‘I’m nervous, Magda,’ says Livi, grabbing Magda’s shoulder as she turns to leave the room.
‘Nervous about meeting a boy?’ jokes Magda. ‘After everything we’ve been through?’
Livi can’t help laughing. ‘Why are you comparing meeting a boy to being starved in Birkenau?’
‘I wasn’t. You just did that all by yourself, little sister.’
Livi follows her big sister into the living room, to where a tall man with thick black hair is holding out his hand to her.
‘Have we met before?’ says Ziggy.
‘I don’t think so,’ says Livi, enjoying the warm handshake.
‘You look familiar.’
‘I have one of those faces,’ Livi says. ‘I look like everyone else.’
Ziggy bursts out laughing. ‘You have a sense of humour,’ he says. ‘I like that.’
Later, as they eat their lunch, Livi catches Magda’s nod of approval when Ziggy tells them he is an aircraft technician working for the Israeli airline, El Al. She wishes her sister wasn’t always right, but Livi’s nerves dissolved the moment she shook Ziggy’s hand.
After lunch Ziggy asks Livi if he may see her again.
‘You may,’ she says, coyly.
‘A film perhaps?’ Ziggy suggests.
‘That depends,’ says Livi.
‘On what?’
‘On who’s paying,’ says Livi, with a smirk.
‘Livi, you can’t say that!’ Magda gasps.
Ziggy laughs. ‘Yes, she can, and I would like to take you to see a movie, my treat.’
‘Then thank you very much, I would like that too.’
*
Livi meets Ziggy twice a week, enjoying his easy company and fierce intelligence. There is something familiar about Ziggy, but she can’t put her finger on it. Maybe they are kindred spirits, she ponders.
‘Thank you for sharing your story with me,’ he tells her after their fourth date. They are on a park bench by the children’s playground. It’s an unusual spot to divulge a horrifying tale of torture and death, while kids’ joyful screams fill the air. And Livi was reluctant at first to talk about the sisters’ lives in the camps with Ziggy; she doesn’t know him well enough yet, and the memories are painful, but afterwards, she feels better. He knows everything about me now, just as kindred spirits should, she tells herself.
‘Will you talk about what happened to you?’ Livi asks.
‘Maybe one day,’ Ziggy says, sighing. ‘But today the sun is shining. Don’t you think one concentration camp story is enough for now?’
Livi laughs, marvelling that she is laughing at all. He listened to her and even held her when she had cried. That anyone, aside from her sisters, should make her feel so safe is a surprise to her.
Safe, that word again. Like an itch that no amount of scratching seems to ease for very long.
*
‘I’m pregnant!’ announces Magda to Livi, who stands on the doorstep, her key poised. Livi has dirt under her fingernails and is tanned from her long days in the sun; she feels exhausted and happy, keen to tell Magda about her recent date with Ziggy, but he is instantly forgotten when she hears the news.
‘Another Meller baby!’ cries Livi. ‘I’m to be an aunt again.’
‘You are. And thank the Lord you’ll be around to help me.’
Livi is finally allowed into her house and now the girls sip from tall glasses of orange juice while Magda tells Livi how she feels.
‘I’m hungry all the time, mainly for olives. And there are loads of olives at the Weizmanns’。’
Livi’s mind instantly goes back to the first time she tasted olives, when she had believed they were plums – only to sink her teeth into the hard bitter flesh. All food was precious in the camp, so maybe they should have just choked them down, but the Greek girl’s delight when she gave them to her had been a bright spot in her day.
‘How long will you keep on working?’ Livi asks. What might be the residual effects of near starvation on Magda’s body? she wonders. But Cibi had a good pregnancy, didn’t she?
‘Ah, I’m glad you mentioned that. I’ve got some good news for you, little sister.’ Magda points to Livi’s hands. ‘Maybe you can say goodbye to all that mud under your nails.’ She is beaming.
‘My nails?’ Livi looks at her hands, confused.
‘Forget about your nails. Mrs Weizmann would like to meet you and, if she likes you – and how could she not – you could have my job when I leave.’