The Child of Auschwitz: Absolutely heartbreaking World War 2 historical fiction

by Lily Graham

  Hinterschloss stared at them now, pale grey eyes looking into a sea of dirty, thin faces.

  He was passing by Eva, when he suddenly stopped, an odd look on his face. ‘The translator,’ he said, narrowing his eyes, noting her colour, her glazed eyes. ‘Let me look at you. Step forward.’

  Adrenalin mixed with pure fear seized hold of Eva’s body and she stepped forward on her weak legs.

  ‘Are you well?’ he said, almost kindly. His voice was soft, causing the hairs on her neck to stand on end.

  ‘I am, yes.’

  He stared, his hand making a movement as if he wanted to touch her forehead but thought better of it in case it sullied him. After some time, he put his head to one side, and said, ‘You look feverish.’

  ‘Just my colouring, sir.’

  He seemed to find this amusing; he laughed, eyes glinting in the wintry light. ‘You feel healthy?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘That’s good, we like healthy workers, don’t we?’ he asked Meier – who nodded.

  Hinterschloss shrugged, giving the other a sly smile. ‘Dead or alive, makes no difference to me.’ Then he turned and glared at Eva, ‘I don’t like liars though – they waste time.’ He sniffed. ‘You can understand that some people say they are healthy when they are not? Taking up valuable space that could be used by others?’

  Eva didn’t blink, just repeated. ‘I am well, sir.’

  He raised a brow, and edged nearer so that she could smell his stale, whisky breath. ‘If you are indeed so healthy, as you say, then you wouldn’t mind standing here for another hour?’ She nodded quickly, and his smiled widened. ‘Not so fast,’ he said. ‘Can’t make it too easy you understand.’ Then he bent down and picked up a large rock from the snow-covered ground. ‘Raise this high above your head.’

  Eva’s legs shook as she stepped forward to take it. Hinterschloss gave her a satisfied smile, his hand playing with the butt of his gun. ‘A little proof sometimes is necessary, do you agree?’

  Meier looked down at the ground, a frown between his eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ said Eva, simply.

  It was, alas, a regular form of torment, one that some of the Kapos performed on the other women – making them stand even longer in the cold, and devising ways of testing their fitness, or attempting to break their spirit for some imaginary slight, usually with the waste bucket above their head.

  Eva struggled to lift the rock. She tensed her jaw, feeling nauseous. Sofie hesitated, stepping forward to help, and Meier shot her a cautionary look. ‘Leave her, let her do it herself.’

  Hinterschloss nodded, as if he approved.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Eva to Sofie, gritting her teeth and raising the rock above her head, fighting. Her arms and legs shook as she stared ahead, past Hinterschloss’s dead eyes, at the golden crest on his uniform, and thought of Michal.

  She would always remember the colour gold from the moment she knew she was in love. It was the colour of late summer, and early evening, the sun in her eyes, reflected off the river in her family’s country home deep in the mountains. A shadow passed over her and she looked up from the otter she was sketching, and sunlight blinded her, bright and gold. She cupped her hand to shade her eyes and when her vision cleared, there he was.

  A dimple in his cheek, as he knelt down, shifting the source of light, from gold to green and back again.

  ‘Michal,’ she’d breathed in wonder.

  He nodded, his mouth forming a soft smile, as he stared at her.

  ‘You’re here?’

  He nodded. ‘I couldn’t stay in Prague.’

  She’d stared, marvelling at the sight of him, here with her. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you weren’t there.’

  Happiness, pure and champagne bright, had bubbled up inside when he’d kissed her.

  Hinterschloss stared at her, while her eyes glazed over as she fixed on the distance, her arms above her head. She focussed only on breathing in and out and picturing Michal’s beloved face, his curls, the dimple showing in his cheek.

  Eva wasn’t sure how long she stood there, lost in the past. Black spots danced before her eyes and she fought the overwhelming pull of delirium, which was growing stronger at every passing moment. She was beginning to wonder what was real and what wasn’t. Dancing at the corner of her eyes were her family. Her mother with that soft, encouraging smile of hers. Her cousin Mila laughing as she ran by the lake in her red bathing costume, dark blonde locks flying behind her. Then, in the distance, she thought she saw her uncle Bedrich – only he was here, in Auschwitz. He was wearing his roguish grey hat, and walking that ambling gait of his, a slow smile creeping on his craggy face. He raised a finger and motioned for her to keep going, keep holding on.

  Was it real? Was he here?

  She wet her lips, and breathed out his name, ‘Uncle Bedrich?’ but they were cracked, her mouth dry and parched and no sound escaped. Her arms shook, but still she stood.

  An hour passed, and finally Hinterschloss appeared appeased. He sniffed as he looked down at her; everyone else was getting restless, and his own belly was starting to rumble. He spat near her feet and sneered, ‘All right, translator. Clear to work.’

  Eva nodded, then slowly dropped the rock – only when he’d gone past did she step backwards, and half fall into Sofie’s waiting arms, which supported her on the long, interminable walk to the warehouses. At some point she passed out and her friend tapped her face gently to wake her up long enough for them to walk inside.

  What little energy she might have had left had been stolen by Hinterschloss’s evil game with the rock. It was soon apparent that Eva wouldn’t be able to do much sorting that day, as she was so delirious she was barely able to stand. Worse, it seemed like every time they turned, a guard was watching them.

  Sofie managed to get her into her section by asking Meier if it would be all right, and he’d agreed. Although having the guard so close by was worrisome, it was better than risking Eva collapsing near Hinterschloss.

  Eva found herself falling asleep on a pile of bedding, and when Sofie heard the sound of heavy boots, she managed to pile them on top of her just in time.

  ‘Wasn’t there another girl?’ asked a guard called Skelter coming to check.

  ‘She went to the latrine,’ said Sofie. ‘Meier said she could.’

  He checked his watch. There were three bathroom breaks a day.

  ‘Fine. Make sure you ask me next time, and see that she’s back here faster. I don’t pay you to take breaks.’

  Sofie nodded. ‘I will.’

  Beneath her pile of coats, Eva began to mutter that they didn’t pay them, but Sofie’s hand slipped beneath the pile as fast as she could and into her mouth.

  ‘What was that?’ asked the guard, turning to come inside the room and inspect it.

  Sofie shrugged. ‘Just a rat, sir – sometimes they hide in the coats. We found one the other day the size of a cat.’

  The guard wrinkled his nose in distaste, and stepped back quickly through the door.

  ‘See that she is back here,’ he ordered.

  Sofie inclined her head.

  When he’d left, she pulled Eva out from under the large pile of the coats. ‘Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital.’

  ‘No,’ Eva moaned. ‘Not there. They kill people there, they don’t heal them. That’s what everyone says, especially if you’re Jewish.’

  ‘We have no choice, Eva, if it’s typhus you’re dead without medication – besides if they catch you like this, you will definitely get killed. Skelter is already suspicious.’

  Eva shook her head, but when she tried to stand up she was so delirious that she thought she was back in Terezín. ‘Uncle Bedrich,’ she slurred. ‘Why did you let Papa get on that transport, you could have stopped him…’ Then suddenly she smiled sadly. ‘Darling, don’t you want to take your violin, surely you’ll still be able to play?’

  Somehow, Sofie managed to get her out the building, and when
Meier stopped her she said she was taking her friend to the hospital.

  ‘The hospital?’ he said. ‘So she is sick?’

  ‘Yes, she needs to go, now, please I’m worried about her.’

  He nodded, his face softening. ‘All right, let me help you,’ and he slung Eva’s arm over his shoulder.

  Sofie breathed a sigh of relief. Together they half carried Eva to the medical barracks, which had grown over a compound of buildings.

  Meier spoke to one of the doctors and they were directed to a waiting room. When he turned to leave, he gave Sofie’s hand a surreptitious squeeze.

  ‘You might have to pay for this,’ said Eva, having a moment of lucidity in her fear.

  ‘Let me worry about that,’ said Sofie firmly.

  The hospital barracks looked like a regular medical facility, with doctors wearing lab coats, and consulting charts. Sofie and Eva sat in the waiting room, and once they were called, a Slovakian nurse checked Eva over.

  ‘They kill us here,’ Eva repeated, eyes glazed, her head tossing from side to side as masked doctors with bloodstained aprons advanced on her, a product of her delirious, panic-filled mind.

  ‘No,’ said Sofie, denying it. ‘You’re safe, Kritzelei.’

  ‘Is it typhus?’ she asked the nurse – who nodded.

  ‘I think so – a bad case too.’

  As her friend worried over her fate, Eva stared at Sofie, and her delirium changed again, she was back in their bunk trying to make her feel better; telling her friend the stories she liked to hear. She began in her mind to tell her about her first date with Michal. But, of course, no words escaped her parched lips, as she slipped into the memory, like a comforting robe on cold shoulders.

  Chapter Ten

  Prague, April 1938

  The Smetana Hall was grand. The beautiful art nouveau decor offered a stained-glass ceiling, impressive Slavic paintings and gilded lamps, which shone down on the rapt audience, all of whom were following the movement of the concert master intensely.

  But as the sound of Rachmaninoff’s violin concerto swelled the hall, Eva’s eyes were drawn to a pair of shoes seated in the first-row violins.

  The shoes were black, with worn patches that showed up like bald spots despite the polish. Eva stared at them in delight, then looked up at the young man who was sitting in the front. He had curly brown hair and light eyes, and even before she saw the dimples in his cheeks – when he grinned down at her, as if he knew exactly who she was – she knew she was in trouble.

  In the lobby, her mother was getting their coats, when she felt a tap on her shoulder, and she turned around to see him.

  His eyes were green, she realised. A vivid shade, like a dappled glade.

  ‘You came,’ he said, his lips curved so that there was a slight dimple in his cheek.

  She swallowed, resisting the urge to pat her dark hair which had been loosely curled by her cousin Mila, so that it rested on her shoulders.

  ‘I did,’ she replied, hardly able to help her smile.

  He returned it, showing very even teeth, and she felt her stomach skip – like she’d drunk champagne or spun around the room – as the world suddenly sped up, just a little too fast, full of life and noise and colour. She took in a breath, but nothing seemed to slow.

  ‘Would you like to go for a walk?’

  She stared back at the tall, handsome stranger with his old, worn shoes, and laughing eyes, and blinked in surprise. ‘What, now?’

  He shrugged, and the dimple deepened. ‘The city is beautiful at night.’

  She bit her lip, but couldn’t help the wide smile stretching across her face. ‘Give me a second,’ she breathed, then ran back to her mother to tell her. She came back a few moments later with her mother’s admonishments, along with her laughter ringing in her ears.

  He raised a brow, green eyes dancing, perhaps slightly amazed that she had agreed, because he teased, ‘You know, I could be anyone, what if you were running off with a madman or something?’

  Eva shook her head, dark curls bouncing. ‘See that woman back there,’ she said, pointing an arm to a tall and elegant woman – a flash of gold about her throat, pearl earrings glinting against her dark chignon – standing speaking to the maestro, who she had somehow cornered, and who was looking oddly small as he listened to her. ‘That is my mother, Anka Copco. By now, she will know your address, middle name, and where she should send the police if I’m not home by twelve.’

  He let out a deep laugh. ‘She sounds formidable.’

  Eva nodded, then grinned. ‘She is. She told me that although I have just turned twenty-one, she will still be obeyed or there will be consequences.’ She shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s what most mothers do.’

  ‘Not mine,’ he said, inclining his head in a respectful way. ‘Mine let me do what I liked, but that wasn’t always a good thing,’ he winked. Then he straightened, looking down at her. ‘So that’s Anka Copco,’ he said, his eyes twinkling. ‘And who is her daughter?’

  Eva coloured. ‘Eva.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you at last, peach-girl. I am Michal Adami.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Eva had one of the worst cases of epidemic typhus the nurses had seen. Her body was covered in a rash, and she was in the grips of a dangerous fever. The delirium was the most worrisome sign as it indicated the severity of her illness. Typhus had claimed many lives in the camps, but if treated the recovery could be quite fast.

  Sofie watched as the nurse forced her friend to swallow the antibiotics. She wanted nothing more than to wait by her side and see how she did, but she knew that if she didn’t get back there would be questions.

  When she returned to the Kanada, Meier was waiting for her. She could see that he was pleased that he had found a way to get closer to her – by helping her friend.

  ‘How is she?’ he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. Sofie had to fight the urge to shake his hand away. There was a sweet smell from his breath, slightly sickly, like burnt vanilla. Instead of pulling away, she swallowed, then put her hand over his, touching it briefly. ‘The nurse said it’s a bad case, I just hope she can pull through it.’ She looked up at him. ‘If only I could be there – stay by her side.’

  They were standing in the shadows, near a large pile of bedding, and she looked up to make sure that there was no one looking, then she turned and kissed him briefly on the lips.

  His eyes widened in delight, and he cupped her face, kissing her back, harder. Sofie let him. Closing her mind to the smell of burnt vanilla, which flooded her senses, making her feel faintly nauseated.

  Finally, he squeezed her tight, mistaking the tears in her eyes for worry for her friend. He wiped a finger beneath her lashes. ‘I can arrange that, I’ll do what I can for my girl.’

  Sofie looked at him, her dark eyes not giving anything away.

  ‘You are my girl, aren’t you?’

  Sofie looked away for a moment, then nodded. She gave him another quick, surreptitious kiss, a forced smile on her face, which he didn’t notice. ‘I could be, yes.’

  This seemed to make him very happy. ‘Good.’

  Meier arranged it so that Sofie could stay with her friend for the rest of the day, and she watched over Eva as she thrashed on a hospital bed, her face bone white, her lips dry and chapped.

  There was nothing to do but wait and hope the fever would break. Meier escorted Sofie back to the hospital over the next few days so that she could see her friend for a few minutes at a time. It took two full days for the fever to break, and for Eva to wake up, feeling weak, starving, but clear-headed.

  She watched as patients like her slept in beds, but no doctors came to check on them. She didn’t know if she should attempt to leave, if it was worse for her or not. Sofie came over to check on her in the afternoon, a smile on her face. ‘You had me worried there, Kritzelei.’

  Eva pressed her friend’s hand, her muscles were weak still and the pressure was light, like a butterfly. ‘Thank you for everyth
ing – I hope I haven’t made things worse for you.’

  She meant with Meier, who it was clear now thought they were in love.

  Sofie rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t be daft, having you dead would be much worse than dealing with that boy,’ and Eva let out a small chuckle. Then she sat up slowly, her eyes scanning the room. The fear clutching hold of her once more at where she was.

  ‘I should get back,’ she said.

  Sofie pushed her back down again, gently. ‘Stay, rest. Meier said he will escort you back tonight.’

  Eva nodded. She was still weak, and tired, it would be good to rest.

  ‘Here, have this,’ Sofie said, giving her a small wedge of black bread. Eva nodded, breaking off a large chunk in her hunger which she shoved into her mouth, but her muscles were so weak it took forever to chew.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Course, Kritzelei.’

  Eva nodded. ‘Sorry I put you through this.’ Eva meant having to look after her, risking herself.

  ‘Don’t be. I’m holding you to that promise you made on our first day.’

  Eva looked at her, then gave a small smile. ‘We will live?’

  ‘We will live,’ Sofie agreed.

  As Eva waited in the bed, she watched as an old man with a bucket mopped the floors. His face was familiar somehow.

  He caught her staring at him, and then raised two fingers at her in a greeting. He had thick bushy eyebrows and very dark eyes.