Chapter 28

28

Jana would have liked to throw herself against his chest and curl her arms around his neck. She dreamed how he would hold her tight, murmuring words of comfort and stroking her hair. But here, in the real world, a young, petite secretary stood by Andrej's side, notepad and pen in her hand. Jana stood rooted to the spot, waiting for Andrej to address her.

He nodded at the secretary who left, closing the door behind her.

‘Ah, Miss Jana Hajek,' he said in a loud, formal voice. ‘Please, take a seat.'

Despite his tone, his face was full of concern.

‘Thank you, sir,' she said for the benefit of the secretary who might be lingering outside the door, or the man in the next room with his ear against the wall; she was surrounded by the enemy. The only raft afloat in this poisonous ocean was the man who now held her gaze.

His worried expression told her how awful she must look: her clothes crumpled, her hair unkempt, her eyes sore from lack of sleep. He too was clearly under stress. It was the first time she'd seen him unshaven, a shadow covering his chin and upper lip. An impulse surged to run a finger over the stubble above his mouth, but instead she merely ran a tongue over her dry lips.

Responding to her action, he poured a glass of water from a jug on his desk and placed it in front of her. She reached for the glass, her fingers brushing his. He let his hand linger for a heartbeat before picking up a pen and studying a form in front of him. As she gulped down the water, she glanced at the clock; she had been in the cell eight hours without a drink.

‘I have some questions…' he began, again in an exaggerated loud voice.

She played along as he asked her about her duties at the castle, the length of time she'd been working there and the last time she'd seen Heydrich. She tensed when she heard the name. Was the man still alive? But Andrej gave nothing away and continued with the routine questions, making notes of her answers.

Finally, he put his pen down and looked at her with dark, intense eyes that flickered with emotion. She grew warm under his gaze, the pull of their connection making her heart yearn. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard and got to his feet.

‘Staff will not be required at Prague Castle until further notice. Thank you for your co-operation, Miss Hajek.'

The interview finished, she stood up. Andrej moved to her side of the desk and after a glance at the door, he leaned in to her. His breath was warm on her ear as he whispered, ‘Destroy all messages at the shop.' She breathed in his earthy scent.

Then, after a tiny nod, she turned her head, so that her cheek brushed against his mouth. Her exhaustion had evaporated and every nerve ending in her body tingled. Her stomach quivered .

He stepped back. ‘You are free to leave now.'

And that was it. He walked to the door, opened it and indicated for her to go.

For a moment, she was lost. She needed more: questions answered, advice, but most of all his closeness. The fatigue returned, enveloping her in a mantel so heavy, she could barely stand. She wrenched herself from him and stumbled outside into the midday sunshine.

Papa cried with relief when she entered the apartment, and although all she wanted to do was sleep, she told him what had happened at the police station and how after some routine questions, she'd been allowed to leave. She didn't of course give any indication that she knew the investigating officer.

Finally, she had one more thing to do before she could rest. Downstairs in the bookshop, she withdrew the bookmark from The Gardener's Diary and slipped out the coded message within. In the kitchen at the back, she took the box of matches and set the piece of paper alight above the sink. The smell of burning paper filled her nostrils and seconds later, she turned on the tap and washed away the charred remains.

She was safe now, she tried to tell herself as she trudged up the stairs. And if she was safe then so were the many people connected to her. But was that really true? What about the contacts who had come to the shop: the tram driver, the woman with the artificial limp and others? If they were questioned, might they be persuaded either by threats, violence or bribery to give names? She knew that such a scenario could not be ruled out.

When she awoke, she was lying on her back, her right palm on her locket, the dream from last night still sharp in her mind. Mama had been in the bookshop rearranging the shelves when the door flew open and German soldiers rushed in wielding guns. Mama had looked around, a pile of books in her arms, and screamed. A soldier waved his rifle at her and she raised her hands in surrender. The books tumbled to the floor, their covers splayed, their bindings broken. The soldiers laughed and kicked at the pages that had come loose, and one went to the kitchen and returned with the box of matches. In her sleep, Jana had known what was coming, and tried to redirect the dream, but it refused to be swayed. The books were torched. Mama's gold book locket flashed at her neck as the tornado of flames rose and Jana knew both her and the books were gone forever. ‘It's a sin to burn books,' her mother's voice whispered in her brain.

Jana took deep breaths to calm her pounding heart and dragged herself from her dreamworld back to reality. It was hardly better. The drone of the news broadcaster pulled her from her bed. She slid into her slippers and padded into the sitting room, still in her nightdress. Her father was already dressed and sipping chicory coffee from his favourite mug. She kissed him on the cheek.

‘Any news?' It was the third morning after the attack.

‘Plenty. And none of it good.'

She sat next to him on the settee. ‘Tell me.'

‘The reward has gone up. It seems if you know the wanted men, you can get rich or get shot.'

The Nazi threats had started immediately; anyone found aiding Heydrich's attackers would be executed along with their families. Red bilingual posters were splashed all over town offering either rewards for information or warnings of death. The citizens of Prague were on high alert as the dramatic events unfolded. Jana heard the whispers in food queues – the attackers were heroes – comments from customers in the bookshop – the attackers were foolhardy. She heard stories from friends. Dasha had said the Wehrmacht had raided the apartment block where she lived; dozens were arrested and a neighbour, a quiet young man, had been shot dead. The Germans were openly declaring the number of executions each day, although it wasn't always clear if these were acts of revenge or punishment. And the question on everyone's lips: was Heydrich recovering?

An hour later, as Jana unlocked the bookshop door, she thought about the other women she had shared the packed police cell with. Had her manager, Miss Jezek, been released? Now that employment had been suspended at the castle, she had no way of knowing.

She opened the drawer of the till and started to count the cash, but her thoughts wandered to Andrej and the charade the two of them had played in his office. How many times had she been forced to restrain her feelings for him? Was it as hard for him as it was for her? To be honest, she didn't know if he had any feelings for her at all. In fact, she realised, she didn't know him at all. The thought made her sad.

Just before lunch, Dasha appeared in the shop. ‘Have you got time for a break?'

Jana looked around the empty shop. ‘Looks like I do,' she said.

As the two friends walked into the sunshine, Dasha explained that her mother-in-law was babysitting.

‘Where shall we eat?' she asked. They both had taken their meagre lunch with them .

‘Down by the river. I can't bear the town centre at the moment, swarming with troops and police.'

Things weren't much better on the banks of the Vltava. Soldiers lined the Charles Bridge and marched along the embankment. The girls sat down, spreading their dresses on the grass and tucking their legs beneath them. They munched on their dark, heavy bread. Jana's was five days old; she had been slicing the loaf as thinly as possible to make it last the week.

‘Do you think you'll be questioned as you work in the castle?' said Dasha.

‘I already have.'

Dasha stopped chewing and stared at her. Jana went on to explain.

‘Goodness. How frightening,' Dasha said.

‘It was.' Jana sighed.

Jana longed to share more; she had underestimated the burden of secrecy. The only person who knew she was involved in resistance activities was Andrej, and it was too dangerous, especially now, to see or speak to him.

Dasha shuffled up closer and lowered her voice.

‘Do you ever wish you could do something to help? Sometimes, I feel guilty for just sitting back and watching events unfold around me.'

‘You help at the church,' Jana said.

‘Yes, but is that enough? There are brave citizens that are fighting back against the Germans, whereas people like us are just passive observers.'

Jana shifted, feeling uncomfortable. Was Dasha fishing for information? Did she know something?

‘What do you think of Heydrich's attackers?' Dasha continued.

‘You mean the question everyone is asking: heroes or fools? '

Dash nodded and popped the last morsel of bread inside her mouth.

Jana considered it for a few moments before answering.

‘They are heroes. Their courage to stand up against the Nazis is a symbol of hope. It shows even one of the highest-ranking SS officers is vulnerable.'

‘But the attack didn't succeed.'

‘No. But the attempt has lifted our Czech spirit, given us a voice. The news will have gone round the world; we will be seen again. Visible so that the allies don't forget us.'

Nearby, a ferry docked, and the travellers from the far bank were met by soldiers, questioned and searched. A steam boat chugged past.

‘Have you heard any news from Lenka?' asked Dasha.

Jana shook her head. ‘I hope she's all right.' Her own words sounded stupid to her. Of course Lenka was not all right. Jana had seen the conditions her friend was living under. ‘I'm not sure when I'll hear from her again now we have this uproar going on.'

How could she pass letters on to Andrej when she had to keep her distance from him?

‘The war must end soon,' Jana said, trying to convince herself as much as Dasha. ‘Germany has taken on Russia and America. It's just a matter of time.'

‘Let's hope the allies remember our tiny country.'

‘They will now.'

Over the next couple of days, the tension escalated. More troops poured into the city. The police were jittery, reaching for their pistols unprovoked, and the Gestapo slid in and out of apartment buildings. Jana decided to not go out at lunchtime any more but took a stool and a book into the backyard for her break. Each day, the Germans were becoming angrier that the culprits were still at large, and the reprisals were growing greater. Then, one week after the attack, when Jana and her father gathered in front of the radio for the latest broadcast, the news came:

Reinhard Heydrich was dead.

Jana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She stared wide-eyed at her father, shocked and yet excited. The assailants had been successful in their assassination. The Butcher of Prague was dead. He hadn't survived his wounds. No longer would he terrorise the Czech people whom he'd called vermin, whose spirit and culture he'd systematically set out to destroy.

‘They did it. He's gone.' Jana exhaled a long breath.

‘Yes.' Papa gave a slow nod.

A flash of annoyance at his lacklustre response heated her cheeks.

‘I'm glad,' she said, defiance in her voice. ‘He deserved it.'

‘He definitely deserved it,' said Papa, ‘but what comes next?'

‘A resurgent of resistance against the Nazis. An uprising!' Adrenaline pumping, she rose from the chair and paced the sitting room. ‘Don't you see, Papa, this is what we've been waiting for.'

In the days that followed, Jana was fraught with emotions that swung between elation and despair; the Czechs were fighting back, the Czechs were being imprisoned and shot. The city was holding its breath as day after day, the sounds of fists on doors and boots on stone reverberated around the city .

One late Thursday morning, two weeks after the death of Heydrich, Jana was on her way to the grocery shop wondering how long the food queue would be, when a boy darted in front of her. Hopping out of her way at the last moment, he spun round and aiming two fingers and a thumb at a second boy, shouted, ‘Bang, bang.'

Jana halted a moment to watch the boys as they ‘fired' at each other, one proclaiming the other ‘dead.' So sad to witness how the occupation influenced their play. Or was it sad? Maybe their choice of game helped them to deal with the world around them, protected them.

A woman in a lilac dress, an apron tied at her waist, appeared at a nearby doorway. She thrust her hands on her hips. ‘You two get right back in here at once.'

‘But, you said we can play, Mama.'

‘Well, I've changed my mind. Get inside. Now.' The woman caught Jana looking at her. ‘I wouldn't go into town,' she said. ‘All hell will've let loose down there.'

‘Why? What's happened?'

The woman waited until the boys had slumped past her into the building before answering.

‘I just heard news on the radio. They've found the attackers, poor souls, holed up in that church on Resslova Street; the SS have surrounded the building.'

Jana's heart plummeted. She mumbled a thank you to the woman and sped back the way she came, eager to get home and listen to the latest bulletin. She ran up to the apartment, alerted her father, and the two of them held their breath as the radio crackled to life. Papa adjusted the dial impatiently to reduce the static, and the announcer's voice boomed into the room. There was a trace of glee in his tone.

‘…the two perpetrators of this heinous crime have been hu nted down and are now under siege at the Church of Saints Cyril and Methodius. It is believed that five other criminals have also taken refuge there. The church is now surrounded by hundreds of troops, the SS, and police…'

‘Oh, no,' whispered Jana. ‘They can't escape now.'

She'd prayed so hard that the men would somehow evade capture, hide in the mountains, slip out of the country. But it seemed they hadn't even made it out of Prague.

She sat with Papa in silence, transfixed, not wanting to hear the news, yet desperate to know the outcome. The siege went on for hours, seven men holding off the might of the German army. It became clear there would be no surrender, no arrests or trials.

Finally, the announcement came: the men had fought to the death.

‘Heroes,' said Jana and heaved a sob.

‘They were brave men.' Papa put an arm around Jana's shoulders.

‘Well, I hope the Nazis are satisfied now,' she said, shedding angry tears. ‘They have what they wanted and can stop terrifying everyone.' She wiped her hot face with the back of her hand. ‘They can leave us all in peace now.'