Three Sisters (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #3)(9)

It is a bright spring afternoon. The air is crisp and clear, the sky a deep cerulean blue. Livi’s dark brown curls glint in the sun, while Cibi’s waves bounce and settle, bounce and settle as she walks. They are aware of the neighbours lingering in their front gardens, watching, as the sisters, and the other Jewish girls, make their way towards the synagogue. Instinctively, maybe stubbornly, Livi and Cibi stare straight ahead.

Cibi is not sure her words of comfort are having any effect on Livi. Her sister leans into her, trembling a little. Where are they going? What will be expected of them? But the question which plagues Cibi more than any other, concerns Livi: will she be allowed to stay with her sister?

Fifteen years old and small for her age, how would Livi cope on her own?

‘Magda should be here with us,’ says Livi, cutting into her thoughts. ‘Aren’t we always meant to be together?’

‘Magda is safe, that’s what’s important now. You and I have each other – we’ll do the work, come home and then we’ll be together.’

‘And our pact, Cibi, to never be apart—?’

‘There’s nothing we can do about that now.’ Cibi didn’t mean her words to sound so strident: Livi is crying now.

‘Promise me, Cibi,’ says Livi, between sobs. ‘Promise me we will come home, and that we’ll be with Magda, Mumma and Grandfather again.’

‘My sweet kitten, I promise you that one day soon, we’ll walk back down this street and go home. I just don’t know when – but I will protect you until my last breath, which will be a long time coming. Do you believe me, Livi?’

‘Of course I do.’ Livi’s tears have abated for the moment. She squeezes Cibi’s arm. ‘You’re Cibi. Nothing stops Cibi getting what she wants.’ The sisters exchange a watery smile.

Cibi takes in the other young girls, carrying small suitcases just like theirs, walking in the same direction. She notes the weeping mothers dragged back inside their houses by distraught fathers. They are walking through a nightmare. Some of the girls are on their own, others with their sisters or cousins, but no one crosses the street to walk with their friends. For some reason, they know this journey must be made alone.

‘Livi, do you know why there are no boys here?’ Cibi asks.

‘Maybe they’ve already taken the boys.’

‘We would have heard if they had.’

‘Why only girls, though, Cibi? What good are girls for hard work?’

Cibi forces a laugh, anything to ease the tension. ‘Maybe someone has realised we can do anything boys can do.’

Their orders had been clear: to report to the synagogue at 5 p.m. on Shabbat. They are greeted by the sight of Hlinka guards standing either side of the doors to the education block next to the temple. The block houses a large classroom where the girls, since early childhood, have received religious instruction. Cibi, as ever, is in awe of the synagogue, the towering building where she and her family have prayed and been comforted by friends following the death of their father and grandmother. Forever a place of safety and security amongst her own people, today the building offers no such comfort. The Nazis have ruined it. The Hlinka guards have ruined it.

The girls are herded inside the classroom while the few parents who had chosen to ignore the order to stay away are screamed at, hit with batons and told to go home.

‘Stay here,’ Cibi says to Livi, letting go of her sister and dropping her suitcase. Hurrying outside, Cibi grabs hold of a young girl who is clinging to her mother, refusing to be parted. A guard is striking the woman on the back, over and over, but she won’t let go of her daughter. A small crowd watches this brutal spectacle in horrified silence.

‘I’ve got you, come with me.’ Cibi’s courage is more evident than her fear at this moment.

The girl loses her grip on her mother as Cibi pulls her away. Crying, screaming, the girl reaches out for her mother again, who is now being dragged away by the guards.

‘I’ve got her, I’ll take care of her, Mrs Goldstein,’ Cibi shouts, as she chivvies the girl – Ruth – inside.

More and more girls enter the room, their fear written large on tearful faces. The room is full of grief and desperation.

‘Ruthie, Ruthie! Over here,’ a voice calls.

Cibi looks around to see Evie, her young neighbour, beckoning Ruthie Goldstein.

‘That’s your cousin, isn’t it?’ asks Cibi, and Ruthie nods.

‘I’ll be OK now,’ she tells Cibi, with a watery smile. ‘She’s my family.’

Cibi goes back to where she left Livi. ‘We should find a space by the wall if we’re to be comfortable,’ she tells her, leading Livi away from the centre of the room.

The sisters stay standing, waiting for instructions, watching as more and more girls are ushered into the room. Despite the crisp morning air the room is stuffy, and noisy, as girls call to one another, and sob. Once a room full of happy childhood memories, it is now a hostile space.

As the daylight fades, two small bulbs in the ceiling are turned on to emit a dull, yellow glow over the room.

Suddenly, and without warning, the door is slammed shut and the girls’ fear intensifies.

‘I’m scared, Cibi! I want to go home!’ Livi cries.

‘I know, me too, but we can’t. Let’s just sit down for a bit.’ Now, with their backs against the wall, Cibi places Livi’s suitcase between her legs before doing the same with hers. ‘You must look after your case at all costs, do you understand? Don’t let it out of your sight.’