Three Sisters (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #3)(55)

He can shed no light on what will become of either of them.

On the fourth day, Magda finds herself being marched out of the block, with no breakfast and no warning. In the prison courtyard, now thronging with hundreds of other inmates, Magda waits her turn to climb into one of the trucks. Those who show the slightest sign of hesitation are encouraged with the swipe of a baton or the butt of a rifle.

It isn’t far to the train station, maybe half an hour, and when they reach their destination, instead of carriages with seats, Magda and the others are ordered into cattle wagons.

Inside, it is stiflingly hot and it stinks. She has no water or food – no one does. For the entire journey, Magda alternates between shutting her eyes, praying for sleep and looking for Mr Klein. In neither case is she successful. The journey takes the whole day and the sun is setting when the prisoners are ordered out of the wagons.

Magda leaps down before she is pushed, and lands not on the platform of a station, but onto train tracks. Powerful lights overhead illuminate the scene. Hundreds of people surround her; some have suitcases and bags, as if they’re visiting family. Dogs bark as they strain on their leashes, hungry for something. Maybe our blood, thinks Magda, dazed by the lights and faint with thirst.

And then she spies the emaciated figures in the blue-and-white striped uniforms, darting in and out of the crowd, snatching the belongings of the prisoners.

‘Schnell! Schnell!’ new soldiers scream. And Magda knows this German word. Faster!

‘Where are we?’ Magda asks, catching the eye of one of the thin men.

‘Welcome to hell,’ he says, his eyes darting back and forth between the prisoners.

‘Where is hell?’

‘Poland. You are in Birkenau.’ And then he is gone.





CHAPTER 21

Auschwitz-Birkenau

October 1944

S

eptember has rolled into October, bringing with it a change in Cibi’s mood. She is snappy and short-tempered with everyone, even Livi. Her concentration is suffering, and when her mistakes are pointed out to her in the post office, she answers back, knowing this is risky behaviour, but at a loss to stop it.

When Cibi leaves the post office each day, it is often to the sound of a train pulling into the camp, and she finds herself walking towards the gates. She has no strong desire to be a spectator of the selections, but she does it anyway, whenever she gets the chance. She feels she owes something to these prisoners, a moment of solidarity perhaps, a few seconds of empathy. She is equally hopeful, yet terrified, of seeing her family step off the trains.

Day after day, she sees the new prisoners being shoved out of the carriages, many falling flat on their faces or backs, only to be trampled by the next in line. It’s the same ritual every time: the train arrives and chaos ensues. There is no orderly exit; everything is designed to keep the prisoners in a perpetual state of fear.

‘I will be moving to Auschwitz,’ Volkenrath tells her one morning. ‘To run the post office. Would you like to come too?’

‘Why not?’ replies Cibi, with a sarcastic smile. ‘You know what they say about a change being as good as a rest.’

‘Very good. I will sort it out.’

That night, Cibi tells Livi she has put both their names on a list to return to Auschwitz, where they will work in the post office.

The next morning, Cibi is more alert than Livi has seen her in weeks. ‘We’re not going to Auschwitz,’ Cibi announces.

‘Why not?’ Livi asks, sleepily.

‘Last night Mumma came to me in my dreams. She told me to stay in Birkenau.’

‘It was just a dream, Cibi! I want to go to Auschwitz! I want to work in the post office. I hate being a messenger. Don’t you know what it’s like to see the trains every day? Watch them send everyone to the crematoria? Please, Cibi, please can we go to Auschwitz?’ Livi pleads.

‘No.’ Cibi is firm. ‘I have to find a way to take our name off the list.’

‘Because you had a dream about Mumma?’

‘Yes.’

‘But what about me, Cibi?’ Livi is furious. ‘I’m not a dream, I’m real!’

‘You have to trust me; we must stay here. I don’t know why but we must.’

The fire has gone out of Livi’s eyes and now she just looks miserable. ‘I am only here because you have kept me alive, Cibi. I wouldn’t have survived without you.’ She looks at her boots. ‘If you say we should stay, then I guess we should.’

Cibi clutches Livi’s face in her hands. ‘How many times do I have to tell you, you’re stronger than you think. It’s your strength that keeps me going.’

‘How did Mumma look when you saw her in your dream?’ Livi suddenly seems very young to Cibi.

‘She looked happy, kitten. I could smell her perfume. She was playing with her wedding ring. You know how she was always twisting it on her finger? She said it made her feel like Father was still with us.’

‘We’ll stay here then, Cibi, don’t worry. Mumma is always right.’

*

Three days later, it is Livi’s turn to wake Cibi. Cibi has been more like herself in the days since she dreamed of Mumma, and Livi is relieved.

‘Happy Birthday, Cibi,’ she whispers.

‘How do you know it’s my birthday?’ Cibi says, sitting up.