‘And the atrocities the Germans have perpetrated in Poland? In France?’ Lydia’s face was flushed. ‘What about their stance on Jews? What about Etti? And Leelo?’
My stomach lurched. Lydia’s question was a valid one. ‘They won’t be harmed. David was Jewish but Etti never converted; Leelo is not considered Jewish. Besides, that won’t happen here. Once order is restored, the Germans will leave. There’s no reason to believe the Jews are in danger here. Estonia has always welcomed people of all faiths.’
Lydia continued to glare at me until at last I pushed past her, making for the wash stand where I could scrub my tear-streaked face. ‘Oskar is going out now to patrol with the others. There are battalions everywhere. The Russian army is desperate.’
‘Jakob, too?’
‘Of course.’
Lydia’s face knotted with worry. ‘Then I must find him and say goodbye properly. In case something happens.’
‘Why?’ I stopped in front of her, blocking her path. Lydia froze. Confusion and panic fought for control over her features. ‘First Etti, now Jakob,’ I said.
She opened her mouth, but then closed it again.
‘Don’t you have your own family?’ I said, clenching my fists so that I would not be tempted to shake her. ‘Don’t you have anyone you can go back to? You needn’t be here. I don’t know why you stayed. Your duty to Etti is over. Long past.’
I glared at her, my breathing ragged.
‘Your friends are leaving,’ I continued, relentless, hissing with rage. ‘You should go with them. Consider your future. What will happen when the Germans get here? You think they will pardon you?’ I lowered my voice so that the people around us could not hear. ‘Do you think I have forgotten who you are? Who your father is?’
I saw Lydia’s face crumple. I wanted to stop, but it was as if some demon possessed me. Black words and thoughts poured from my mouth, an unstoppable flood of pain.
‘You may have fooled Etti and Jakob, but not me.’ I folded my arms across my chest. ‘I see you, Lydia Volkova. The wolf in sheep’s clothing. That’s what Volkov means, doesn’t it? Wolf? Go back where you belong. Your place is not here.’
A buzzing filled my ears as I finally faltered, the words drying up on my tongue.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard the rattle of gunfire.
Lydia took a step back.
Somebody shouted, and we both turned to the sound. Some of the Forest Brothers had emerged from their lean-to, their boots slapping the ground, kicking up dust. They filed in one line towards the entrance to the camp, slipping between the narrow tree trunks. I saw Jakob among them, the familiar mop of hair sticking out beneath his cap. He caught my eye, raised his arm. Then he was gone, following the others out into the forest.
I watched Oskar emerge last; he raised his head, searching for my face. When he found it, he grinned and I saw his teeth flash white in the sun. I tried to paste on a warm smile in return but my lips felt stiff and frozen. Thankfully, Oskar had already turned away. He strode with purpose towards the entrance, Amerikana clutched beneath his arm. My heart gave a tug of longing. Then he vanished, too, and the only partisan left standing in the yard was Hilja, her face creased with scars.
I became aware of Hilja’s eyes searing into me. Of course, she must have seen the change in Oskar. He was usually so serious and just now his face had glowed as if he had won the war single-handedly. My stomach turned uneasily.
Turning back to Lydia, I found she had gone. Run off, no doubt, to tell Etti how I had mistreated her. A small coil of guilt wormed its way around my insides. I could imagine my grandmother shaking her head at me, her face clouded with disapproval. But was I not allowed a moment, one opportunity to express everything that was in my heart; the disappointment, the grief, the jealousy? The fear I would have to live with until Oskar and Jakob returned?
Was I not allowed an outburst of my own?
I knew the answer, as surely as if my grandmother was standing before me, or as if she had sent her wolf to judge me in her place.
Moss Pattern
Lydia
I ran. Tears bubbled up. I brushed them away with the heels of my hands.
Etti was not in the lean-to; she was standing with Johanna near the makeshift kitchen, giving Leelo a sponge bath from water heated over the fire’s embers. I bit down on a desperate desire to join them.
Kati’s words whirled round and round in my mind.
Go back and join them!
I couldn’t stay.
Snatching up my mother’s shawl, I bundled it together with the letter Olga had saved and an apple whose skin was already beginning to pucker. I slipped them both into a small bag Johanna had given me, sewn from the remnants of a torn skirt. On the threshold of the lean-to, I looked back at the tiny space which had been my home for the past week. The bedding was mussy from where Etti had been sitting earlier, feeding Leelo. A baby rattle lay on the floor, a small item one of Liisa’s children had given us to keep Leelo amused.
On the pallet where Kati slept were her knitting needles. They were not the best ones; I had seen her show those to Etti. I remembered how she had held them between her fingers in the evenings when she knitted while the other women talked and sang songs and cleaned up the camp. These ones were short and made from apple wood.
Would she miss them?
I picked them up, expecting someone to lay a hand on my shoulder. Now I was a thief as well as a liar.
Pushing them into the bag, I ran outside. I kept to the edges of the camp, my head lowered until I reached the entrance. I saw Hilja some distance away, speaking to Kati. Kati’s hair was braided in its usual plait, the sun catching its pale highlights. She was gesturing with her arms, her lithe expressive hands circling in the air. An unspeakable sadness washed over me. I would miss her, even though she hated me. Would miss her voice, softly singing to the baby in the warm darkness of the lean-to. The strength she gave so easily to the women who trudged into the camp, eyes wide with shock and to Etti, when she needed to rally to feed the hungry Leelo. It came to her unconsciously, the ability to issue directives and take charge. I would miss Etti and Jakob, too, Jakob perhaps most of all. He had gone now and I’d not even had a chance to say goodbye. He had not even looked around for me before he left. I’d become used to him hanging about as I washed up and helped Etti with Leelo in the afternoons. Somehow I had fooled myself that we were friends.
But Kati was right. I didn’t belong.
I was better off on my own.
I pushed between the trees at the entrance of the camp. The forest danced around me, branches swaying while hidden birds sang. Where would I go? I turned one way and then another. I took a step towards the area where the trees were thinnest. My bag bumped against my leg, as if urging me on. The grass was marshy. I felt my shoes sink slightly into the muck before I reached firmer ground. At least it was warm. It was summer. I would not need to find real shelter until the air grew cooler. I pushed on, walking until my breath was short. I came to a ring of rocks. The grass was dry.
I sat down, resting my back against a stone. The stone’s warmth bled through the back of my dress. Moss grew beneath it, forming a soft mat. The lace collar of my blouse tickled my throat. It was the blouse I had been wearing when I arrived at the camp. The blouse Olga and I had collected from the dressmaker on Staropanskiy Parade. It seemed so long ago. Moscow was a half-forgotten dream. A memory flashed, like the click of a camera. Joachim in the cinema, his face silver from the light of the screen. His warm breath. His hands.