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Barely had we settled into our seats than a loud whistle shrilled and the train lurched forward, the locomotive’s wheels screaming, desperate for traction against the wet rails. Then suddenly we were moving, the carriage adopting a gentle sway as we gathered speed.
At first the steam from the engine threatened to engulf us, but as our momentum increased the steam was whipped away by the wind and through the rain-spattered windows we were able to slowly watch Medgidia disappear from sight, forever.
I felt afraid.
Alone and afraid.
I leaned over and took Mama’s hand, the action serving to distract her from deeper considerations. Her eyes focused on me and she smiled. Her fingers clutched mine.
As if reading my thoughts, she said, “A new beginning, Anca. A fresh start. It will not be easy, my precious, but if we stick together, and have faith in the Almighty, everything will be for the best, you will see.”
I relaxed, warmed by these sentiments, as sanguine as any I had heard expressed in recent months. Of course we could not know the future, but we had every reason to be hopeful. It would, after all, be difficult to find ourselves in circumstances more dire than those we had just left behind.
I sat quietly, watching the changing scenery through the window.
“Nicolae, don’t stare so. Have I brought you up so badly?” It was Mama, cautioning my little brother for his curiosity. Fascinated by the garb and style of our fellow passengers, Nicolae had been watching them intently, making occasional eye-contact with a child, a girl of perhaps eight or nine, that formed the youngest member of their party.
Nicolae shuffled uncomfortably in his seat at Mama’s admonishment and stared sullenly out of the window.
My attention too had been directed at the family, although for different reasons. Through chance rather than design, our family had never occasioned acquaintance with the few Jews in Medgidia, and for me it was an opportunity to try and see what it was about these people that invited the ridicule and abuse they seemed so readily to attract.
But such an analysis seemed doomed to failure, for beyond their attire, and in particular the telling brassard they were obliged to wear on their sleeves, they seemed quite unremarkable.
Nicolae had quickly become bored with the view from the window and his attention was turning to our fellow passengers once more. I could fathom no harm in this and elected to conspire with him in his innocent ambition, seeking to draw Mama’s attention with casual confabulation.
I remarked variously on the view, or the train’s motion, but my efforts were to ill-effect, for her mood just then was not one to enter into talk for the sake of it. Eventually, I was obliged to pursue a more substantive conversation, partly to occupy her, partly through boredom.
“Mama, where is it again you said we were bound?”
“Bucharest, Anca. Surely you have not forgotten already?”
“No, I mean after Bucharest. The strange sounding name you mentioned.”
“Really, Anca, why this sudden interest? Does it matter where? It could be in the very heart of the Transylvanian mountains for all I care, just so long as we can make a fresh start and begin to live normal lives again.” She clutched my hands with gentle fingers. “I honestly cannot remember just now, Anca.”
I shrugged. “I am curious, that is all. Is it not on the travel documents you were given?”
My persistence paid off, for with an impatient sigh Mama reluctantly rummaged through her purse and produced the relevant papers, passing them across. She smiled triumphantly at me, her point made. “You see, Anca, they are as meaningless to you as to me, unless you have suddenly acquired fluency in German.”
“I can read German, a little.”
It was a man’s voice, from the end of the carriage. I looked up to see the bearded Jew hesitantly addressing us.
“Forgive my intrusion, but the carriage is small and I could not help but overhear. If... If you will permit me, perhaps I can translate the document for you.”
I saw Mama freeze at his words, not daring to turn and confront him.
I whispered, “It is okay, Mama. Trust me. Please.”
She declined to answer, but rather looked away, a sudden keen interest in the scenery. But she did not take back the papers, and I took this to be assent. I got up and hesitantly made my way along the carriage to where the family of Jews sat, holding out the documents before me like a peace offering.
The man smiled as I reached him, taking the papers in one hand and gesturing with the other for me to sit down. I did so hesitantly, my eyes dancing from the man and his family to the door adjoining the next carriage, fearful that we might be interrupted.
“Do not worry, my friend. I understand your concern, but we will have ample notice should a guard venture this way, rest assured. Now, let me see what you have here.”
His eyes scanned the documents briefly, then he put the papers down on his knee and smiled again. “My name if Chaim,” he announced. “This is my wife, Golda, and our daughter, Elone.” He glanced at the document again. “And you must be Anca, accompanying your mother and brother. Do not fear,” he added, seeing my look of surprise. “Your names are listed on the document, that is all. And as to your question – your destination is the same as ours. We are all bound for Krakow.”
“Poland?” Mama’s reticence was forgotten at this announcement. She looked anxiously across the carriage. “You are mistaken, surely?”