‘How long do you think it will take us to get to Aktyubinsk, Karol?’ I wished I still had my atlas, since I was clueless as to where we were heading.
‘Depends on how often the train stops. I suspect it’ll pick up others along the way.’
‘Do you think Gerhard and Lodzia will still be waiting after all this time?’
‘Honestly? No. The authorities would have moved them on to the Army Recruitment Centre as soon as they arrived. Perhaps we’ll never see them again. I can’t envisage how it will be. Any of it.’
‘So, what would have happened to Lodzia and Ella, because they can’t fight?’ I couldn’t imagine any of it either.
My brother, always so aware, seemed as clueless as I was.
Visions of Stefan waiting at the station had sustained me these past months, but now I had to face reality – the authorities would have moved him on too. How would we find each other again?
Another horse and sleigh passed us, and we waved.
‘Karol, how did you get our travel document? Why didn’t they give it to us right away?’
‘I didn’t. Josef Gruja the delegate at the Consulate did. The reason was that Tatta fought in the Polish/Bolshevik War. He was a political settler, like most of the farmers in eastern Poland. That’s why the Soviets called us ‘enemies of the people’. Gruja told me stuff I didn’t know.’
‘An enemy? In our own country!’
‘Which happened to be full of other ethnic minorities with grudges. The Polish Government gave Tatta that land free of charge because he received medals for bravery. The rest had to buy theirs. Now the Soviets are hell-bent on revenge. Pathetic, small-minded little shits.’
‘But Tatta’s a peace-loving man. What made him fight in this Bolshevik War?’
‘How should I know? Something about Lenin using Poland as a bridge to expand Communism across the rest of Europe. Don’t underestimate our father, Marishu. He might be peace-loving, but he’s an ethical man and he’s not scared to fight for what he believes in; and he most certainly does not believe in communism.’
I imagined Tatta’s feelings when he realised his decency and his desire to keep Poland free had caused the Soviets to wreak revenge on our family. ‘Never tell him,’ I said. ‘It would mortify him.’
‘I think he already suspected.’
‘Karol, do you remember those hollow bricks we made when Tatta built the cowshed, and we were dreading him rebuilding the house?’
‘How can I forget? My hands were sore for weeks.’
‘Why did he build his war medals into the wall?’
‘Because Mama told me that cowshed was his cenotaph in memory of fallen colleagues. He couldn’t understand why he lived when so many better men died.’
‘I don’t understand grown-ups. So, why do you think the Germans invaded Russia?’
‘No idea. Serves them right. Let them taste their own poison. They were quick enough to dispense it.’
‘Yes, but why are they fighting? Why did the World War start?’
‘For goodness sake, Marishu, you do ask some questions. Who knows? They’re all despots; like I said, pathetic little men with ideas bigger than their rodent-sized brains. I despise them all. They’ve ruined our lives and robbed us of our place on earth.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Precisely that. We can never return to Eastern Poland, and the rest of the country is overrun by Germans. So where can we go? Nowhere. We’ve been displaced.’
We reached the edge of the forest and stepped out onto the caribou plain. I knew this route so well, but I had never experienced what awaited us. Ahead, and to either side of us, hundreds of reindeer with their candelabrum-headed horns were foraging for moss beneath the snow, digging it out with their hooves and antlers.
Karol said, ‘Oh, this is excellent. It means the Nenets are close by.’ His step quickened, lest they up and left before we reached them. ‘Come on; they’ll have raw meat we can buy.’
They were resting nearby with their dogs. Karol gestured in sign language as he approached so as not to alarm them, and held out a few roubles while I waited in silence.
‘Reindeer meat! We didn’t get any at Christmas, now we have lots. Tatta always said: never lament over what you haven’t got because you can always get it, and never brag about what you have, because you can always lose it. Gerhard will be so envious when we tell him he’s missed out on a feast. All we need now is somewhere to cook it.’
I hadn’t a clue how to cook venison; we might even have to eat it raw. We were certainly hungry enough.
Onwards we ploughed, the sky behind us now daubed with streaks of blood. How many times had I followed this route? Thank God, I would never have to do it again.
30
Flames illuminated the night sky when we approached Permilovo.
Encamped around a mammoth fire were hundreds of refugees. More staggered in, desperate to get close to the blaze. A non-stop stream of youths dragged fallen trees from the forest and heaved them onto the pyre; the savage flames gobbling them up and sending up sparks to die in the air.
How many of these encamped had tried to find rooms? What chance did we have? We had arrived too late. There was no sign of the train. Perhaps there would never be a train. Perhaps this was just a ploy by the Soviets to clear us out of Vodopad, relinquish all responsibility and to hell with us. What began as a contortion of my stomach turned into panic.
‘We’ll freeze out here if we can’t get nearer the heat,’ I said to Karol. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Try knocking the shacks again.’
‘You’re wasting your time.’ I hurried after him and watched his clenched fist pounding on doors. So determined was he that he didn’t listen to me? Then he struck lucky, turned and beckoned.
‘The Russians are taking a colossal risk. They’ve been told they’re not to help the Poles, but they couldn’t resist the money.’
‘How much did you offer?’
‘As much as it took.’
The room was adequate, and the lamp illuminated two beds, two straight-backed chairs and a washstand. A pile of dry logs sat beside the stove, and an age-speckled mirror hung on the wall in place of a picture.
The babushka of the house wasted no time in pocketing our money but was reluctant to lend me a pan in which to cook our meat. ‘I think she wants more, Karol.’
He dug into his pocket and produced two roubles. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘and bring me tea and sugar.’
She looked at the money, held out her hand again.
Karol plied her with more.
She arrived with both, plus a ladle for the stock, two bowls, a knife and a tin can for boiling water.
It was late and sleep beckoned, but we were so hungry that soon the aroma of cooking meat infused the entire house! Just inhaling it was a luxury.
Settling into a chair opposite the fire, Karol sipped his tea. ‘Isn’t it done yet?’
Hungry as we were, we couldn’t eat as much as we thought we would. It was very salty, and I put it aside for our parents, hoping it would mellow overnight. When my head hit the pillow, my thoughts turned to Stefan.
I slept well. The paillasse was thick; bark beetles didn’t bother me, and I awoke refreshed. The glass at the window was frosted solid as winter held the land in its grip and I wondered how many people had perished during the night sitting around that fire; their lives snuffed out, a breath away from freedom.
The stove was out when Karol got up to stoke it, though the embers still glowed. ‘We must have overslept. I’ve no idea of the time,’ he said.
Rubbing a hole in the ice, I peered through the glass, my view obscured by flurries of snow. Beyond the shacks, smoke from the fire swirled upwards and curled away into nothingness. ‘It’s snowing, Karol. When do you think Mama and Tatta will arrive?’