As the girls head back to Cibi’s block, they notice the ladders propped against the naked trees lining the streets of Auschwitz. Men are attaching colourful lights to the bare branches.
‘I guess it’s nearly Christmas,’ Magda says.
‘Christmas in a death camp.’ Cibi sighs. ‘Nothing makes any sense anymore.’ She looks at her sister properly for the first time in days. ‘So, what happened?’
As the sisters walk, Magda tells Cibi the whole story. She was working in the post office when Volkenrath walked in and called out her name. Before whisking her out of Birkenau, for ever, she instructed Magda to return to her block and grab her meagre bundle of clothes.
‘Then we got in her car and she didn’t say another word. I was too scared to ask her where we were going.’
‘Maybe she’s pregnant at last,’ says Cibi, grinning. ‘Finally found a bit of compassion in her dried-up heart.’ Cibi looks wistful for a moment and then takes Magda’s hand. ‘Come on. Let’s go and find Livi. I don’t know how many times the poor thing can handle being separated from you.’ But Cibi tugs at Magda’s sleeve before they enter the post office. ‘Did you see Uncle Ivan before you left?’ she asks.
Magda just shakes her head.
Livi looks up from the parcel she is unwrapping when her sisters walk through the door. Her face breaks into a huge smile.
‘I knew you would come,’ is all she can manage as she buries her face in Magda’s shoulder.
‘Hmm,’ says Magda. ‘Even so, I’m going to miss having our old bunk all to myself.’
That evening, the sisters join the other prisoners, along with the officers and guards, to walk the streets of Auschwitz and marvel at the bright lights that cover every tree. It is a crisp, clear evening, and the buildings and trees are covered with a thick layer of snow. Flakes dance in the glow of the perimeter tower lights, throwing a kaleidoscope of colour around the camp. For a short time, the sisters forget themselves as they wander this colourful landscape. It is almost beautiful enough to instil a tiny drop of hope in their hearts.
The prisoners are given Christmas day off, and extra rations. The revelries of the SS can be heard throughout the camp, but the girls ignore them. Instead, they gather to talk about past Hanukkah celebrations, reliving their favourite memories, when Cibi pipes up that Christmas Day, 1942, is her favourite. Livi stares at her sister in disbelief. That year she had been weak with typhus and, for a while, she had wondered if she was going to survive. But it was their ‘feast’ of soup with noodles and meat that had restored her energy, just enough to get to work the next day.
Hearing this story for the first time, Magda weeps. ‘Remember our promise?’ she says, finally.
‘I’ll never forget it,’ Cibi replies.
‘Me, neither. Even though I don’t remember making it,’ Livi chimes in.
‘You said “I promise” in your little voice when Father asked you to honour our pact,’ Magda says, with a giggle.
‘No, Magda! She said “I pwomise”！’
‘Shall we say a prayer for Father and Mumma and Grandfather?’ Magda is suddenly solemn.
‘I stopped praying a long time ago. Can we just talk about them, instead?’ says Cibi.
Magda decides not to probe, this evening is about Mumma.
‘I miss Mumma’s cooking, especially her bread,’ says Livi, sighing.
‘I miss going to the bakery with her every Monday morning with the dough for the loaves. And I also miss going back to collect them later,’ Magda recalls. ‘I really loved those walks with her. Just the two of us.’
The girls spend the rest of the day in a reverie of nostalgia. They talk about their lives back in Slovakia, about their parents and the rows and squabbles they shared, but it’s only Cibi who has any solid recall of their father. Somehow, Magda’s presence has helped Cibi to look back, to be less afraid that once she lets herself remember happier times, she will no longer be able to carry on.
The next day, it’s back to work and all three sisters head for the post office to open what they now call ‘the death packages’ – their recipients deceased.
‘Hey! Look what I’ve got here!’ Magda’s cry jolts everyone out of their silent thoughts.
The girls stare at the large fruit cake which Magda has unwrapped. The smell of dried fruit and cake permeates the air.
‘Let’s eat it. Fast,’ a voice says.
‘It shall be our Christmas cake,’ Livi agrees.