‘Blagodaryat ti, Bulgaria.’
‘Danke je, Netherlands.’
‘Hvalati, Bosnia.’
‘Dakujem, Slovakia,’ says Cibi.
‘Efcharisto, Greece.’
‘Dekuki, Czech.’
‘Spasibo, Russia.’
When they take their break, the women gather around to admire the work of the bricklayers as the first foundations go up. Cibi tells the story of another construction site, this time in Poland, where she and Livi had helped to build Birkenau.
Sitting on an empty crate, Livi is shivering as Cibi speaks, feeling a sudden chill despite the soaring temperature. She looks into the faces of the women as they listen to her sister, their eyes downcast. She shifts her focus to the beautiful hills beyond, the land that will become her home. So much space, so much colour, hope and promise; so why does she feel the walls of a concrete building closing in on her?