It is time. The snows melt, leaving the grass to push through the warm earth. Every day there are more and more birds in the garden. Snowdrops appear, then daffodils and tulips. The warmer weather invigorates the boys; they decide they have to get into the office no matter what. They know they will have only one chance; that if the adults find out what they are planning they might as well give up now. For weeks they have watched the office to try to find a pattern to the adults’ days. The office is never left empty as far as they can see. There is always someone there; when they leave, it is locked up. It seems impossible to get into it, but the boys have a plan. It is risky, but they have to take their chance. They argue over who will search the office. Both boys know that being found in the office would lead to beatings, isolation and God knows what else.
“It must be me who does it,” says Jan.
Reluctantly Pawel agrees, and they set a time to carry out their plan.
Pawel hurtles down the corridor to the office, screaming as loud as he can, “Help, help. You have to come.”
The door bursts open, revealing a man in army uniform. “What is all this racket?” He glowers down at Pawel from what seems like a terrifying height.
“Please, you have to come.” Pawel makes his voice as urgent as possible. “The woman in the kitchen said. An accident. A terrible accident.”
“What’s going on?” A woman joins the soldier. She takes out a hanky and blows her nose.
Pawel tries to see into the room, sometimes there is a third person there, the man they saw in the garden with the woman, but the room looks empty as far as he can see. He pulls at their hands, starts to cry. “Please come.” The couple look at each other and shrug. “I’ll go,” says the woman.
“No! It needs two people, she said.” Pawel’s screams rise, echoing down the corridor until they give in and follow him. In the rush, they forget to lock the door behind them and do not notice Jan crouching in the shadows near the top of the stairs. As soon as they pass he pelts along the passageway and into the room.
He is sick with fear as he looks round the office. His lips are dry and cracked; he moistens them with his tongue. He makes straight for the filing cabinet.
Jan pulls open the top drawer. It’s full of files, all with strange lettering, thick and black. Jan draws one out, peers at it, wishing he’d paid more attention in class. He sounds it out, but he’s sure it’s not a name. Try the next drawer. This is it. He spots his name at once, but there is no sign of his sister’s. What if they destroy someone’s file when they leave? They hadn’t thought of that. It would be terrible to go through all this agony and find nothing. He tries the next drawer.
It’s there, third from the front. Jan pulls the file out. He grabs the papers from inside and stuffs them in his pocket before shoving the file back and closing the drawer. Time to go. As he turns, Jan hears voices in the corridor. Damn – they’re returning sooner than he thought. A glance round the room shows nowhere to hide. He runs to one of the windows, the curtains are floor-length – the only option. Jan steps behind them as the door opens, thanking God that the window looks out to the side of the building where nobody goes.
“What shall we do with the boy?”
“Give him a beating. We’ll round up the rest of the children, make an example of him.” The man sounds pleased at this idea.
“Do you believe what he says? That he did it as a dare?”
A loud yawn. “Who knows? Does it matter. Beat him hard enough and he certainly won’t do it again.” He laughed at the thought. “Make me some coffee will you?”
Behind the curtain, Jan hardly dares to breathe. It’s so quiet in the room he thinks they’ll hear him if he moves at all. There’s a tickle in his throat; he wants to cough. Christ, if he does, he might as well shoot himself. He swallows, prays, the urge subsides. The sun beats down on his head, its heat magnified by the glass. It’s unbearably hot. Mustn’t move. Think of cold things: ice, the showers, a swim in the river. God, he’s tired, wants to sleep. Head light, dizzy. Forces his eyes open. If they find him here…
Two hours later and Jan thinks he’ll have to give himself up. He’s giddy with heat, fatigue and hunger, his calf muscle has gone into a spasm. If he doesn’t move soon, he’s going to scream. The woman left about an hour ago, telling the man not to be long. Jan thinks the man is writing. He was the last time he peeped.
A movement in the room, could the man be leaving at last? Jan holds his breath. Yes, he’s going, clearing up for the day: papers rustling, drawers closing, a pen slapped down on the desk, finally the blissful sound of the door opening. Jan bites his lip to stop the cheer that’s rising. Even after the door closes, he waits for five minutes, counting every second.
The seconds pass, and he decides it is safe to move. There’s still a chance that it’s a trap and the soldier is actually in the room, calling Jan’s bluff. Jan doesn’t really believe this, because there’s no reason for the soldier to suspect anything, but the doubt lingers, so he won’t take a chance. He moves his head to the right until it reaches the edge of the curtain and peeps round… Nothing to be seen. Carefully, he edges his whole body along, moves out into the open, bracing himself for the angry shout. Still nothing.
He’s out in the middle of the room, exposed. The breeze from the open window catches the pile of paper on the desk. One of the sheets floats down onto the floor; Jan’s heart misses a beat at the unexpected movement. He spins round, laughs when he sees what frightened him. But time is passing, and the soldier could return at any second. He must see what is in his sister’s file. It would be too dangerous to take it, for if he is caught with it… who knows what might happen. He takes the papers out of his pocket, unfolds them and immediately feels sick. They’re all in German. Well of course they are; what else did he expect? Jan peers at the strange print. He can’t read the print. Damn – he can’t understand a word. Pawel will be able to decipher it. He’s always moaning about how easily he’s picked up the language even though he hasn’t been trying, has no desire to speak it. There’s nothing for it. He’ll have to take the papers and hope they won’t be missed. He puts them back in his pocket, glancing at the filing cabinet, wondering if he should hide the empty file. What the hell, he takes it out of the drawer and stuffs it at the back, out of sight. With any luck they won’t even look for it. After all, his sister has gone, so why should they want her file?
He crosses to the door, grasps the handle and pulls. It’s locked. Dear God. He tries again; his hands are sweaty, maybe he just isn’t gripping it properly. No – it doesn’t move. He’s trapped. His stomach twists, Christ, surely he’s not going to be sick. Not after all he’s been through. Take a deep breath, calm down. There must be a way out of here… the window.
There are two windows in the room. The open one faces the front of the house. Jan runs over to it, looks out; it’s too exposed. Immediately below, there’s a driveway where cars sweep up at all hours; it’s also overlooked by a room where the women often sit and chat. He can’t go down that way. The other window is closed; he tries to open it, struggling for several minutes before it gives way. Jan sticks his head through, breathing in the fresher air.
Although it’s much less exposed here, it’s still a long way down, maybe as much as twenty feet. Jan thinks back to the drop from his bedroom window, which he made all those months ago, a lifetime it seems like, and knows he’d break a leg or an arm on this drop. It’s much further than anything he’s tried before. If he had a rope…
Damn it. He’s done for. But, wait… the drainpipe; it’s about a yard away from the window… risky, but he’ll have to chance it. He should be able to stretch across.
Jan squeezes through the open window and stands on the ledge. He holds on to the stone mullion, stretching out his right hand as far as he dares; it’s nowhere near the drainpipe. Swallowing hard he tries again. A little nearer, but still too far, maybe six inches short. Jan takes a deep breath to calm down, stands for a moment on the ledge wondering what to do. He looks down and catches sight of the ground so far below and sways. Jesus! This isn’t the time to develop a fear of heights. He is not afraid of heights. He is not afraid. Thinks of all the trees he’s climbed, much higher than this. Takes a deep breath, looks again. This time the ground doesn’t sway up to meet him. Jan notes how the ledge extends several inches beyond the edge of the window. Could it be enough to make up the gap? It’s narrow, perhaps only five inches wide. No room for error. He trails his right foot along to the very end of the ledge, begins to put his weight on it. It moves. A chunk breaks off and falls to the ground. Jan feels the movement beneath his foot and grabs the mullion, stone scraping his fingernails, experiencing a horrible lurch as he thinks he too will fall. But no, he manages to steady himself, his fingers gripping crevices in the masonry. The stone crashes to the ground – impossible that no one should hear it and come to see what has happened. Jan waits to be discovered, counts once more the seconds as they merge into minutes. Five minutes pass, no one comes to see what’s going on. Safe to try again. He’s more wary this time, and there’s less room to spare. Feels his way along until he’s at the very edge with nowhere to go but empty space. Nothing for it but to try. If he fails he’s dead, but he’s beyond caring now. He’s tired, ravenous, desperately thirsty. Jan launches himself to the right and grabs the drainpipe. He’s done it. Can’t believe he isn’t lying dead or injured on the ground. Slides down, legs shaking so much he can’t stand when he reaches the bottom. Lies on the mossy cobblestones, worn out, trying not to cry.
A few moments later, he scrambles to his feet. As he walks towards the kitchen, the siren sounds for supper. Jan runs to join the others, praying he hasn’t been missed.