by Lily Graham
Sofie frowned as she considered her grandmother’s words. The word ‘bastard’ reverberated in her skull, like a sharp stone. ‘If you won’t force me to marry Lucas, what then? Go and live somewhere else, is that what you’re suggesting?’
Her grandmother touched her arm. ‘No, well, not for long. You can go to live with your cousin Lotte in the countryside, in Bregenz, till you’ve had the baby. Then you can come back.’
Sofie stared, then closed her eyes in horror. ‘Alone? Is that what you’re implying – after I give the baby up?’
Her grandmother looked at her, her eyes serious. ‘That is an option, of course.’
Sofie shook her head, and shot out of her chair, sudden, angry tears coursing down her face. ‘I won’t give it away!’ she hissed.
‘Sit down!’ commanded her grandmother, as a few people stopped to stare.
Sofie stood, breathing heavily, not making a move either way.
Her grandmother sighed, and said, ‘The other option, Sofie, is to have the baby there and wait.’
Sofie dashed the tears away from her eyes and took a seat. ‘For how long?’
‘A few months. We can say you got married, and your husband passed away – some illness or something. Then you can come back, with a ring on your finger.’
Sofie stared as her grandmother pulled off a ring from her right hand, an anniversary present from her grandfather, gold with a sapphire in an empire setting. ‘Here.’
Sofie crossed her arms, and didn’t take it. She hated deceit. ‘I’d rather own up to my own mistakes, than pretend.’
Her grandmother shook her head, exasperated. ‘You have to meet us halfway, Sofie, if not for you then for the child, at least.’
Sofie sighed, she stared at her for a long moment, then finally nodded. She figured most people would guess anyway, but if it made them feel more comfortable with the lie, she’d let them have it for her family’s sake.
By the time Sofie came back to Vienna with her baby, Tomas, she had turned eighteen and he was six months old. Her place at the veterinary programme was gone. There was no time for studies with a new child anyway, despite the help that came rather willingly from her father and grandparents. Despite their misgivings about his parentage, they welcomed him wholeheartedly in their lives. He was a cheerful, happy baby with big brown eyes and a thick patch of dark blond hair, that her father said must have come from Sofie’s mother.
As he grew, her father was convinced that he shared her mother’s nature too. He was a gentle, sensitive soul, drawn to flowers, and music. He would sit downstairs on the floor quietly, happily playing with his toys, and making the customers smile as he laughed whenever Sofie tickled him.
As the months passed, she settled down into her new life as a mother. While she missed her studies, and wished that she had managed to train as a veterinary nurse, being a parent was its own adventure, and there was every chance that she could return to her studies once Tomas was older, perhaps even go further and become a veterinarian in her own right.
For now, she helped out at her father’s shop, where she’d been an apprentice of a kind since she was six; where her head for figures and nimble fingers were just as at home fixing watches as they were changing nappies. It was fine for now, she thought, satisfied. She was young and still had her whole life ahead of her, there was still time.
Until, suddenly, that all changed, almost overnight, with one word: Anschluss.
Sofie looked at Eva now, and sighed, brought suddenly back into the reality of her current situation, away from the moment Austria was annexed by the Germans, as she lay next to her friend in the cold bunk, worrying about her new job posting – and what anyone would do if they found out that she hadn’t really been much of a nurse at all.
‘The only real experience I have is working in my father’s watchmaking shop,’ she said, raising her long, slim fingers. ‘Sorting through cogs isn’t quite the same as bone and flesh.’
‘I doubt that will matter,’ said Eva. ‘It’s not like they think of us as anything more than machines or animals anyway.’
‘Especially if you are Jewish, like us,’ agreed Vanda, softly, turning over to face them, a hand coming up to rub the sleep out of her pale lashes. It was true, most of the people in their barracks were Jews, and from Czechoslovakia. There were a few anomalies like Sofie who was from Austria originally, but that was because they’d been in Terezín to begin with. For the most part the camp officials thought it was safer if like stayed with like. It was easier to be with your own, they thought. But it wasn’t perfect; people got moved around as they were placed on different work details, so the inevitable mixing did happen. Even so, there was a distinct hierarchy in the camp, and those with the worst status were the Jews, it was a bit better if you were half and half, with one non-Jewish parent. Political prisoners had it possibly the best, and so did the Polish, who’d been here longer.
The hospital looked like the real thing but it wasn’t quite like the hospitals they knew. Eva had spent most of her time there asleep but even she saw that while doctors wore lab coats, they didn’t seem to do much healing. They were busy though, very busy, although it was difficult to see with what. There were dark rumours, whispers of what happened there, though no one knew for sure. So they were interested to hear more now, from Sofie.
Sofie closed her eyes, she was tired, yet wide awake, a horrid state brought on by fear that was all too familiar, sleep if it came at all, would be much later. Thankfully hospital staff were exempt from the Appells. ‘The care is rudimentary at best. The doctors make rounds but don’t really look at patients. Of course, the nurses will treat people with typhus or something, to ensure they can get back to work fast, but from what I could tell the hospital is really for one thing only.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Eva.
‘Experiments.’
Her eyes widened, she hadn’t been expecting that. ‘What kind of experiments?’
‘Things to help them win the war – with us as the lab rats.’
‘What kind of things?’
Sofie’s head swam, she could still see one of the women, who had been led away, blood pooling down her leg. They hadn’t even bandaged it, and she could even see the bone as the poor woman stumbled towards a bed where a nurse took her to ‘recover’. She shuddered. One of the other nurses had explained later that the new doctor, Mengele, had put something in the bone as an experiment, the purpose wasn’t really explained.
‘You don’t really want to know.’ She sighed, and whispered, ‘I need something else to think about, Kritzelei, something good. Tell me about your first date with Michal, after the concert, when you went walking along the river.’
‘Yes, I’d like to hear too,’ said Helga, and Vanda nodded, giving up on sleep also.
So Eva did.
Chapter Thirteen
Prague, April 1938
They walked through the old city on a cool April night just after the rain had fallen. Eva breathed it in; sweet and fresh, where the rain mingled with the tarmac. It was her favourite sort of night, where time seemed to stand still.
Along the river, they could just make out the soft lights from the boats, winking at them as they passed along the banks. Michal was far taller than her, and often had to bend down to look at her. She shivered in the cool night, and he offered her his jacket. She bit her lip as he helped slip it on, breathing in his warm, clean scent. There was just a faint hint of cologne which was pleasant and mildly spicy, and Eva couldn’t help finding it slightly intoxicating. She felt her cheeks warm at the thought, and she desperately searched for something to say to the tall, handsome man walking beside her. It had been easier in the concert hall, with so many people. Safe. Out here, just the two of them, her heartbeat sounded loud in her ears.
‘When did you learn to play the violin like that?’ she asked at last.
He turned to look at her, his brow furrowing, slowing his naturally brisk stride to match hers. He ran a hand through
his curls, as he thought back, a smile on his lips. ‘When I was about four. We spent the summer with my family in Bratislava. They had this huge old house that went over several storeys, and I loved exploring its treasures – especially the attic, there were all these things stored there from a lifetime: an old rocking horse, clothes from the previous century, board games, books, but the thing that struck me most was an old red violin that I became enchanted by. I kept taking it out from its case – quite gently I suppose, despite my age – and running my fingers lightly against the strings. My mother kept looking for me, and finding me with it. My uncle was touched by this – thought it meant something,’ he shrugged, laughing. His green eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘He said he’d always wanted my cousin, Jakub, to take an interest in the violin but he never did. So my uncle arranged for me to have lessons. It was an indulgence, they all said. But I loved it, and after that I played every day. When I went home, my uncle gave me that old red violin, which I used until I was about sixteen and I bought a new one, better suited to my size,’ he joked, indicating his long arms, and torso, ‘I got it from the money I’d made playing at a little restaurant in the evenings. I told them I was twenty so that I could drink too. It took close to a year as I decided I’d get one just like Jascha Heifetz had – he’s regarded as one of the best violinists in the world. I got to meet him last year, when he came here for a performance. I still have that old violin though.’
They walked up a street, away from the river, and she smiled, picturing the little boy he must have been and he grinned back, eyes dancing in the streetlight. ‘Your turn. When did you start sketching – I saw you in the square.’
Her mouth fell open in surprise. ‘You did?’
He nodded, a dimple showing in his tanned cheek.
She looked away towards the busy streets, where smartly dressed men and women in fashionable clothes were walking from theatres, cinemas and bars, laughter ringing throughout the air, and her heart started to beat faster.
He laughed. ‘You’re not the only one who did some spying.’
She looked back at him and shook her head in surprise, laughing too. As an artist, her world was all about perspective. It was strange that she hadn’t considered that he could see her, but she had assumed that he was lost in his music.
She blushed, looked down and then answered. ‘I’ve always drawn – my mother says that I was born with a pencil in my hand. I always have a sketchbook with me, just in case I see something that I need to capture, a moment, a memory, something unusual. You never know what you’ll see.’ She lifted a shoulder. It was a beautiful world, and she liked to notice it.
‘You have your sketchbook with you, even now?’ he asked, lips parting in surprise.
‘Yes,’ she said, with a small nod, patting a leather satchel, which was large and somewhat misshapen, not the sort of accessory one took to the symphony – as her mother had admonished her earlier. She didn’t care though, without her sketchbook she would have felt naked, or lost.
His eyes twinkled, and he shook his head. ‘So, you bring your work with you even on a date?’
She laughed, then looked up at him, eyes alight. ‘I didn’t realise I would be on a date.’
‘I did.’
She turned to look at him in surprise. He shrugged. ‘Well, see, I could see more of you than just your shoes.’
She laughed again, then shook her head. ‘Come on,’ she beckoned, dragging him by his hand to a bench near a streetlamp. She sat and he peered down at her, his expression puzzled, as she pulled out her sketchbook, and a pencil, which she put behind her ear, while she grinned up at him. ‘I want to make a record of this night. Something tells me I’m going to want one.’
‘Of what?’ he asked, showing a dimple as he took a seat next to her, sitting maybe a bit closer than necessary, his leg warm alongside hers.
She took a breath, then opened her sketchbook, smoothing the page with her fingers, her hazel eyes serious, before she began. ‘Of the day I met you.’
Chapter Fourteen
She drew the portrait of Michal at night, on the tiny scrap of paper that Herman’s friend had supplied her. It was as clear as if he were sitting before her, though she had to imagine what he looked like with shaved hair.
‘Why do they need a portrait, couldn’t they just ask around for his name?’ said Zanda, who sat on the edge of the bunk, her bony knees tucked beneath her chin.
‘Some keep their names to themselves. They become different people here, keeping their past untouched,’ answered Sofie.
Eva nodded. It was true. Some of the girls in their barrack were like that. Especially the ones who had seen their families killed. It was easier to pretend you were just a number, harder to be reminded every day of who you once were. It was one of the reasons Sofie was sure she was having a hard time tracking down her cousin, Lotte.
She’d had a few red herrings, and once she’d seen someone who almost looked like her, but it wasn’t her in the end. If anyone would want to hide her identity, it might be Lotte, after what she had done.
‘Also, this way won’t bring too much attention to Eva, I think, as it’s just a piece of paper,’ said Sofie, ever practical.
Eva hoped so, already she was getting known as the ‘photo-girl’, she didn’t want that information to get into the wrong hands.
When she fell asleep, she dreamt of Michal. It felt so real, his head was shaved, his green eyes were dull and dark, there were bruises under his eyes, and his cheekbones stood out starkly in his pale face.
He was working outside in the snow, standing in line with several other men, all laying down bricks. He hadn’t seen her, and she started to walk fast to try to get to him. Her shoes were slipping in the mud, which turned suddenly to heavy banks of snow. She struggled to get through, shouting his name, till she was hoarse, but no sound came out of her mouth, and he never looked up, and the more she tried the further he seemed to get.
She woke with a start, the scream dying on her lips, her heart hammering against her chest. She sat up coughing and wheezing, feeling weak and tired.
During the morning Appell, Hinterschloss was being particularly vile. Eva could smell the alcohol a metre away before he stopped in front of her, a sneer on his face, his yellow eyes seeming to glow. ‘Kanada, eh, you’re ready for that today?’
She nodded.
‘Can you not use your mouth? Answer me!’
He shoved her with the end of his rifle and her knees buckled. There would be thick welts there later.
‘Yes, sir,’ she said quickly, straightening fast.
‘Weren’t you just in the hospital?’
She blanched. Meier must have told him. She had been right then to trust her instincts, and not to reveal too much to him through Sofie. Though she supposed Hinterschloss must have wondered where she’d been too. All of this and more raced through her fear-heightened brain.
‘Yes. I was, briefly.’
‘Are you ill still?’ he asked, his glazed eyes penetrating as he stepped forward, touching her forehead. She had to bite her cheek to stop herself from shoving his hand away. He made a show of wiping his hand on his trousers, a look of disgust on his face.
‘No,’ she shook her head, ‘not anymore, it was some time ago.’
‘Not that long.’
Eva didn’t know how exactly she’d been lucky enough to escape his notice till then about her illness, perhaps he was just in a particularly foul mood now and was looking for a reason to pick on someone even if it was for something from a while back.
She was still very weak, her limbs felt heavy and she was easily tired. With the right nutrition and rest, recovery would have been possible, but here with neither available – not to mention the unsanitary surroundings – it was likely to be a long road to recovery.
‘So, you are strong?’
‘Yes,’ she lied.
He quirked a brow. ‘How strong?’
She hoped he wouldn’t make her lift another rock abo
ve her head for hours, she didn’t know if she had it in her, to be honest.
‘I am capable of work – I can carry on at the Kanada, sir.’
He looked surprised, and even laughed, slapping a knee in his sudden mirth. ‘Oh ho! What’s this, what’s this!’ he said to one of the Kapos who also began to laugh.
‘Silly girl,’ she said.
Hinterschloss seemed to approve as his yellow eyes lit up. Then he looked at Eva, ‘Yes, very silly. So because you were ill you think you deserve special treatment – to get one of the better assignments here, is that it?’
Eva swallowed. ‘No, I didn’t mean that.’
‘You didn’t?’ he sneered. Poking a finger into her chest, hard, so that it hurt, making her gasp. ‘So, you get ill and the others must carry on working hard outside in all-weathers while you get a cushy post?’
He bared his sharp teeth in a leer.
‘No.’
‘No?’ His grey eyes flared.
‘No, I mean I don’t need special treatment, sir, I can work anywhere.’
There was a long silence. Then one of the other guards called out something about needing to get a move on, and he sniffed as if the man had ruined his fun, then looked back at her.
‘Anywhere, eh? Fine, you can join the construction team, they need someone to break up the rocks.’ Then he smirked. ‘I seem to recall that you have experience with those.’
She opened and closed her mouth.
His hand moved towards his rifle. ‘Is this a problem?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Good – go, you’ve delayed us all already, there won’t be a next time.’