Three Sisters (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #3)(108)

Livi tries to recall the many conversations, the small talk, the funny jokes she had shared with the great man. What she remembers, instead, is the last time she saw her mother and grandfather in Vranov in their little cottage; they come to her with such clarity now that she may as well have only said goodbye to them that morning. Livi closes her eyes, feels the intense love Chaim Weizmann had for Israel and its people, and asks that Mumma looks after her friend in heaven.

‘We’re about to open the front gates,’ a soldier informs the staff. Livi looks towards the crowds waiting to come inside and bid a final farewell before she slowly makes her way back to the house, which will never feel the same again.

*

Livi and Ziggy collapse onto Magda’s sofa; they’re exhausted after a weekend of walking the streets in their hunt for a place to live. They have spent every weekend for months looking for an apartment. The problem is money: Ziggy, a specialist technician for El Al, a growing – but still small – airline, isn’t earning very much, and Livi’s hours have been cut in the Weizmann house since the president’s death.

‘We can’t afford any of them,’ Livi tells Magda, exasperated. ‘And don’t get me wrong, it’s not like they’re expensive.’

‘And there are so many people in Israel now; it’s like everyone wants to live in Rehovot,’ Ziggy complains.

‘You have time, you’ll find something,’ comforts Magda.

‘I want to find the perfect place for your sister,’ Ziggy tells her.

Livi leans in, turning her face to receive his kisses. ‘I don’t care where we live, as long as we’re together,’ she says.

‘You might eat those words if we don’t find something soon.’

‘Wherever it is,’ Livi says, wisely, ‘you can bet your life we’ve all lived in worse places.’ Magda and Livi laugh, but Ziggy remains solemn.

‘You’re the only person I know, Livi Meller, who jokes about living in a concentration camp.’

‘She’s not joking, Ziggy,’ says Magda, and he cracks a small smile.

‘Anyway, as a last resort, I have a friend, Saadiya Masoud, who has a small farm with a few dwellings on his property, just outside town.’ Ziggy sighs. ‘I could ask him if he has an empty hut we can have.’

‘An empty hut would have been a dream come true at Birkenau,’ says Livi, a twinkle in her eye.

*

A week before the wedding, Livi and Ziggy are shown into the only vacant building on Saadiya’s farm. ‘I used to keep my goats in here on cold nights,’ he says, with a grin.

Livi doesn’t care that he’s an Arab. She came to Israel with hope in her heart, and this man has given them a home. To Livi, he is a friend.

Now, she peers inside. The hut has no windows and there is still a hole in one wall for the goats to enter and exit.

‘We can clean it out and I’ve got a small gas cooker you can have. There’s a tap nearby for water and you’re welcome to use the bathroom facilities in our house. Up to you, but it’s yours if you want it.’

‘What do you think?’ asks Ziggy. He wrinkles his nose. Livi can hear the hesitation in his voice – this place is worse than he imagined.

Livi sighs, but she’s smiling too. ‘Like I said, I’ve lived in less pleasant places. We can clean it up and there’s plenty of room inside for a bed. We can eat outside in good weather.’

‘Are you sure?’ Ziggy is surprised.

‘I won’t be living here alone, you know,’ she tells him. ‘If I suffer, you suffer. So we’ll both have to just make the best of it for a while.’

*

The morning of Livi and Ziggy’s wedding finds the house in chaos. Cibi and Mischka arrive early with Karol and Joseph in tow. With their cousin, Chaya, the children run amok, trailing their mothers behind them to feed them, fix plasters to grazed knees and change the babies and then change them again. Throughout the mayhem, Livi remains calm, enjoying the noise and excitement small children bring to any occasion.

Cibi is once again trying to fathom from Livi why the wedding is being held on the rooftop of an apartment building.

‘Because, and as I’ve already told you, Ziggy’s uncle has a flat in that block with access to the rooftop.’ She takes her sister’s arm. ‘I know you’re worried the children will jump over the side.’ Cibi’s look of horror makes Livi laugh. ‘Come on, Cibi, don’t you remember those nights in Bratislava with our friends, talking all night in the open air?’ Livi looks wistful. ‘That’s when I first felt like a grown-up. And what could be more grown up than getting married?’

After changing baby Chaya’s outfit for the third time, Livi is finally happy. Her niece looks adorable.

‘Now it’s time to get you into your wedding dress,’ Magda tells their youngest sister.

‘If you must,’ replies Livi, with a grin.

Finally ready, Livi and her sisters, urged on by the well-wishes of their neighbours, walk the three blocks from Magda’s house to the rooftop wedding. And Livi’s spine begins to tingle. Not now, she thinks. But she doesn’t resist the memory and lets her mind drift back to the hospital, to Matilda. The girl is with her on her wedding day and Livi realises she will be with her when she has her babies, her grandchildren, when she is old; that she is as much a part of her story as this happy day. Livi lifts her chin and starts to climb the stairs to the rooftop.