The Rabbit Girls(97)

‘What’s wrong?’ Eva asks.

‘Nothing.’

Eva takes a sip of her coffee. ‘To freedom,’ she says.

‘I used to come here with Mum,’ Miriam says, ignoring Eva’s toast and sipping her coffee, the bitter taste dries on her tongue.

Eva takes a bite of her cake.

‘In fact, we had lunch here the last time I saw her, not that we ate anything . . .’

And the day was a bright one. Mum had worn a black dress with a grey trim; she looked beautiful, her white hair pulled up on her head in its usual style. Both pushing their food around with their forks. Both thinking the same thing.

‘Why didn’t Dad come?’

‘You know why. We’ve missed you terribly. You live down the road and we see you so infrequently. He doesn’t want you to go any further away.’

‘You won’t ask me to stay?’

‘I can’t.’ She sighed loudly. ‘Axel is your husband, you must go with him, and it’s only a few hours on the bus, after all.’

The silence stretched and Miriam, looking at the old spots that had gathered on the back of Mum’s hand, tried not to think of missing her, but she couldn’t think of anything else.

‘I miss you,’ she said, tears threatening to fall.

‘I’ll miss you too. Miriam, what will I do without you?’ She raised her napkin to her face and dabbed at the corner of her eyes.

‘Please don’t cry, Mum. You’ve been without me for years; besides, you have Dad,’ she laughed. ‘I don’t want to go.’

Her mother took a deep breath. Pushed her food away and took Miriam by the hands.

‘Sometimes we must endure things in a marriage to make it work. It will all turn out okay. You will be with Axel, he loves you. You’ll have a fresh start in Wolfsburg – it’s supposed to be beautiful there, and after losing the baby, fresh air is just what you need to find some happiness again.’ She smiled.

Miriam kissed her on the cheek. ‘I love you.’

‘Let’s order a pudding, eh? And celebrate new beginnings.’

Miriam had looked out at the street while her mother had gone to order a cake. His red car was parked across the street. Him inside. He had wound down the window so she could see him.

When Mum came back she said, ‘They are getting us a chocolate pudding and ice cream, will be a few minutes.’

‘I can’t stay.’

‘Why?’ Mum asked, sitting down and placing her napkin over the corner of her skirt.

‘Axel is waiting outside.’

‘But he said he would pick you up from the house later, so you could see your father too.’

‘Look.’ Miriam pointed to the window. As her mother turned, Axel got out of the car and rested his arms on the roof, sunglasses shielded his eyes.

‘I’m sorry.’

Her mother’s face dropped and she looked deflated, sagged at the middle, her napkin askew in her lap.

Miriam bent down to kiss her, but Mum didn’t look up, so she placed a kiss on her soft downy hair.

‘I love you.’

‘Travel safe,’ she said, and swallowed hard. ‘Will you call me?’

‘As soon as we are settled. I promise.’

Miriam picked up her bag and headed for the door.

‘I love you too, be safe, sweetheart.’

Miriam had walked across the street, her eyes swimming with tears.

It was the last time she had seen her mother. She had been in Wolfsburg, just two hours away, for five years, and returned only once.

For Mum’s funeral.

At the table, Miriam places her Lebkuchen down with a clatter. ‘Sorry, Eva, what were you saying?’ She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Even though Frieda loved Dad and Dad must have loved her too, it doesn’t change anything. I love my Mum so much, and it hurts, it hurts that she is no longer here.’

Eva puts down her coffee and finishes the last slice of cake before picking up her bag. Without saying a word, Eva slides a piece of paper across the table. The letter covers one sheet of A4, and like all the others this one has Eva’s translation attached.

Miriam takes a deep breath. ‘The last one?’

‘Yes.’

She picks up the paper and reads.

Henryk

Hani sacrificed herself so that I could live. She was so brave, she died when I should have. Matka helped me. Feed, feed, feed.

And then one day the guards left, taking all prisoners who could walk, all the food, and locked everyone else in. I could not move. I could not eat. I stayed.

The next day the camp was liberated.

We were rescued and the soldiers spoke English and I stayed quiet. I ended up in hospital and the baby grew! It was a miracle.

Emilie has come to visit me in the hospital. I am very ill but the baby is well and being cared for in the nursery. I saw Emilie in the doorway of my room. She looked unsure. I suppose I didn’t look anything like the ‘Frieda’ she knew.

The nurse who had opened the door confirmed that I had developed typhus. ‘She has only days to live,’ the nurse warned and left.

It feels so strange to hear of my life, after fighting for so long, reduced to days.

I am dying, Henryk. I write this to you as Emilie watches on, far back and close to the wall. Our daughter in her arms.