Chapter 3

3

Jana watched out the attic window till she saw her father arrive, then led Michal down the stairs. She opened the front door and peered out, keeping Michal behind her. Papa had the back door of the car open and was arranging the back seat; it was one of those cars where the seat clapped forward, leaving an opening to the boot. Perfect. He turned to her and looked up and down the street. Then gave a quick shake of the head. She waited. Two men in long coats and fedoras passed by. She waited some more. An old woman with a bent back shuffled by. A few more moments passed and then Papa nodded; the coast was clear.

Jana rushed Michal to the back door of the car and he scrambled inside, climbed over the folded seat and crouched down in the boot. She looked down into his wide, trusting eyes.

‘I'll close the seat, but will open it as soon as we're out of town. Don't be scared. We can speak to each other the whole time; you'll still be able to hear me.'

‘I'm not scared,' he said, his voice determined.

‘I know,' she replied and then pulled up the back of the seat before clapping it shut .

Papa started the engine, but instead of getting in the passenger seat, she moved to the driver's side and spoke to him though the open window.

‘I think I should drive alone,' she said. ‘The guards are less suspicious of young girls. They'll see a middle-aged Czech male as more of a threat.'

‘Who are you calling middle aged?' Her father protested with fake indignation. Then he gazed at her, his face troubled.

‘I'll be fine, don't worry,' she said. ‘We have a better chance that way.'

He sighed and climbed out.

Once seated, Jana pushed the gear stick into first and after giving her father a reassuring wave, drove off down the cobbled street.

‘Can you hear me, Michal. Are you all right?' she called.

A small, muffled affirmative came from the back.

The light was fading and Jana flicked the switch on the dashboard for the headlights. As she approached the local Czech restaurant, her three friends from university were already there. They stood outside, Pavel leaning on his father's car, the other boys smoking. Pavel grinned at her and motioned his friends to climb inside. She slowed, allowing them to drive in front of her, before they travelled through the maze of cobbled streets that weaved through the centre of Prague.

Throughout the journey, she shouted encouraging words to Michal, who remained hidden behind the back seat.

Finally, they came to the checkpoint on the outskirts of the city. There were four or five vehicles ahead of her including Pavel. She bit her lip.

‘Not a sound now, Michal. I'll tell you when we're through.'

The army truck and official government car in front were waved through. As she halted behind Pavel, she heard his loud radio music and saw the back of three heads bobbing from side to side. The music was Czech. She gave an inward smile. She had known Pavel would help after she'd paid him a visit that afternoon.

So far, everything was going to plan. Pavel pulled up alongside the patrol hut and Jana inched up behind, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the spotlight. The Wehrmacht soldier frowned and gestured to Pavel to wind down the car window. He did so and leaned out casually. As they exchanged words, the second soldier marched to the boot of Pavel's car and pulled down the door.

Inside the boot was a large cardboard box. The soldier shouted something to the other guard, who motioned Pavel to get out of the car.

Another car drew up behind Jana. Her stomach clenched. She waited. This must work. The car moved slightly as Michal adjusted his position. She wanted to say something reassuring to him but she couldn't risk being seen talking to herself.

Pavel joined the soldier at the boot of his father's car, who then started gesticulating one hand, the other on his pistol. Jana held her breath as Pavel reached into the boot. As the soldier waited for Pavel to heave out the box, he turned to her, peering through the windscreen.

Her breath caught.

He glanced at her empty passenger seat and then with an irritated look, waved her on. Relief swept through her as she pushed her foot on the accelerator.

Moments later, she was heading out into the countryside, leaving the majestic City of a Hundred Spires behind her.

Fat snowflakes danced in a frenzy in the beams of the car headlights. The windscreen wipers could barely keep up as the snow flew at the glass, and Jana had to peer into the darkness through a snow-fringed rectangle of glass. She glanced at Michal beside her; his head lolling to one side as he slept, jolting from time to time as they drove over potholes in the road. After they had left town and reached a quiet spot on the road, she'd called out to him, and he'd pushed the seat down and scrambled to the front of the car. She hadn't even needed to halt.

She checked the petrol gauge; the tank was half full. How had Papa managed to find fuel and the money to pay for it? His friend obviously had contacts on the black market.

When they arrived, it was only just past seven o'clock in the evening but in the thick blackness, it seemed like the middle of the night. Jana gave Michal a gentle shake.

‘We're here,' she said.

The small, wooden house appeared to be in darkness from the outside; heavy drapes closed to keep the cold out.

Jana rapped the round iron knocker. Grandma would have a shock. There wasn't a telephone in her home, so there had been no way of warning her. But even if there was, conversations were routinely monitored by the Nazis, and announcing the arrival of a Jewish refugee would have been far too risky.

Hearing the creak of floorboards on the other side of the door, Jana called out, ‘Babi, It's Jana.'

The door opened and in the dim light of an oil lamp stood her dear Babi, grey, tousled hair in whisps around her face. She wore her favourite full-length, crimson, wool housecoat and old, fur-lined slippers.

She looked at Jana and her young companion with an expression of shock mixed with pleasure, and ushered them in.

‘Jana, I wish I'd known. I would have baked or cooked?— '

‘Don't worry, Babi. Everything happened so fast.'

They sat in front of the small open fire. The few pieces of coal that lay there would not burn for long. Babi usually went to bed early to conserve fuel and buried herself under layers of blankets.

‘And who is this handsome young man you've brought to visit me?' Jana's grandmother said, looking at Michal with kind eyes.

‘This is Michal. Papa thought you would be happy to look after him for a little while till his parents return,' said Jana, choosing her words carefully and giving her grandma a meaningful look.

‘How wonderful,' she said, clapping her hands. ‘I love company.'

Then, she busied herself in the kitchen, rustling up some supper with her meagre provisions. Jana added the day-old bread that she'd brought from home. It never ceased to amaze her how young and fit her grandma was. When Jana thought of the typical grandma as portrayed in most stories she'd read, she always thought how her Babi was nothing like them. She had been only nineteen when she had given birth to her first child and at sixty-seven was not really old.

They put Michal to bed in the room where her father had slept as a boy, a room he'd shared with his elder brother, who sadly had died in the Great War. Once Michal was asleep, Jana told her grandmother the full story of their escape from Prague. When she came to the part about the guard ordering Pavel to pull the box out of the car, she paused, biting her lip.

‘What was in the box?' asked Babi.

‘Just old clothes. The box was meant purely as a distraction,' Jana replied. ‘I hope Pavel won't get into trouble.'

‘Had the boys been drinking? '

‘No, they were just singing along to the radio, that's all.'

‘Well, it's hardly against the law to drive old clothes around and have a bit of a singsong.'

Jana gave a wry smile. ‘So long as you're not singing the Czech national anthem.'

Babi nodded and gazed into the dying embers of the fire. ‘Michal will be safe here with me,' she said. ‘The Nazis won't bother with an old woman, living out in the country.'

‘You're not old.' Jana smiled.

‘I can pretend to be,' she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

‘You must be careful. If anyone comes knocking, send Michal straight up to the attic. I don't like putting you in danger?—'

‘Don't you worry about me.' She gave a mischievous grin. ‘I like a bit of adventure.' She tapped the side of her head with her forefinger. ‘And I'm sharp.'

Once the fire was out, they turned in for the night, Jana climbing into the spare bed beside Michal where her uncle had slept as a small boy. Hearing Michal's gentle breathing, Jana's mind drifted back to her happy childhood, filled with the magic of her mother's books, and their stories performed by her father. Her parents had built a small puppet theatre at home and Jana had been proud to bring her excited friends to watch plays. Papa had been taught by his father; the heritage of puppetry stretched back generations. Tomorrow, she would show Michal her grandpa's workshop at the back of the house. Although Grandpa had died eight years ago, Babi had not touched the workshop since; a half-finished puppet and his tools were still spread around as if he would return at any moment.

She thought of Michal. What would his childhood look like now if his parents weren't released? What would happen to his unborn sibling? Tears pricked against her closed eyelids. No, she must stay positive, she told herself, stilling the wave of sadness. She would make further enquiries about his parents' whereabouts when she returned to Prague.

At some point in the night, the mattress dipped as Michal climbed in beside her. She pulled him close and stroked his back till his body stilled and she could hear his steady breathing.