Mala is barely conscious, moaning softly. Two officers walk a short distance behind them.
Once outside the women’s camp, on the road heading towards the crematoria, the girls slow their pace. The SS do the same. Without exchanging a single word, the girls have acknowledged they will let Mala die in the wheelbarrow. She is quiet now – it shouldn’t take long. They walk slowly, staring straight ahead, aware that Mandel might appear at any moment.
As they draw closer to the crematoria Livi looks at Mala. The girl’s face is relaxed, her eyes are open, staring blankly up at the sky.
‘She’s dead,’ Livi whispers.
‘Good.’
Two male prisoners are standing at the entrance to the crematoria when they arrive. They stare at the girl in the wheelbarrow, before wheeling her away without a word.
The girls walk in silence back to the camp.
CHAPTER 20
Vranov nad Topl’ou
September 1944
Y
itzchak is dressed in his finest suit, a white shirt and tie. Clothing totally unsuitable for a hot, late summer’s day, but he would not be seen in public in anything less. Chaya wears her simple, functional black dress. With tiny buttons from collar to her midriff, the dress skims her calves and a black belt cinches her slim waist. Her hair is in a red and gold scarf; after all, she is a proud Slovakian woman and these are the colours of the traditional folk costume. Chaya tucks her black-stockinged feet into her sturdy shoes and throws a coat over her arm.
There was much discussion between mother and daughter as to what Magda should wear. They are going on a train journey and they don’t want to be uncomfortable. All that sitting around required some preparation. In the end, Magda wore a plain blue skirt and a collarless blouse covered in blue and yellow flowers. She decided against stockings, but insisted on wearing her best shoes: slingbacks with a silver buckle. She also packed some ‘sensible’ shoes. Magda refused the scarf Chaya pressed on her. She wanted her hair to be loose and wild, All the better for holding my head up high, she told her mother.
A small suitcase carried by each of them, they leave the house.
Magda turns to lock the door, but Chaya calls out. ‘Don’t!’
‘Don’t what, Mumma?’
‘Don’t lock it. It’s a lovely door and I would hate for it to be broken.’
Of course! Mother is right, thinks Magda. And didn’t she hide the candlesticks, their photos? They are hated by this town. These neighbours would think nothing of breaking down the door to steal their things.
‘Don’t underestimate them, Magda. They mocked your sisters on the day they were taken from me. They will race each other to our door once we’ve gone.’ Chaya’s eyes alight on a figure further up the road: Mrs Cerny, leaning on her gate, watching the Mellers. ‘She is one of them,’ hisses Chaya.
Yitzchak has been watching this exchange in silence. Now, he picks up Magda’s suitcase and hands it to her. ‘Magda, put the key in your pocket. Maybe the neighbours will steal from us, maybe they won’t. A locked door will not stop them.’ He puts his arm around her shoulders and draws her close to him for a moment. She can hear his heart beating, slow and steady. Magda takes in a deep breath and, finally, with a last look at the only home she has ever known, she joins her family as they begin their reluctant march up the street.
Mrs Cerny looks away as they pass. Chaya keeps her eyes on the road ahead, but Magda cannot hold her tongue. ‘If you step foot inside our house I’ll find out. And then I will come back and curse you and your entire family!’
‘Magda! Please!’ says Chaya, taking Magda’s arm, urging her on.
‘Leave her be, Chaya,’ snaps Yitzchak. ‘She is only saying what we’re all thinking.’ He doesn’t look at Mrs Cerny, but spits on the ground as he moves past her gate.
Mrs Cerny’s eyes narrow, but she holds her tongue. Magda is glad her mother is gripping her arm so firmly, otherwise she would be tempted to slap the smug look off the woman’s face.
The rest of their journey is in silence, each lost to their thoughts. Will they ever see these landmarks again? The church? The linden tree?
The station is heaving with friends and families they have not seen for many months. They share stories of hiding, of bribing government officials, of selling everything they own but the clothes they stand in. Many are overjoyed to see each other, believing their friends had long since been abducted by the Nazis.
The guards are checking off the names of everyone on the platform; many receive no response. Magda shivers each time this happens, and prays they are safely in hiding.