‘Mrs Goldstein …’ Gita moves closer, clasps the woman’s hand. ‘They took you too.’
The woman nods. ‘They took us all away maybe a week ago. I got separated from the others and put on a train.’
A rush of hope. ‘My parents and sisters are with you?’
‘No, they took them several months ago. Your parents and your sisters. Your brothers have been gone for a long time – your mother said they joined the resistance.’
‘Do you know where they were taken?’
Mrs Goldstein drops her head. ‘I’m sorry. We were told they were … They were …’
Gita crumbles to the floor as Dana and Ivana rush to her, sit on the ground and embrace her. Above them Mrs Goldstein continues to speak: ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Both Dana and Ivana are crying, holding the dry-eyed Gita. They babble words of condolence at Gita. Gone. No memories come now. She feels a terrible emptiness inside her. She turns to her friends and asks in a halting, broken voice, ‘Do you think maybe it’s OK for me to cry? Just a little bit?’
‘Do you want us to pray with you?’ asks Dana.
‘No, just a few tears. That’s all I’ll let these murderers have from me.’
Ivana and Dana both wipe their own tears with the backs of their sleeves as silent tears begin to roll down Gita’s face. They take turns wiping them away. Finding a strength she didn’t know she possessed, Gita stands and embraces Mrs Goldstein. Around her she can feel the recognition of those witnessing her moment of grief. They look on in silence, each going into their own dark place of despair, not knowing what has become of their own families. Slowly, the two groups of women – the long-termers and the newcomers – join together.
•
After supper, Gita sits with Mrs Goldstein, who brings her up to date with events back home; how slowly, family by family, it was torn apart. Stories had filtered back about the concentration camps. No one quite knew that they had been turned into production lines of death. But they knew people were not coming back. And yet only a few had left their homes to seek a safe haven in a neighbouring country. It becomes obvious to Gita that Mrs Goldstein will not survive long if she is made to labour here. She is older than her years – physically and emotionally broken.
The next morning, Gita approaches their kapo to ask for a favour. She will ask Lale to try to get the kapo anything she wants if Mrs Goldstein can be spared hard work and spend the day in the block. She suggests that Mrs Goldstein empty the toilet buckets each night, a task usually given to a person chosen each day by the kapo, often someone she believes has spoken badly of her. The kapo’s price is a diamond ring. She’s heard the rumours of Lale’s treasure chest. The deal is struck.
•
For the next several weeks, Lale goes to Auschwitz every day. The five crematoria are working to full capacity, but large numbers of prisoners still have to be tattooed. He receives his instructions and supplies from the administration building at Auschwitz. He has no time and no need to go to the administration building at Birkenau, so he has no opportunity to see Gita. He wants to get a message to her that he is safe.
Baretski is in a good, even a playful mood – he has a secret and he wants Lale to guess what it might be. Lale plays Baretski’s juvenile game.
‘You’re letting us all go home?’
Baretski laughs and punches Lale on the arm.
‘You’ve been promoted?’
‘You’d better hope not, Tätowierer. Otherwise someone not as nice as me will end up minding you.’
‘OK, I give up.’
‘I’ll tell you then. You’re all going to be given extra rations and blankets next week for a few days. The Red Cross are coming to inspect your holiday camp.’
Lale thinks hard. What can this mean? Will the outside world finally see what is happening here? He works to keep his emotions in check in front of Baretski.
‘That will be nice. Do you think this camp will pass the humanitarian test of imprisonment?’
Lale can see Baretski’s brain ticking over, almost hear the little clicks. He finds his lack of comprehension amusing, though he doesn’t dare smile.
‘You’ll be well fed for the days they are here – well, those of you we let them see.’
‘So it will be a controlled visit?’
‘Do you think we’re stupid?’ Baretski laughs.
Lale lets that question pass.
‘Can I ask a favour?’
‘You can ask,’ says Baretski.
‘If I write a note to Gita telling her I’m OK and just busy at Auschwitz, will you get it to her?’
‘I’ll do better. I’ll tell her myself.’
‘Thank you.’
Although Lale and a select group of prisoners do receive some extra rations for a few days, they soon dry up and Lale is unsure if the Red Cross ever did enter the camp. Baretski is more than capable of making up the whole idea. Lale has to trust that his message to Gita will be conveyed – though he doesn’t trust Baretski to do that straightforwardly either. He can only wait and hope that a Sunday when he doesn’t have to work will arrive soon.
•
Finally the day comes when Lale finishes work early. He races between the camps and gets to the Birkenau administration building just as the workers are leaving. Impatiently, he waits. Why does she have to be one of the last ones out today? At last she appears. Lale’s heart leaps. He wastes no time grabbing her by the arm and taking her to the back of the building. She trembles as he pushes her up against the wall.
‘I thought you were dead. I thought I’d never see you again. I …’ she stammers.
He runs his hands along her face. ‘Did you not get my message from Baretski?’
‘No. I got no message from anyone.’
‘Shh, it’s OK,’ he says. ‘I’ve been at Auschwitz every day for weeks.’
‘I was so frightened.’
‘I know. But I’m here now. And I have something to say to you.’
‘What?’
‘First, let me kiss you.’
They kiss, clutching, pressing, passionately, before she pushes him away.
‘What do you want to say?’
‘My beautiful Gita. You’ve bewitched me. I’ve fallen in love with you.’
They feel like words he’s waited all his life to say.
‘Why? Why would you say that? Look at me. I’m ugly, I’m dirty. My hair … I used to have lovely hair.’