Beyond the Shadow of Night(95)

And then she smiled. It wasn’t a big, wide smile—not with that petite mouth—but her eyes joined in to compensate. It was something that hadn’t registered all those years ago: the eyes smiled as much as the mouth.

She sat down opposite him, her eyes seemingly trying to cover every pore of skin on his face. Then again, he was doing the same to her. And yes, that hair was still the darkest of blacks. Almost immediately, two fresh coffees were brought to the table.

Izabella spoke a few words in Polish. Asher tried, but the words came slowly and soon there were more frustrated grunts than words, so he reverted to English. Without pausing for breath, Izabella switched to English too. Asher’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise.

“I was a language teacher for many years. It’s easy to keep up my skills. English is everywhere. You live in Britain now?”

“America. Ever since the war.”

She smiled warmly. “Oh, Asher. I couldn’t believe it when Katarina told me. But it’s you, it really is. And you’ve hardly changed. Well . . .” She glanced at the top of his head and smirked.

Asher smirked too, and ran a palm over his shiny head. “I must say, I didn’t expect your hair to be still so dark.”

She leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper. “It needs a little help these days—but don’t tell anyone.”

“Whatever you do, it works.”

“You know, my mind was racing on the way over here, wondering if it really could be you, and trying to think why you would come back after all these years, what you were like now, and . . . and . . . well, we seem to be getting on as if we’d never parted.”

Asher’s face dropped a little on hearing the words. “I wasn’t sure about coming to meet you either. But it’s so good to see you. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“We do. So, first of all, tell me what happened to you after I left Warsaw.”

Asher drew breath. “The first thing that happened was that I searched high and low for you. I had an idea what happened to you, but didn’t want to believe it. How did you get out? One moment you were living with your aunt and her family, the next you’d disappeared.”

She thought for a moment. “Oh, yes, now I remember. I told you that, didn’t I? I made you turn back halfway when you insisted on walking me home.”

“You did. I hated that.”

Her hand drifted across to his and covered it, giving it the briefest of squeezes. “I’m sorry, Asher. The truth was I was living on the streets. There was no aunt.”

“On the streets? My God, why didn’t you say so?”

“Does it matter now?”

“No, no. Of course not. I’m sorry. But I guess it does explain one or two things.”

“My black hair helped disguise the fact: it didn’t show the dirt. But a lot of people lived on the streets in that place—sleeping in doorways at night and begging during the day. Not many with violins, I grant you.”

“Ah, the violin. How can I forget your violin-playing? That was how I found you. I heard your music and recognized it from this very café. Do you still play?”

Izabella shook her head firmly. “I’ve never touched a violin since then. It just has painful . . .”

“Associations?”

“Yes. Does that seem a shame?”

“You and I, Izabella, we’re two of the few people living who understand. Anyhow. You were telling me how you got out of the ghetto.”

“Oh, yes. Well, one day I was heading to one of my usual begging spots, where I had a few friends I could trust, and I turned the final corner only to see soldiers emptying the place. Everybody there—both inside the buildings and outside in the streets—was being escorted away. I had no idea what was happening. Of course, now I do.”

“Did any of your friends survive?”

Izabella’s face dropped. “Sadly not.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Izabella.”

“A few out of millions. I often thought over the years what might have become of them, just like my own family.” She gave a sad smile before continuing. “So I was too scared to go begging again, and hid in the backstreets. I became very ill. That was when some Catholic nuns took pity on me. They dressed me up as one of them and I just walked straight through the checkpoint and out of the Jewish sector forever. I don’t remember much about what happened after that, but I went to a hospital and wasn’t in a fit state to rebuild my life until well after the war ended. I did think of you, Asher, I promise I did. But I had no way of knowing what happened to you and your family. I assumed . . . you know, Treblinka.”

Asher nodded. “Yes, they took us all there.”

She gasped and held a hand up to cover her open mouth. “You survived Treblinka? How?”

“For me it was pure luck, nothing more. The rest of my family . . . they weren’t so lucky.”

“Oh, Asher. I’m so sorry. I’ve never forgotten the Kogans—especially Rina, such a strong woman. But what about you? I mean, very few people got out of that place alive. Did they spare you? Did you escape?”

“I was . . . well . . . please, Izabella. Perhaps in time, but I can’t talk about it yet—not in public, at least.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.” She leaned across and covered his hand with hers.