‘Why me?’
‘I don’t know, but he said Lale had insisted I tell you.’
‘What can she do?’ Dana asks.
Cilka looks away, her mind working feverishly.
‘I don’t know,’ says Gita, not in the mood to analyse. ‘I only know that he is alive.’
‘Cilka, what can you do? How can you help?’ Dana pleads.
‘I will think about it,’ says Cilka.
‘He’s alive. My love is alive,’ Gita repeats.
•
That night, Cilka lies in the arms of Schwarzhuber. She can tell he is not yet asleep. She opens her mouth to say something but is silenced by him retrieving his arm from underneath her.
‘Are you all right?’ she asks tentatively, fearing he will be suspicious of such an intimate question.
‘Yes.’
There is a softness in his voice she has not heard before and, emboldened, Cilka presses on. ‘I have never said no to you for anything, have I? And I’ve never asked you for anything before?’ she says tentatively.
‘That’s true,’ he responds.
‘Can I ask for one thing?’
•
Lale makes it through the next day. He does his bit, helping to carry one of the murdered men back. He hates himself for having thoughts only of the pain it causes him, with little compassion for the dead man. What is happening to me? Step by step the pain in his shoulders threatens to drag him down. Fight it, fight it.
As they enter the camp, Lale’s attention is caught by two people standing just beyond the fence that separates the prisoners from the staff quarters. The diminutive Cilka stands beside Lagerführer Schwarzhuber. A guard on Lale’s side of the fence is talking to them. Lale stops, slackening his grip on the corpse, which causes the prisoner holding the other end of the body to stumble and fall. Lale looks at Cilka, who peers back at him before saying something to Schwarzhuber. He nods and points to Lale. Cilka and Schwarzhuber walk away as the guard approaches Lale.
‘Come with me.’
Lale rests the legs he’s been carrying on the ground and looks for the first time at the dead man’s face. His compassion returns and he bows his head at this tragic end to yet another life. He gives an apologetic glance to the other man carrying the body and hurries to follow the guard. The other inmates of Block 31 all stare after him.
The guard tells Lale, ‘I’m instructed to take you to your old room in the Gypsy camp.’
‘I know the way.’
‘Suit yourself.’ The guard leaves him.
Lale stops outside the Gypsy camp, watching the children run around. Several of them look at him, trying to make sense of his return. The Tätowierer, they have been told, is dead. One of them runs to Lale, throwing his arms around his waist, hugging him tight, welcoming him ‘home’. The others join in, and before long adults are coming out of the block to greet him. ‘Where have you been?’ they ask. ‘Are you injured?’ He deflects all their questions.
Nadya is standing at the back of the group. Lale makes eye contact with her. Pushing his way through the men, women and children, he stops in front of her. With a finger he wipes a tear from her cheek. ‘It’s good to see you, Nadya.’
‘We’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.’
All Lale can do is nod. He needs to get away quickly before he breaks down in front of everyone. He rushes to his room, closes the door on the world and lies on his old bed.
Chapter 21
‘Are you sure you’re not a cat?’
Lale hears the words and struggles to register where he is. He opens his eyes to find a grinning Baretski leaning over him.
‘What?’
‘You must be a cat, because you sure have more lives than anyone else here.’
Lale struggles to sit up.
‘It was …’
‘Cilka, yes, I know. Must be nice to have friends in high places.’
‘I’d gladly give my life for her not to need such friends.’
‘You nearly did give your life. Not that it would’ve helped her.’
‘Yeah, that’s one situation I can’t do anything about.’
Baretski laughs. ‘You really think you run these camps, don’t you? Hell, maybe you do. You’re still alive and you shouldn’t be. How did you get out of Block 11?’
‘I have no idea. When they took me out, I was sure I was headed for the Black Wall, but then I was thrown in a truck and brought back here.’
‘I’ve never known anyone to walk away from the Strafkompanie, so well done,’ Baretski says.
‘That’s one piece of history I don’t mind making. How come I’ve got my old room back?’
‘Easy. It comes with the job.’
‘What?’
‘You’re the Tätowierer, and all I can say is, thank God. The eunuch who replaced you was no match.’
‘Houstek is letting me have my job back?’
‘I wouldn’t go anywhere near him. He didn’t want you back; he wanted you shot. It was Schwarzhuber who had other plans for you.’
‘I need to get my hands on at least some chocolate for Cilka.’
‘Tätowierer, don’t. You will be watched very closely. Now come on, I’ll take you to work.’
As they are leaving the room Lale says, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get you the nylons you wanted. I’d made arrangements but got derailed.’
‘Mm, well, at least you tried. Anyway, she’s not my girlfriend anymore. She dumped me.’
‘Sorry to hear that. I hope it wasn’t because of something I suggested you say to her.’
‘I don’t think so. She just met someone who is in the same town – hell, the same country – as her.’
Lale considers saying something more, but decides to let it drop. Baretski leads him out of his block and into the compound, where a truckload of men has arrived and a selection is taking place. He smiles inwardly at the sight of Leon working, dropping the tattoo stick, spilling ink. Baretski wanders off and Lale approaches Leon from behind.
‘Need a hand?’
Leon turns around, knocking a bottle of ink over as he grasps Lale by the hand, shaking it vigorously, overjoyed.
‘It’s so good to see you!’ he cries.