Three Sisters (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #3)(80)

An hour later, Cibi is pushing a brand-new pram all the way home. The sisters are quiet, aware of the those who can’t be here as they prepare to welcome a new generation of Mellers, but it’s Cibi who looks the saddest.

‘Are you OK?’ Livi asks, taking her hand. ‘Is it the pram?’

Cibi seems to come back from far away. ‘No, Livi. Of course not, I love the pram. It’s everything I could have wished for.’

‘Is it Mumma, then? Are you thinking about her?’

‘I’m always thinking about her. But that’s not it, either.’ Cibi pushes the pram to the side of the pavement and the sisters follow.

‘What is it then?’ asks Magda, puzzled.

‘It’s Mischka,’ says Cibi. She meets her sisters’ eyes and looks away. ‘This isn’t his first child,’ she says.

Livi and Magda stare at Cibi, waiting for more.

‘I don’t understand,’ says Magda, finally. ‘He has another child?’

Cibi nods. ‘Mischka has been married before and he has also been a father before.’

The truth behind Cibi’s words hits Magda and Livi at the same time. They each place an arm around her shoulders and draw her close. Poor Mischka, thinks Magda. Just like us, he has lost so much.

‘Thank you for telling us,’ Magda whispers, her voice breaking, her heart breaking for the brother-in-law they have come to love.

‘Is he happy that you are having a baby?’ Livi asks, tentatively.

‘Oh, Livi, yes, he is. Very happy. He calls it his second chance.’

‘Then it will be a very special baby,’ Magda says. ‘Has he told you much about his first family?’

‘Before we were married he told me everything. And we haven’t spoken about it since.’

‘His child, was it a son or daughter?’

‘A daughter. Her name was Judith.’ Cibi falters, clears her throat. ‘She was three years old when she was taken away with her mother.’

Livi stamps her foot, turns away, looks up at the sky. The sisters are sniffing, wiping their eyes, each of them recalling the terrifying images of very young children being lowered into the arms of their mothers and fathers from the cattle wagons. They had been too young to know what was going to happen to them, but old enough to realise they had arrived in hell.

Cibi notes the flame in Livi’s eyes, the flare of her nostrils. ‘It’s all right, Livi, honestly, he’ll be fine. Mischka will hold this little baby in his arms, and he’ll remember Judith and the first time he held her. And then he will love and protect his second-born child with his life. I know he will.’

‘His new son will fill the hole in Mischka’s heart, Cibi,’ says Magda. ‘Just as you have done.’

‘Oh, Magda, when did you become so wise, and how do you know I’m having a boy?’ Cibi is smiling now, happy to have shared her husband’s story with her sisters.

‘I have always been wise, the two of you just never saw it. And I do believe you will give Mischka his first son.’

*

That night, Magda crawls into bed with Livi, who is sobbing into her pillow.

‘Do you want me to give you a cuddle?’ she asks Livi. ‘I can tell you’ve been thinking about Mumma all day.’

‘I have, and Mischka too. His little girl.’

‘I know,’ says Magda. ‘Me, too. But you cry every night, Livi – are you dreaming about Mumma?’

‘No, I wish I did,’ says Livi, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her nightdress.

‘What do you dream about, then?’

‘I think about Mumma and our little house before I fall asleep, and then, for the rest of the night, I’m back in Birkenau.’

Magda wraps her arms around her sister. What can she say to this? She pulls Livi close and sings her a child’s lullaby until she falls asleep.

*

When Cibi goes into labour, her sisters are by her side, taking turns to hold her hands, bathe her with wet flannels and encourage her with advice neither is qualified to give. A whole day and night passes like this and still the baby hasn’t arrived. When the sun begins to set on the second day, everyone is exhausted and subdued. And then, suddenly, Cibi breaks the monotony of their patience with a piercing scream.

‘It’s coming!’ Cibi yells. ‘Now!’

Magda and Livi snap to attention: Livi wipes Cibi’s face clean of sweat and tears; Magda, at the foot of the bed with the midwife, yells, ‘Push! One more time, Cibi. Push!’

The sound of a newborn fills the room. Magda and Livi promptly burst into tears.

‘Mumma should be here,’ sobs Livi.

‘I can feel her here,’ says Cibi, tiredly, touching her chest. ‘I really can. But I can see my sisters.’

‘Don’t you want to know what you’ve got?’ asks Magda, nestling a small bundle of blankets in her arms.

Cibi stares at the new baby and nods.

‘A boy,’ says Magda.

‘I have a boy?’ says Cibi softly, taking the bundle. She looks into the wrinkled face of the newborn. ‘Magda, Livi, we have a baby boy.’

‘Would you like me to send the father in to see his son?’ asks the midwife.

‘In a moment,’ says Cibi, gazing into the blue eyes of her son. ‘Just give us a few minutes. He’ll understand.’