Three Sisters (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #3)(30)

Ivan pulls open the door, and Magda, Chaya and Yitzchak rise from the table. ‘Come for dinner tonight,’ he says, before he leaves. ‘The boys keep asking after you, and Helena would love some female gossip.’ He offers Chaya a conciliatory smile, which she returns.

‘We will, thank you, Ivan. Please tell Helena we would love to share a meal with you all,’ Yitzchak says.





CHAPTER 13

Auschwitz-Birkenau

Spring 1943

‘W

ake up, Cibi. Wake up.’ Livi nudges her sister.

It is dark in the room and everyone else is asleep.

‘What is it? Leave me alone,’ Cibi murmurs.

‘You were singing in your sleep,’ whispers Livi.

‘Was I?’ Cibi sighs and opens her eyes. Slivers of light stream through the cracks in the mortar, and Cibi can just make out the contours of Livi’s face, and the fear and concern in her sister’s eyes. ‘It was just a dream,’ says Cibi, pulling Livi close. ‘Grandfather Emile was here. He took our hands and led us through of the camp.’

‘Here? In Birkenau?’ Livi is aghast. She can’t make sense of the image. It is too strange.

‘He took us to the sauna. Grandfather Yitzchak was waiting for us, playing “Hatikvah” on Mumma’s baking pan. It was so odd, Livi. The pan had strings attached to it, like a violin.’

‘Are you sure you’re not going mad?’ Cibi can hear the smile in Livi’s voice, but also the concern. They have seen girls lose their minds completely, guaranteeing their death.

‘Shut up, Livi. I haven’t finished. You remember how we would always join in with him when he sang “Hatikvah”? Well, we did it in the dream too. Our grandfathers told us they would look after us.’

‘Do you believe they can look after us, Cibi?’ Livi asks.

‘I believe anything is possible. Look at us, Livi. We’ve been here almost a year and we’re still alive.’

‘It’s only thanks to you; I wouldn’t have survived on my own.’

‘You are stronger than you think, little sister. Now, go back to sleep.’

The next day, after they return from the long, cold, walk from Auschwitz, Rita follows them to their bunk. In her arms she carries a bundle of clothing. She hands Cibi two blue dresses – typical attire of the German housewife – along with a couple of dark blue aprons and new white head kerchiefs.

‘On Sunday morning wear these dresses,’ Rita tells them.

‘Why?’ asks Cibi.

‘Just do it. And put them under your mattress to keep them safe from thieving hands.’

As Rita walks away, Cibi and Livi study the clothes. Without a word Cibi looks around to see if anyone is watching. Several girls have witnessed the exchange with Rita. Cibi carefully pushes the clothing beneath their mattress.

On Sunday morning, after rollcall and breakfast, Rita appears beside their bunk.

‘Come on, you need to change. Now,’ she orders. And Cibi retrieves the clothes.

Cibi and Livi quickly pull off their tattered, dirty dresses and replace them with the fresh garments.

As Cibi begins to slide the apron over her head, Rita steps in. ‘Let me help you. It has to be perfect.’

The kapo carefully smoothes the apron flat before wrapping the ribbons around Cibi’s waist, folding the pleats just so. When she is satisfied, she does the same for Livi. Rita stands back to admire her work. ‘It’s important you look pretty. Now tie the kerchiefs on.’

The other girls in the room watch this pantomime in silence.

Rita returns to the front of the block before calling for everyone to line up outside.

The girls in Block 21 join all the other girls from the women’s camp in the assembly yard. The snow has stopped falling and the sun now shines on a picture-postcard winter’s day. A large, black, shiny car drives up to the block and several SS officers, uniforms crisp and gleaming with medals, step out of the vehicle. The senior German female officer, who is rarely seen out and about in the camp, now comes forward to greet them, saluting.

Thousands of women stand in neat rows watching this scene unfold.

The officers speak in low voices with the female officer, and then, with the camp kapos on their heels, they begin to walk up and down the rows of women. As they come to stand before each prisoner, one or other officer points left or right. The kapos immediately indicate for each prisoner to move to the left or right of a large area at the far end of the yard.

‘It’s a selection!’ Cibi whispers. ‘Remember, Livi, stand tall and pinch your cheeks to give them a bit of colour.’

It feels like the sisters have been standing to attention for hours when finally the Nazis arrive at Block 21. It is impossible to tell which instruction – left or right – means certain death, as they see strong, relatively healthy, girls being sent in both directions.

Cibi watches as the men draw closer. They will reach her before Livi. Without saying anything, Cibi swaps places with her sister.

Along the line, their friend, Lenke, is holding out her hands for the officer to inspect. They are red and swollen from the cold.

‘They sent Lenke to the left,’ whispers Livi. ‘Is that good? Perhaps we should hold out our hands too.’

Cibi glances at her hands. A dirty bandage covers a wound on her index finger. She rips it off, dropping it onto the snow and then standing on it.