‘Tatta, put this bread somewhere you can keep your eye on it.’ Then I handed him the packet of Halva. ‘This is a special treat for you.’
He stared down at it, bemused, and held it out to me, ‘Halva? But you’ve already given me tobacco. No, kohanie, you take it.’
I closed his other hand around it. ‘It’s your favourite.’
‘I can’t take this. What will you eat? He looked up at me. ‘How did you get this?’
‘I sold my atlas to Szefczuk’s wife.’
‘Kohanie – your atlas! That was your favourite book.’ Hope left his face. Then he tore into the Halva. As he chewed, saliva frothed at the corners of his mouth, mixing with tears flooding down over protruding cheekbones.
I wrapped him in my arms. I never believed a miserable piece of sweetmeat could cause such joy.
When he’d cried himself out, he looked at the Halva again and into my eyes. ‘Don’t worry about me, child, human life is worthless in Russia; people are replaceable. They think more of their horses; there are fewer of those.’
I swiped away my tears, ‘Listen, Tatta, from now on, I shall visit you every two weeks. If Kommendant Ivanov trusts me to keep my word, I’m sure he’ll let me come and see you again. He seems a reasonable man. And I shall tell him you must come home; you’re not fit to work. I lifted my fist and shook the money he gave me. ‘And I shall bring you better food; there’s more choice in the shop now summer’s here and the boat visits Vodopad.’
‘No, kohanie, it’s too far….’
‘Shush, Tatta. I will see you in two weeks and no arguments.’
He looked into my face, ‘Have hope child; never lose hope. Just remember that.’
I walked away, looking back as he stood watching me and eating his Halva, until he was a tiny blob, and then I reached the camp gates. Oh God, now I had to get back to Vodopad. Tatta wouldn’t last much longer if he didn’t get more food and some rest, and if I didn’t get something to eat soon, neither would I.
22
I set off for Vodopad, dreading the journey, knowing how long it took to get here, but my baskets were lighter, my walking unhindered. Mid-morning, a freight train lumbered past, shattering the peace, heading north toward Archangelsk.
Reaching the bridge over the Kenga, I stood mid-track to survey my route, the glare of the sun pooling a shadow at my feet. Everything looked different from this angle, but the river was my guide. I crossed the caribou plain at a brisk pace because I needed to get through those woods before darkness fell.
In the forest, where the trees bordered the riverbank, the old rutted path veered inwards. It seemed its curve was more pronounced, and I was heading further into the woods. Was I on the same path as before? The Kenga was still visible to my right, and I kept clear of the swamp-like vegetation and rotting trees in my way, watching where I put my feet. Then I stumbled across a patch of arctic raspberry bushes – those delicious, thornless fruits that grew close to the ground. God, I was so hungry, that I picked and ate, my fingers turning purple, the juice soaking into my skin. There were more over there, and I stripped the bushes bare.
Back to the rutted path, I hurried on my way. The birds had ceased to sing now, and little by little my eyes adjusted to the spreading gloom. I shouldn’t have stopped; I wasn’t going to get through the forest before dark and my footsteps became more strident.
A canopy of stars freckled the sky beyond the Vaymuga when I reached Vodopad. Valerik was still here; his boat moored behind the bakery, but I was too physically and mentally exhausted to wonder what he was still doing here. All I craved was sleep but there was a huge, white horse tethered outside our shack. Was Karol stupid enough to filch a horse from Volosne? He had to be.
I opened the door to our room, and Stefan, unable to contain his anxiety, rushed forwards and swept me into his arms, ‘Thank God you’re safe.’
His body felt so good. ‘Ahh, kohanie, why aren’t you in bed? You have work tomorrow.’
He released me for a moment to allow my mother to envelope me in her comforting arms,
‘Poor boy, he’s been so worried since you left. We all have. How was your father?’
‘Frail.’ I reached into my pocket. ‘He wanted you to have this.’
‘But what about him?’
‘He’s paid on Saturday, and he has enough till then. Is that horse out there your doing, Karol?’
‘Don’t you start. Yes, it’s mine, and no, I didn’t steal him; I borrowed him.’
Mother said, ‘Natasha turned up at Volosne today looking for him.’
‘Natasha? But that Valerik and his boat are still here.’
Karol’s body tensed, and he turned away towards the window so I couldn’t see his face.
‘She and her mother are leaving Vodopad tomorrow,’ Lodzia said.
I gave Stefan a look of disbelief, doubting Karol’s overseers had suddenly turned benevolent. Easing off my boots, I said, ‘Did you pinch that horse, Karol?’
He turned back and stared at me. ‘I asked to borrow it so I could bring Natasha back to Vodopad. Satisfied?’
I wondered why she couldn’t have walked rather than make him take unnecessary risks.
Changing the subject, Gerhard crouched in front of me. ‘What about, Tatta? You said he’s frail? But he’s still working?’
‘I barely recognised him. How could a human being deteriorate so fast in nine weeks?’
‘We have to bring him back to Vodopad.’
‘There’s no chance. I spoke with the camp Kommendant at Permilovo, and he said it was out of the question; he couldn’t spare him.’
‘Then I shall go and fetch him,’ Karol said.
Exhausted as I was, I glared at him. ‘You know Karol; sometimes you say the stupidest things.’
‘Why? I have a horse. Where’s the problem?’
‘Come on, Karol, I know you mean well,’ Gerhard said, ‘but you can’t just ride into another camp and abscond with one of its prisoners. They’ll shoot the pair of you. There has to be another way.’
Mother agreed. ‘Gerhard’s right, Karol. Let him speak to Kommendant Ivanov. We need to do this through him.’
‘I’ll go and speak with Ivanov,’ I said. ‘It’ll show him I kept my word. I haven’t fled and abused his trust, and having seen Tatta personally, I’m concerned about his health.’
Karol scoffed at my suggestion. ‘Huh, I’ve begged them to allow me to return to Vodopad, although God-knows-why they refuse to listen. I’ll go and fetch him. Who’s to know? People are dying all the time. For all they care, he might be dead in a ditch somewhere. It’ll save them having to dump his body in the river.’
‘Don’t be so stupid, Karol! You don’t know the layout of the camp. Where are you going to look?’
‘I shall go on Sunday; on his day off. He will either be at the cantina or queuing at the bakery. Don’t you worry, I’ll find him.’
Feelings were running high. Lodzia placed her calming hand on Karol’s shoulder. ‘Leave it to Gerhard, Karol; we have to deal with it from this end.’
Stefan and I said our goodnights in the porch, and I returned to my family. My last words before closing my eyes were, ‘Gerhard, promise me you’ll leave Kommendant Ivanov to me.’
23
I was awoken by a disturbing dream which was fading fast. When I finally came too, Karol had gone, Mother sat darning socks, and the horse was staring at me through the window.
‘Is that thing still here? Where’s Karol?’
‘Down by the river.’ She lifted the needle to the light to re-thread it. ‘Poor boy, he’s gone to have it out with this boatman – as if that will do any good. It crucifies me to see him so unhappy.’