‘Who knows?’ Gerhard got up, threw another log onto the stove and paced about the room. ‘I expect he would follow the route they took him, but you say there’s a track through the Kenga forest? Hmm, interesting.’
We sat and watched as the log took hold and flared into life, none of us able to offer a solution until Mother squeezed the bridge of her nose and said, ‘So we don’t even know which way to head in search of him.’
Dawn broke earlier these days, and the morning air wasn’t as razor-sharp as it was when I left the shack with Lodzia to collect the bread. The wooden steps from our porch were black and saturated, and patches of grass peeked through the melting snow.
I raised my face to the sun, however feeble it was, grateful for the small mercies I could call my own.
We reached the front of the queue where Mrs Szefczuk was slicing out her uneven wodges of bread, and her husband was looking on – tutting as usual. I did a quick flit over to her side when the queue split at the counter.
‘Well, it’s young Marisha,’ she said. ‘We haven’t seen you in here in a while.’
Lodzia said, ‘No, she’s always got her head stuck in that atlas of hers, dreaming of distant lands with her new love.’
‘You have an atlas? I’ve always wanted an atlas. Another year and we’ll be free; then the universe awaits.’
‘Not if you keep giving away all the bread,’ Szefczuk muttered. ‘Cut it straight, woman!’
She ignored him, turned to Lodzia, and took her ration ticket. ‘Have you planted your potatoes yet? It’s time.’
Kommendant Ivanov allotted all Polish prisoners a small square of empty ground at the edge of Vodopad. When the boatman came up from Permilovo, he brought seed potatoes to encourage us to grow our food. The Kommendant did everything in his power to persuade his charges to put down roots and make a go of things here, even offering beetroot, cabbage and gherkin seeds for us to plant. His gift was a hard row to hoe. The land was full of tree and bramble roots that first needed clearing.
We returned to the shack, and I picked up the spade Natasha lent us. ‘Come on, Mama, let’s go to the allotment and see if we can plant the potatoes. Mrs Szefczuk said it’s time.’
‘No need, kohanie; I’ve already driven the spade into the soil beside the shack. It’s still too cold and wet and they’ll rot.’
Removing my coat, I rested the spade against the wall. ‘I can’t wait until summer. Roza told me the forest teems with berries and mushrooms. Imagine it, Mama – proper food.’
‘Yes, if only we could get some fat. I wonder why Jusio didn’t reply. I can only assume the Soviets confiscated your letter – or their house.’
‘Mama, I was thinking – with Tatta working away, I should start work earlier. Why wait? What’s three or four months and I know we need the money, because I overheard you talking to Gerhard.’
‘Kohanie, enjoy what’s left of your childhood. We’ll manage.’
‘Yes, Mama, but I’m not a child. I’m almost sixteen and I want to help.’
‘We know you do, but no. Tatta and I won’t hear of it. It’s crippling work.’
20
Karol returned from work, eased off his valenki, left them where they stood, and slumped down on his slats. ‘They’re transferring me to Volosne tomorrow. It’s where they stable the bulk of the horses.’
Mother, perplexed by the sudden change of routine, said, ‘Why? Is it far? Will you be able to return to Vodopad at night? Or will you have to stay over?’
‘I’ll try; I want to be with Natasha. They’ve chopped down a load of trees, and they’re building new shacks and a cantina by the stables. It might have to be just once a month. Pity I haven’t still got my bicycle.’
‘Bit sudden,’ I said. ‘Are they sending just you, Karol, or other people too?’
‘Just me. My overseer said they need an extra worker to collect the sawn logs from the workstations and send them downriver to the sawmills. I suppose it beats felling them.’
‘Yes, but there’s a stable at Vodopad. Why can’t you use one of our horses?’
‘There aren’t any spare. They’re all being used.’
This meant we had even more pressing needs. We were struggling without Tatta’s weekly wage and now we might not have Karol’s. Lodzia wasn’t working because she was looking after Ella. Mama was exempt because of her age, and she never owned a coat so couldn’t work in winter, and I was too young. It meant we would all depend on Gerhard’s wage to keep us until Tatta and Karol returned at the end of the month.
‘You see, Mama, it’s even more reason for me to start work right away. I could ask if they’ll put me with Gerhard’s team as he’s already one short.’
All three replied in unison. ‘No!’
With Karol gone, I sensed trouble when Natasha’s mother arrived at our shack the following day, asking for Anna Glencova.
Mother, oblivious to Natasha’s shocking secret, smiled, her hand outstretched, ‘How nice to meet you. Oh, I can see now from whom Natasha gets her beautiful eyes. She’s such a stunning girl.’
Lodzia, who had met her previously, seemed delighted she had dropped in to see us and was all welcoming smiles.
Natasha’s mother did not reciprocate the cordiality, determined to get to the point. ‘You know my Natasha’s betrothed, don’t you?’
I listened in silence, and realised from her hostile attitude I should have spoken sooner, but it was too late now.
For a fleeting moment, Mother peered at the woman to see if she was jesting. ‘Since when? She and Karol are in love! Anyone can see that.’
‘Ahh, it is infatuation. His handsome face has turned her empty head. Even if they were in love, what sort of future would she have with your Karol? In this place? None. Marrying is her one chance to get out of here and enjoy a normal life. I forbid her to come here again. And if she comes, you are to send her away. Is that clear?’
Mother sat down, patted the empty slats beside her and beckoned Natasha’s mother to join her. ‘This is news to us. Won’t you sit down? I’m sure we can talk this through. Who is she betrothed to?’
Natasha’s mother remained standing. ‘He is a Russian. You wouldn’t know him. His family live in Vologda and that is where they will live when they marry – in Vologda – with his parents.’ Rebuffing any opportunity for discussion, she turned at the door, ‘Remember, if she comes here again, you are to send her away.’
Not prepared for a fobbing off, Mother hurried after her, ‘You can’t leave us with a blow like this. What do I tell my Karol?’
‘Tell him what you like; that’s your problem.’
‘So, what does this ‘Russian’ do for a living that will give your Natasha such a grand start in life?’
She jerked her head back around the door as if she were about to announce some grand profession. ‘He’s the boatman who brings supplies upriver to Vodopad when the ice melts. My Natasha used to help him unload the boat when she was a teenager; it’s how they met. Now they’re engaged,’ she repeated to ensure everyone understood the gravity of the situation.
I said, ‘How is it that Natasha can leave Vodopad and get married, and we can’t? And if she can leave, why doesn’t she take Karol with her? They adore each another.’
‘Even if she could, which she can’t, what sort of life could he give her? He has no money, no property. Where would they live? Just because Valerik is a boatman doesn’t mean his father is without influence. He owns the boat that brings the supplies from Permilovo and he is in the Government’s employ.’