Three Sisters (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #3)(51)

Mrs Cerny looks away as they pass. Chaya keeps her eyes on the road ahead, but Magda cannot hold her tongue. ‘If you step foot inside our house I’ll find out. And then I will come back and curse you and your entire family!’

‘Magda! Please!’ says Chaya, taking Magda’s arm, urging her on.

‘Leave her be, Chaya,’ snaps Yitzchak. ‘She is only saying what we’re all thinking.’ He doesn’t look at Mrs Cerny, but spits on the ground as he moves past her gate.

Mrs Cerny’s eyes narrow, but she holds her tongue. Magda is glad her mother is gripping her arm so firmly, otherwise she would be tempted to slap the smug look off the woman’s face.

The rest of their journey is in silence, each lost to their thoughts. Will they ever see these landmarks again? The church? The linden tree?

The station is heaving with friends and families they have not seen for many months. They share stories of hiding, of bribing government officials, of selling everything they own but the clothes they stand in. Many are overjoyed to see each other, believing their friends had long since been abducted by the Nazis.

The guards are checking off the names of everyone on the platform; many receive no response. Magda shivers each time this happens, and prays they are safely in hiding.

‘The Kovacs haven’t answered,’ she whispers to her mother. ‘But I saw Mrs Kovac in town last week, so I know they’re still here. Maybe we should have tried harder to hide.’

‘Hide where?’ asks Chaya. ‘Sooner or later, they will find the Kovacs, Magda. And what do you think these monsters will do when that happens?’

When the rollcall is over, they are ordered to board the train. ‘But where are we going?’ a voice shouts.

‘You will find out when you get there,’ comes the terse reply.

Yitzchak, Chaya and Magda squeeze together on a double seat in a crowded carriage.

‘It’s better to be squashed against someone you know,’ Yitzchak tells them with a smile.

Magda, by the window, watches the river Topl’a speed by as the train picks up pace. In the past, the river was the natural border between the town and its invaders. She has crossed it only a few times, most recently when she went to hospital in Humenné – the time she was saved and her sisters weren’t. She doesn’t look back as the river disappears from view. She doesn’t need to: she will return.

Magda sees the rolling hills of the countryside, green pastures, forests, and then the stunningly beautiful Tatra Mountains, more rivers, a lake. She whispers to herself the names of the towns they pass through: Poprad, Ruzomberok, Zilina. The train changes track and an hour later they stop at Nováky.

The guards scream at the passengers to disembark. While some of the elderly need help, Yitzchak doesn’t. He strides down the aisle and offers a hand to Chaya and Magda as they climb down, as any gentleman would do. They are relieved to be outside, in the fresh summer air. Magda yawns and stretches.

The prisoners are marched down the length of the platform and onto the street, where the locals of Nováky have gathered to gawp.

‘For shame,’ Yitzchak mutters.

Magda begins to understand the true nature of what lies ahead of them when some of the prisoners refuse to go any further, insisting on knowing where they are being taken. The Hlinka guards draw their batons and lash out, regardless of age or gender, violently herding the crowd forward. The subdued crowd falls into a heavy silence, a silence composed from despair, thinks Magda. The Mellers hold hands; they can’t lose each other, they have already lost too much.

They move towards what is obviously a school at the end of a street: play areas and chalked concrete denote children’s games, but there are no children in the building. They are led into the main hall – all glossy floorboards and climbing frames – and from there divided into smaller groups and allocated classrooms. Magda gazes around at the tiny chairs, forgotten pencils, dusty desks. At the front of the room, mathematical equations are scrawled on the blackboard.

Their guard informs them that this is where they will be spending the night, so ‘get comfortable’. Yitzchak immediately finds them a space along the wall. Everyone does the same, as the guard watches, a glint of amusement in his eyes. With their backs to the wall, they sit down and stretch out their legs, staking their claim to whatever floor space is available.

‘There are toilets and washing facilities outside. Someone will take you when it’s your turn,’ the guard says.

‘What about food?’ Yitzchak asks.

‘I’m sure you all have food in your cases, old man. Why don’t you eat that?’ the guard snarls, before turning his back on the room and shutting the door.

Yitzchak and the other men in the room get to their feet and head to a corner of the classroom to talk in hushed voices.

‘What was that about?’ Chaya asks, when Yitzchak returns.

‘Typical,’ he sighs. ‘Everyone has a different plan and no one can agree on which to implement.’

Magda’s eye blaze. ‘We must do something, though, surely?’ She can’t seem to rid herself of her hatred of the Hlinka guards, some of whom Cibi was at school with. These old ‘friends’ of hers, striking the old men and women with batons .?.?.

‘Some want us to stay put and see what happens, others want us to break down the door, beat the guards and run away, and a few want to barter their way out of here.’