‘We weren’t thinking of escape.’ I came to his rescue. ‘My father is working at the sawmills in Permilovo, but he never returned as promised at the end of last month. We’re desperate to know what’s happened to him. My mother is making herself ill with worry. Roza, please – would you show us this track? I know I was lost three months back, but if Alina Zadarnowska can navigate a track to Kholmogorki, then so can I.’
Their expressions were impassive. Boris said, ‘Kholmogorki is 12km from here; the sawmills are over 35km.’
Only Roza understood my urgency to see my father. ‘It’s a very long way, Marishu. You will have to stick to the banks of the Kenga as you travel through the Kenga Forest. Never deviate; there are no shortcuts. The river is your guide. At the other end of the forest you will come to a wide, open plane which we call reindeer country. Remember where I told you the leaves of the silver birches are spotted red? You keep walking straight till you reach the Moscow/Archangelsk railroad.
‘The railroad bridges the Kenga river. It’s a single track and there are no handrails. You will need to climb onto the railway line, walk south along it, then jump get off on the opposite bank. Now you are about a third of the way there.
‘Next, you will follow only the railway line all the way to the station at Samoded-Permilovo. The NKVD will stop you. So, you must ask Kommendant Ivanov for a Pass. Tell them you want the sawmills, and they will either arrest you, or direct you to the railway spur which leads to the Permilovo sawmills.’
‘Why should they arrest me if I have a Pass?’
‘Because you are a child,’ Boris said.
‘I’m nearly sixteen!’ I bristled. So, the sawmills are not in Samoded-Permilovo?’
‘No, no, Marishu. They are further east, beside the Vaymuga River. That’s where they remove the logs from the water. The railway spur is used to transport the sawn timber to the main Moscow/Archangelsk railroad.’
‘With respect, it isn’t a journey for a girl on her own, and especially not one with your navigational skills.’ Boris’s eyes remained unblinking; neither was he joking.
‘Don’t worry. Marisha won’t be alone. We’ll leave next Sunday,’ Stefan said.
‘You will push it getting there and back in a day, lad.’
‘Then I shall ask Smirnov for a day off.’
‘And decimate everyone else’s norm’s for the rest of the week?’ I said.
I didn’t relish making the journey alone, yet I had to leave right away. Delaying another week could be fatal for my father’s condition. Even if Kommendant Ivanov agreed to let us both go – which was doubtful – they wouldn’t allow Stefan an extra day off work.
We said our goodbyes and made our way back to Vodopad.
‘Stefan,’ I said, ‘Please understand I have to do this alone; I can’t wait until next Sunday. I stand a better chance of being released from the camp unaccompanied. We don’t want Ivanov thinking we’re escaping, because that’s what he will think.’
‘Then at least take Lodzia with you. Your mother won’t let you go alone.’
‘Lodzia has to queue for food. Besides, she wouldn’t leave Ella behind with Mama for two days.’
‘Why not? She’s her grandmother! No, I won’t rest knowing you’re out there alone in the forest.’
‘And I won’t rest if I don’t go to Tatta. It may already be too late. I have to do this, kohanie; please understand. No one will stop me; I’ve made up my mind. But first, I have things to arrange.’ I made enormous eyes at him and said, ‘Don’t worry, I shall follow the river bank.’
21
I stepped down from the porch into a dense mist that had swallowed the Vaymuga and concealed the forest beyond. Absorbed into the throng of workers, we headed for the Artel. Last night Stefan had worked himself up into such a state of worry that I would get lost, that he insisted he at least accompanies me partway to his poloska, at which point we would part and go our separate ways.
In my baskets were clean clothes for my father, and the spoils from selling my World Atlas to Szefczuk’s wife: two loaves of yesterday’s bread, a packet of Halva (Tatta’s favourite sweetmeat) tobacco for his pipe, and two bottles of water, their necks stuffed with rags.
Stefan and I arrived simultaneously from different directions. He took me in his arms, kissed me, gazed into my eyes and down into my baskets. ‘I couldn’t dissuade you then?’
‘I suppose there’s no point telling you not to worry, but I’ll be fine. How many times have we walked that riverbank? I promise I’ll stick to it. I’ll be back before you know it.’
‘Yes, but we’ve only ever walked a short way and turned back.’
‘Stefan, I’m stronger than you think. I can do this,’ I said, averting his gaze.
He took a lengthy breath. ‘Have it your way. At least let me help you with those baskets.’
The sun was already lighting up the sky beyond the treetops as we walked towards the river. Pausing for a moment on the bank, we watched a flock of snow geese fly past, enveloping us in a cacophony of dat, dat, dat.
With the shacks of Vodopad behind us, the work teams veered north and disappeared into the forest, but Stefan held back. He took me into his arms, and we kissed goodbye. ‘Why won’t you let me come with you?’
‘No, Stefan. How many times, for goodness’ sake! Smirnov will throw you into the Black Hole, and it will affect everyone’s wages. Think about it, how can they meet their norms with a man short? Go on; I’ll be fine.’
‘I love you.’
‘And I love you too. Now go.’ I watched him trudge off, hands in his pockets, but he kept looking back before the forest swallowed him.
The rising sun burned off the mist and a vivid world returned. I strode out along the old pathway keeping to the riverbank, the drone of insects all around me. When I reached the point where it flowed into the Vaymuga, I stopped and watched a rusting boat moving upriver from the Magazine at Permilovo to the shop here in Vodopad. No doubt Natasha’s intended was at the helm.
Setting off again at a steady pace along the bank of the Kenga, the tangle of long grass, nettles and wildflowers ravelling around my boots made walking difficult. This part of the river was familiar; we had often walked this way, but never much further. Passing beyond that point was strange. I sensed a fleeting awareness of losing grip on my courage but ploughed on into the unknown.
To my right, and beyond the river to my left, the mighty forests rose into a dome of brilliant blue. I wondered, but only briefly lest I lose my nerve, whether this was the spot where I emerged into the open having got so lost searching for Lodzia.
The track narrowed and brambles latched to my shawl. Releasing myself, I almost missed an abundance of shrubs with great, ripe, fleshy berries that grew to my right. The temptation to pluck them was too great to resist. My half-empty food basket beckoned, and I could imagine my father’s face when I turned up with such delicacies.
The forest was alive with birdsong, butterflies, minks and squirrels, but I was ever alert for the sound of something more sinister, jittery when something rustled the undergrowth nearby. Still, I dived in. Several-hundred-year-old spruces and larches looked down on me from a significant height, but I kept on plucking; a laden branch here, and another there. Mosquitos and midges feasted on my flesh, but I was too pre-occupied to care. However, I was wiser this time and kept the river in my sights.