Let Me Tell You a Story

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked Božena as I tried to keep up with her, my voice sounding loud in the dark silence.

  ‘We are going to spend the night in a home belonging to an old farmer and his wife,’ Božena told me.

  ‘A peasant?’ I asked nervously.

  ‘Yes, if you want to put it that way.’

  This was a terrible shock. I could remember my family talking long ago about peasants as if they were lower than servants. I felt peasants were strange people and different but had never met one. Marynia had been a servant, but she wasn’t a peasant. Peasants lived in hovels in the country. They were dirty and they couldn’t read and write. I knew that I had been helped by all different kinds of people since I had been taken away but I was worried about meeting a peasant. What would Mamusia, Babcia or Marynia say? Božena must be making a mistake.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I would prefer to sleep on the train if that’s all right,’ I said.

  Božena let go of my hand and stopped in her tracks. She then bent down so that our faces were on a level.

  ‘And why might that be?’ she asked in a cold voice.

  I could see the whites of her eyes through the darkness.

  ‘Because . . .’ My voice was shaking but I had no choice but to explain. ‘Frederika would be upset if she thought I was sleeping in a peasant’s house. She would prefer me to stay on the train.’

  ‘My God, you are a horrible, ungrateful little snob,’ Božena said. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing. After all you’ve been through, I would have thought you’d have felt honoured and thankful to be invited into the house of kind, generous people who don’t even know you. And what’s more they are putting themselves in danger for you, a little Jewish girl. They would be killed if anyone ever found out. How can you stand there and say what you just have? I don’t want to hear another word from you, d’you hear?’

  I nodded, unable to understand why Božena was so angry. I hadn’t said anything wrong – everyone knew that peasants were different.

  We walked the rest of the way in silence. Somewhere in the distance a low hooting made me jump and hurry after Božena in case the ghosts came out of the darkness to grab me. I didn’t dare to share my worries with Božena in case she shouted at me again.

  We stopped at last in front of a small dark hut. As we walked up to the door, I could smell strange scents coming from inside. Božena knocked three times very quickly and the door opened a crack to reveal a chink of candlelight that lit up the grass at our feet. I heard a few whispered words and only then was the door opened wide enough to let us in. Behind the door stood an elderly woman with a flowery apron tied around her middle. She hugged Božena tightly, kissed her on both cheeks and then bent down to enfold me in her arms. She smelt of garlic and carbolic soap. In the candlelight I could see that her face was like leather with lots of little lines and creases. When she smiled there were gaps between her yellow teeth.

  ‘This is Renata,’ Božena said to the woman, and then turning to me, ‘This kind lady, who is risking her life to give us hospitality, is my Great-aunt. She brought me up because I am an orphan and I lived here all my childhood. So that makes me a peasant too but I’m proud of it.’

  I simply stood there unable to think of anything to say, smiling shyly at the old peasant woman and feeling embarrassed by what Božena had said.

  The hut was one large room and everything was made from wood – a wooden floor, a wooden ceiling and a rough wooden table with benches on either side. Garlands of onions, garlic and herbs hung high above my head under the reedy roof. A huge stove, rising up from the floor to reach the ceiling, stood in the middle of the room beside which a thin old man slept in a large wooden chair. Even in the dim candlelight I could tell he was very old and crooked from the way he rolled forward in his chair with his head lolling from side to side. He was covered in a thick dark blanket even though the room was very hot. At the furthest end of the hut I could make out the outline of an enormous wooden bed. The room was filled with a familiar smell – cooked cabbage.

  ‘Come, come.’ The old woman urged us forward towards the table. ‘You must be so hungry after your long journey. Here I have your supper ready. Sit down.’ And she gave me a toothy smile then placed huge bowls of cabbage soup and hunks of black bread on the table. I stared at the soup and bread and sat down reluctantly and raised a spoonful of the dreadful liquid to my lips and took a sip. But to my complete surprise it tasted wonderful. It wasn’t thin and watery but thick and full of flavour and the bread was the most delicious I had ever tasted. I gave the old lady a big smile.

  I was enjoying the food so much that I didn’t concentrate on the conversation the two women were having. Once or twice I heard my name so I knew they were talking about me. When I did try to follow what they were saying, I found that I could understand very little of what the old lady was saying. A lot of the words sounded funny and mixed up and not quite right. I hoped that Božena wasn’t repeating what I had said about staying with peasants. The women continued to talk well after I had finished my second helping of cabbage soup. Now I was too full and sleepy to try and take in what they were saying; I understood nothing except the words money and Russians that were repeated from time to time.

  The old man suddenly woke up and his wife placed a bowl of soup on a small table in front of him. He took one spoonful but his hands were shaky and the soup slopped all down his front and over the blanket that lay across his knees. Božena got up from the table, took the spoon from him and fed him like a baby. Her aunt smiled gratefully and watched them happily. After a while she spoke to me slowly so that I could understand her.

  ‘I think it’s time for the little one to go to bed.’

  ‘Yes,’ Božena agreed. ‘We have to be off very early. The train is supposed to leave at seven in the morning and,’ she turned to look at me, ‘it’s a good half-hour’s walk back to the station.’

  ‘I’ll have breakfast ready for you at six,’ her aunt said.

  The old lady beckoned me towards the big bed. ‘You and Božena will sleep in here,’ she said. ‘I put clean sheets on for you this morning. You will be snug and comfortable. But first you had better use the bucket. It’s just outside the door. I can’t leave the door open because of the light, but you’ll be fine. Just knock when you’re ready to come back in.’

  ‘I’ll go out with her,’ said Božena. ‘She isn’t used to being outside in the dark on her own.’

  After relieving myself in the bucket and washing my hands and face in a metal bowl filled with warm water that was waiting for me on the table inside, I undressed and climbed into the big bed. Božena pulled the covers over me.

  ‘Božena?’ I whispered. ‘I can’t sleep on these sheets, they are so rough and hard.’

  ‘You are the most ungrateful little brat,’ Božena hissed back. ‘These are my aunt’s best handwoven linen sheets that she has washed and put on the bed specially for you.’

  I was too tired to argue so just pulled the covers up to my chin and, breathing in the flowery smell of clean sheets, I fell into a deep sleep and never heard Božena climb in beside me.

  Božena shook me awake just before six.

  ‘Wake up, sleepy head. It’s time to get back to the train. We don’t want it to go without us, now do we?’

  I was having a lovely dream that I didn’t want to end. I had been lying, with my arms folded behind my head, in the bottom of a boat as it rocked gently on a lake. Overhead the sun shone from a clear blue sky and at the back of the boat sat a man with a gentle smile. Beside him was Mamusia. I knew that the strange man was my father and in my dream I knew that I was going to be happy for ever. It was hard to leave behind this wonderful feeling and wake up, but I got up obediently and let Božena rub a wet cloth over my sleepy face. The cold woke me with a shock and by the time I had crouched over the bucket outside in the freezing early morning air, I was fully awake ready for the day ahead. I drank a bowl of warm milk and ate another slice
of the black bread, which I dipped, like Božena and her aunt, into my milk.

  The old man was still nodding in his chair by the stove where he must have spent the whole night. Seeing a quilt on the floor near his chair I understood where the old lady must have slept. For the first time since arriving I realised what Božena had been trying to tell me. I felt totally ashamed of what I had said about staying here and about sleeping on the rough sheets. Now all I wanted was to say thank you and show the old lady that I wasn’t ungrateful. But I felt embarrassed and suddenly very shy.

  ‘It was very kind of you to let us have your bed,’ I said.

  The old woman smiled at me. Božena looked pleased.

  ‘It was a pleasure, kochanie,’ the old woman said and beamed at Božena who got up and kissed the top of her head.

  ‘We must be off,’ she said. ‘The train won’t wait for us.’

  ‘When will we see you again?’ the old lady asked.

  ‘I’ll try and stop off on the way back,’ Božena replied. ‘So in a couple of days hopefully. I have to get back to Warsaw as quickly as possible so I won’t hang around in Przemyśl longer than necessary. As soon as I’ve delivered Renata to her relatives I’ll make my way back. So I’ll probably spend another night with you then. But please don’t expect me. Things are coming to a head, thank God. Don’t worry if I don’t come. I’ll be in touch one way or another.’

  I listened carefully to Božena. Over the last week of listening to ‘Grandpa’ Leon and ‘Grandma’ Hania I was becoming more aware of what was going on outside the rooms I was being hidden in. I was beginning to understand that the war had changed the lives of so many people, not just my family and the people I had met.

  I watched Božena as she went over to the stove and kissed her sleeping uncle.

  ‘Casimir,’ the old woman said loudly making me jump. ‘Our Božena is leaving, but she’ll be back soon.’ The old man didn’t move.

  ‘Don’t wake him,’ Božena said. ‘He’s a very sick man. He looks a lot worse than last time.’

  ‘I think he’s dying,’ the old lady said. ‘It will be better for him to go, but for me . . .’ She stopped talking and Božena hugged her again.

  ‘We really must be off. It’s getting late.’

  She didn’t need to remind me to say thank you.

  ‘Thank you so much for letting me stay with you.’ And I meant it with all my heart. ‘I would love to visit you again one day when my father’s back, or perhaps you could visit us.’

  ‘Perhaps, who knows. At any rate I’ll never forget you,’ the old woman said, hugging me again. ‘You’re a real little lady,’ she added.

  She remained in the doorway waving as we made our way back down the lane. I waved back until the bend in the road hid her from view.

  ‘Božena, I really liked your aunt,’ I said. ‘I am sorry that I was so rude before.’

  Božena looked at me and smiled, but said nothing.

  When we arrived at the station the train was building up steam and most of the passengers were already aboard. We shuffled along searching for a space until one of the men hanging out of a wagon door pointed to a place beside him where we could stand. Helpful hands pulled us up and no one asked where we had spent the night. Now that the journey was in its last stage, people seemed to be more cheerful and talkative. A group further down the wagon had started singing and very soon the wave of cheerfulness spread along the wagons as more and more people joined in.

  Just after seven, and on time, the train set off slowly building up steam until once again it was clanking along through the countryside. Through the slits just above Božena’s head, light from the outside world filtered through. The rushing air chased out the smells inside. Božena tapped me on the shoulder and told me that we weren’t going to stop for about five hours, until we reached the end of the journey.

  Whenever the train went into a tunnel, the wagon filled with evil-smelling smoke from the engine which made us choke and cough and my eyes smart and water. I noticed the smuts of dirt on people’s faces and rubbed my own face to see if mine was covered too.

  ‘Have I got smuts of dirt like freckles on my face?’ I shouted up to Božena.

  ‘You had,’ Božena replied. ‘Only now that you’ve rubbed your face, it’s covered with great big black smudges. You look more like a chimney sweep than a little girl.’

  I could tell Božena was in a good mood today, she was much more friendly than yesterday. I remembered a story that I had read at Jadwiga’s house about a little chimney-sweep who was sent up chimneys in big houses. One day he falls down a chimney into a little girl’s bedroom and realises how grimy he is and runs away, falls into a river and is transformed into a water-baby.

  ‘Have you read the story of the little chimney-sweep called Tom?’ I asked.

  ‘Never heard of it,’ she shouted back. ‘Can you read?’ She frowned. ‘You’re very small to read.’

  ‘Jadwiga taught me. That was before I went to the orphanage. I love reading.’

  But the train was so noisy and the singing was now so loud, it was impossible to hear each other speak and we completed the journey in silence.

  On the outskirts of Przemyśl, Božena pulled out a cloth. She made me spit on it and then wiped it over my face, rubbing vigorously to get rid of the black smudges.

  ‘We don’t want your aunt to take fright,’ she shouted. At the mention of my aunt I began to feel butterflies starting to jump around inside my tummy. I was going to see my butterfly aunt again.

  ‘Will she be there to meet us?’

  ‘I hope so. That was the arrangement. Do you think you will recognise her?’

  ‘I don’t know . . . I was only little when I last saw her. What shall we do if there are lots of people on the station and we can’t find her?’

  ‘There will be a lot of people, but don’t worry. I will recognise her. Look, I have a picture.’

  Božena fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a tatty photograph which she handed to me.

  ‘That’s your Aunt Zuzia. It was taken before the war but I imagine she will still be recognisable after all this time.’

  I looked with interest at the yellowing photo. It showed a lady with a longish face and dark, laughing brown eyes. She was wearing a suit with a fur collar and a hat with a feather that was pulled down over one eye. She looked very smart. She was holding a tiny girl by the hand. The girl was smiling, her chubby face surrounded by lots of light-coloured curls and a large bow was perched on the top of her head. She wore a pale dress, short white socks and little boots and in her hand she was clutching a toy rabbit.

  ‘She looks nice. Who’s that little girl with her?’

  ‘You! Who else?’ laughed Božena.

  I was amazed. Was this really me – this happy child in beautiful clothes?

  ‘I don’t look at all like that now, Božena. I’ve changed a lot. Supposing Aunt Zuzia has changed too and we don’t recognise her?’

  ‘You mustn’t worry, we will recognise her. After all, that’s what I’m here for.’

  The train’s journey was meant to end at Przemyśl but when it pulled into the station, its brakes squealing and clouds of steam puffing into the air, people fought to get off as if it was due to pull out at any moment.

  ‘We’ll wait a few moments and let everybody get off,’ Božena said, holding me back. ‘It wouldn’t do to lose you now.’

  ‘But supposing Aunt Zuzia won’t wait? Supposing she thinks we’re not on the train? Supposing she goes away?’ I began to feel really worried.

  ‘Calm down, child. None of these things will happen. Your aunt will wait. Anyway we’ve a greater chance of finding her if we wait for the crowds to lessen.’

  Impatient as I was, I had little choice but to wait until Božena decided that it was time for us to leave the train. When we climbed down from the wagon into the bright daylight the platform was teeming with passengers. Steam from the train was curling around everybody and everything making it
difficult to see very far. But Božena seemed to know exactly where to go and headed for a building on the far side of the platform.

  At the booking office the crowds were thinner and everyone seemed to be in such a hurry. There were only two people standing still, one short man and next to him a lady, both old and wrapped in scarves and coats. They were scanning the faces of all the people that passed them. The man had white bushy eyebrows that peeped out from under his hat. He looked rather grumpy. The woman was taller and seemed very restless because she kept turning in every direction as if she was looking for someone. She was thin and looked worn-out with wisps of straggly grey hair coming out of the scarf she had wrapped around her head and fastened under her chin with a knot.

  I had decided that this couldn’t be Aunt Zuzia. She was far too old and didn’t look anything at all like the fashionable lady in the photo, certainly nothing like the butterfly aunt I remembered. But Božena made her way towards her, held out the photograph she had shown me and muttered a few words. The woman looked at me, uttered a little cry and then held out her arms. Then there were tears pouring down her face as she hugged me so hard that I could hardly breathe.

  ‘Zuzia, stop making such a hysterical scene,’ the man at her side said in a gruff voice. ‘You’ll have us arrested or worse. Pull yourself together. You’re being quite ridiculous. The child will think you’re a complete idiot.’

  But I didn’t think anything of the sort – I was hugging my weeping aunt as hard as I could. It was wonderful to be recognised, to be wanted and welcomed.

  Aunt Zuzia and Uncle Julek (right) with a friend, 1945–1946

  I followed Božena, Aunt Zuzia and Uncle Julek out of the station towards a waiting horse-drawn carriage. I stood and stared at it – I had never ridden in such luxury before.

  ‘Don’t get the wrong idea,’ Uncle Julek growled. ‘We can’t afford luxuries like this. It’s only because your aunt was convinced you would be tired out after the long journey. But you look perfectly all right to me, so we’ve obviously wasted our money.’