Chapter 23

23

Most of the garden had been turned into a vegetable patch, and the first green sprouts poked through the earth. Jana sat with Lenka's parents on the back porch of their modest house in the picturesque village of Lidice.

‘I've planted carrots, turnips and potatoes and a few herbs.' Lenka's mother, Marie, waved her arm at the garden. ‘That, with the eggs from our chickens, is more than enough to keep us going. Isn't it, dear?' She flicked something from her husband's trouser leg.

Lenka's father nodded amiably and sipped at his barley coffee.

‘Do you miss Prague?' asked Jana.

‘Of course life is very different from when we lived there, but we had no choice. When our business went bankrupt in the thirties, it made sense to join my sister and her family here in this small mining village. Actually, we're very settled here. I have a very nice job at the school; so lovely to be surrounded by children. Stanislav is too old to work in the mines but he has a job at the metal factory, don't you, dear? '

Stanislav smiled, knowing an answer wasn't required.

‘We were so happy when Lenka studied in Prague and got married. And we became grandparents…'

Marie's nervous chatter faltered and her face crumpled. Her husband reached out and clasped her hand as she heaved a racking sob. She shook her head, indicating she was unable to continue.

‘We've received one letter from Lenka,' Stanislav said in a low voice. ‘She said little, just that her and the baby were doing well. Have you heard anything different?'

‘The same as you,' Jana replied, ‘but I do know she's not being kept in prison and is allowed to live freely within the Terezin fortress. I'm hoping to find out more and will keep you informed.'

Jana looked at Marie, who was crying openly now. She sniffed loudly and Stanislav pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and tenderly dabbed at her tears.

A hard lump formed in Jana's throat. How terrible it must be to have your daughter at the hands of the Nazis and be unable to do anything about it. She felt a swell of affection for this warm-hearted couple who had always made her so welcome at their home, and at their kindness when Jana had lost her mother. If only there was something she could do to ease their pain. The idea of getting donations of clothes and books into Terezin via the Red Cross wouldn't let her go. She'd spoken to Miss Novak about aiding the visit and now visualised getting inside the fortress town herself. Then somehow, she would find Lenka and her baby.

After a pleasant – and often emotional – few hours, Lenka's parents accompanied her back to the bus stop, showing her the village on the way. Marie pointed out the school where she worked, and they took a few minutes to stand outside the small church. Beside it was an orchard where apple blossom bobbed in the breeze. Two young girls lay on their stomachs in the grass, reading books.

‘It's very peaceful, here,' remarked Jana as they crossed a small square.

‘That's why I like it so much,' said Marie. ‘And the people here are very friendly and community minded, always ready to lend a helping hand.'

A silver-haired woman on a bicycle gave a cheery wave as she rode past.

‘That's the school mistress. Lovely lady,' whispered Marie.

It occurred to Jana in that moment that she'd never heard Lenka's mother speak ill of anyone.

They reached the bus stop where Marie and Stanislav waited with Jana until the bus trundled up the road. They all hugged each other fiercely, promising to keep in touch. Marie's parting words were, ‘Pray for Lenka.'

‘Of course,' said Jana and kissed her cheek before climbing aboard. She took a place by the window and waved as the bus juddered forward, twisting in her seat to take a final look at the couple before they disappeared from view. She would visit them again soon.

As days passed into May, contacts appeared more frequently at the bookshop. Occasionally, one that had been before: the tram driver, the woman who limped but had a healthy leg. She sensed a new urgency from the resistance: her increased observance orders, the regular contacts. And there was a charged energy in the air as Prague erupted into spring and the city glowed golden in the sunlight .

After lunch on the second Sunday in May, Jana had a whole afternoon at her disposal. She would walk down to the Vltava River and find a quiet spot to read. Feeling too warm in her long-sleeved blouse, she went to her wardrobe and pulled out her favourite summer dress – yellow and floaty with short sleeves and a print of tiny, white daisies. Her mother's gold locket sat perfectly above the sweetheart neckline.

Feeling romantic in the dress, she did a little twirl in the mirror, and then for no reason other than to please herself, she applied a dab of face powder and a pale-peach lipstick. She brushed out her hair and left it loose on her shoulders, and completed the outfit with a wide-brimmed sun hat. Picking up her copy of Jane Eyre , she set off.

As she walked through Prague Old Town, a light breeze ruffled the hem of her dress. Despite the occupation, nature continued to weave its magic and spring had brought out the lovers in Prague. And she was alone. A wave of self-pity rose but she quashed it. She would enjoy a few hours disappearing into her book and try, even for a short while, to retreat from reality.

She sauntered towards the river, which was fringed with trees heavy with blossom. Swans glided along the blue water, sending ripples across reflections of the grand buildings that lined the riverbank. Two white butterflies, the first she had seen this year, fluttered in front of her. She let out a deep sigh and breathed in the sweet scent of spring. And then she saw him.

Andrej.

A jaunty walk and a newspaper clutched under his arm as he mingled with the Sunday crowds. He wore light-grey trousers and a white shirt, the collar open, no tie. He'd exchanged his police cap for a cream boater with a black band, and looked as handsome and relaxed as movie star, Clark Gable. Her heart skipped as she fell in line behind him, keeping her distance .

She meandered after him, hiding amongst families bearing picnic baskets and blankets, and groups of teenagers horsing around. He stopped under a tree. She halted and watched him sit down, his back against the trunk, and shake out his newspaper. And now? What should she do now? In another life, she would run up to him, exclaiming what a coincidence it was to see him. And he would tell her to join him. They would chat and laugh, watching people walk by, and he'd take her hand and lean over to kiss her.

A shrill scream close to her shook her from her fantasies and she looked across at a small boy having a tantrum in his pushchair. People glanced up at the noise briefly. Including Andrej.

She froze as his face registered surprise at seeing her. He looked at her questioningly, but she just stared back at him. She should just walk away but as she started to play with her locket nervously, he stood, gestured with a nod to follow him, and walked further on down the river bank.

He strolled slowly, as if measuring his long-legged stride to her shorter one. She held her distance as they left the crowds behind them and the stone embankment dwindled to a low wall then to a gravel path on the edge of the water. Ducks splashed in the reeds alongside her. The river was quiet here, the current slower. To her right was a derelict building, the iron gates padlocked. They passed under linden trees, their yellow flowers beginning to bloom. She wondered where he was leading her.

Finally, he stopped by a spot where trees, shrubs and long grass hid the view of the water's edge. He checked the area around them, then motioned her to follow before darting through the bushes and disappearing. She gave a furtive glance over her shoulder and went after him.

Passing through bushes and bright-yellow forsythia shrubs, she came to a secluded, stony beach. A small disused steam boat half out of the water was tethered to a rusty pole; the boat reminded her of the small passenger ferries of her childhood. Andrej appeared from the wood cabin and reached out an arm.

Heart fluttering, she let him haul her up over the side and they entered the cabin.

He sat on the floor, his back against the cabin wall, his head just below the window.

‘If we stay down here, we won't be seen,' he said, patting the space next to him.

She slid down beside him, her legs straight in front of her, arranging the folds of her dress to cover her knees. She felt self-conscious as he watched her every movement.

‘We'll be safe here for a while,' he said. ‘Has something urgent happened?'

‘Oh, no. Why do you ask?' She was confused why he'd brought her here.

‘When I saw you on the embankment, I thought you were looking for me because something had happened. I led you here so you could tell me.'

This was embarrassing; she couldn't say she'd been following him simply because her heart had skipped when she'd spotted him, that feelings of romance and the promises of spring had drawn her to him.

‘Everything is fine. It was just a coincidence I saw you.'

Even as the words left her mouth, she thought how stupid they were. Nothing was fine. She so badly wanted to tell him about Heydrich's letter to Himmler, but she had decided to keep to her orders and inform her contacts only. Now she was uncertain, so she moved to a safer topic.

‘Thank you for saving Karolina's husband from the Gestapo.'

‘It's not that simple.' He sighed. ‘I managed to keep him out of their hands here, but Terezin prison is run by the Gestapo. I can't make promises for his future.'

They fell silent. Jana gave him a shy look. ‘I'm glad I ran into you today.'

‘Me too,' he said, a rare smile touching his lips. She looked at his mouth, her own instinctively parting.

He leaned over and they kissed. Deeply. He moved his lips to brush the base of her throat, a feather of kisses to her collarbone. She stretched back her neck with a small gasp as her skin tingled and heat spread through her. This was so decadent, romance on the floor of an old steamboat. This could be their illicit meeting place, where they could be together, talk, touch, love.

He ran his fingers along the neckline of her dress, and she ached to feel his touch on her breasts. But instead, he drew back and gently lifted her gold locket in his fingers.

‘A book, so fitting for you.'

‘It was my mother's,' she said, short of breath, ‘an anniversary gift from my father.'

‘It must have been very hard to lose your mother so young.' He sat back, visibly trying to compose himself, distracting his passion.

‘I was twenty, technically an adult. But I felt like a child. I wasn't in any way prepared to face my life without her…' Her voice drifted away, emotion threatening to overcome her.

They were silent for a moment as he placed the locket softly back against her skin. She didn't want to talk about herself; she knew nothing about him and had so many questions she wanted to ask.

‘Tell me more about your family. I know you have a mother who you bought a book for when it was her birthday.' She reached out and stroked the back of his neck .

‘My mother is the only family I have. My father died in the Great War when I was just one year old. I have no memories of him, just a few blurry photographs. But I feel I know him through my mother's stories.'

‘And your mother never married again?'

‘She loved my father too much, she said, to want to another man in her life. Anyway, there were hardly any men left after the war. And then came the Spanish influenza. The country was full of widows. But nevertheless, there was a new wave of hope sweeping the land. We were a democratic nation, a new country, Czechoslovakia. Twenty years of freedom, something my father lost his life for.'

He paused.

Jana continued, ‘And then came the Germans, chopping off pieces of our country before invading what was left of us.'

She watched his eyes cloud over and then dropped her head to his shoulder. His arm curled around her waist. She shifted and, tucking her legs beneath her dress, snuggled against him, breathing him in.

‘Is that why you do what you do?' she asked, glancing at his profile, but knowing the answer to her own question.

He said nothing, but his chest heaved. Then she asked something she'd wanted to know for a long time.

‘Has there ever been someone important in your life?'

She judged him to be about twenty-eight. Surely, he'd been in love at some time. In fact, most men his age were married.

‘Yes,' he said, quietly. ‘But that was a long time ago, now. In my line of work, it's for the best I'm no longer in a relationship.'

His words were shards in her heart. What was she then? Nothing. What were the kisses they'd just shared? Nothing. What on earth did he think they were doing right this moment? The brief spell had shattered. She pulled away from him and sprung to her feet.

‘I think I should go.' Her voice was tight.

He grabbed her hand. ‘I'm sorry. That sounded harsh. It's not that I don't like you, it's just?—'

‘No, really, I understand.' She yanked her hand free and strode to the cabin door. ‘Bye, then.' She threw the words over her shoulder and ran across the stony beach, half expecting him to call her back.

He didn't.

Fighting back the tears, she exited through the small clearing in the bushes and gave out a cry.

Pavel stood grim-faced, arms crossed in front of him, his eyes challenging.

‘What are you doing here?' she stammered.

‘Oh, Jana. You of all people. How could you?'

Her mouth fell open, but the confusion in her brain would not allow her to speak.

Pavel shook his head. ‘You can't give your affections to me, a loyal, caring friend. But you throw them at a fascist policeman.'

‘Have you been following me?'

‘Watching, I'd say.'

‘Why?' Her voice was shrill.

He shrugged. ‘Looking after you, I suppose.'

‘You've been spying on me?'

‘You'd know all about spying.' He cocked his head.

Her chest tightened. Did he know about her work at Prague Castle? She tried to gather her thoughts. What was happening here? Pavel had, aside from Lenka, been her best friend. She'd confided so much in him; Pavel always there with a listening ear, a comforting word. He knew her well. Too well .

‘Does your fascist pig of a boyfriend know about the little Jew boy we smuggled out together?'

The venom in his voice shocked her; this couldn't be Pavel talking.

‘Don't use that tone with me. And Andrej is not my boyfriend.'

‘Oh, Andrej, is it? On first name terms, are we?' A mocking smile played across his small mouth.

She cringed at herself for her stupid mistake. But what was more worrying was Pavel's reference to Michal. She fought the impulse to snap back that Andrej not only knew about Michal, but had helped smuggle out two further children.

‘I think we should end this conversation,' she said, nervous that Andrej would appear any moment. She moved to bypass Pavel, but he sidestepped and stood in her way.

‘Is this how you treat your friends?' His eyes had turned sad.

‘I'm sorry,' she said over the lump in her throat.

‘Sorry for what? Using me?'

‘I never used you.'

‘Stop lying to yourself.' He stepped aside, waving out his arm in a weary gesture. ‘Go.'

Not knowing what more to say, she sped away, her head spinning with Andrej and Pavel, kisses and rejection, dangerous secrets, children in jeopardy. What had started out as the most beautiful day that had held so much promise, had ended up in only one thing. Disaster.