Chapter 17

17

Shortly before seven o'clock, Jana stepped onto the Charles Bridge wearing a cloche hat and a belted coat that had belonged to her mother. She doubted anyone would recognise her in the clothes. As always, the bridge was busy, people making their way home for the evening.

He wasn't alone at the statue. Two men in railway uniforms were chatting and smoking. She hesitated. Andrej caught her eye and shifted along the bridge. She approached, then halted. A young couple, arm in arm, stopped next to Andrej to gaze out over the river. Jana's heart thudded. The bridge was a good place to go unnoticed in a crowd, but they must be careful not to be overheard.

Taking a breath to calm herself, she rummaged around in her handbag for nothing in particular.

When she glanced back up, she saw that Andrej had distanced himself from the couple and was now a little way further down the bridge. He lit a cigarette and studied the smoke as it spiralled away in the wind. She stood a stride away from him, her eyes fixed ahead .

As he spoke in a low, urgent voice, her stomach knotted with nerves. The plan must work, she thought; the children's lives depended on it.

She left Andrej a few moments later and walked off the bridge, through the stone arch and back across Old Town Square. Avoiding streets where Germans patrolled, she entered Josefov and arrived at the house where Lillian lived.

She rapped on the door. Hope sprung to Lillian's face when she saw Jana, and beckoned her in. The heads of two girls peeped from a doorway off the hallway, one above the other, long plaits dangling to their shoulders. Lillian waved the children away. The young faces disappeared.

‘Have you news? About the girls?' she asked in a hushed voice.

Jana nodded and quietly told Lillian the plans for the following day.

The next morning after she finished work at the castle, instead of opening up the bookshop, Jana hurried to the local community centre. She hadn't seen Dasha since the last book club exchange, when Dasha had spoken about her brother's new job at the Skoda munitions factory.

Inside, women rummaged through the second-hand clothes spread out on trestle tables. Dasha, behind one of the tables, was helping a woman find the correct children's size from an array of donated clothes. Her face lit up when she saw Jana.

‘This is a nice surprise,' she said.

‘I wasn't sure if you were working today,' Jana said.

The ruddy-faced woman who Dasha was helping tutted loudly .

‘I'm being served at the moment.'

Jana raised a conciliatory hand. ‘Please continue, I'm just browsing.'

She shot Dasha a wry smile and started to examine the clothes while the woman continued to fuss around.

Jana looked through a small pile of children's hats and scarves at the end of the table. She stopped to consider a small, navy beret. Would it be the right size for a four-year-old? Holding on to it, she searched further till she found a green, felt hat trimmed with a black ribbon. The hat was worn and had a muddy stain on the brim; it was perfect. She then chose two hand-knitted scarves and waited till the ruddy-faced women was satisfied with her haul and left.

‘Can I take these for a friend?'

‘Of course,' said Dasha. Then with a smile, she asked, ‘How's Lenka? Any news on the baby?'

A lump came to Jana's throat. None of the book club girls knew yet about Lenka's arrest.

‘She's had a baby girl,' she said quietly.

‘How wonderful! What's her— Is everything all right? Jana, what's wrong?'

She choked back her tears. ‘Lenka's been arrested; she's in prison.'

‘In prison?' Dasha's cry turned a few heads. She composed herself before speaking again in a quiet voice. ‘What on earth has she done wrong?'

‘Nothing. It must all be some terrible mistake.' Jana didn't want to have this conversation now; she needed to stay focused on getting Lillian's children to safety. ‘I'm sure I'll know more at the next book club meeting: Thursday morning in two weeks.'

Dasha nodded, her face pale with shock .

As Jana turned to go, Dasha said, ‘I hope your friend likes the clothes.'

The city was every shade of grey as the March wind whipped through the narrow streets and stone arches. The only colour Jana could see was the blood red of swastika flags that cracked back and forth in a frenzied dance. Church bells rang the hour: one o'clock.

Exactly on time, Jana arrived at the meeting point, on the corner next to the bicycle shop. She waited opposite the path that wound away into the Josefov district.

Lillian appeared, ushering the girls along. Andrej had insisted they travel with no possessions, and the trio carried no suitcases or bags that could invite a stop and search. Not even a doll in the hands of the smallest girl had been allowed; a toy might imply a longer trip was planned. Their only belongings were the clothes they stood in.

Staying on the opposite side of the street, Jana looked around her. Although they had chosen a quiet spot, there were nevertheless a few pedestrians. A cyclist passed. Lillian wore a tightly bound headscarf, her hair tucked out of sight, her face as grey as her surroundings. She spoke to the eldest girl, who Jana had learned was called Yveta. The girl nodded solemnly at her mother's words. Yveta clearly knew the truth: that she was about to be wrenched from her parents and sent to an unknown destination. Her young sister, Maddie, however, bore an expression of anticipation, jumping from foot to foot, pulling on Yveta's hand, as if she'd been told she was going on holiday.

Anger spiked in Jana's chest; she hated the Germans, hated their flags, soldiers, and marching music that blasted from radios. But most of all she hated that tyrant, Heydrich.

Taking a breath to steady her nerves, she scoured up and down the street. The coast was clear. She locked eyes with Lillian. The mother heaved her chest in realisation that this was the moment, and it had to be quick. She took Yveta's arm and peeled the yellow star from her coat sleeve, having loosened the stitches as planned. Some hasty kisses on the girl's cheeks and she gave her daughters a shove in the backs. Yveta grasped Maddie's hand tightly and the sisters crossed the street towards Jana.

‘We're playing dressing up,' she said, pulling the hats and scarves from her shopping bag. As agreed, the girls wore no accessories, and within in moments, Yveta was sporting a felt hat and Maddie, a navy beret. Jana tucked their plaited hair beneath their hats and draped the knitted scarves around their necks.

‘You're the lady who came to see Mama yesterday,' said Maddie.

‘That's right, and I'm going take you both on an adventure.'

‘Can Mama come too?'

‘No, she can't,' said Yveta, fiercely, yanking Maddie's arm.

Across the street, Lillian was hovering, her yellow star clearly visible, whilst her inconspicuous, gentile children were to be accompanied by a close friend for a day out. That was the story Jana would tell if anyone asked. Jana said it was time to go, and Maddie gave her mother a bright wave. Yveta's face was like stone as she swallowed hard. She lifted her hand, but let it fall again.

Jana ached with sadness as she gave Lillian one last look before forcing herself to walk away, taking the woman's children with her. She'd agreed to meet Lillian the following evening at the same spot. If Jana carried a book under her arm, all was well and the children were in safety. No book meant something had gone wrong.

Jana led the children around the back of Old Town Square and passed under the Powder Tower, leaving the ancient town behind. They went to the tram stop and waited a few minutes until the red and white tram arrived clanging its bell. Once they had settled in their seats, Jana breathed a sigh of relief: so far, so good. She rehearsed the story in her head: she was looking after a friend's children for the day. Yes, she had her identification papers with her. No, she hadn't thought to bring papers for the children. A coy smile would follow; she'd applied lipstick that morning, pouting into the mirror. She would flutter her eyelashes if she had to.

‘I love trams,' said Maddie, twisting herself on the wooden bench to look out the window. An older woman who sat opposite, wearing a traditional embroidered shawl across her shoulders, smiled indulgently in Maddie's direction. Jana gave a brief smile, not wanting to draw attention by being unfriendly. People remembered unfriendliness.

Jana wondered if the girls ever rode the trams. There were only certain times Jewish citizens were allowed to travel. She mentally corrected herself; they were no longer citizens according to German law.

She looked across at Yveta, her heart going out to the stone-faced girl. She longed to say something but what could she say in public? Even in private, she wouldn't know what words of comfort she could offer. After all, she was a stranger to the children.

The tram filled up as it crossed town. At every stop, Jana held her breath, terrified that an official would get on, asking for papers. A Wehrmacht soldier boarded, but he paid them no attention. Two men, smartly dressed, speaking with German accents, rode two stops with the tram; they too showed no interest in Jana and her charges.

They alighted at the tram terminal, crossed the street and boarded the bus that would take them out of Prague. If all went well – Andrej had said crossing the checkpoint out of town would be the most dangerous.

The three of them squeezed together into a double seat, with Maddie pressed up against the window and Yveta in the middle. From her aisle seat, Jana had a good view of the driver and through the bus windscreen.

She glanced around at the passengers, their heads jolting from side to side as the bus bumped over tram lines and cobblestones. They were normal citizens, not police, soldiers or officials. But a normal citizen looked no different to a collaborator, a traitor, who, for favours, or out of desperation to aid a loved one, would betray a fellow Czech.

The traffic slowed until the bus came to a stop. They had reached the queue to pass through the checkpoint. Sweat trickled down the back of Jana's neck as she leaned into the aisle to peer through the windscreen. In front of the bus was a white delivery van and ahead of that, a military truck, its flap open, revealing seated soldiers clutching rifles.

The bus driver cut the engine and leaned back in his seat as if anticipating a long wait. The vibrations of the bus stilled and an ominous quiet hung in the air. The passengers shuffled; a man tutted and snapped open his newspaper; a woman sighed and pulled out her knitting, her expression one of resignation.

‘What's happening?' asked Maddie, her loud, childish voice causing some heads to turn.

‘Nothing, sweetheart,' said Jana, reaching across Yveta to pat Maddie's knee. ‘We'll be off in a moment.' Yveta gave Maddie a sharp nudge with her elbow which Maddie reacted to with an exaggerated, ‘Ouch!'

More heads looked up. Panic gripped Jana; passengers were looking at them, wondering who they were, if Jana was the children's mother and where were they going – no, stop Jana. Keep calm. Breathe . A smile at the woman with the knitting. A nod at the man who glanced over his newspaper.

Ahead, a policeman waved the military truck through and held up his hand at the delivery van. Jana watched as the driver was asked to get out and open the back doors. She checked her watch; something was wrong. Andrej should have been here by now but there was no sign of him.

The delivery man had begun hauling out tins of paint from the back of his van. Then a second policeman appeared at the side of the bus and spoke to the driver through the open window.

Where was Andrej? Her right knee began to jitter uncontrollably; he wasn't coming. The whole plan was a mean and terrible trick to catch her and the children red-handed.

The driver activated the doors, which swished open as the policeman approached the steps. Or maybe Andrej had been discovered, betrayed and arrested. And now the police would demand to see passes, and the children… Her heart twisted; the children…

The policeman had his boot on the first step when a shout made his head jerk round. A police captain was yelling instructions and waving his arms, motioning to get the traffic moving.

Andrej.

Jana slumped with relief. The policeman snapped to attention and retreated. The doors hissed shut, the engine started up, and after a few moments waiting for the delivery man in front to reload his wares, they were on their way. Jana saw Andrej scanning the bus as they passed and as she leaned into his line of vision for the briefest of moments, his expression registered with her – a trace of a smile.

When the bus stopped at the small village of Lidice, Jana was reminded of Lenka's parents who lived there and again determined to visit them soon. Her thoughts about Lenka were distracted from a downward spiral by a group of noisy children climbing aboard. A boy shoved a girl and she shoved him back. Twice as hard. The others laughed and bounded through the bus. Yveta gave the children a hard look as they passed. They were about the same age as she was, and would no doubt be finishing school that summer when their formal education would end; the Nazi regime had closed secondary schools deciding the Reich needed workers, not intellectuals.

The bus left Lidice behind and bumped along through the countryside, the children getting off one by one as they reached their homes.

Jana decided to alight at the next stop. It was a still a distance to Babi's house but they would walk the rest of the way. She'd deliberately chosen an indirect bus route so as not to leave a trail.

As she led the children off the bus, a thin-faced man glanced up from his book. He gave her a blank stare and returned to his reading. The title of the book was German.

Maddie's initial enthusiasm for their adventure after they left the bus waned as her little legs grew tired.

‘When are we there?' she whined. Jana had told Maddie they would be visiting a kind woman who had lots of toys, in particular puppets, and they would all have tremendous fun putting on a show. But now, the young girl's lip wobbled. ‘I'm hungry,' she said.

‘Be quiet,' snapped Yveta.

‘No, I won't.'

‘I'll give you a piggyback,' said Jana, stepping in to avoid a fight, and she hoisted Maddie onto her back, making neighing noises. Yveta rolled her eyes.

‘That's a horse, not a pig,' laughed Maddie.

When Jana set her down again a short while later, the child remained silent, eyeing up her older sister warily.

They followed a path that ran alongside a field. The months' old snow was shrinking, revealing muddy patches of earth beneath. It was now late afternoon but the sky cleared and a soft sun appeared.

‘Look,' said Jana, pointing at a cluster of snowdrops, the pretty flowers whiter than the tired snow around them. ‘It will be spring soon.'

A few moments later, Babi's house came into view and Jana's heart lifted.

‘We're here,' she said.

In the darkening twilight, Jana hurried towards the Josefov district, a book under her arm, eager to let Lillian know her daughters had reached the safe house. She could picture the anxious mother waiting on that windy corner, praying for the sight of Jana with that all-important book. What Jana couldn't imagine was the courage and pain Lillian must have endured to reach the decision: to put her beloved children in the hands of strangers and send them away, not knowing if she would ever see them again. She had no husband with whom she could share the responsibility of her actions.

With tear-filled eyes, Jana picked up her stride and arrived a few minutes before the allotted time, six thirty in the evening.

Lillian wasn't there yet. Jana stood opposite the corner where Lillian had said goodbye to her children the previous day. Moments passed. She clutched the book firmly, anticipating the moment Lillian arrived. They had agreed it was better not to be seen talking together, hence the plan of using the book as a signal. However, Jana was toying with the idea of exchanging a few words if no one was in sight; it seemed too cruel not to offer Lillian some words of comfort.

A nearby church struck the half hour. A mother with three children in tow walked past without giving her a second glance. A light rain began to fall. The snow in the city had nearly disappeared and the transition into spring had begun.

Jana shuffled from one foot to another, her eyes fixed on the alleyway, lit by a dim lantern, where Lillian would emerge. A figure appeared, bundled up in winter clothes, the face hard to distinguish. But from the height and figure, she knew it to be Lillian.

Heart thudding, Jana held the book firmly across her chest, looking around her as she considered crossing the road to give the poor mother some reassurance.

Only it wasn't Lillian.

It was a much older woman who bustled away without looking in Jana's direction. Jana's stomach dipped with disappointment, and she checked her watch, which she continued to do every couple of minutes. Something was wrong. Lillian would've been bursting to hear news of her daughters.

When the church chimed seven o'clock, with a surge of fear-fuelled adrenaline, Jana strode across the street and took the alleyway into the heart of the Jewish quarter. She received some inquisitive looks as she hurried along, but she kept her head down, her face half hidden by a large-brimmed hat that had been her mother's.

There was a morbid silence in the street where Lillian lived. Jana walked softly past the narrow, terraced houses, their windows dark. There were no cooking smells drifting into the street, no voices or children's laughter to be heard. One of the houses had its front window smashed, and Jana, peering in to the dark room, could just make out belongings strewn around.

Filled with dread, she came to Lillian's house. A ‘V' in red paint defaced the front window, and a clumsy Jewish star had been splattered across the front door. In desperation, she rang the bell and thumped on the door. Then she called Lillian's name through the letterbox but heard only her own frantic voice echoing beyond.

Breathless, she stood back from the house and combed the street for any sign of life. But all she found were a few personal items lying amongst shards of glass: a child's hat, a wallet ripped open and a baby's empty feeding bottle.

The air was heavy with malice and Jana visualised the scene of Lillian being wrenched from her home and shoved into a car, just as Michal's mother had been.

Immobilised by sorrow, she stood a moment gazing into the sky, watching the first of the evening stars flicker to life. She wondered if Mama was looking down on the dreadful scene.

I don't understand it, Mama. Any of it.

A gust of wind blew a newspaper down the street, the rustling sound bringing Jana out of her reverie. She sped away, desperate to leave the melancholy scene behind her.