Beyond the Shadow of Night(61)

So yes. She knew her father. She knew the good, the bad, and the abominable. She also knew that what was private should stay private.

“Do I think my father was a good man?” she said. “Well . . . actually, yes. If I have to choose between yes and no, then yes, I think my father was a good man. He wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect to me when I was growing up.”

“And when your parents split up, why did you decide to live with your father rather than your mother?”

Her face froze for a few seconds. “You know, that’s a really horrible question to ask.”

“I’m sorry. Yes, it is. But once or twice, when your father was drunk or melancholy—usually both—he’d let slip one or two things he used to do. I know he was very needy where you were concerned, very . . . well, it’s hard for me to say any more because I have mixed feelings about him.”

“And did you have mixed feelings about him when you shot him?”

His composure immediately dropped, a look of shock flashing across his face, his small eyes opening fully for once. He recovered quickly. “I think you’ve just matched me in the horrible questions category,” he said.

“I’m sorry, but you seem a different person to how you’ve been all these years.”

“I’m really not, Diane. But I guess it’s reasonable for you to think that way.”

“And please stop patronizing me. I’m sorry for the horrible question, but I’m trying to figure out what the hell my father did to you to make you hate him so much.”

“That’s what I’m going to explain to you.”

“So, you did hate him?”

“Mmm . . . that’s a tough question. We really were like brothers, so I guess it’s okay to say I hated him because I loved him too. I still do, come to think of it. And I miss him. You might find that hard to believe, but I really do.”

“You know, I remember how well the two of you got on, so somehow I do believe you. But I need you to tell me what happened.”

“Very well.” He took a sip of water.

Then he started telling Diane about how the Petrenkos and the Kogans shared a farm, how both families welcomed sons into the world in 1923, how the young Asher and Mykhail played together and fought together, and how they shared food and an interest in tractors and fishing trips.

And he carried on further, describing how they were parted when Asher left for Warsaw, and how each boy coped without his best friend—his brother in all but blood. Asher suffered in Warsaw and ended up fighting with the resistance, whereas Mykhail joined the Red Army and was captured, becoming a puppet for his Nazi masters.

And there they were interrupted by a guard and told they had five minutes left.

“We haven’t finished,” Diane said. “Could we carry on again tomorrow?”

The guard shrugged. “That’s entirely up to the old guy.”

“Of course,” the old guy said.

They stood up, Diane grabbing her purse.

“Where are you staying?” he said.

“With Brad at the moment, till I sort out Father’s house. Then I might stay with Mother.”

“You’re not moving in with Brad?”

She paused, then shook her head. “I’ve missed out on a lot with Mother.”

“You’ve missed out on a lot with Brad, I’d say.”

Diane screwed her face up. “Excuse me?”

“I just think you deserve a little happiness, that’s all.”

“The man who killed my father tells me I need a little happiness. You’re a real piece of work sometimes, you know that?”

“Yes. It sounds bad, I understand, but I do care about you. I can well imagine the games your father used to play to keep you from leaving him.”

“Look, I’ve had enough. My head’s spinning. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They both left the room. Diane went into the parking lot and called Brad to pick her up.





Chapter 20

Warsaw, Poland, 1943

Asher and Rina were now on the train—headed for where, they weren’t at all sure.

It looked and felt like a freight carriage, and was packed so tightly with people that their shivering bodies were starting to warm up and their clothes were merely damp rather than soaked through. Most of the other people were wrecks of bodies, their rag-clothes baggy, their faces craggy. Asher had tried talking to one or two, to ask if anyone knew where they were going, but had found no appetite for conversation.

Only Rina would talk. “Do you think we’ll find out what happened to Mama, Papa, and Keren?” she said.

Asher’s mind was dry of words. It wasn’t making any sense. Rina wasn’t making any sense. She must have known the most likely fate to have befallen them. Surely she knew.

“I hope they found that heaven Mama was talking about,” she said. “A nice, sunny place in the country with enough room to grow vegetables and keep chickens.”

Asher was about to tell her she was talking nonsense, deluding herself, but then he saw a hardness in her eyes.

Now he understood.

“I like the sound of that,” he said, nodding. “I’m sure they’re in their own heaven.”

He blinked to rid his eyes of the wetness.