Tomorrow he will have the surgery to remove the errant bullet from his neck. Why couldn’t it have just stayed where it was? He has prayed endlessly for more time with his girls. He needs to guide them into adulthood, attend their weddings, hold his grandchildren. The operation is a risky one, and if he doesn’t survive, this may be the last day he spends with them. If that is the case, however awful it is to contemplate on this glorious sunny day, then what he needs to ask of his girls, must be said now.
‘Well Father, what do you want to tell us?’ Cibi prods.
‘Cibi, Magda, do you know what a promise is?’ he asks, slowly. He needs them to take this seriously.
Magda shakes her head: ‘no’。
‘I think so,’ says Cibi. ‘It’s when two people keep a secret, isn’t it?’
Menachem smiles. Cibi will always have a go, it’s what he loves most about her. ‘That’s close, my darling, but a promise can involve more than two people. I want this promise to be shared between the three of you. Livi is not going to understand, so I need you to keep talking to her about it, until she does.’
‘I don’t understand, Father,’ Magda interjects. ‘You’re being all confusing.’
‘It’s very simple, Magda.’ Menachem smiles. There is nothing that gives him as much pleasure as talking to his girls. Something catches in his chest; he must remember this moment, this sunny day, the wide eyes of his three daughters. ‘I want you to make a promise to me and to each other that you will always take care of your sisters. That you will always be there for one another, no matter what. That you will not allow anything to take you away from each other. Do you understand?’
Magda and Cibi nod, and Cibi asks, suddenly serious: ‘I do, Father, but why would someone want to take us away from each other?’
‘I’m not saying anyone will, I just want you to promise me that if anyone tries to separate you, you will remember what we spoke of here today and do everything in your power not to let that happen. The three of you are stronger together, you must never forget that.’ Menachem’s voice stumbles, and he clears his throat.
Cibi and Magda exchange a glance. Livi looks from sister to sister to father, knowing that something solemn has been agreed, but with little idea of what it means.
‘I promise, Father,’ says Magda.
‘Cibi?’ Menachem asks.
‘I promise too, Father. I promise to look after my sisters – I won’t let anyone hurt them, you know that.’
‘Yes, I do know that, my darling Cibi. This promise will become a pact between the three of you and no others. Will you tell Livi of this pact when she is old enough to understand?’
Cibi grabs Livi’s face in her hands, turning her head to look into her eyes. ‘Livi, say “promise”。 Say “I promise”。’
Livi studies her sister. Cibi is nodding, encouraging her to say the words.
‘I pwomise,’ pronounces Livi.
‘Now say it to Father, say “I promise” to Father,’ Cibi instructs.
Livi turns to her father, her eyes dancing, the giggle in her throat threatening to explode, the warmth of his smile melting her little heart. ‘I pwomise, Father. Livi pwomises.’
Gathering his girls to his chest he looks over Cibi’s head and smiles at the other girl in his life, the mother of his daughters, who stands in the doorway of the house, tears glistening on her cheeks.
He has too much to lose; he has to survive.
CHAPTER 1
Vranov nad Topl’ou
March 1942
‘P
lease tell me she’s going to be all right, I’m so worried about her,’ Chaya frets, as the doctor examines her seventeen-year-old daughter.
Magda has been struggling with a fever for days.
‘Yes, Mrs Meller, Magda will be fine,’ Dr Kisely reassures her.
The tiny bedroom contains two beds: one in which Chaya sleeps with her youngest, Livi; and the other, which Magda shares with their older sister, Cibi, when she is home. A large cabinet takes up one wall, cluttered with the small, personal possessions of the four women of the house. Taking pride of place: the cut-glass perfume atomiser with its emerald green tie and tassel, and next to it a grainy photograph. A handsome man sits on a simple chair, a toddler on one knee, an older girl on the other. Another girl, older yet, stands to his left. On his right is the girls’ mother, her hand resting on her husband’s shoulder. Mother and daughters wear white lacy dresses and together they are a picture-perfect family, or, at least, they were.