Three Sisters (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #3)(89)

Livi gets out of bed and heads for bathrooms in the hut next door to theirs.

‘I had a sister who used to sleep-talk, and cry out.’ The roommate who had woken Magda is moving around the room, picking up the clothes she dropped the night before. ‘My mother said it was best if we never told her about it.’

‘Maybe you’re right,’ sighs Magda.

‘Who’s Cibi?’

‘She’s our older sister. She and her family will be here soon.’

‘And Livi is close to her?’

‘Very. They were in Auschwitz together for nearly three years.’

‘What about you? I’ve seen the number on your arm.’

‘I came later, much later. I didn’t go through half what they did.’

The girl lays her dirty clothes on her bed and crosses the room to give Magda a hug. ‘Livi will be fine, we’re all one family now.’

‘And you? Do you have anyone here?’

‘I don’t.’ The girl frowns and turns away to look out of the windows at the glorious sunshine. ‘They’re all dead and I don’t know how or even why I survived, but I did.’ The frown is gone as quickly as it had appeared and now she’s smiling. ‘We owe it to those who died to live our best lives, become our best selves, and here we can.’

Livi bursts into the hut, her arms flung around the shoulders of two girls. ‘Magda! Look who I found!’ she squeals.

Magda looks at the girls, who are holding on to Livi as if they will never let her go. ‘Who have you found, Livi?’

‘It’s Shari and Neli! They’re sisters too. We were in Auschwitz together, they worked in the Kanada.’

Shari and Neli extend their hands to Magda.

‘We heard so much about you,’ Shari says. ‘Livi and Cibi talked about their family all the time. I am so happy they found you.’

‘And Cibi will be here soon,’ Magda tells them. ‘Any day now.’

The four girls head for the kitchen, for their first breakfast, on their first day in their new land.

*

Magda and Livi settle into the routine of life on a kibbutz and begin to learn Hebrew, the language of their new country. They attend talks given by officials from Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, where they learn of the plans to turn Israel into a home for Jews across the world. They will fill the country with businesses and babies, they will remember the dead and celebrate the living. They will never forget, but they must also live their best lives. Much of this feels inspiring to the sisters, but often, at the end of one of these talks, Livi feels very small, too small to be charged with the monumental task of creating a new homeland on behalf of all those who were murdered. But Magda is more hopeful.

‘You’re just missing Cibi,’ she reassures her. ‘She’s coming, Livi, and when she gets here, we can stop worrying about her.’

The task they are most devoted to is their Sunday evening ritual when they sit down to write to Cibi. Livi’s letters beseech Cibi to come soon, that there is so much there for her to love, but she must hurry, while Magda’s are more practical, containing lists of things that would be useful in this new climate.

Cibi writes back to tell them she, Mischka and Karol will be arriving in May.

*

With Cibi’s arrival date on the horizon, Livi’s mood is better. She begins to feel the past receding, just a little, with each day she spends in the orange groves, amongst the trees, watching the fruit grow, their hues shifting from green to pale yellow, to brilliant orange. The first fruit she picks makes her face pucker as she tastes its bitter juice, but she drinks it down just the same.

‘Too soon,’ Menachem tells her, with a grin. ‘Another month, young Livi.’

Eventually, the large trucks arrive. It is time to pick the oranges. Everyone is shown how to secure the wicker baskets to their bodies, and they march into the fields, line up in front of the rows of trees and begin to pick oranges. It’s not supposed to be a race, but Livi can’t help herself: she is the first in the kibbutz to haul an overflowing basket to the sorting shed.

The sisters collapse into bed straight after dinner during picking season; the long days have robbed them of any desire to socialise, and it is the same for everyone. But, four weeks later, when the last orange is plucked from the final tree, they are allowed a week off. They can go to Haifa or stay and recuperate on the farm.

The sisters stay where they are, enjoying the silence of the empty fruit groves, a silence which is soon shattered by cries of delirious excitement when Cibi’s letter arrives, informing them of her departure date.

‘We’ll be together again, Magda,’ says Livi, waving the letter in the air. ‘The Meller sisters in one place, just as they should be. She says they’re sailing from Italy – didn’t you once want to go to Italy?’

‘Did I?’ Magda can’t recall wanting anything for years other than her sisters’ safety.

‘You did, but never mind. Hopefully Cibi won’t decide to stay there.’

‘I wish we knew more about their trip.’

‘You know they can’t put too much in their letters.’ Livi opens her eyes comically wide. ‘There are eyes everywhere!’ she booms.

Magda laughs and mimics her expression. ‘Spies everywhere!’ But then she seems to deflate, the joke over. ‘This place, though? Can they really come here? There aren’t even any children on the kibbutz.’