Three Sisters (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #3)(25)

Livi places a hand on Cibi’s shoulder and lifts her left foot to show Cibi that the sole of her shoe is missing. Her tender skin is raw and gritty and bloody.

‘When did you lose it?’ Cibi, now concerned, peers at Livi’s foot.

‘After we walked out of the gates at Auschwitz.’

‘Put your arm around me and hop, OK?’

Sheltered by the rest of the group, the sisters make it back to the Birkenau gates. As they are about to step over the threshold, they spy the regular line of SS guards, on the lookout for those they deem too weak to work.

Cibi removes Livi’s arm from around her waist. ‘You must walk through the gates on your own now, Livi,’ Cibi tells her. ‘Hold your head up, ignore the cold, just keep moving. Act like you want to be here.’

Just ahead of the sisters are a couple of girls whose shoulders droop. They might as well be sleep-walking they move so slowly. Livi tries not to stare as the guards pull them aside. Livi knows instinctively that there will be two vacancies in the Kanada tomorrow, two vacancies which will be fought over. She does not intend to create a third.

Back inside the block, Cibi helps Livi up onto their bunk. She gently wipes away the blood and the grit and massages her sister’s foot back to life. Cibi blows warm air onto her toes and very slowly they turn pink.

‘Before we are locked in for the night, we must show Rita your shoe. She might help us,’ Cibi tells Livi.

The sisters head for the front of the block where their kapo stands watching the girls as they return from their various work details. ‘Hurry up or you’ll find yourself visiting the gas chamber in the morning!’ Rita yells.

‘What is she talking about’? Livi whispers. ‘What’s a gas chamber?’

‘Livi, I don’t think we should talk about it now,’ says Cibi.

‘Why not? What is it?’

‘Livi, please. Let’s just sort your shoes out, OK?’

But Livi won’t take another step. ‘Cibi, please don’t treat me like a child! Tell me what it is.’

Cibi sighs, but her sister is right. How can anyone be a genuine child in this place? She meets Livi’s wide eyes.

‘Where do you think they take those who fail the selections? Tell me, what do you think happens to them?’

‘They die?’

‘Yes, they die. In the gas chamber. But that’s not for you to worry about. I won’t let anything happen to us, not as long as I have a single breath in my body.’

‘Is that what the smoke and the smell is about? They burn them afterwards?’

‘I’m sorry, Livi.’

‘And somehow, somehow, Cibi, you are going to stop them gassing us, burning us?’ Livi asks, her voice rising. ‘Tell me how exactly you’re going to do this.’

‘I don’t know, kitten. But I’ve kept us alive until now, haven’t I? So come on, let’s get you some new shoes.’

Livi trails after her sister, a new dread in her heart now. She wonders if asphyxiating on poisonous fumes is painful.

‘Livi’s shoe is missing an entire sole, Rita,’ Cibi tells the kapo, showing her the shoe. ‘Please, can she go and get a new pair?’

Rita looks at the shoe and at Livi standing before her, eyes averted.

‘Do you know where to go?’ she asks.

‘To the storeroom at the front of the camp?’ Cibi says.

‘Hurry, then, I’ll be locking up soon. You don’t want to get caught outside.’

Cibi and Livi race to the small building where an odd assortment of extra shoes and clothes are housed. Inside, they meet a kapo they have never seen before, and Cibi hands her Livi’s soleless shoe.

‘I’m size 39,’ Livi pipes up.

The woman points to a bench where just three pairs of shoes languish.

Livi walks over to inspect them. ‘But I can’t wear these,’ she says. ‘They’re all too small!’ Livi is exhausted, her foot is throbbing and for a moment she forgets where she is. ‘I’m size 39,’ she repeats, petulantly.

Neither girl is expecting the response that follows. The kapo strides towards the girls, her eyes on Livi, and slaps her hard, twice across the face. Livi stumbles into the wall.

‘I am so sorry we can’t provide you with your correct shoe size, madam. Perhaps you would care to come back another day,’ the kapo sneers.

Cibi grabs a pair of shoes with one hand, and Livi’s arm with the other, and drags her out of the building. Once outside, she stops and holds up the shoes.

‘Lift up your leg, Livi,’ she whispers.

Livi’s cheeks are red. She doesn’t respond.

‘Please, Livi, let’s just try and get these on.’

Livi is staring at Cibi’s mouth.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Cibi urges.

‘I can’t hear you! I can’t hear you!’ Livi cries, shaking her head, trying to clear the ringing in her ears.

Cibi gets to her knees, attempting to push Livi’s feet into the shoes, but they are at least two sizes too small. She is grateful Livi can’t hear her as she quietly pleads with her mother for guidance. The shoes don’t fit and Livi will surely die if she has to walk to and from Auschwitz in bare feet. Above the wind, above the barking of the dogs and snarling SS, Cibi hears her mother’s reply. Put the shoes on your sister’s feet.