Under a Sunburnt Sky, page 7
Today she’d shown up outside Nacha’s apartment, waiting in the shadows across the street until Nathan had shouted for Nacha to go and see what she wanted. They’d used a stone to draw lines for hopscotch on the uneven ground. Now they were taking turns at the game, and chanting rhymes as they did it.
Nacha hopped while Leah watched, her chin resting in her upturned hands as she lay on her stomach in the grass.
Leah sighed. “I wish we could get out of this place.”
Nacha tossed a small stone, then poked her tongue out the side of her mouth as she hopped on one foot, avoiding the square where the stone had landed. “Me too, but wishing doesn’t make it so.”
“It’s not fair. Our best years, and we’re stuck in here. No dances, no boys, not even a nice slice of cake every now and then. What I wouldn’t give for a bar of chocolate.” She licked her lips.
“I want to go somewhere I can walk around, out in the open, without worrying who might see me.”
“Well, I’m going to do it. I’m getting out of this place.”
Nacha slumped down beside her friend in the grass. “Will you really?”
“Yep, my parents have already decided. But you can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t tell, but I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
There wasn’t anything else to say. They were both too old to pretend they might see one another again. No one believed that lie any longer. Those who left the ghetto were either caught and killed on the spot, or found their way to a new life and were never heard of again.
Whatever their fate, the residents of the ghetto wouldn’t know. It was as if they’d vanished into the ether. Other than through the couriers and smugglers, like Jan, who made their way into and out of the ghetto, risking their lives daily to help the people imprisoned behind its walls, there was no way for anyone living in the ghetto to communicate with the outside world.
Nacha resisted the urge to encourage her friend to be careful, to stay safe. There was no safe place for Jews in Poland any longer. To pretend otherwise would be a hollow and empty platitude and nothing more.
“Goodbye, then,” said Leah suddenly. She hugged Nacha, then scurried along the alley and turned onto the main road, staying close to the buildings and out of the street.
Nacha sighed loudly, picked herself up from the cold, hard ground and wandered home. When she got there, Tata was entertaining a visitor in the living room.
Adam Czerniaków was a former senator and head of the Judenrat, the Jewish Council. He and Tata were friends and often spoke in hushed voices about the state of affairs they found themselves in and what could be done to improve the lives of the Jews in the ghetto.
Mr Czerniaków was an optimist who believed the Jewish people could survive the war with dignity if only they could organise themselves to maintain a decent level of civilised life and not turn on each other. Tata listened to him politely, but Nacha could tell he wasn’t sure about Mr Czerniaków’s hopeful view of their small world.
Tata told her often that they could make it through the war if they did what they were told, but she wasn’t certain he believed his own words anymore. Their time behind the ghetto’s walls had broken his spirit in some ways and hardened him in others.
She stood as close as she dared to listen in on their conversation. There was something about the cost of goods being three times their value. Then a story about a man found with a homemade radio who was shot in the street by the Einsatzgruppe who’d been tipped off by a disgruntled uncle. Tata had shaken his head at that. A tale of family turning on one another was hard for him to comprehend.
Then they spoke briefly of the Polish government in exile, and Mr Czerniaków was certain that there was no hope for them in that regard. Tata’s shoulders slumped. He leaned back in his chair.
“The council is meeting in a few minutes. I would urge you to join us,” said Mr Czerniaków, standing to his feet and securing a woollen scarf firmly around his neck.
Tata stood as well and nodded. “I will come because you ask it.”
They moved in Nacha’s direction, so she backed into the kitchen and tugged an apron from a nail on the wall to tie around her waist. Tata and Mr Czerniaków stopped at the coatrack and shrugged into long coats.
“There you are, Nacha. I went looking for you earlier. I’ll be out for a few minutes. Babcia and Papa are with Berek and Berkowa at the market fetching our rations.”
“Okay, Tata.”
She watched them leave, then pulled the apron free and wandered into the living room to throw herself onto the couch in the most impolite way possible. She had few freedoms these days and rarely had the apartment to herself or any privacy at all.
She listened for a few moments, but there was no sound to suggest anyone else was home. They were all out, and she was there alone. What should she do? There was no food to eat, as much as her stomach demanded satisfaction. Otherwise, she might’ve raided the pantry or the cool box. She could find one of Tata’s fiction books and read it. He didn’t let her touch his paperbacks usually—tales of war and crime. He didn’t touch them either these days.
“No one needs to read about the very things happening to them,” he’d said when she’d asked him why he no longer sought solace in fiction.
The idea didn’t appeal much to her either, so she pushed it aside. Surely there was something she could do to enjoy the moment. Something that she wouldn’t normally get the chance to do.
She vaguely recalled Babcia storing the cooking wine under a loose floorboard in the pantry. She’d tasted it before and hadn’t liked the flavour. But now she was older—perhaps she would. She jumped to her feet and tiptoed through the apartment and into the kitchen.
Just as she poked her head into the pantry, there was a loud knock on the front door. The sound startled her, and she almost leapt into the air. She pressed a hand to her pounding heart and hurried to answer it.
“What on earth?” she grumbled beneath her breath.
She flung the front door open and found Jan standing there, a bag in his hands. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
He pushed past her into the apartment. “This is heavy.” He dropped the bag on the kitchen table with a huff. “Phew.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“Is your father home?”
“No one is,” she said.
He cocked his head to one side. “Really? You’re here alone?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes. So?”
His mischievous grin excited and worried her.
“Do you want to do something?” His blue eyes twinkled.
Her eyes narrowed. “That depends.” She had no idea what he intended, but his words sparked a tingle in the pit of her stomach.
“Mama traded at the market for two movie tickets. You wanna go with me?”
Nacha laughed. “I can’t go to the movies with you. Have you lost your mind?”
He reached for her hand and tugged her towards the door. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
She pulled her hand free of his grasp. “Janek Kostanstki, I’m stuck in this ghetto whether you like it or not. If I’m found outside its walls, I’ll be shot.”
He smiled at her. “Not if you’re with me, you won’t.”
She couldn’t believe she’d let Jan talk her into leaving the ghetto. Tata would be furious if he found out what they were doing. Adrenaline coursed in her veins as they hurried through the ghetto in the direction of the barbed wire section of the wall at Krochmalna Street. Nacha had seen dozens of children moving freely back and forth through the wall, carrying goods from the outside or escaping in search of freedom. But she’d never considered taking the chance herself. Tata wouldn’t allow it.
“I don’t know if we should do this,” she murmured. “If we’re caught, you’ll be killed as well.”
Jan huffed. “They won’t catch us. Besides, you pass for Aryan. No one will ever guess.”
They stopped behind an apartment building and Jan scanned up and down the wall, looking for signs of anyone who might report them to a guard. There was no one around, so he tugged the white armband from his arm and shoved it into his coat pocket.
“You’ll have to remove yours as well,” he said, waiting.
Nacha glanced down at the white band, her heart pounding. If she removed it, there was no turning back. She pulled it down carefully and folded it into her skirt pocket. Then her eyes met Jan’s laughing blue ones, and she smiled.
“I guess we’re doing this.”
He held the barbed wire up for her and pushed the lower strand down with his foot. She tucked her skirts up around her legs and stepped through, her scarf grazing the top wire. When she was through, she held the wires apart for Jan. Then, they moved quickly, slinking into the shadows of the nearest building.
Gasping from nerves, she stood against the wall, hands pressed to its brickwork, her chest heaving and eyes wide.
Jan laughed at her. “Come on. There’s a showing of Penny Serenade in fifteen minutes. We can make it if we hurry.”
“Cary Grant?” she asked, almost giddy with excitement. She never would’ve thought she’d get this chance. Every day in the ghetto could be her last—they all felt it. It weighed them down like mud. They couldn’t escape it. Death was everywhere. It breathed down her neck and coiled around her heart and squeezed until she had no breath left in her body. But for now, she was free, even if only for a little while. Free to watch a movie starring Cary Grant. She could swoon.
Jan reached for her hand and pulled her after him. They ran together down the street, ducked along an alley and then turned into a main thoroughfare. There were people everywhere—riding bicycles, driving automobiles and walking up and down the street. Nacha’s breath caught in her throat as she pulled back on Jan’s hand. He turned to face her and urged her forward.
“No one is looking at you. Don’t worry so much.”
She glanced around and saw it was true. The crowd was busy going about their day—no one paid her any mind. She raised her chin and drew a deep breath. Why should she hide? Jan was right—no one would know she’d escaped from the ghetto unless she was stopped for her papers.
They ran on, weaving through the crowd with Jan in front, hands joined, as he led her to the cinema. Excitement welled inside her as her nerves faded. She was out of the ghetto—she was free. She wanted to shout and dance and cry, but she couldn’t draw attention to herself, so instead she pushed her feelings down and followed Jan to the ticket booth outside the cinema.
He showed their tickets, and they marched into the cinema. The entrance was decorated in magenta and gold, with gold trim everywhere. There was a hole that’d been blasted in the ceiling over one of the theatre doors, but it didn’t spoil the atmosphere. Nacha couldn’t have been more excited about their adventure.
They found seats near the front of the theatre, even though Nacha wanted to hide in the back. But Jan had bought popcorn and insisted they sit up front so they could immerse themselves in the experience.
They sat side by side in the darkness as the last of the commercials drifted across the screen. Nacha reached for a handful of popcorn. The flavour burst across her tastebuds, and her stomach growled in anticipation of the treat. She ate quickly and took another handful. Nothing had ever tasted so good. The opening credits began to roll, and Nacha grinned to herself. It was as if she’d stepped into parallel universe. She couldn’t believe her luck.
By the time the movie was finished, Nacha had all but forgotten about her life, the ghetto and the fear she’d felt on their way to the cinema. It was evening when they emerged from the building. Long shadows darkened the street, and most of the pedestrians had returned home for the day.
Nerves buzzed in Nacha’s gut. They couldn’t hide now if the Nazis came. They stood out, two teens walking along the footpath. This time she didn’t take Jan’s hand. She shoved both fists deep into her coat pockets and ducked her head, hunching her shoulders.
Her biggest fear was that they’d be stopped crossing the barbed wire fence that marked the edge of the ghetto, but they weren’t. They climbed through without incident and donned their armbands in the gathering darkness. Relief filled her like a deep breath.
“You can go, if you like,” said Nacha, her nose cold.
Jan shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ll walk you home.”
“Okay.”
They ambled more slowly now, side by side, their shoulders bumping occasionally. Now that she was back in the ghetto, the excitement of their outing faded, and she was sad it was over.
“Thanks for taking me,” she said.
He shrugged. “I thought you might like it.”
“I loved it.”
“Cary Grant’s one of the best,” he agreed.
“It wasn’t that,” she said, but didn’t know how to articulate what she meant. It was him, the excitement, the adventure, feeling human for a couple of hours. It was everything.
He seemed to understand.
“Not sure we’ll get to do it again any time soon,” he said.
“I know.”
“But one day…”
“That would be nice.” She studied his profile in the gloom. His hands hung loose at his sides. His gaze pushed through the darkness straight ahead. With his shoulders back, he looked so confident, marching along the street beside her. As though nothing could hurt him. She almost believed it. He seemed to glide through life unscathed, laughing at the danger that so many others fell victim to. He’d brought her family supplies every week since they’d been sealed into the ghetto. And he’d smuggled goods to many other Jewish families as well.
No random searches or raids, no roundups or executions bothered him or slowed his pace. She’d never realised how strong or brave he was before the war. The conflict had brought out the worst in so many of the people she knew, but it’d brought out the best in some as well—Jan and his family included. She knew how much his mother risked by helping source the supplies and sending her son over the wall. She also knew he’d never do it without his mother’s approval. Everything he did put his mother and sisters in danger, as much as himself.
They stopped at her front door and faced one another for a few quiet moments.
“I suppose I should go inside.”
“It’s getting chilly,” he agreed.
He reached for her hand and held it. His was warm, and his touch sent a thrill up her spine. “Thank you for saying yes.”
She laughed. “I’m glad I did. I’ll remember this day for the rest of my life.”
“Me too,” he said with a grin.
The front door flew open, and light spilled out into the night.
“Nacha Wierzbicka, get inside this apartment right now.” Tata’s voice was low, and his eyes flashed with anger.
Nacha dropped Jan’s hand and hurried inside with one last glance over her shoulder. She met Jan’s gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made her throat catch. She didn’t wait to hear what Tata would say. She knew how angry he would be. He was worried about her. She didn’t leave a note or tell anyone where she’d gone. She’d been foolish to do it. But still, she couldn’t feel sorry.
She heard his voice, quiet and yet angry. Even in his fear, he wouldn’t draw attention.
She threw herself down on her bed and hugged the old, worn pillow her mother had made her years earlier. She’d embroidered a pattern of a flower on the cover, and Nacha always slept with the embroidery facing down and one hand beneath the pillow so she could feel the roughness of it with her fingertips.
Before long, her father’s footsteps thudded on the staircase. Then there was a knock at the door to the room she shared with her family. Tata always knocked if the door was shut, even though he slept against the wall opposite her.
“Yes, come in.”
He walked in and sat on his own bed. “Nacha, I hope you know how worried you made me.”
“I’m sorry, Tata.”
“You didn’t tell me where you were. Now Jan says you went to the Aryan side to watch a movie. I don’t know what to think about it all. How could you do it, after everything we’ve talked about?”
She sat up and smoothed her skirt. “I know it was wrong and thoughtless of me. But I can’t help it—I don’t care. I might die tomorrow, Tata. And you know that. But today I got to live.” A smile flooded across her features as the memories of what she and Jan had done filled her thoughts.
He sighed. “You’re right, my sweet girl. Today you lived.”
10
10th October 1941
The soccer ball thunked against the brick wall of the ghetto. Jan ran to get it and kicked it to Walter, who caught it against the inside of his foot with a grin.
“Two to nothing,” he said.
Jan squinted into the sunlight. “No way. That wasn’t a goal.”
“Yes, it was.”
“You were wide,” complained Jan.
Walter laughed. “Not a chance. Go again?”
Jan stood close to the wall. He glanced at it, listening to the ruckus taking place on the other side. For days, the Jewish police and Nazis had shepherded Jews away from the wall. Many of the apartment complexes that pushed up close to the brickwork and had made smuggling easier for Jan and the other children had been evacuated.
The Nazis had figured out what they were doing and had moved the residents away from the wall. No one was allowed near it on the ghetto side. Jan hadn’t been through for three days and was beginning to think he might not get the chance anytime soon.
He ran over to where Walter was juggling the ball between his feet. He didn’t let it hit the ground, kicking it with a toe, then the side of one foot, over his head to the other heel and back again.
