AGNETA examined Brandt. He was facing the women, a line of small brown canvas bags – five of them – rested on the long kitchen table standing between them. It was as if some of the colour had been washed out of him – leaving him greyer and less substantial. He looked exhausted. The bags were worn and well used, each fastened at the top with cord. He pushed at one of them with his hand, lifting his gaze to meet Agneta’s.
‘Obersturmführer Neumann has asked me to prepare provisions for a journey,’ he said. ‘Your journey. To another camp. In the west.’
Someone began to sob. Agneta didn’t look to see who it was. It didn’t matter. Brandt’s gaze had fallen back down to the canvas bags. All that mattered was that he’d failed them – failed her. She could see it in his pale, battered face. And now he thought he could make up for his failure with scraps of food? She’d been a fool to trust him.
‘There’s bread, some cheese, oat biscuits, carrots and cooked potatoes.’
Agneta took a step forward, impatient, but Brandt held up a hand.
‘The guards will take you to the mining camp in one hour. From there you walk to the west. I don’t know where to or for how long but this food may have to last you for some time. Conserve it.’ His eyes met Agneta’s once again. ‘The war is nearly over. Don’t lose hope. Things can change in an instant for the better.’
He took a step backwards. The women hesitated, until Agneta stepped forward and reached for the bag that looked as though it had the most in it. She would not lose hope. She had lasted this long – she planned to last longer still.
Brandt went to each of them, taking their hands, wishing them well. She saw their gratitude and it angered her.
Soon it was Agneta’s turn.
‘I’ll see you soon, I hope,’ he said.
She felt calm, in control of her emotions. She nodded politely, as if saying farewell to an acquaintance she’d met by chance, and when he took her hand she let it lie limp in his. As he turned away, she saw him wipe his hand on his tunic, as if to wipe away her anger. He’d understood her.
And yet, when he left the room, she felt her mouth curling downward, her eyes filling. She tried to overcome the emotion, angry with herself now. She wouldn’t cry over this half man. She placed the bag of food on the counter beside the sink and poured herself a glass of water to wash her mouth clean of the taste of despair. She looked around at the others. They’d known since the SS women’s departure the day before that the hut must be closing – but, even so, they appeared stunned.
‘So we’ll have a long walk,’ she said. ‘It’s not so bad. We’ll stick together. We’ll look after each other. We’ve made it this far.’
She hadn’t meant to say anything – but it was true, they would be stronger together. And if they were going with the prisoners from the mining camp, they might be the only women on the march. If they wanted to hold on to their food, they’d need to protect it.
‘We have an hour,’ Katerina said. ‘And we have things we need to do – there’s no point in looking for trouble.’
No one said anything – they got back to work. It was easier not to think about the future when you had something to do. When the guards came for them they put on the winter jackets that would mark them out among the other prisoners, but which might also save them from freezing.
‘Stand in line.’ The young blonde, Adamik, was the one giving the orders now that Bobrik was dead. The afternoon was coming to an end – it was almost dark now and the long shadows were beginning to merge into each other. Somewhere, overhead, aeroplanes flew and the guards looked up, squinting their eyes as if they might see them. Many aeroplanes.
Brandt was standing by his wagon, and raised a hand in farewell – to whom it wasn’t clear but Adamik lifted his in return. A look passed between the two men, she was sure of it – but it was dark and she could make nothing of it. Did Brandt know their fate? She tried to decipher the way he turned away, the way he held himself. If they were safe until the mining camp, there was no point in risking anything. But if they wouldn’t reach the mining camp – then even the smallest chance was worth taking. She watched as Brandt released the wagon’s brake and set off towards the open gate – guarded now by two Volkssturm boys. As he went down the lane, the horses broke into a trot. Why was he in such a rush? Did he want to be far away when the guards took them into the forest?
‘Here comes Neumann,’ one of the guards said.
‘Look at him,’ Adamik said. There was contempt in their voices.
Neumann came down the steps – a slow descent, his boots seeking out a firm footing on each step’s surface.
‘Well, gentlemen?’ he said, pausing to draw on his cigarette. ‘Form a line, pretend you were once soldiers. Come to attention if you can summon the energy.’
The guards did as they were told – reluctantly. Neumann walked in front of them, examining each man in turn before circling behind them and coming to a halt – the guards to one side, the prisoners to the other. The guards wore scarves under their helmets and under their greatcoats, thick woollen gloves on their hands. They looked irritated at the delay. Neumann, on the other hand, looked relaxed. If he was aware of the prisoners’ anxiety or the guards’ anger he showed no sign of it. He looked up at the blue-black sky, at the last trace of light as it moved down below the horizon. He smoked his cigarette. The resentment from the guards at being made to wait in the cold was palpable.
‘Time to go, gentlemen,’ he said, when it was finished. ‘I wish you luck.’ He glanced towards the prisoners. ‘All of you.’
The guards gave a half-hearted salute and turned towards the gate, Adamik gesturing the women to lead the way. The two Volkssturm boys standing beside the guardhouse stepped back to make way for them. Agneta wanted to look back to see if Neumann was still standing where they’d left him, watching them as they marched down the snow-packed lane, but she didn’t.
She kept her eyes on the road ahead.