Chapter 10

10

Michal grabbed Jana's hand excitedly and pulled her into her grandfather's old workshop. Papa and Babi followed. It was Sunday and she and her father had taken the bus out of Prague early that morning. Now, Michal eagerly showed off the puppeteering skills he had been learning.

‘Wonderful!' exclaimed Papa, clapping his hands. ‘My father would have been proud of you. Did you know that he was a renowned puppeteer?'

‘Yes, Babi told me. And he travelled the countryside with his theatre and made everyone laugh, even the adults because he made secret jokes that the children didn't understand.' He beamed as he spoke and it warmed Jana's heart to see his uplifted mood, and to hear him refer to her grandma as Babi.

They passed a happy couple of hours in the workshop lost in the historical, Czech world of puppets, fairy tales and legends. Papa didn't, of course, introduce Michal to the satirical skills of the foregone puppet masters: the scathing jokes about government and royalty or the lurid sexual references. The shows had been an open, all-round entertainment. Until the Nazis arrived and strictly censored the content.

It had started to snow again and Michal looked out the window longingly. ‘Can I play outside?'

He had been at Babi's three weeks now and had not been allowed out for fear of him being seen. The sudden appearance of a strange child in the area could arouse suspicion. But Babi now looked at her son and Jana.

‘He won't be seen at the back of the house,' she said. ‘The nearest neighbour is two kilometres away and no one will be out and about on a Sunday in this weather.'

Papa frowned as he considered, then nodded at Michal. ‘Only if I can build a snowman with you.'

Babi smiled. ‘I'll pull out some old boots and a jacket of yours for Michal.' She bustled away with her usual energy.

Ten minutes later, Jana and Babi stood at the window watching man and boy rolling balls of snow around the garden.

‘How are the two of you getting on?' Jana asked.

‘He's a treasure.' Babi's eyes were alight. ‘He's a sensitive, intelligent boy who responds to gestures of love. And he gives me so much pleasure.' She put an arm around Jana's shoulders. ‘I'd take a whole troop of children hiding from the Nazi's.'

Jana laughed. ‘I believe you would.'

It continued to snow into the late afternoon. Jana and her father stamped their way to the bus stop and looked up and down the thick mantle of undisturbed snow that covered the road. The darkening sky was a whorl of thick snowflakes. There would be no more buses back into Prague that day; they would have to spend the night here.

The weather worsened and Jana and her father had no choice but to stay a further two days with Babi. The bookshop would have to remain closed but what worried her most was being absent from work at the castle; she didn't want to lose the job she had just started, and she was eager to keep her eye on Heydrich.

Jana had brought some more books for Michal and the two of them passed happy hours snuggled up on the settee reading together. Her father found some blocks of linden wood in grandpa's workshop and showed the attentive Michal elementary skills in carving the fine-grained wood. Jana stood in the doorway watching them work. Papa was smiling and laughing more than she had seen since the death of her mother. Michal was good for him; they looked like father and son.

I wish you could see them, Mama . The thought sparked a burst of pain so fierce, she gasped. As tears welled up, she turned away, rubbing her eyes with the back of a hand.

Babi looked up from sweeping the floor. She stood the broom against the wall and moved towards her, spreading her arms.

‘You miss her,' she said in a knowing voice. ‘Of course you do. We all do.'

Jana leaned into her comforting embrace and cried softly into her shoulder.

It was mid-morning Wednesday before the buses were running again and they were able to return to Prague. Jana went directly to open the bookshop and her father to the attic to prepare for a children's performance the following evening. She worried about her job at the castle and wondered if she would be fired for not showing up for three days. Now that she had started real resistance work, it would be awful to lose the advantage she had of being so close to Heydrich .

The shop was quiet, so she closed up for five minutes to fetch a newspaper from the stand on the corner. The vendor was stamping his feet and rubbing his arms in an effort to keep warm.

‘Read all about it, Miss,' he said as she approached. He tipped his cap at her. ‘Heydrich has had another bunch of Czechs executed for so-called crimes against the state. Fifty men and three women.'

Jana put a mittened hand to her mouth. ‘So many?' she said, aghast.

‘Seems our new governor is really getting into the swing of things. And is more than happy to have it in the press as a warning.'

She shivered but not from the cold. She paid for the newspaper and took it back to the shop where she read about the latest incident with mounting horror. It was terrifying that the accused had not only been resistors, but also petty criminals accused of theft or black-market trading. Heydrich's fist was squeezing Prague's heart.

The latest news made her even more eager for her contact to appear so she could pass on her bookmark with her message: Heydrich's conversation that she'd overheard. Had the contact come to the bookshop in the last couple of days whilst she'd been snowed in with Babi?

It was six o'clock when, feeling weary, she was about to turn off the lights and reach for her coat to leave. The door opened and Captain Kovar stepped in, wearing civilian clothes with snow piled on the shoulders of his coat.

Goodness! Not again.

‘I'm just locking up,' she said tersely.

‘Oh, I don't mean to be a nuisance. I was a bit worried about you. '

A gust of freezing wind blew a flurry of snow through the open door, causing wet flakes to settle on her stockinged legs. Agitated, she beckoned him further into the shop and shut the door.

‘Worried about what?' Her voice came out a little too high, her forehead wrinkling.

Had he come to confront her about Michal?

‘The shop has been closed a couple of days and I feared you were unwell.'

She stifled a sigh of relief. ‘No, I'm fine. I became snowed in whilst visiting my—a friend.'

Careful. She needed to steer the conversation in a different direction.

‘Was your mother pleased with the book?' she asked.

His expression relaxed and he started to talk about his mother's birthday. He related a joke his mother had made about the shortage of candles actually being an advantage for the top of a cake of an older woman. For the first time, she saw him laugh, and was surprised at his wide smile, his large mouth. She thought of her kiss with Pavel; he had a small mouth, not much larger than her own.

‘You look freezing. Would you like a hot coffee?' She was shocked at the words that had come from her mouth. But there was something else. A sliver of a thrill.

He looked surprised but pleased, and she led him to the back of the shop where she indicated the armchair.

‘I'll put the kettle on the stove.'

He sat instead on a stool and removed his hat. This was bizarre; only a few weeks ago, he had been here in very different circumstances, marching through the shop, scaring her and Michal to death. She had thought his high cheekbones made him look arrogant, but now as she studied him, she found his face attractive.

He met her gaze and she turned away.

In the small kitchen, she put the kettle on and took out the jar of acorn coffee – only Germans had access to real coffee these days. She placed cups and saucers on the countertop, and watched the spout of the kettle, waiting for the first droplets of steam to appear.

She heard his tread behind her and turned. He'd removed his coat and she could now see he wore a shirt and tie with a navy pullover. His chest was broad and he had strong arms. Policemen's arms , she reminded herself, awaking from some strange stupor she'd fallen into.

He glanced down to where she was standing – in front of the curtain that ran beneath the sink. Where Michal had hidden.

Her heartrate quickened. ‘You did see him,' she whispered.

Uncertainty flickered across his navy eyes. Such an unusual colour.

He didn't reply. Why didn't he just admit he'd seen Michal?

He took a step towards her. So close. Nearly touching. She stood backed up against the sink, her hands clutching the countertop behind.

She looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat.

His face was soft, questioning.

Her lips parted.

He bowed his head.

The shrill whistle of the kettle pierced the energy-laden air and he stepped back, allowing her to remove the kettle from the stove and pour the boiling water into the two cups.

Her voice shaky, she said, ‘Let's take our drinks back into the shop, Captain Kovar. '

‘I think it's time you called me Andrej,' he said, a glint in his eyes.

After he left, half an hour later, Jana sat in the armchair, mulling over what had just happened. Had he intended to kiss her or had she imagined it? After that moment, conversation over their coffee had been stilted. There had been a tension between them, but not an unpleasant one. More like a charge of expectancy. When he said goodbye, she felt a pang of disappointment that there was no kiss. But actually, that was a good thing. She certainly didn't want to get involved with a fascist policeman when she was taking part in anti-Nazi activities. Tomorrow, she would be back at the castle spying on Heydrich, who with Himmler, was one of Hitler's top men.

Was she incredibly brave or incredibly stupid? Neither. Just a bookshop girl doing what she could against her country's oppressors.