Cilka's Journey (ARC)
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Cilka says nothing.
‘I said, promise.’
‘I promise,’ she mumbles.
‘Promise what?’
‘To do as I’m told, not to interfere and think I can heal
myself.’
‘I heard that,’ Yelena says, having snuck up on them.
‘How is our patient?’
‘I’m—’
‘I’ll do the talking, you’ve just agreed to keep quiet,’
Raisa says.
‘I said nothing about keeping quiet.’
‘My question has just been answered. Cilka, tell me how
you feel? Where does it hurt?’
‘It doesn’t.’
Yelena huffs. ‘I want you to stay lying flat for another
twenty-four hours. Try not to move too much, let your
body heal, particularly your head, I suspect you have been
badly concussed and only rest will heal that.’
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‘Thank you,’ Cilka manages.
‘Get some rest. I got word back to your hut that you
were injured but are going to be all right; I know how
close you are to the women there and I thought they might
be worried.’
Hannah certainly will be, she thinks. But the last
container Cilka got for her will last awhile.
Cilka’s thoughts turn back to Pavel and a tear escapes
and runs down her cheek.
* * *
The next day, Cilka opens her eyes to find a strange man
leaning over her. Before she can say anything, he grabs
one of her hands and kisses it.
‘Thank you for saving my life, you are an angel. I’ve
been watching you sleep, hoping you would wake up so
I could thank you.’
She recognises him as the explosives expert from the mine.
Lyuba appears beside him. ‘Come on, back to your own
bed. I’ve told you, you can’t keep coming over here. Cilka
needs her rest.’
‘But—’
‘Lyuba, it’s all right, let him stay for a moment,’ Cilka
croaks.
‘Thank you again.’
‘How are you? You didn’t look too good last time I saw
you,’ Cilka says.
‘So I’ve been told. But I’m much better, I’m going back
to my hut tomorrow, so I must be.’
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Cilka manages a smile. ‘It’s been good to see you. Look after yourself.’
As the man goes back to his bed, Lyuba reappears in
front of Cilka.
‘I hear your quick actions, and directions, saved
him and the other workers. He won’t stop going on about
it.’
‘But, Lyuba, I dragged Pavel in, and now he is dead.’
‘You needed help, and it was his choice.’
‘He came in because he cared about me. I see it now.’
‘Well then he’d be glad you made it out.’
‘Can I see her?’ Kirill appears behind Lyuba, who steps
aside.
‘How you feeling?’ he asks, with genuine concern.
‘I’m so sorry, Kirill. I’m so sorry,’ Cilka says, close to
tears.
‘It wasn’t your fault, what happened to Pavel.’
‘But he only helped because I asked.’
‘He would help you even if you didn’t ask. I guess you’ll
have to ask me, now.’
‘I don’t think I want to do this anymore, go out with
you, without Pavel.’
‘Don’t say that. Of course you’ll be back, you just have
to get better.’
Cilka sighs. ‘I don’t think I can be the one who risks
other’s lives.’
‘Cilka Klein, mostly, you don’t tell others what to do,
they risk their lives because you don’t ask. That’s why they want to help you. Don’t you understand that?’
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Cilka looks at Kirill, seeing him differently. The bravado he has shown her, even the contempt he has shown towards
her, has gone.
He briefly touches her hand with his big hairy one. ‘Get
better, I’ll come and check on you in a couple of days.
And Cilka, Pavel wasn’t the only one who cared about
you.’
Before Cilka can respond, Kirill walks away.
* * *
Cilka doesn’t keep her promise. Over the next ten days
as she recovers, she is growled at, yelled at, threatened
with being tied down. She is most active at night when
staff numbers are low. Several times she attempts resusci-
tation on patients she hears having trouble breathing.
Mostly she just visits other patients and comforts them.
Her injuries heal, her headaches reduce and the stitches
are removed from her scalp. She hides the continued pain
in her back, not wanting to prolong her stay on the ward,
and asks Yelena to release her so she can go back to the
hut. She shouldn’t be taking up one of these precious beds.
‘You can go soon,’ Yelena tells her.
* * *
A few days later, as Cilka and the medical team emerge
from surgery – Cilka’s first since she has been back on
her feet – the camp long since closed for the night, they
are met by several senior camp officers. The officers
enquire about the explosives expert and are relieved to
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hear he is doing well and will, after a few more days of care, be able to resume his duties. Cilka tries to slink away from the conversation, moving to the back of the group.
As she tries to leave the room, one of the men calls out.
‘Nurse, please stay where you are.’
Cilka freezes. She doesn’t know what she has done
wrong but no good has ever come from being spoken to
directly by a camp commandant. When the doctor has
finished his report, the commandant walks over to Cilka.
Tall, slim, the cap on his head resting off to the side, he
resembles someone she once knew, someone who used
her. She starts to shake as memories she fights hard to
bury flood back.
‘Are you the nurse who went into the mine and saved
the injured men?’
Cilka can’t answer. He repeats the question.
‘Yes,’ she stammers. ‘I went in, but it was the doctors
who saved the patients.’
‘That’s not what I heard. Your bravery saved many men
and I want you to know we are grateful.’
‘Thank you, I was just doing my job.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Cilka Klein, sir.’
‘Are you a registered nurse here?’
Before Cilka can answer, Yelena butts in. ‘Cilka has
been trained here by many senior doctors and other expe-
rienced nurses, her skills are exceptional and we’re very
grateful to have her.’
The commandant acknowledges the comments.
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‘Nevertheless, you are a prisoner here.’
‘Yes,’ Cilka murmurs, her head lowered.
‘Do you live in the nurse’s quarters?’
‘I live in Hut 29.’
The commandant turns to the do
ctor. ‘She may move
into the nurse’s quarters.’
With that, he leaves, his entourage trailing behind him.
Cilka slides down the wall that had been holding her
up, trembling.
Yelena helps her to her feet.
‘You must be exhausted. It’s been quite a time for you.
Let’s find a bed here for you to sleep in for one more
night. I don’t want you going back to your hut tonight,
and tomorrow we’ll talk about moving you.’
Cilka allows herself to be led away.
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CHAPTER 27
Cilka wakes up on the ward and can see clear blue
skies outside the window. Sunrise has been creeping
forward, and the coming light makes her think about the
women in her hut even more.
When Yelena comes in, Cilka tells her, ‘I’m so grateful
for the offer to sleep in the nurses’ quarters, but I’ve
decided I want to stay where I am.’
Yelena looks at her, stunned.
‘If it’s all right, I’d like to stay with my friends.’
‘Where you are unsafe . . .’
Cilka knows that Yelena is aware of what happens at
the night, in the camp – she has seen the injuries. Cilka
understands why it might seem unfathomable.
‘Where my friends are,’ she says again. Olga, Elena,
Margarethe, Anastasia. And, she thinks fearfully, if Hannah
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has told them, then I need to face up to that. To her. ‘I don’t expect you to understand.’
Yelena takes a deep breath. ‘It’s your decision and I’ll
respect it. Should you change your mind . . .’
‘You’ll be the first to know.’
She has to go back because the women Cilka shares a
hut with have become her family. Yes, they don’t always
agree. There have been many fights, some of them physical,
but that is what large, complex families endure. She remem-
bers the arguments and pushing and shoving that went on
between her and her sister while they were growing up.
But the cooperation, and the sharing, outweighed the
conflict. Women had come and gone, but the central unity
of the hut remained, with the gruff Antonina Karpovna an
integral part.
* * *
When Cilka enters the hut the women look at her sadly.
They know, she thinks. She could walk straight back out,
but she forces herself to stay, to face them.
‘Oh, Cilka,’ Margarethe says. ‘Olga has gone.’
‘What do you mean, gone?’ Cilka asks, forcing a deep
breath.
‘They took her away this morning as we were going to
work. Her sentence was up.’
‘But I didn’t get to say goodbye,’ Cilka says. She doesn’t
know if she can fit any more missing inside her.
‘She said to say goodbye to you. Be happy for her, Cilka.
She will be able to go back to her children.’
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Anastasia enters the hut, joins them. ‘Cilka! Did they tell you?’
‘Yes,’ Cilka replies. ‘I’ll miss her.’
Anastasia wraps her arms around Cilka.
‘We missed you.’
* * *
The hut is unusually quiet that night, Olga’s empty bed a
constant reminder that she has gone, and they are left
behind.
Several men come after lights out, including Boris. He
is subdued. Cilka lies quietly beside him.
‘Don’t you ever want to talk about us?’ he finally asks.
‘I don’t know what you mean by us.’
‘You and me, what we mean to each other. You never
tell me how you’re feeling.’
‘What do you care? You just want my body.’
Boris leans on one elbow, trying in the dark to see Cilka’s
face, to read her expression, look into her eyes.
‘What would you think if I told you I’m in love with
you.’
Cilka doesn’t respond for several moments. He waits.
‘That’s a very nice thing to say.’
‘I really thought about it when you were away, in the
hospital. And what do you feel for me?’
Nothing, she thinks. I have merely tolerated you. And
not for the first time, the kind, attractive face of Alexandr comes into her head. But she should not tease herself like
this.
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‘Boris, you are a very nice man; there is no one in this camp I would rather have lying with me,’ she says, able
to make out his ruddy nose, the wetness on his lips in the
half-light. She looks back at the ceiling.
‘But do you love me?’
‘I don’t know what love is. If I was to allow myself to
fall in love with someone, I would have to believe there
was a future. And there isn’t.’
But she does know that it is possible for her to be drawn
to someone, in the way she has heard people speak about.
It is also cruel to be so drawn to someone in a place like
this.
‘How can you be sure? We could have a future together.
We won’t spend the rest of our lives here.’
It is better to feel nothing, she thinks.
‘Do you see that empty bed over there?’
Boris peers into the dark.
‘No.’
‘Well, there is an empty bed. Olga slept there every
night since the day we arrived here.’
‘Yes . . .’ Boris says, uncertain.
‘Do you know why she was here?’ Cilka’s voice rises,
eliciting a ‘shut up’ from the darkness.
‘How could I know why she was here when I don’t
even know why you’re here?’
‘She was Russian and she fell in love and tried to marry
a man from Prague. That is against your laws. For that
they were taken away; she ended up here and she has no
idea what happened to him but she suspects he is dead.’
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‘What does that have to do with us?’
‘I am from Czechoslovakia and you are Russian.’
‘Things can change,’ he says plaintively.
‘Yes, they can, but right now this is our reality.’
Boris snuggles into Cilka, his passion gone, seeking
comfort. Cilka tolerates it.
* * *
Boris’s affection, and his abuse, remain constant; the injured
and sick remain constant; the friendships in the hut remain
quietly expressed through the sharing of resources, through
the consoling of one another over their conditions, their
losses. Margarethe, Anastasia, Elena and Hannah remain,
but Cilka does not feel as close to them as she had to Josie.
Hannah reminds Cilka, whenever possible, that she could
disrupt the peace of the hut, that she could reveal all. And
Cilka still cannot face that. Cilka remains connected to
Yelena, even if it remains mostly unsaid – expressed
through looks and gestures across a patient’s bed, across
the ward. And though she tries to deny the feeling to
>
herself, Cilka looks out for Alexandr – a figure smoking,
his eyes closed in momentary pleasure, near the adminis-
tration building. In snow, through rain, in brief sun – his
face turned up to the light. When she sees him, her heart
leaps, but still she hurries on, thinking that to let in such longing can do no good.
All this continues as the seasons change – darkness to
light, white nights to long dark winters. Cilka’s nightmares
still often wake her: emaciated bodies, whistling doctors,
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the commandant’s black, shiny boots. She grasps for the good memories, but they are getting further and further
away. She fantasises about Josie and Natia’s life, about
Lale and Gita’s. She imagines them safe and warm and
holding each other. She endures.
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CHAPTER 28
Vorkuta Gulag, Siberia, June 1953
Another white-night summer. The first few Sunday
evenings of venturing out ‘after dark’ lack the enthu-
siasm and enjoyment of summers past. Their eighth
summer, eight years of their lives stolen.
There is an echo of restlessness throughout the camp.
As summer reaches its peak, Cilka overhears talk on the
ward of a strike. Men in one area of the camp are refusing
to work. That evening she tells the others what she’s heard.
A level of excitement spreads through the hut at this
rumour. Elena has heard nothing in the sewing room where
she now has a job, thanks to Olga’s lessons. She and Cilka
are entreated to find out all they can.
The next day, Cilka asks Raisa what she knows. In a
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hushed voice, Raisa tells her she has heard other workers have gone on strike.
Out on the ambulance that day, something Cilka still
does along with ward duty, though not as often, she sees
several dozen men sitting on the ground outside one of
the administration buildings.
Kirill slows down to stare at the extraordinary sight of
men sitting around during the day. Several guards stand
nearby, watching.
‘Well, that’s different,’ Fyodor – the ambulance officer
Cilka is now often paired with – comments.
‘Haven’t you heard?’ Cilka says. ‘They’re on strike,
they’re refusing to work.’
‘Maybe we should join them, I’ll turn the ambulance