Chapter 1

1

PRAGUE, FEbrUARY 1942

The bookshop was Jana's refuge. Here she could shut herself away from reality and choose to enter any world she chose. Adventure, travel or romance was just a book away.

She ran her fingertips along the spines, breathing in the scent of paper and the wood of the old bookcases that ran down one side of the wall. Opposite, shelves displayed the hand-carved puppets her father crafted, dressed in clothes Jana had sewn. She had taken over the dressmaking from Mama, who'd died whilst Jana had been studying at university. And now she ran Mama's beloved bookshop too; the ache from losing her mother two years ago was a constant companion.

She was alone in the bookshop, except for the small boy who sat on a stool in the children's section at the back. Five-year-old Michal came here after school most afternoons. Jana wasn't sure if his visits were due to his love of books or his desire to escape bullying on the streets; most probably a mixture of both. She watched his narrow, earnest face bowed over a book, deep in concentration .

She moved to the armchair beside him and patted the worn upholstery beside her.

‘Come, Michal. Sit here and read to me.'

He jumped up eagerly and pressed his skinny body next to her, laying out the large book of Czech myths across his lap. He began to read – his favourite story about Bivoj, the hero who caught a boar by the ears. The change in Michal once he started to read never failed to fascinate Jana. His voice came to life, his tone assured. There was no sign of the shy, nervous boy who stared at the floor when spoken to. It had taken Jana months to win his confidence but now they were firm friends.

As Michal finished one story and turned the page to start the next, Jana glanced to the front of the shop. It was getting dark; she had lost track of time.

‘It's time you got off home, Michal. It's late.'

He nodded, shut the book and handed it to her before shuffling from the chair. He picked up his coat, which he'd thrown over one of the small stools, and huddled into it before making for the door. Jana felt a pull at her heart; he was small for his age and darkness was sweeping in?—

‘Wait, Michal. I'll walk you home.'

She grabbed her hat and coat, locked up the shop and the two of them stepped out into the freezing February evening. Prague had been covered in snow since before Christmas and the low cloud promised a fresh fall that night.

She held his hand as they walked the short distance through icy alleyways towards Josefov, the Jewish Quarter.

A group of boys was hanging about on a corner and as they approached, she sensed Michal stiffen. The boys stared at him and then at Jana.

‘Are they the ones?' she asked.

Michal gave a slight nod .

‘Ignore them,' she said, gripping his hand tighter and marching towards them. She thought about confronting the boys about their bullying, but then was unsure. She wouldn't be with Michal next time he met them and worried she might make things worse for him. She needed to think before she acted; something her mother had told her many times when she was a child.

They passed by and a boy called out a jibe, but his words were lost in the wind that whistled down the narrow street. Michal showed her the way to where he lived: a row of worn houses that sat in the gloomy shadows of Gothic buildings on each side. Ahead, a small crowd had gathered. A police car was parked by the kerb. The crowd parted and two policemen and an officious-looking man in plain clothes exited a house. Cowering between them was a woman, her coat flapping unbuttoned in the wind. She wore no hat and her dark hair flew across her face.

‘Mummy,' said Michal, pulling forwards.

Jana gasped and grasped his hand tighter.

In that moment, the dark-headed woman spotted her son and shot a terrified glance at Jana, giving a shake of her head, before she was bundled into the car.

Jana pulled Michal to her, and as the plain-clothed man paused beside the car and surveyed the street, Jana turned away, pulling the small boy back the way they'd come. As he was under the age of six, he was not yet required to wear the yellow star, and no one paid them any attention.

Back at the bookshop, Jana settled Michal in the armchair with a blanket and a mug of hot chocolate. She snuggled next to him.

‘Where is your father, Michal?' she asked .

‘I don't know,' he said in a small voice. ‘He didn't come home from work yesterday. Why have the police taken my mama?'

‘It must be a mistake. Try not to worry.' She stroked his head. He had every reason to worry. The round-ups had increased in the few weeks since a new German had been appointed in charge of Prague. His name was Reinhard Heydrich and it was rumoured that the high-ranking SS official intended to rule the city with an iron fist. Jana had no idea if and when Michal's parents would return. What should she do about him?

‘Do you have any other family?'

‘A baby brother or sister is coming soon.'

Oh, no. Michal's mother was pregnant.

‘How wonderful,' she said, her voice gentle. ‘How about a grandma or aunt?'

He told her he had an aunt and two cousins, but he wasn't exactly sure the way to their home.

‘We can try and find them tomorrow in daylight. Meanwhile, you can stay with me tonight. We can tuck ourselves up in bed and read till really late. Would you like that?'

He gave a slight nod. ‘Where do you live?'

‘Upstairs, above the bookshop. With my father – you've met him a couple of times.'

A sudden hammering on the front door of the shop startled them both. The knocks were aggressive, not those of an enquiring customer.

Jana took Michal by the hand, putting a finger to her lips, and led him swiftly through a door at the back of the shop and into a small kitchen area. She glanced around, trying to quell her panic.

Under the sink hung a curtain which hid an array of cleaning materials. She pushed the things to one side with a sweep of her arm .

‘Michal, you must be as brave as Bivoj when he caught that boar by his ears,' she said as she helped him crawl under the sink, ‘but quieter than a mouse.'

After closing the curtain, she moved to the front of the shop where the door was still shaking from the pounding fists. She put on her most indignant expression and undid the bolt. Two grim-faced Czech policemen faced her.

‘How can I help you, gentleman?'

‘What took you so long?' said the one with the moustache.

‘I'm here alone and a lady must use the cloakroom at times.'

‘May we look around?' said the other – a young, cleanshaven one.

‘Anything in particular?' said Jana, allowing them in and indicating the bookshelves. ‘Fiction or non-fiction?'

Moustache was unamused. ‘We're not interested in books. We're searching for a Jewish boy and a pedestrian reported seeing a young child enter your bookshop earlier.'

‘That's not unusual. We stock a wide selection of children's books.'

‘It's one particular child we're looking for,' said the clean-shaven one.

The men pushed past her and strode to the back of the shop. There were two doors: one led to the backyard, the other to the kitchen and toilet.

Jana held her breath. Moustache strode out into the yard, Clean-shaven towards the kitchen. What a terrible hiding place she'd chosen for Michal. But where else was there? How she hated these Czech police betraying their own people and working alongside their Nazi occupiers. Her heart raced as she waited for the young, arrogant policeman to haul Michal from hiding and march him away. Where would he be sent ?

To the Terezin concentration camp on the outskirts of Prague most likely.

The men, grim-faced, returned to the shop.

‘No sign of him in the yard, Captain Kovar,' barked Moustache.

‘Nothing out back,' said Clean-shaven.

‘We should check the apartment upstairs,' growled Moustache.

‘Let's be quick,' said Clean-shaven, checking his watch. ‘Our shift ends shortly.'

Jana guided the men out of the shop and through the entrance next door that led up to the apartment she shared with her father. She then had to endure the policemen stomping through her home. She bristled as Moustache opened her wardrobe and peered at her clothes. At least they were quick, losing interest, eager to get home.

Once they had left, she rushed down to the bookshop, into the kitchen and tore back the curtain. Michal stared at her, his wide, brown eyes filled with terror.

Pulling him into her arms, Jana made soothing noises, assuring him he'd be safe now.

A short time later, she was in the apartment, stirring soup on the stove whilst Michal read at the kitchen table. Her father would return soon from the puppet theatre performance he was giving at a nearby school. She'd have to explain the presence of Michal; harbouring the Jewish child could put them all in prison.

When the key turned in the lock, she moved straight to the door to greet her father with a kiss on the cheek .

‘Papa, we have a visitor.'

She watched his expression as he looked across at Michal, recognising him from the bookshop, but surprised to see him in their home. He'd already told Jana of his concern about the recent legislation stating that Jews were not allowed in Aryan shops. How would he react? He shot a look of surprise at Jana, then assessing the situation, composed himself quickly. He put down his suitcase full of puppets, joined Michal at the table and began to chat about the book he was reading.

Later, in her bedroom, Jana dug out a pair of her childhood pyjamas from the back of a drawer and gave them to Michal. They were too big and he looked forlorn in the long sleeves and trouser legs that trailed on the floor. He was silent as she knelt down and rolled the pyjamas up and then tucked him up in her bed.

She sat beside him, stroking his head.

‘Sleep now, Michal and I'll come and join you in a little while.'

His eyes were glassy with tears as he spoke. ‘Will Mama and Papa be home soon?'

Her breath caught as she struggled to find the right words, but there were no right words.

‘I'm not sure exactly, but we'll know more tomorrow when I find your aunt and cousins.'

He nodded solemnly and she gave him a light kiss on his forehead before returning to her father. They talked in hushed, urgent voices about the day's events: the dangers, the options.

The following morning, Jana's father took Michal to his puppet workshop in the attic at the top of the building, whilst Jana walked to the Jewish Quarter to make enquiries about Michal's family. The city was a grey-white spectre that morning; the skyline barely distinguishable from the snow-clad buildings in the early-morning mist. Jana tied her scarf closer to her neck in an attempt to keep out the cold, moist air. She hurried past shops yet to open, wincing at each red V sign she passed. How cruel of the Nazis to adopt the Czech's initial victory symbol used at the beginning of the occupation, now as their own. The sign was plastered around town with all the other Nazi paraphernalia: flags, banners and posters desecrating her land's beautiful culture. Everywhere, street signs had been changed to German with the Czech name written in smaller letters underneath. All part of the plan of Germanisation.

As she entered the area of Josefov, the Jewish Quarter, her heart raced. While there was no specific law that forbade her to be here, she would likely be questioned if a Wehrmacht soldier saw the absence of the yellow star on her coat.

When she saw two soldiers ahead on patrol, she darted down a parallel street to make her way to Michal's house. There she hoped to find a neighbour who might know the whereabouts of the boy's aunt.

This part of town fascinated her: the mix of architectural styles, a surprise on every corner. The Spanish synagogue that looked like a Mediterranean palace contrasting with the tall, narrow, worn houses that clung to winding, cobbled streets. Many shops were boarded up and closed and those that were open displayed a sad choice of wares. She passed two bearded men clad in long, black coats, their heads bowed together in contemplative conversation. Two red-cheeked girls ran in front of her playing catch, looking like any other children in Prague except for the stars stitched to the sleeves of their coats.

She neared the area where Michal's family lived and as she checked for traffic to cross a side street, she froze. A long row of people lined the kerb, each with a solitary suitcase. It took a moment for Jana to realise why their figures were bulky and misshapen; each person was wearing layers of clothes, coats over jackets, women with several head scarves covering their head, children clad in woollen hats, multiple scarves wound around their necks. The group was quiet and sombre; their eyes darted up and down the street, their feet shuffled. Some glanced at the apartment block behind them, faces creased in sadness. These were not people being arrested like Michal's mother. They had been summoned by the Nazis to evacuate their homes and hand them over to the Reich, leaving their belongings behind.

The sound of motor engines broke the silence, and a series of military trucks rumbled up the street. Jana retreated and stood back against the wall of a building. Wehrmacht soldiers sprung from the vehicles and shouted instructions, ushering the people into the back of the trucks. Jana's stomach roiled as she watched the people scramble aboard clutching their precious suitcases close to their bodies; an elderly man stumbled, his case flying from his hand. A teenage girl went to his aid, but as she reached for his case, she was shoved aside by a soldier and ordered to climb aboard. Another soldier hauled the elderly man to his feet and flung him in the back of the truck, before kicking the suitcase further down the street and into the gutter. A couple of soldiers laughed.

Unable to watch any more, Jana hurried on. Where were the people being taken? Did they even know themselves? Cold doubts seeped through her veins .

As she approached Michal's house, she saw a woman with a broom clearing snow from the pavement. The Germans were very particular about citizens clearing the pathways outside their homes. If a German slipped and sustained injuries, the penalty was severe, especially for Jewish citizens.

When Jana greeted her, the woman looked up, pushing a stray lock of hair beneath her headscarf. Her eyes flittered to Jana's left arm and noticing the absence of a star, her expression turned wary.

‘Can I help you?' The skin on her thin lips was cracked and raw.

Jana paused, collecting her thoughts. She had to be careful not to put Michal in further danger, so best to keep details brief.

‘My name is Jana Hajek. I'm concerned about a small boy, Michal. I expected to see him at my bookshop yesterday but he didn't show up.'

Her face flushed at the half truth.

The woman's expression saddened and shaking her head, she leaned on her broom.

‘His mother was arrested yesterday, and there is no sign of him or his father.'

Her expression was so desolate that Jana's heart ached to tell her that at least Michal was safe for the moment. But what if the woman in innocence passed this information on to someone who was a collaborator? Or maybe she was a collaborator herself; the risk was too great.

‘He told me once he had an aunt. Maybe he's with her. If you know where she lives, I could go and check if he's all right.'

‘You don't need to waste your time. I heard she and her family are being taken in the round-up this morning,' she said, choking back a sob. ‘It won't be long before it's my turn.'

Jana swallowed hard, not knowing what to say .

‘Why are you here, exactly?' asked the woman, frowning.

‘Like I said, I'm concerned for Michal.'

‘Really? Isn't concern for Jews " verboten "?' Bitterness tinged her words.

Jana bit her lip.

The woman sighed. ‘I must get on now.' Then she continued to sweep, signalling the conversation was over.

Jana made her way back home, her heart heavy. Michal had no family he could turn to now. His future lay in Jana's hands and this responsibility scared her. She pushed back on her fear. Fate or God or something had placed Michal in her care, and she would do everything possible to protect him. She would need help and she had faith that there were still good people in this world. Like her father.

Three hours later, she was climbing the stairs to the attic, her legs heavy with despondency. How could she tell Michal that when she'd finally found his aunt's house, no one was home? And that she'd learnt Michal's aunt and cousins had also been driven away in that morning's round-up?

As she pushed open the attic door, a dusty beam of pale sunlight greeted her. Michal sat on a high stool peering at her father at his workbench, chiselling features and life into a wooden puppet.

They looked up at her with eager expressions. Jana gave a slight shake of her head and before she could formulate her words, Michal, his face solemn, turned from her and studied the half-carved puppet in front of him.

Her father gave her a knowing look. ‘We'll work something out; I have a plan. Now, sweetheart, you need to get ready for your appointment.'

Amidst the morning's events, she'd nearly forgotten about her interview. She had applied for a job at Prague Castle; once the ancient domain of Bohemian kings and emperors, it now housed the Nazi central command.