How many stories like these do survivors have to endure? she wonders.
*
Magda has had a good pregnancy: having Cibi to talk to about her various twinges and cravings has helped, but she has never missed Mumma more than she does now. When she goes into labour, she’s grateful for Livi’s presence, and to hold her hand, and how she encourages her to push when it’s time, but it’s her mother she wants, and her grandmother, who had been a midwife to so many in Vranov.
There is no question in her mind as to the naming of her baby daughter: her mother’s name means ‘life’ and that’s what baby Chaya means to Magda right now. A new life, together with this chance in Israel – she hopes she can begin to let go, a little, of the remaining threads of guilt she feels whenever Cibi and Livi discuss their time in the camps.
Her guilt had really started in Bratislava, at their apartment, with their friends on the rooftop of their building. When the survivors began to share their stories, Magda’s advantage was given the spotlight: she hadn’t been starved to death or suffered from typhus or even had her head shaved. The number on her arm had been given to her by a kind man at Cibi’s request, not a Nazi’s. Appalled when she finally came face to face with her sisters, barely recognising them as her kin, her first feeling had been one of anger at her mother: why hadn’t she just let her go? This was the guilt that lingered: that she hadn’t been there for Cibi and Livi.
‘I’m glad you weren’t there,’ Livi had told her on that rooftop, as she has so often since. ‘We would never had survived the death marches without you.’
‘Don’t you remember, Magda, the stories you told us?’ Cibi had said, incredulous that Magda couldn’t see it. ‘Those memories helped us all to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The chocolate snow!’ Cibi had crowed, suddenly, and Magda’s heart had broken at those words.
She had looked at her sisters, still far more ravaged by their experiences than her, and swept them into her arms, so grateful to them for trying to making her feel better.
‘And your day in the woods with Grandfather,’ added Livi. ‘Magda, I’m serious, we wouldn’t have made it without you. Thank God you were in hospital when they came for us.’
God, thinks Magda. Now, where had God been? Unlike Cibi, Magda continues to pray, but her faith is shaken, badly shaken. It was only when they stepped onto land in Haifa that she gave thanks for the first time in years, and now, looking down into the face of baby Chaya, Magda gives thanks once more, and begins to let go of her guilt.
*
Soon after, Chaya has a new cousin, when Cibi gives birth to Joseph just three weeks later.
Holding her nephew in her arms, Livi becomes aware, very quickly, that Karol is less than enamoured of his new sibling. He loses his temper whenever Cibi picks up the baby, throws a tantrum when Cibi disappears to put Joseph to bed and generally suffers from the withdrawal of the attention that has, until this point, been his exclusive domain.
Livi’s presence allows Cibi to spend more time with Karol and, gradually, the little boy, once more the apple of his mother’s eye, comes to love his baby brother.
Back in Rehovot, Livi is regaling Magda with tales of Karol’s transformation from fearsome monster to devoted big brother, when her sister punctures these happy memories with a dose of unwelcome reality.
‘You must invite Ziggy to celebrate Hanukkah with us,’ Magda suggests. ‘We haven’t seen him in a while.’
Livi is instantly morose. ‘I haven’t seen him either,’ she says, sullenly. ‘Maybe he’s found someone else.’
‘Will you tell me what happened?’
‘Nothing’s happened, it’s just that .?.?. well, it’s what I told you about. And Cibi was right, Ziggy does feel guilty. Whenever I talk about the camps, he goes quiet and then I feel strange, as though I shouldn’t be talking about it, but I’ll go mad if I can’t, Magda!’ Livi sighs. ‘Don’t you see? I just can’t do it.’
‘It was the same for Yitzchak, don’t you remember, Livi? The man lost his wife and children and yet he still thinks he didn’t suffer enough. Guilt is a powerful emotion, Livi,’ Magda tells her sister, feeling her own flare in her chest. ‘We all have it, don’t we?’
Livi nods. ‘But we talk about it, we talk about everything. Ziggy doesn’t.’
‘Then you have to decide if he’s worth fighting for, Livi. Is he?’
‘I don’t know.’ Livi is pacing the small living room, her hands on her hips.