The following morning Mr and Mrs Jaworski let Jan and Pawel sleep till late. When they rise, the sun is high in the sky. Dyta seems happy to have someone to look after; she fusses round them, offering them bread and honey after breakfast, telling them they are thin and need fattening up. The boys accept the food gratefully, trying not to gobble it down. Sometimes Jan thinks he has a deep hunger that will never be satisfied, no matter how much he eats.
After their lunch of a thick potato broth, Jan offers to clear up. The Jaworskis try to stop him, but he insists, asking Pawel to help him. Mrs Jaworski busies herself in the kitchen for a while, but when she sees how well they manage – the children’s home has trained them well – she leaves them to it. Jan hands another plate to Pawel to dry, looking round to check they are alone. “Pawel, we have to leave here. They’re good people, but we can’t keep on taking their food. And we have no ration cards. The four of us would be starving in no time.”
Pawel dries the plate before he answers, “I know, but what can we do? Maybe we could get ration cards from somewhere. Perhaps mine is still in my house.”
“After a year? No, even if it were, it would be out of date.”
“So, what do you suggest we do?”
Jan’s voice is firm. “Go back to Germany.” But even as he speaks, Jan knows Pawel will never agree.
Pawel shakes his head. “I’m sorry Jan. I’ll never go back there.”
“I don’t see why not. After all, this place is part of Germany now, an occupied country, a colony… There’s more Germans here than fleas on a stray cat. You heard what they said last night, ‘German soldiers on every street corner.’ You might as well come with me to Germany, help me find Lena.” Inwardly, Jan is crying, please come, don’t desert me, but Pawel has his own needs.
“I’m going to find my parents, and if I can’t find them, then I’ll join the partisans. You’ll never catch me going back to Germany.”
Jan’s lip trembles. “You’re too young, they’ll never let you.”
“I’m nearly fourteen, old enough. We’ll see.” Pawel’s face is closed, his lips tight together, he won’t look Jan in the eye. Jan puts the last few plates away. There’s no point in talking to him when he’s like this.
An hour later they leave the Jaworskis’ house. Mrs Jaworski pleads with them to stay, but they are determined to go.
“No, it’s too dangerous. We have no papers, no ration books. Apart from the problem of food, if we get caught then you will be punished too. Who knows what might happen to you.”
Mrs Jaworski continues to argue with them. “It’s not a problem,” she says, “we’ll manage. We can hide you.” In the background, her husband says nothing in spite of the glances she throws him. He sees the danger; they know he does. His wife continues to try to persuade them. “Please, stay one more night, build up your strength.” But the boys know they mustn’t get too comfortable, and they resist. At last Mrs Jaworski gives in and lets them go.
“Promise me you’ll take care.” She hugs them. “Where will you go, how will you eat?”
“We’ll manage,” says Pawel. He hesitates. “I want to try to find my parents, but if I can’t, then perhaps… well, we thought we’d join the resistance.”
Miroslaw takes his hand and shakes it. “There’s a village, twenty kilometres west of here, Jankowice, ask for Marek Kucharski. He’ll see you all right.” He pauses. “In fact, you might be best to go straight to him. The resistance has a lot of information about people who’ve been taken away. He might be able to tell you about your parents.”
“Is he a partisan?”
“I don’t know for sure. It’s best not to know too much, but he’s a socialist and hates the occupiers, like we all do. He has no immediate family so if anyone knows how to contact the resistance, he will.”
“Are you sure about this?”
Miroslaw shrugs. “As sure as I can be. I’ve met him several times. He’s a good man. I know he’ll do his best to help you. Tell him I sent you.”
An hour later they are out on the road. Miroslaw has shown them the way, assured them that they are unlikely to bump into any German soldiers as the road is a quiet one, used only by local farmers coming into town for market days. It is a warm day for autumn, the late summer sun beats down on their heads as they walk in silence. Jan’s thoughts are of his home; his mother, where is she now? The roadside is lined with trees, cherry trees like those at home. Their leaves are yellowing; they will fall within the month, and then winter will truly begin. Jan blinks to stop the tears that always come when he thinks of his mother, his family. Without warning the pictures of his father’s death flash before him: the soldiers raising their rifles, his father’s face, bleached bone-white with fear – did he imagine it, or did his father see him, hiding in the tree? Jan gasps in pain, sinks to the ground.
Pawel’s face is above him, white, anxious. “What is it? Are you ill?”
Jan shakes his head; he cannot speak.
Pawel grabs his arm. “Jan, you’re frightening me, what is it?”
Jan curls into himself and lies weeping while Pawel stands above him wishing he knew what to do. Jan stuffs his fist into his mouth to muffle his sobs. After a few minutes, he manages to control himself and struggles to his feet.
He brushes the tears from his face. The action leaves two dirty streaks on his face. “Let’s go,” he says.
Pawel stands in front of him, hands on hips. “Hang on. You can’t just stop in the middle of the road like that, cry as if you’re a baby, then go on as if nothing has happened. Tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”
“It’s the trees,” says Jan.
“The trees? What about the trees?”
“In June last year, when it happened… they were in blossom. I hid from the Germans in the cherry tree at the farm. And now they’re bare, and I’ll never see my family again.” He pushes past Pawel and walks on ahead.
Pawel stares after him for a moment before running to catch up with him. He pulls Jan to a stop. “Why have you stopped believing you’ll see your family again? You have to have faith, that’s what you always said back in Germany when everyone cried about their families. So often you told the little ones their mothers were out there somewhere. You didn’t let up.” He scratches his head. “I don’t understand.”
Jan doesn’t reply. If he speaks he thinks he will scream, so he shakes off Pawel’s hand and strides on. Pawel shrugs and follows him. Once or twice Pawel tries to speak to Jan, but gives up when he doesn’t reply.
A rumbling. Jan tenses. “What’s that noise?”
“I don’t know,” Pawel is frowning.
“Quick, it’s getting nearer. It could be Germans.” Jan pushes Pawel to the side of the road and into the ditch, diving after him. Together they crouch in the dank mud. “I don’t hear anything now,” says Jan.
“Me neither, maybe we imagined—”
“No, there it is again. It sounds big, bigger than a car. It could be a lorry. If they look down they’ll see us, we need to get cover.”
A few yards away there is a large bush, Pawel points to it, and Jan nods in agreement. On their hands and knees they crawl through the ditch water. It is stagnant, smells vile, and Jan gags as they make their way to the hiding place. Shivering they push their way into the bush until they’re sure they can’t be seen. The rumbling grows into a roar. Jan parts the leaves so he can see the road. A convoy of trucks is passing. They are full of soldiers. He steps back certain they must have seen them, but the convoy continues, raising dust from the road. A minute later it is out of sight.
Jan pushes his way out of the bush and tries to wipe off some of the mud with his hands. It is useless, all he does is spread it further. “Where do you think they’re going?” he says to Pawel.
Pawel is picking leaves out of his hair. “How should I know?” He sounds grumpy.
“What if?…”
“What?”
“Do you think they might be going to Jankowice? If they are it won’t be safe there.”
“I know that.” Pawel picks up his bundle, ready to go on.
Jan has one last shot. “Why don’t we go back to Germany?”
Pawel shakes his head and starts to walk. Jan stares at his friend striding down the road. He doesn’t know what to do. Should he turn back, ask Miroslaw for help to get to Germany, or follow Pawel to an unknown village where they may or may not find their way to a partisan group? Jan can’t make up his mind; there are too many uncertainties. How could he cross Germany on his own? Was his German good enough to pass as a native? What would he do for money? At least in the resistance there would be adults to look after him. But he has a bad feeling about that convoy of trucks. If he follows Pawel, he could be walking into a trap.
Jan kicks at the road, sending a cloud of dust into the air. What to do, what to do… He takes out one of the coins he’d found in the fountain and tosses it in the air. “Heads, I follow Pawel, tails I go back to Germany.” The coin falls a metre or so away. He trudges over and looks down at it. For a moment he stands there, then he stoops to pick it up. It has been decided, he no longer needs to think what to do. What will be, will be. He gazes down the road the coin has chosen for him.