Beyond the Shadow of Night(29)

“So you know about the Barans?” Papa said dolefully.

Asher’s head jerked around. “What?” he snapped, immediately feeling a little fear and sadness. He’d never spoken to his papa with such aggression.

Papa narrowed his eyes to slits. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing about her family. Why? What do you know?”

“Mmm . . .” He sighed, then looked at Asher as though assessing him. “I didn’t want to tell you, and I haven’t told your mama or the girls. Earlier in the year I overheard a couple of neighbors talking about what happened. I knew one of them from the bakery, so I asked them. It’s not good news, Asher.”

“Please. Tell me.”

Papa nodded. “The Barans were told to leave, just like us. But Mrs. Baran said they’d not long ago repaired and reopened the café, that she’d put part of her life into the place, that her husband had toiled for months to put right the damage German bombs had inflicted. She insisted she was going nowhere.”

“And?”

“There were arguments for a short time. Mr. Baran pleaded with her to give in, but she wouldn’t, perhaps thinking the guards would spare her. But one guard tried to drag her away, and she . . . she assaulted him.”

“Oh, dear God. Did they . . . ?”

Papa nodded. “It was merciless, but quick and painless, apparently.”

“So, does Izabella live alone with her papa?”

“Oh, they both came to the walled sector. But at the start of the year Mr. Baran caught a bad chest infection. I think his heart was already weakened by the stress of seeing his wife shot. He and Izabella slept together for warmth. She awoke one morning to find him dead, his arms still locked around her.”

Asher stared at him in shock.

“You understand why I kept it from you, don’t you, Asher? It’s . . . not very good for morale to know these things.”

Asher nodded. “Yes. I understand. But what about poor Izabella? Where does she live?”

“I don’t know. Possibly alone, possibly with another family.”

“Could she live with us?”

Asher saw pity in his papa’s eyes. “We’re already five living in one room. We . . . we can’t manage that. I’m sorry.”



Later that evening, as the family gathered around the table to eat, Mama was quiet and reserved, going about the business of preparing the meal as usual but without the usual conversation.

Everyone started eating—everyone except Mama.

“Stop,” she said suddenly, her face pained. She glanced around the table, settling on Papa. “You need to tell me what’s happening,” she said. “I know you and Asher are up to something.”

He shrugged. “Up to something? Up to what? I told you, it’s just been—”

“Hirsch!” she shouted. “Tell me!”

Asher exchanged a glance with his papa. He made his mind up to stay quiet, to let his papa decide how much to tell them.

“Very well,” Papa said eventually, then he told them everything about the Barans that he’d told Asher earlier in the day.

The news was met with the same shock Asher had experienced. He scanned the faces of his family. If he didn’t know before why his papa had kept the news to himself, he did now. Mama, Keren, and Rina couldn’t eat. It was up to Papa to persuade them to eat even if they didn’t feel like it, to remind them that they could do nothing to help. So, reluctantly, and in silence, they ate.

“Well done,” Papa said when they’d finished. “I know it’s not easy to carry on, especially when there’s nothing we can do to help. But we have to think of the family unit. We have to put the five of us above all other considerations.”

“Do we?” Rina said. “Do we really have to put ourselves above anyone else?”

“We do,” Papa said before anyone else could speak. “Asher even asked whether she could come and live with us.” He glanced at Asher, who remained expressionless. “I had to say no. There’s hardly enough space for the five of us. We’re forever tripping over one another.”

“We could invite her for a meal,” Rina said.

Papa shook his head. “We don’t have enough food to go around.”

“I wouldn’t mind sharing,” Asher said.

“We can’t,” Papa insisted. “We have to think of ourselves—of our family.”

“No, we don’t,” Rina said. “And I’ll go further. I pledge to give up a part of my next meal for Izabella. I’ll give up my whole meal for her if nobody else will. We can’t think only of ourselves. We simply can’t.”

Mama brought the handle of her knife down sharply on the wooden table, making the others jolt in unison. “Stop this,” she said. “There will be no bickering at the dinner table. Asher, please invite Izabella here to break bread with us when you can. Rina, it won’t be necessary for you to give up your meal, we’ll cope somehow. Hirsch, do you have anything to say?”

Papa kept his mouth shut and shook his head. He didn’t notice Asher struggling to contain his joy.





Chapter 11

Interview room 3, Allegheny County Jail, Pittsburgh, August 2001