Beyond the Shadow of Night(42)

Nevertheless, by the spring of 1942 they were all still underweight, and Papa had developed a bad cough which was proving hard to shift. But, as he kept telling his family, they were all still alive when so many had perished. Weight could be put back on, and coughs could get better.

One day, Papa and Asher returned from work and washed while Mama prepared a meal. It was awkward with only one sink, but they managed.

Keren was reading a book.

“Hey, come on,” Mama said to her. “Help me. You can lay the table.”

Keren closed the book and put it down. Then she stopped. A glance out of the front window down to the street below had become a stare. There was also a grimace of disgust.

“Keren?” Mama said. “What is it?”

But Keren simply pointed to the street.

Mama came over and looked.

Asher came over too while he dried his hands, then Rina joined them.

“No, no,” Mama said. “Don’t look.”

But it was too late. They saw the body lying on the street outside. The woman’s legs were twisted, her head resting at an unnatural angle, her coat soaking up a nearby puddle.

“Is she dead?” Rina said.

They all knew the answer. But all Mama could say was, “Come away from the window, all of you. Asher, sit. Rina, Keren, help me prepare the meal.”

But they didn’t move, and soon Papa had finished drying his face. “What are you all staring at?” he said, ambling over. “What’s happened?”

His face dropped a little as he saw the sorry scene. He spoke softly. “Let’s all move away from the window,” he said, ushering everyone to the table. “I know it’s horrible, but what can we do? People are dying everywhere, inside houses and on every street. Asher and I must have passed a dozen dead bodies on the way home.”

“Sixteen today,” Asher said.

Mama turned to Papa. “Can’t you move her?”

“Who? Me?”

“Well, you and the authorities. Can’t you carry her away somewhere and bury her?”

“Carry her where? Bury her where?”

“Carry her off the street.”

“But to where?”

“Anywhere. She’s human. She deserves a proper burial.”

“But there’s no space. No land.”

“Yes, but—”

“And besides, we have the living to think of. The last grain delivery was three days ago, and they say half of that was weevils and beetles. Money or no money, soon there will be no food to buy.”

“I don’t care about that now. She’s a human being and if you don’t—”

“Mama!”

They turned to Keren, who had crept back and was peering through the window.

“Don’t interrupt your mama,” Papa said.

“But look.”

They all looked. A man and a woman were kneeling next to the dead body, searching through the woman’s pockets. Then they talked to each other and tried to lift the body up.

“Well,” Mama said. “Thank God there are some decent people left in this neighborhood.”

Asher noticed Papa exchange a knowing glance with Rina. They said nothing, but gave Mama a pitying look.

“What?” Mama said. “What is it?”

At first Asher didn’t understand either. But the five of them carried on looking outside. The two people kneeling beside the dead woman lifted her up to remove her coat, and then manhandled her to take off the rest of her clothes. They left the naked corpse splayed out, then got to their feet and scurried away.

Mama carried on staring out of the window. Even when Papa pulled the curtains shut she still stared.

A few minutes later, Papa started to scoop boiled potatoes onto the dishes.

“I can’t,” Mama said. “I’m not hungry.”

“And I feel sick,” Keren said.

“Listen,” Papa said. “Both of you. Sit. Sit and eat.”

“I agree,” Rina said. “You don’t have to enjoy it, but you have to eat.”

Keren shook her head. “I really can’t.”

“Sit down!” Papa gestured to a seat at the table. “It’s not a question of whether you want to eat.” He pointed toward the window. “It’s whether you want to end up like that.”

Mama shook her head and covered her face with her hand.

Papa continued. “Have you forgotten the starvation ten years ago in Ukraine? Just consider all those who died back then. If you aren’t eating for yourself, think of them.”

Mama sighed and guided Keren to the table.

“Just eat what you can,” Papa said. “It’s a duty, not a pleasure.”



Work at the brick factory continued, although the rewards were increasingly worthless.

Yes, Asher and Papa carried on loading bricks onto trucks, and yes, they brought home money. But, as Papa had said, they could only buy what people were prepared to sell, and now that wasn’t much. The bakeries, vegetable shops, and butchers that had once been well stocked now had little or nothing to sell. And what they did have was often barely edible.

Even more bodies lay in the gutters. More people were diseased. Papa still had his cough, and now Mama had developed it too.