Three Sisters (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #3)(23)

‘Well, we’ve been delivering bricks.’ Cibi points to the new blocks.

‘You can thank us for the new luxury accommodation,’ says Livi, a twinkle in her eye.

‘Really?’ Gita seems shocked. ‘That sounds so hard.’

‘I’m sorry you’re here, Gita.’ Livi is staring at her feet, the twinkle gone. ‘Sorry that we’re all here.’

‘No talking!’ a guard screams.

Gita turns round to face the front and they continue to shuffle forward.

Livi and Cibi watch as Gita steps up to the desk and the tattooist, who will eventually refresh the numbers on every arm of every girl in line. Gita looks frightened, reluctant to hold out her arm. Cibi’s breath catches in her throat. Please, Gita, she wills her friend. Just let him do it. They watch the tattooist gently take Gita’s hand; he says something to her and Gita seems to relax a little.

When it’s Cibi’s turn, the tattooist is still watching Gita walk away.

He is a gentle man and when he’s done, he whispers, ‘I’m sorry.’

The sisters, their arms once again dripping blood, enter Block 21. Gone are the wooden floorboards and straw-filled mattresses of their first ‘home’. The ground here is solid grey concrete. The large, airless room is lined with tiers of wooden-slatted bunks. There are no blankets, and no mattresses at all, just loose straw the girls will have to gather and line their bunks with if they are to get any sleep at all.

Cibi thinks about winter, just a couple of months away, and shivers. Two rooms stand empty either side of the front doors.

‘But where are the bathrooms?’ Livi asks.

‘They must be outside, Livi. We must have missed them, but let’s not worry now.’

As more girls are ordered into the room, Cibi and Livi find a bunk and soon two more girls join them. These bunks are for at least four people. They have just begun to make their introductions when they’re startled by the sound of a baton slamming against the door, over and over.

The girls fall silent as a slim figure walks into the room. Her clothes bear the emblem of a black triangle, denoting her as a criminal prisoner. The number 620 is stitched onto her shirt. She has fair, shoulder-length hair and a button nose. Cibi thinks she’s almost pretty.

But her features twist with sadistic pleasure as she spreads her arms to encompass the bunks, the concrete floor, the brick walls. ‘Welcome to your new home, ladies. I am Rita, your new kapo. If you are wondering about the bathrooms’ – she pauses for effect – ‘forget it.’ She is laughing now, peering into the girls’ faces, none of whom is brave enough to make eye contact. ‘If you need to relieve yourselves you will have to walk to the end of the camp, and do your business by the fence, under the eyes of the SS in the watchtowers.’ Her horrible smile grows wider. ‘If you’re out after dark, you will be shot.’

Rita walks the length of the room slowly, sneering at the girls huddled together. Cibi is startled by Rita’s obvious delight in their fear, their weakness.

‘Tomorrow you will be assigned your new work details. I suggest you spend today getting to know your new home.’ She turns on her heel and sweeps out of the room.

Cibi is amazed this new kapo is a friend of Ingrid’s and she doesn’t hold out much hope that she will look out for them. She is about to tell Livi what she’s thinking when Gita comes into the room and approaches their bunk.

‘Isn’t Magda here?’ she asks, glancing around the room.

‘No, Gita. Hopefully, she’s safe at home with Mumma. She was in hospital when we left,’ Cibi says.

‘Is she all right?’

‘It was just a fever, she’s fine. And your sisters, are they here?’ asks Livi.

‘No, they only wanted one of us. Franny has her two small children and thankfully Rachel and Goldie were too young.’

The three girls hug before Gita returns to her own bunk. Livi stares after her; while she’s glad Gita’s sisters aren’t here in the camp, she also feels sorry that Gita is on her own. She reaches for Cibi’s hand. ‘Does it make me a bad person to be glad you’re here with me, Cibi?’

Cibi too is staring at Gita. ‘I know exactly how you’re feeling, Livi,’ she says, squeezing her sister’s fingers.

*

At rollcall the next morning, Rita puts the girls into their groups. Some are lucky enough to be sent to the laundry, sewing room, sorting room or mail rooms, but, as the location of these jobs is still at Auschwitz, they will be required to make a twice-daily two-mile trek to and from the main camp.

Rita walks up and down the rows of remaining prisoners, now and then grabbing an arm to read a number. She approaches Cibi, who holds out her arm before Rita can touch her. Rita’s eyes move from the number to Cibi’s face and then to Livi’s, who is standing beside her. ‘She your sister?’ she asks Cibi.

‘Yes, Rita.’

She leans in close, to whisper in Cibi’s ear. ‘Ingrid asked me to look out for you two. There’s not much I can do, but she’s a friend and there aren’t many of those around. You’re to work in the sorting room, the Kanada they call it. A kapo is expecting you.’ Rita has blue eyes, just like Magda’s, thinks Cibi. Maybe it’s a sign that she isn’t as evil as she first appeared to be. Rita squeezes Cibi’s wrist hard and Cibi doesn’t even flinch. ‘Don’t make me regret doing this favour for a friend,’ she hisses. ‘Now, get in line. You’re going back to Auschwitz.’