As we entered, the women let out a sigh and broke apart.
‘Dearest!’ An old babushka wobbled forward, hands clasped together as if in prayer. She was as thin as a bird, her stockingless legs poking out beneath a grey housecoat belted around with an old piece of flowered fabric. Her faded slippers crunched on the glass fragments and she halted, looking down as if afraid to go any further.
Etti moved towards her, catching up the old lady’s frail hands. ‘Helle! What happened?’
The old woman’s face crumpled. She began to cry noisily. The other women shrank together, murmuring uneasily like nervous hens in winter when the foxes circle round. They all wore plain dresses and white shawls around their shoulders. The ripe scent of sweat and onions rolled over me, mingled with the fumes from the oil lamp sitting on the floor at their feet.
‘It was the Russians.’ Helle dabbed at her eyes with the edge of her shawl. Her eyes lingered on Olga and me curiously before shifting back to Etti. ‘They came into the building and took away the Saar family. All of them! We heard them being ordered to dress and march downstairs. Those poor children.’ Her voice cracked. She pressed the back of her hand in front of her mouth.
‘They said Papa Saar was carrying out subversive activities,’ one of the younger women volunteered. She pushed back a loose brown ringlet that had fallen across her eyes. ‘You know he was assigned to work in the bread shop last year. They said he was favouring the Estonians, giving them the better bread while the Soviets were given bread made with sawdust and old papers.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’ Etti’s face flushed. ‘How can that be possible?’
The young woman lifted a shoulder helplessly. ‘Etti, your mother argued with them!’
‘She was a force to be reckoned with.’ Helle lifted her chin. Only the slight tremble of her mouth betrayed her. ‘She said the same thing you did. That they were obviously mistaken. But oh, Etti… they took her.’ Fresh tears leaked from her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry. Your mother tried to fight them off. That only made it worse. They didn’t even give her time to pack a case or take her coat. Animals.’ A flash of anger suffused Helle’s tiny pointed face. ‘Then they came back in here and took everything of value they could find and smashed the rest. We gathered here to wait for you.’
‘Where did they take her?’ Etti’s face had blanched.
‘Same place as all the others.’ Helle shook her head. ‘The train station.’
Etti gasped and swayed, holding onto her belly as if it were a lifeline.
‘Perhaps they will hold everyone there until morning,’ I said, thinking quickly. ‘There are so many. It’s surely too hard to organise so many people onto trains in the middle of the night.’
The women turned to me. I felt their interest sweep over me like a searchlight in the dark. I could almost hear them thinking, who are these Russian women?
Helle moved towards Etti as if to protect her from us. Her voice was wary. ‘Etti?’
The Estonian woman drew in a long, ragged breath and waved a hand. ‘They are friends, Helle. Trying to help. Lydia and Olga. You can trust them.’
Helle’s shoulders relaxed. ‘If you are sure, dearest.’
‘I am.’
A train whistle shrieked suddenly, shrill and insistent, the sound cutting through the night. All the women turned towards the window. The lamplight picked out the sharpness of their cheekbones.
‘Too late.’ Etti’s voice was dull and mechanical. She sank slowly to the floor and remained squatting there, hugging herself. ‘She’s gone.’
‘She’s not gone yet,’ I said, but Etti did not seem to hear me. Her head was bowed, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
My mind was racing, searching for possibilities. Etti’s mother was not imprisoned yet. She might not even be on the train. If we could find someone to speak to, a guard… Lieutenant Lubov’s face leaped into my mind.
Kneeling beside Etti, I brushed the sparkling shards of a crystal vase to one side so that only the glittering dust remained. ‘I know someone, Etti. Someone who could help us.’
Etti raised her eyes to mine. Deep pain was etched there, but the shock of it all was keeping despair at bay.
I squeezed her shoulder.
‘You’ll have to come with me to the train station. But if this – person – is there… If he is where I think he will be, there’s a chance we could save her. Our only chance.’
‘We will all go.’
I looked up to find the little old woman, Helle, shuffling forward, adjusting the shawl on her shoulders, pulling it up so that it shrouded her hair. The other women did the same. They looked like brides going to church to meet their husbands. Helle shrugged at my raised eyebrows.
‘If there is a chance we can save Juudit, we must go. We will all stay together, in the shadows, and look after Etti. Juudit will be easy to spot.’ Helle sighed. ‘She’ll be the one shouting, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘Are you sure you would not rather stay here?’ Olga said.
Helle’s small mouth thinned to a determined line. ‘Impossible. Juudit Koppel is one of us. And the train station is not far.’
The train whistle shrieked again.
My skin tingled and sweat prickled at the back of my legs. How could I lead these women out into the chaos of the night? What had I ever done that was brave, that had prepared me in any way to march off and demand that a woman I did not even know be spared when so many others were resigned to their fate? They were all watching me, even Olga, her face a wrinkled map.
The answer came unbidden in my mother’s tongue. You can do anything.
The lace shawl around my throat was a warm caress. I touched it with my fingers, the tiny holes, the bobbles. My mother’s hands had made it and she had loved it. Like the lace shawl, I was her legacy.
‘My mother made this shawl,’ I said softly. ‘She was Estonian. From Haapsalu.’ I heard the women’s intake of breath. ‘She would not want me to stand by and do nothing. Perhaps we will be safe together. But Etti should stay.’
I knew she would protest. ‘My mother is strong headed,’ she said. ‘You may need me to reason with her.’ I threw an exasperated look at Olga but she shook her head, so I reached down and offered Etti my arm. A small grunt escaped her lips as she stood up but her face was set in determination.
‘Mama needs us,’ she said. ‘Let us go and find her and bring her home.’
‘Have you seen my husband, Meelis?’
The woman grabbed at me. Her fingernails scratched at my arms. ‘He is a tall man with blond hair and a birthmark here.’ She lightly traced the skin beneath her right eye with a shaking hand. The glare of the floodlights the Russians had set up around the small, overcrowded station gleamed on her face and on the fox-fur sable arranged fashionably about her neck. ‘He’s a policeman. They came for him a half-hour ago.’ She turned her head to look out at the long line of railway cars that ran the length of the station platform, coupled together like the ones that took oxen from their homes to the slaughterhouse factories. The doors of the railway cars were open, and the ones at the front of the line were already half-full. Rows of waiting people stood before them while uniformed guards consulted their lists.
I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘We have only just arrived.’
The woman released me. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t belong here. Do you think they might have taken him elsewhere?’