Vranov nad Topl’ou
March 1943
‘It’s time, Magda. Get your coat and go.’ Chaya is whispering, careful not to wake Yitzchak from his nap in the armchair.
Magda remains curled up on the sofa, where she has been shifting her focus between the unlit fireplace and her sleeping grandfather.
‘Magda, get up! You have to leave! They will be here soon,’ Chaya repeats, but with more urgency.
‘Why, Mumma? What is the point? They will get me sooner or later, and maybe this way, I can join Cibi and Livi,’ Magda replies, not budging from the sofa.
Chaya retrieves Magda’s coat from its peg by the door and drops it onto her lap. ‘Magda Meller, put this on and head over to Mrs Trac’s. I spoke to her a short while ago and she is expecting you.’
Standing but not moving to put on the coat, Magda looks once more at her grandfather. She can tell he is awake, aware of their exchange. She wonders if he will get involved. Whose side will he be on? But he doesn’t stir.
‘It’s been nearly a year, Mumma. We can’t keep on living like this. Look around you, we have so little left to sell, at what point do we give up? When there are no chairs to sit on? No beds to sleep in? All of it gone for a loaf of bread!’
‘They have taken two of my daughters and I will not let them have you. I still have some jewellery to sell but, right now, I need you out of the house. It is just for one night.’
‘I’ll go this time,’ says Magda, finally, pulling on her coat. ‘But can you please ask Uncle Ivan if he has any more news?’
‘I will. Now, off with you.’
Magda kisses her mother on the cheek, before kissing her grandfather lightly on the head. ‘I know you’re awake,’ she whispers.
Opening his eyes, he smiles, his eyes locking onto Magda’s. It breaks her heart.
‘Good girl, you must always do as your mother asks. Now, run along.’
Standing and stretching, Yitzchak joins Chaya at the window as Magda opens the door, checking left and right for Hlinka guards before she trips down the path, steps onto the street and then runs to the house directly opposite.
As the neighbour’s door closes behind Magda, Chaya drops the curtain.
‘I will get us something to eat,’ she says.
‘I’m not hungry, you eat,’ says Yitzchak. ‘I’ll have some linden tea, if we have any left.’
*
Mrs Trac has been looking out for Magda. She knows the Hlinka Guard will soon come looking for any remaining Jewish girls and boys. They come on Shabbat, when they know all the Jewish families will be at home. Her own children, now adults and living in Bratislava, are protected by their Roman Catholic faith. How they chastised their mother when they heard she had been hiding Magda in the house; her faith will not protect her if she is caught hiding a Jew.
‘Hurry, my dear, they could knock on my door at any moment. I have put a little bread and cheese up there for you.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Trac, you didn’t have to do that, but thank you. I don’t know how we can ever repay you for taking such risks for my family.’
‘You can repay me by staying alive and punishing those who would hunt you down. Now, it’s time to hide.’
Pausing just long enough to give her neighbour a warm hug, Magda hurries to the chair in the narrow hallway, above which is a small trapdoor. She pulls it open and climbs into the small space beyond. After that, she pulls herself up into the ceiling cavity.
The light from the hallway illuminates a plate of bread and cheese. Magda knows from experience that as soon as the trapdoor is back in place, she will be in pitch-black darkness. She quickly notes the blankets and pillow nearby, where she will lie in wait until she hears the familiar tap from below to tell her to come down, the next morning. She hears the sound of the chair scraping along the wooden floor as Mrs Trac drags it back to the kitchen. She hopes it hasn’t left any telltale marks leading straight to her hiding place.
A short while later, Magda hears a loud banging at the front door and a voice telling Mrs Trac to ‘open up’.
The squeaking of the front door tells Magda that Mrs Trac is now face to face with some Hlinka guard.
‘Is there anyone else in the house with you, Mrs Trac?’ a guard asks.
‘Laszlo, you know my son and daughter now live in Bratislava with their families. Why would they be here?’
‘We have to ask, you know that. Do you mind if we come in and have a look around?’
‘And if I did mind, would that stop you?’ a defiant Mrs Trac fires back.
‘Step aside so we can come in,’ another guard demands, clearly impatient with the back and forth.
‘Shut the door behind you. You’re letting in the cold,’ says Mrs Trac.
Magda listens as footsteps move away from the front door and head towards the kitchen. She holds her breath as she now hears pacing directly beneath the ceiling space in which she is hiding. Might they spot any skid marks from the chair?
‘I hope you don’t expect me to make you tea,’ says Mrs Trac.
‘We’re fine, we don’t need anything,’ Laszlo replies.
‘Have you seen anything of the Meller girl from across the road?’ the other guard asks.
‘I have children of my own to worry about, never mind anyone else’s,’ Mrs Trac replies sharply.
‘We are just asking if you have seen her recently. She has been spotted in town from time to time, but she’s never at home when we call round. What can you tell us about her?’
‘Well, she is a very beautiful girl. Are you interested in asking her to go out with you?’
‘Please, Mrs Trac.’ Laszlo’s voice again. ‘Do not impede our investigation. You must let us know if you see her. We have urgent questions for her.’
‘Why? What can that girl possibly know that you don’t?’
‘Come to us if you see her. That’s all we’re asking.’
‘I’m looking around right now, and I don’t see her. Do you?’
‘Thank you for your time. We will see ourselves out.’
Magda hears the footsteps head away, and then the front door click shut. She picks up the bread and lies down on one blanket, covering herself with the other. She is glad Mrs Trac can still afford fuel for her wood burner – she feels the warmth of it through the ceiling. The smell of woodsmoke is comforting too.
*
The scraping of the chair along the wooden floorboards below wakes Magda the next morning. She hears the tap, tap, tap of the broom handle on the trapdoor.
Magda is stiff from her night in the confined space, and she descends slowly. Pulling shut the trap she heads for the bathroom, and then joins Mrs Trac in the kitchen, who is drinking a cup of tea.
‘Thank you for the bread and cheese. I ate the bread, but do you mind if I take the cheese home for Grandfather? He misses it.’
‘You must. I can give you some more if you would like?’
‘No, no! This is more than enough’. Magda nods at the cup Mrs Trac is raising to her lips. ‘Linden tree tea?’
‘Would you like a cup, my dear? I have plenty, thanks to your mother.’
‘No, thank you. We still have some and I had better head home. Mumma and Grandfather will be worrying.’ Magda touches the woman’s shoulder. ‘Thank you, Mrs Trac. I don’t know how . . .’ Her words catch in her throat.
‘Don’t thank me, girl. Just give my love to your mother and grandfather and I will see you next Friday. All right?’
‘I will. But let’s see how the weather holds up. I might be able to go into the forest now that it’s getting warmer.’ Magda leans over and kisses Mrs Trac on the cheek.
‘Any news of your sisters?’
Magda shakes her head. She has no words to express her desperate concern for her sisters.
*
Preoccupied now with fresh concern about her missing sisters, Magda doesn’t immediately respond to her mother’s questions about the night she spent across the road, and the guards’ visit.
‘Magda, please come back down to earth,’ pleads her mother.
‘Grandfather!’ says Magda, emerging from her trance. ‘Where’s Grandfather? I have something for him.’
‘I’m here, Magda. What is it?’ Yitzchak walks into the sitting room from the backyard and holds out his hand for the gift Magda is offering him.
‘It’s from Mrs Trac,’ she announces.
Yitzchak stares at the small, yellow block of cheese.
‘She shouldn’t have,’ Yitzchak says, in a muffled voice.
‘Well, I can’t take it back.’
Yitzchak meets the eyes of his granddaughter and daughter. Pain is etched into every line, every wrinkle, on his face. There should be five people in this room with whom to share this unexpected treat.
Chaya reaches out and strokes his arm.
‘Come and sit down. We’ll share the cheese,’ he says. ‘Chaya, will you make us some tea? I think there is a little Shabbat bread left over from yesterday. We will have a feast; we will give thanks for our good fortune.’
Yitzchak leads the way. Chaya loops an arm through Magda’s, needing to feel the solid reality of her daughter.
‘Is Uncle Ivan coming over?’ Magda whispers.
‘Yes, he will be here soon enough, but I don’t know what you think he’s going to tell us.’
The cheese and bread are gone and the last of the tea is being poured when they are startled by a light tapping coming from the back door.
‘It’s just Uncle,’ says Magda, jumping up to open the door. He immediately sweeps her up into his arms.
‘You are safe, you have survived another Friday,’ he whispers into her ear.
Joining Chaya and Yitzchak at the table, all eyes turn to Magda: it was she, after all, who has been pestering him for news.
Feeling the weight of their gaze, Magda looks away.
‘I don’t have any news of your sisters, Magda,’ Ivan says. ‘Just rumours.’
An expectant silence fills the small room. Ivan clears his throat. ‘It’s hard to find out very much. But I did hear one thing about your sisters’ transport – I think Cibi and Livi have been taken to Poland.’
‘Poland?’ Chaya explodes. ‘The Germans took them to Poland? What on earth for?’
‘You forget, sister. The Germans have occupied Poland.’
There is a new light in Magda’s eyes. Yitzchak reaches across the table and takes her hand, shaking his head as she opens her mouth. ‘Do you know where in Poland, Uncle?’
‘No, Magda. And your place is here, with your mother. We will all stay here as long as we can.’
‘And Clive, your friend at the council office – he has always been a great friend to our family, my son. Have you seen him?’ Yitzchak asks.
‘Occasionally, Father. He has done all he can to protect us. Every week he puts our name at the bottom of the list of Jews who live in Vranov, but now . . .’ Ivan sighs. ‘Now, there are only a few names ahead of ours. It is only a matter of time.’
‘There’s more, Ivan, I can hear it in your voice,’ insists Yitzchak. ‘Tell us everything.’ The old man lays his hands flat on the table, sits up straighter.
Ivan takes his time to respond, looking from Chaya, to Magda, and finally back to Yitzchak. ‘I have heard they are starting to round up the very young children now, as well as their parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles . . . everyone.’
Chaya lets out a low moan. ‘What do they want from us?’ she asks.
‘I don’t know, I just don’t know.’ Ivan stands up and starts to pace the small room. ‘There may come a time when all three of you will need to hide on Shabbat. Either at Mrs Trac’s or in the forest.’
Chaya catches Ivan’s hand as he begins another circuit of the room. ‘Is that what you’re planning to do, with Helena and the children? Go into the forest every Friday night?’ Chaya’s despair grows with every word that leaves Ivan’s mouth.
‘Sister, I will do whatever it takes to protect my family and that includes the three of you.’ Ivan smiles at Chaya, but it is a hollow expression. His eyes are as full of fear as her own. ‘How are you for food? Do you need money?’
‘I still have some of our mother’s jewellery, but I don’t want to sell it.’ Chaya’s eyes fill with tears. ‘It’s all I have left of her.’
Now it is Ivan’s turn to lose patience. ‘Don’t be silly, Chaya! Do you think she would want you to hang on to trinkets while your family starves? Promise me you will sell it if you need to.’
Chaya hangs her head.
‘She will do it,’ Yitzchak says.
‘Magda, are you still going into town to do the bartering?’ Ivan asks, moving towards the back door.
‘Yes, Uncle, but only once a week.’
‘I will give you the names of some people who will pay you a fairer price for the jewellery. They’re not Jews, but they are sympathetic to our situation.’
Ivan pulls open the door, and Magda, Chaya and Yitzchak rise from the table. ‘Come for dinner tonight,’ he says, before he leaves. ‘The boys keep asking after you, and Helena would love some female gossip.’ He offers Chaya a conciliatory smile, which she returns.
‘We will, thank you, Ivan. Please tell Helena we would love to share a meal with you all,’ Yitzchak says.