Three Sisters (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #3)(37)

Finally, Rita tells Cibi it’s safe for Livi to go to the hospital now: the selections are over for a while. She should be safe and she needs antibiotics or she won’t survive. Together the women carry Livi’s tiny frame between them.

After leaving her at the hospital, Cibi walks away with a heavy heart. Has she just broken her promise to stay with her sister, to protect her? Will this be the last time she sees her? She hears their father’s voice telling them to always stick together; she imagines Magda beseeching her to never leave Livi’s side.

Cibi turns round and races back to the hospital. Breathlessly, she tells the Polish nurse that it’s fine, that Livi is looking better, that she doesn’t need to stay after all. Cibi will take care of her.

The nurse holds up a syringe with one hand and lays the other on Cibi’s shoulder, and looks steadily at Cibi. ‘Your sister is how old? Eleven? Twelve?’

‘She’s fifteen,’ says Cibi.

The nurse frowns. ‘Well, she’s tiny in any case. I’m about to give her some medicine that will help. And you can trust me. I promise I’ll take care of her. Sisters, eh? You’re lucky to have each other.’

Once again Cibi walks away from Livi, but now her heart is a little lighter.

‘She’ll be fine with that nurse,’ Rita tells her later. ‘She’s a Polish prisoner not a German volunteer. Be grateful, because they’re as bad as the doctors.’

The next day Livi is semi-conscious and able to make sense of her surroundings. She is told she will spend a few days on the ward before being sent back to her block.

The twelve beds in the ward are full. Some of the girls are sleeping, some are quietly moaning. By the afternoon, Livi feels a little better. She smiles at the girl in the bed next to hers, whose face and neck are a strange shade of yellow. Does she have a sister looking out for her, as Livi does? Probably not, she thinks and reaches a hand across the divide.

The girl does the same.

‘I’m Livi,’ Livi whispers, squeezing her fingers.

‘Matilda,’ says the girl, with a weak smile.

At that moment, the Polish nurse sweeps into the room, with Mala on her heels. Mala is a prisoner, just like them, but she’s also the ‘translator’ for the Germans. Polish by birth, they say she can speak French, Dutch, Russian and German. The two women enter the tiny room where the nurse stores the medicine and close the door.

Livi looks at Matilda, who has fallen asleep, still holding her hand. Livi feels her own eyes closing.

It is getting dark when the nurse shakes Livi awake. ‘Livi, you must get up. Right now!’

Livi opens her eyes. Where is she? The lights aren’t on and in the dim light she can see the outlines of the girls bodies beneath their blankets.

‘Livi, come on.’ The nurse pulls aside Livi’s blankets and takes both her arms, hauling her upright. ‘We need to move. Now.’

‘I can’t,’ says Livi. ‘I don’t feel strong enough.’

The nurse pulls Livi’s legs over the side of the bed and lifts her onto the floor. ‘Please, Livi. We must go now.’

Under protest, Livi is hurried out of the ward and out of the building.

‘But where are we going?’ Livi doesn’t have shoes on and within minutes she is hobbling over the gritted path towards the latrine block. ‘Can’t I go to the toilet in the hospital?’ Livi asks, perplexed.

‘Just keep walking.’

Once inside the block, the nurse pushes Livi into an empty cubicle. ‘Stay here until I return. Do you understand? Do not step outside.’

Livi slumps into the corner. It smells foul and the floor is soaked in urine, but she can’t stand up any longer.

It is early evening when the nurse returns. Livi has fallen asleep despite the stench. The nurse’s voice hisses at her to wake up. Without a word she is led, limping, back to hospital.

Now, Livi gazes around the empty ward. ‘Where have they gone?’

‘Block 25,’ the nurse replies, through pursed lips.

‘Block 25?’ The truth is slowly dawning on the young girl. She meets the nurse’s teary eyes. ‘You saved me?’ Block 25, where you spend your last night on earth before you are taken to the gas chamber, emptied every afternoon and filled every morning. Livi knew it was Death’s waiting room. And she has escaped its clutches.

‘I promised your sister I would take care of you, didn’t I? When Mala told me a selection was taking place, I saved who I could, and that was you.’

It was clear now, that that was what they had been talking about earlier; Mala, enjoying certain advantages as a translator, was privy to the knowledge of forthcoming selections.

A tear splashes down the nurse’s cheek. She gazes around the empty room. ‘I would have saved more if I could.’

Livi reaches for the nurse’s hand, but she is already turning away, heading back to her tiny room full of medicine.

When it’s dark, Livi gets out of bed and, wrapping herself in a blanket, slowly shuffles out of the hospital and back to her block. She has escaped with her life, today she is lucky; how many more times will luck decide if she lives or dies?

Livi’s strength returns and on Sunday she decides she needs some fresh air. She and Cibi find their preferred spot on the grass and, sharing a blanket, they raise their faces to the winter sun.