Chapter 30

30

Winding her way alongside the embankment, Jana thought about all the things she would say to him, her pulse racing. It was a long list and she struggled to know where to start.

As she neared the spot where she thought the steamboat was hidden, she slowed her pace. The riverside was now lined with thick, green foliage and everything looked different; she was unsure. She had just passed the locked-up, derelict building on her right, so the opening through the trees should be on her left. Only there was no opening; the bushes and trees entwined with each other. The low sun broke from the clouds and she shielded her eyes with her hand. Where was the entrance?

Her eyes ran over the ground, dense yellow with dandelions. There was a spot where a few were crushed. Footprints leading into the bushes. This was the place.

She pushed her way through, releasing her clothes as they caught on branches. She wore the same clothes as this morning: a short-sleeved, white blouse and a green skirt that fell just below her knees. Before she'd left home, she'd brushed her hair, leaving it loose. A memory sprung up of Andrej ripping the hat from her head as they'd embraced in the nightclub, and her face grew hot. Then she scolded herself for allowing such thoughts in these terrible times.

It was a relief when she emerged onto the narrow, stony beach and caught sight of the boat. She approached, pebbles crunching under her feet. The boat was half hidden by a broad-trunked weeping willow, its elegant, yellow-green fingers dipping into the river; two swans drifted in its shade. The trill of a bird's evening song filled the air and a red squirrel darted back into the bushes at the sound of her tread.

Andrej appeared on deck and reached out an arm to help her on board. He led her quickly inside the cabin, which was dark in the shade of the willow. She took a moment to catch her breath and started when his hand went to her head as if to stroke her. But he merely pulled a leaf from her hair and tossed it on the floor. He wore the same blue shirt as that morning, the top buttons undone, revealing a dark curl of hair.

‘I'm sorry you spent so long in the cell. As soon as I saw your name, I did what I could to get you out of there as quickly as possible,' he said.

‘I'm grateful. But please tell me about Lidice. It's horrendous what happened to those poor people.'

He ran a hand through his ink-black hair. ‘Come, let's sit down.'

She sat down on the floor, her whole body wound tight with nerves. He joined her and gave a heavy sigh before he started to speak.

‘I'm shocked at the brutal reprisal from the Germans. It was to be expected they would take some action, but this is beyond comprehension. Normally, the Germans like to cover up their crimes. But this time, they want the Czechs to know what they are capable of. The massacre at the village is not just retribution but an act to spread terror, a warning.'

‘I was glad when Heydrich was shot. I was sick with loathing for him and thought that the shooting showed the Nazis couldn't crush us. But the price was too high.' Her throat ached with emotion. ‘Do you know who the assassins were?'

‘Word has now got out. They were two young soldiers who were trained in Britain as paratroopers. We suspect they were sent by our exiled government in London with specific instructions to target Heydrich. They were flown here and parachuted in.'

‘And the other men who died in the shootout in the church?'

‘Also paratroopers working on other resistance jobs. All brave men.' Andrej shook his head and rested his elbows on his knees.

‘Did you know the resistance were planning the attack?' she asked, her voice, tense.

‘No. It was top secret, probably planned in London. But I had an inclination that Heydrich might be a target?—'

‘Why didn't you tell me? You knew I was involved in the resistance and working at the castle. You should have told me I was aiding an assassination!' Her voice rose.

‘I didn't really believe the resistance would do anything so dramatic. No one did, least of all Heydrich, who felt secure enough to drive around in an open-top car. I assumed you were part of a general surveillance team.'

‘No, Andrej, it seems I was more than that. And my involvement makes me guilty for the villagers' lives lost. The lives of Lenka's parents.' Misery welled up inside her.

‘It's not your fault. If anything, it's mine. I should have suspected something. But even if I had, would I have tried to intervene if could? We are resistance fighters, after all.' But his last words lacked conviction and she saw the torment on his face.

‘Surely, no assignment can justify the loss of so many innocent lives?'

‘I don't know any more. It's easy to say with hindsight. What should we do, Jana? Not fight back?'

His words echoed what she'd thought when she first got involved at Prague Castle. She'd been determined to resist the German occupation, proud to be doing her part. It had felt the right thing to do. But it had in fact been irresponsible and reckless.

‘The paratroopers knew the time Heydrich came to work because of me,' she said.

‘There were many more people involved than you: people who knew the route he took in the morning, people who were watching when you weren't there.'

Jana thought of Janek, the young gardener. She shuddered.

‘You're not to blame, Jana.' He reached for her hand.

In a burst of anger and frustration, she shoved him away.

‘I am to blame. All of us are to blame. You too. I don't even know what you do. Who you are. All these secrets, all these schemes. I'm sick of it. Sick of it all.'

She broke down sobbing, her face in her hands, tears squeezing through her fingers. Her thoughts were in turmoil. Resistance or submission, that was the choice. But who was she to decide the risks to take, to put the lives of others in danger?

‘I'm just a bookshop girl,' she whimpered, more to herself than Andrej. ‘I'm no one.'

‘That's not true. You're a very special person.' His voice broke as he tentatively took her hand.

Her heart throbbed with pain. She was too weary to push him away, to fight her feelings for him. She turned to him and lay her head on his chest. He stroked her hair, made comforting sounds. She smelled the faint scent of his woody cologne and was reminded of the last time they were here together, their passionate kisses. Desire, warm and fluid stirred through her and she tipped her face to him, looking deep into his tear-filled eyes.

‘Kiss me,' she said.

He hesitated only for an instant, then his mouth was on hers. Hot emotion coursed through her as their kisses intensified. She ran her hands across his chest and down his stomach before she yanked his shirt from the waist of his trousers. Her fingers slipped beneath his shirt, exploring every muscle, every hair. She opened the top buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers and ran her tongue across his skin, loving the saltiness of him. He moaned, a wonderful sound. He stroked her hip, her thigh, slowly hitching up her skirt. Her nerve endings were on fire her at the anticipation of his touch on her bare skin.

Her pleasure shocked her and guilt sprang up. She didn't deserve this joy; people had died because of her, and here she was desperate to fulfil her own needs. Panting, she pulled back, her cheeks burning and still wet from her tears.

‘This is wrong,' she murmured.

He leaned his forehead on hers and heaved a sigh.

‘I love you, Jana.' His words were choked and she realised he was crying. ‘I don't know what's right or wrong any more. I only know that I fell in love with you that day in the bookshop; I was looking for a book for my mother's birthday and you were so angry and proud. So beautiful.'

She put a hand on his cheek and he lifted his head. His handsome, pale face with those beautiful cheekbones bore a look of such sadness and love that her heart wrenched and she wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. She loved him too but choked back the words.

‘Let's have this moment,' she said.

It would be only the one moment, she knew.

They pulled at each other's clothes in the dim light of the cabin, their lips caressing each other's bodies, and when they made love, it was bitter and sweet, racked with pain and sadness, and heightened with desire that left then both depleted, quiet, together.

People queued in the hushed silence of Tyn church to light a candle. It seemed that the whole city had turned out to pay their respects for the victims of the Lidice massacre. Jana took her place amongst the distraught faces, shuffling forwards a couple of steps at a time. When it was her turn, she took a candle from the nearly empty box – candle wax had become scarce and she doubted the box would be replenished; the churchgoers at the back of the queue would be disappointed. She lit her candle, bowed her head and moved to the pews to find a place before the altar.

After she finished her prayers, her unbidden thoughts went to Andrej. She chided herself but she had no control of the images tossing in her brain: their desperate lovemaking in the steamboat, the way they had clung to each other, crying, before Andrej had to leave for his night shift. Before he'd left, she'd told him it was over between them.

‘But it's only just begun,' he'd said, his expression bewildered. ‘I know I said we mustn't be seen together, and that still applies. But now and then, we could snatch a moment together, like today. And when the war is over?— '

‘No.' She strained not to cry again. ‘Don't you see, Andrej? I have no right to happiness or love. We have no right.'

‘But what about what just happened between us?'

‘We were searching for solace.'

‘Is that what it was to you? A bit of comfort?'

Now, head bowed in front of the altar, she winced as she remembered the pain on his face, the disappointment in his voice. More than once, she'd bitten back the words that wanted to burst from her mouth: that she loved him. She didn't deserve to feel that precious emotion: something the murdered villagers would never feel again. She would sacrifice that love as penance for what she'd done. She would deny herself the pleasure of holding Andrej in her arms. And she would endure the emotional pain, which was nothing against what the women and children survivors of Lidice would be suffering – if there were any survivors.

She rose from the pew, her limbs heavy, and made her way out of the church into the incongruous sunshine. It was a hot, June day; the proud buildings shimmered in the midday sun, the spires glinted.

Dazzled by the bright light, she swayed for a moment, feeling light-headed. It occurred to her she hadn't eaten breakfast nor dinner yesterday; she had no appetite. But she needed to drink.

At a nearby water fountain, she cupped her hands, splashed her face and drank some water. She stared at her reflection, oblivious of the people around her. Two words spun in her mind: resistance or submission? She had tried resistance and what had it achieved? The slaughter of innocents. Maybe submission was easier; she was so tired of fighting. And the faces of the people in the church told the same story. They were crushed by the savage retribution dealt out to them .

As she approached the bookshop, Andrej's words came to her.

‘I love you, Jana,' he'd said: the most beautiful words she'd ever heard. But she would not allow herself to hear them again. She wouldn't be able to stop thoughts of him pushing their way into her mind, but that would serve as part of her punishment: to taste love just once and never again.