Chapter 29

29

A soft, summer rain pattered against the bedroom window; a musical sound, thought Jana, romantic. She squinted at the alarm clock beside her bed. It was still early, so she closed her eyes again and allowed her thoughts to linger on Andrej. Her favourite place to imagine him was on that deserted little steamboat, hidden behind the trees and bushes. Now, in mid-June, the green foliage would be dense; the light through the cabin window would shine dappled onto the wooden floor, shadows from the trees shifting as the leaves trembled in the breeze.

A huge sigh escaped her lips as she relived kisses they'd shared, looks they'd exchanged. There had been so few opportunities for them to be alone together that she could remember every precious encounter between them: from when he'd come to the bookshop searching for a gift for his mother's birthday, to his face at the checkpoint as the bus passed by with her and the sisters seated aboard. It amazed her how only a handful of occasions could ignite such intense feelings inside her. And all the fear and drama of the past few weeks made her want him more than ever: to talk to, to share her thoughts with, to make love to .

She rose and went to greet her father good morning. As always, he was up and dressed before her, and listening to the radio. He sat in the armchair with his back to her, a tuft of hair on the back of his head sticking out. An image flashed across her mind: how Mama would smooth down that exact same stubborn patch for him, a tender smile on her face. Jana moved to do the same but catching a familiar name from the broadcast, she froze to the spot.

‘…We will not hide what happened last night in Lidice?—'

Papa switched off the radio.

She stiffened. Lidice? That was the village where Lenka's parents lived, where she had visited them and sat in their garden.

A guttural noise came from Papa's throat and his head fell into his hands.

She rushed to him and touched his shoulder. ‘Whatever's happened?'

He turned to look at her, eyes welling with tears. ‘It's gone,' he mumbled.

‘What's gone?'

‘The village. Lidice. Burnt to the ground.'

‘No!' She went to kneel in front of him and grabbed his hands. ‘Tell me.'

‘The Germans stormed the village last night. They executed every single man and took all the women and children. Then the village was torched. The Germans are openly broadcasting that the destruction of Lidice is a reprisal for the assassination.'

‘But they are innocent people.'

How could even the Nazis act in such a brutal way?

Cold fear filled her. ‘Where are the women and children? Lenka's parents live there. '

‘They're not saying what will happen to them. Nobody seems to know where they are.'

‘Oh, Papa. That's terrible, that's horrific…' Her words tailed away and she lay her head on her folded arms across his knees like when she was a child. All the while, her father stroked her hair.

Unable to bear more newscasts, Jana went down to the bookshop. She kept the shop closed and sat curled in the armchair, staring unseeing at the bookshelves. She had silently celebrated the death of Heydrich, the most feared and hated man oppressing their land; the assassins were heroes who had stood up against the Nazi terror. Isn't that what one should do? Stand up and say what is right, whatever the consequences? But then no one had anticipated retribution on this scale. Arrests, yes. But mass murder? She couldn't imagine the horror the people in Lidice had faced; she didn't want to imagine it. Lenka's parents – kind, gentle people who had nothing to do with any of it.

But you did , a grim voice in her head told her.

She let out a moan as guilt swept over her, crushing her breast, squeezing the breath from her lungs.

She was responsible; she had spied on Heydrich, noting his arrival times and supplied the resistance with information. It was no use telling herself that her messages had been merely required to build a picture of the Protektor 's movements. What had she thought the information was for? She had wished him dead on more than one occasion. And she'd got her wish. But the cost, my God, the cost…

Her hand went to her mouth and she sucked on the fleshy part at the base of her thumb. Had she thought it noble and brave to leave coded messages in bookmarks, using the bookshop as some sort of secret post office? Her jaw trembled and she pressed her palm against her teeth. Stupid, stupid, na?ve woman, playing spies, reckless games – she bit down into her soft, tender skin. Irresponsible, selfish, stupid, stupid . Grinding her teeth into her flesh, the pain ripped through her but still she didn't stop until she tasted blood, metallic on her tongue, then she pulled at her hair, caught in a whirlwind of torment. Eventually, her energy spent, she gazed down at the fistful of hair and let it drift to the floor. She would pull out a strand of hair for every life lost, she would – but exhaustion overcame her and all she could do was take deep, shuddering breaths and cry hot, desolate tears.

The next days passed in a blur. Jana kept the shop closed and spent her time huddled in the armchair seeking solace in books, but it didn't come, her mind throwing endless recriminations at her. In the mornings, she pulled out strands of her hair and draped them on top of her chest of drawers. One evening, she sat on her bed in her underwear gazing at the tender white skin of her thighs. She thought of Lenka in the stifling barracks and imagined her receiving news of her parents. Jana scooped up the pencil from her bedside table and plunged the point into her leg. The lead broke but she continued to stab herself, clenching her jaw to stop herself from crying out.

At night, she thought about all the questions she wanted to ask Andrej. She had so many questions to ask him. What did he know about Lidice? If Lenka's father was dead, what had happened to her mother? And there was the question that burned in her brain. Had he known about the plan to attack Heydrich?

She thought about ways to contact him. Simply walk into the police station and ask to see him? Or maybe she could hang around outside and wait for him to show up. But she had no idea what shifts he worked. A while ago, they'd agreed that if she removed all the bookmarks from the display, it meant she needed to talk to him.

The following morning, Jana scrambled into the window and removed all the bookmarks. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the shop door. She knew she had to face people but a part of her hoped there would be no customers today.

Sitting behind the cash register, she stared out the window, willing Andrej to pass by.

The day dragged on. There were no customers and no sign of Andrej. She only left her lookout post for a few moments at a time, to fetch a drink, something to eat or use the bathroom. Mid-afternoon, an elderly woman came into the shop looking for a book for her grandson. Jana was forced to leave her watch and move to the children's section where she couldn't see the window.

‘Terrible, isn't it?' said the woman. She had pale, watery eyes and deep lines between her brows. ‘Those poor people in Lidice. Doesn't bear thinking about.'

‘No, it doesn't,' said Jana, a pang in her chest. This was exactly why she didn't want to see people; everyone would be talking about the mass murder of the villagers.

The woman went on, talking of the news reports she'd heard. Jana finally managed to bring her attention back to children's books and the woman left half an hour later with her purchase. Hearing the details of the massacre from the woman was more information than she wanted to hear, and feeling drained, she locked the door once more. She perched herself back on the stool and stared out the window.

The front of the nightclub was boarded up; a padlock hung on the door. Jana had decided to come here even though she hadn't caught sight of Andrej, in the hope she'd missed him. It was seven o'clock, the exact time they'd met here in the past. But then the place hadn't been boarded up. Even with the key, Andrej wouldn't be able to get in.

A man and woman ambled by and threw her a curious glance. She hurried on.

In the vague hope that Andrej might turn up, she walked around the block and came back up the street. He wasn't there. Ever more desperate, she walked again and again around the block, but finally slumped home just ahead of curfew.

After several days of hiding at the back of the closed bookshop, she decided to no longer hide from her crimes, unlocked the door and turned the sign to Open . She blinked as the sunshine streamed inside, highlighting dust motes dancing in the breeze from the open door. She dragged her feet to the kitchen to fetch a duster.

Her head was under the sink when she heard the clang of the bell over the shop door. Goodness, she'd only just opened up and the first customer had arrived. Breathing deeply to compose herself, she walked back into the shop.

Her heart took a double beat. Andrej. He had come.

He wore a pale-blue shirt tucked into grey trousers, which hung loose around his waist. Like everyone else, he'd lost weight. His eyes were dark against his ashen skin. He was freshly shaven, a nick from his razor red on his chin .

‘Hello, Jana. How are you?' His voice was gentle.

‘I don't know, really. We need to talk.'

‘Yes, I thought so.' He gestured behind him to the window. ‘Our code. I need to talk too. Do you remember the way to the disused steamboat?'

She nodded.

‘Can you meet me there at seven this evening?'

‘I'll be there.'

Silence stretched between them as their eyes met. Then he gave a ghost of a smile and left.