More trucks were lined up, waiting. The women were ringed by soldiers; any movement away from the crush was impossible. Liese caught glimpses of a cloudless cornflower sky. The fruity scent of pine set her nose twitching.
‘Get down. Five-wide. Form up.’
Five this time, not three. A new number to shuffle them with.
The women formed into lines, their mouths silently counting along the rows. The guns were too close to risk a mistake.
‘Put the children down. Tell them to walk.’
Liese was stranded too visibly at the column’s edge. She tried to swap places, to wriggle in towards the centre and a foot or two of safety. A rifle butt shoved her forward before she could slide in.
‘Children down. If I have to repeat that, I shoot.’
‘You heard what he said, monkey. You have to walk.’
‘No. Can’t. Too tired.’
Liese stifled a cry as the rifle cocked.
‘Do as you’re told. No more arguing.’
Fear made her voice harsh.
Lottie’s eyes filled with tears. Liese wished that she could swallow the words back. That she could bend down, whisper that she was sorry. Explain that her sounding cross was just part of this strange game they were all playing, but the soldiers were shouting and the column was marching and it was all she could do to keep Lottie upright.
I’ll say it later. I’ll cuddle the darkness away, as soon as she’s safe.
The shouting throttled up again, harsh cries to move, to be quicker, pushing the prisoners down a cobbled road, past a row of balconied houses perched high on a hill and a forest of fir trees that smelled like Christmas. They were marched so fast, Lottie was almost flying, her wrist locked in Liese’s hand.
‘Eyes forward, mouths shut.’
Whips cracked along the lines. Lottie stumbled on, no longer sobbing, although her whole body was shaking. Liese kept pulling and didn’t dare look down.
‘Stop.’
The ground softened, took on the powdery feel of sand. Liese took a breath that tasted as fresh as spring rain, lifted her head and almost laughed. The setting was picture-postcard perfect, a holiday scene.
A lake stretched out only feet away from where the women had been herded, its placid water a mirror of the morning’s blue sky. Linden trees edged the high wall they were standing near and softened the camp’s metal gates with velvety green. Liese could see banks of red flowers nodding their way along the neatly laid road that stretched out on the other side.
Hope inched its way back. Liese smiled at the woman shivering next to her. Heads rose across the tightly packed column. The smile passed tentatively on.
Liese loosened her grip on Lottie’s wrist, kept her back straight and bent her knees so she could slip a hand round her daughter’s tiny shoulders.
‘Lottie, look: it’s pretty. There’s flowers and a lake you might be able to paddle in.’
Other whispers followed hers, spreading out like ripples.
‘No talking!’
Not a man’s voice anymore – a woman’s, sharp and strident.
In the relief of being in a gentler landscape than anyone expected, someone didn’t hear, or didn’t obey quickly enough. A hand shot out, cracked hard against skin. Another voice screamed; the next slap rang harder.
Guards fanned out and began striding down the rows. Not soldiers but a troop of almost identical blonde women, made thickset and solid by square caps and wide-shouldered black capes. They didn’t have guns, but they had whips they sent flying. One sliced through the air a foot away and crashed Lottie into Liese’s legs.
‘Noses to the front.’
The guards began carving the packed crowd ahead of them into slices, forcing their shaking captives in tight columns through the gates. Liese saw a girl stumble; saw another fall under a thick fist as she kneeled down to help. The air grew dark with sobs and slaps and the discordant screeching of ‘bitches’.
Lottie’s hand shot back into Liese’s and set rigid and clawlike.
Liese ached to scoop her up, to press the white face hard into her shoulder and make a shield against the cruelty unfolding with such malevolent speed.
As they drew nearer the gates, the guards’ excitement flared. A whip tore open a cheek a few paces in front; a kick levelled a woman who’d fallen out of line. The slightest movement or whimper, one step’s hesitation, and they pounced like jubilant tigers. There was no time to think, no time to do anything other than stay in line and follow the hailstorm of orders.
I’m here; I have you.
Liese poured the words through every inch of her body that was touching her daughter’s and squeezed the hand curled inside hers. Lottie didn’t respond.
The gates were coming closer now – a dozen or so steps and they would be inside the camp. She could see the women who had already entered marching down the long road between the barrack blocks. There didn’t seem to be as much shouting on that side; there certainly seemed to be fewer guards visible. Other women had noticed the change in mood inside the walls. The rows around Liese began to grow calmer, more obedient.
Perhaps it’s bad out here because it’s so crowded, because we’re all so nervous. Maybe things will be easier once we get through.
Liese shuffled forward. Some of the guards had lowered their whips as the women gradually stopped resisting their orders. Liese squeezed Lottie’s hand.
Another few steps and then I’ll be able to hold you. I’ll be able to make all this right.
Her row inched quietly towards the gates. Three more lines in front of them and then they would be inside and safe.
Liese was about to bend her knees and risk another whisper when she felt her arm wrench. Lottie had frozen. What was she doing? There was a guard standing too close for Liese to speak. She pulled on Lottie’s hand, but the child pulled sharply back and knocked Liese into the woman behind. A ripple ran along the row.
What is she afraid of?
And then Liese caught it. A scent weaving towards them, raw and meaty and hot. Dogs. Liese groaned. The three guards closest to the gates had dogs running beside them, their leads, like at Alexanderplatz, long and loose enough for the animals to get within pawing distance of the women. The dogs’ mouths were open, the scent in the air their foul panting breath. No wonder the prisoners in front of them had entered the camp without a sound: they weren’t calm, they were terrified.
‘Mama. No. Not walk by them.’
A guard turned, her small eyes hunting for the source of the sound.
Liese couldn’t risk even the tiniest whisper. She squeezed Lottie’s hand instead and tried to pull her forward, praying that speed would smooth the dogs’ straining muscles and teeth to a blur. Lottie’s legs had taken root. As Liese yanked again, the girl tumbled and the hand clutching her doll shot open.
‘Dolly!’
Lottie’s cry rose like a bird. She stretched her fingers wide, but the rag doll had already twirled away and landed a pace from where the dogs were pawing. The nearest one pounced, its jaws as wide as if it was grinning. One flick of its bullet nose and the doll went floating back through the air. As it toppled down again, another dog leaped. Dolly’s head was caught up in one slavering mouth, her feet caught up in another.
‘NO!’
All the silences of the last twenty-four hours, of the last twenty-months, gathered themselves into Lottie’s scream. Her pain rang around the lakeshore as pure and piercing as a blade.