Chapter 36

36

On a bleak, January morning, Jana trudged up the hill to the Employment Office. She and Papa had discussed the closure of the bookshop on New Year's Eve as they'd sat together, the gramophone playing quietly in the background.

‘I see no alternative,' she'd said.

‘I'll seek full-time work too. There's no money to be made as a puppeteer any more.' His eyes clouded. A short time later, he went to bed, and Jana stretched out on the sofa with a book she'd borrowed from Dasha at their last meeting. She read until midnight and, placing the book on her stomach, she greeted the new year listening to the silence; the curfew meant no one was out celebrating. And what was there to celebrate anyway? Another year under the occupation of the Reich? So 1943 had slid in unheralded with a fresh sweep of snow.

There was a queue outside the Employment Office building, but Jana had become used to queues since the start of the war. She was actually grateful for the wait, each second delaying the moment that she would give up the bookshop and commit to a new job; although, the bookshop hadn't been a job to her, but a passionate way of life, a purpose and connection to Mama. Misery welled up inside her as she edged forward and stepped inside the building.

The thin, balding man frowned down at the questionnaire Jana had completed in the waiting room. Then he stubbed out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray and immediately lit up a new one.

‘Hmm, Literature student and bookseller.' Unimpressed, he looked back up at her. ‘Any craft skills?'

‘I can sew.'

His face brightened. ‘Then you could stitch leather.'

‘I suppose so.' She would rather stitch fabric.

‘Good news. Positions are available at a factory that produces boots for the Wehrmacht.'

‘Oh, I was thinking more in line of work as a seamstress. I'm experienced at making clothes for puppets and?—'

He laughed out loud, exposing small, nicotine-stained teeth.

‘Puppets? Books? Oh, come now. We need useful skills. Anyway, it makes no difference. My orders are that all applicants today are to be assigned to either boot or armament production.' He raised his eyebrows in a question.

‘Boots,' said Jana, angry at his humiliation of her.

He shoved some papers across his desk which she signed and moments later, she left the building with a letter of employment to start at the factory the following week.

Jana spent the evening before her first day at the factory cleaning and tidying the bookshop. She removed the books from the bookcases and wiped the shelves, then carefully dusted each book with a short feather duster before slotting it back in place. The pressure of unshed tears built behind her eyes as she cleared her window display and taped her hand-written sign on the inside of the glass:

CLOSED

So many bookshops had closed since the Germans had issued their banned book lists. The ones that remained open mostly sold books by German authors or German translations with altered texts deemed appropriate to Nazi ideals. Her shop, with its selection of Czech and international authors, was one of the last real ones: to her mind, the last bookshop in Prague. The tears burst through then, and as she took one last look around her, she whispered into the room, ‘We'll be back, Mama. The day will come, I promise.'

Each dark morning, she dragged herself out of bed, dreading the day ahead of her: the noise of the factory, the cloying smell of the leather, the endless rows of soles to be stitched into the German Jack boots. Her fingers and hands were sore and she suffered daily from headaches. But at least she was earning money and was able to pay her landlord some of the rent for the closed bookshop. He waivered the rest.

As the first Monday of each month approached, she toyed with the idea of meeting Egon at the Masna coffee shop. She had no intention of joining the resistance again, but burned to ask him if he knew anything about Andrej. But then she worried Egon might manage to persuade her into some resistance activity, and she became afraid, letting the Monday slip past. Maybe next month , she told herself .

When April came and the snow melted, restlessness gripped her and nothing she did could appease her. Andrej dominated her thoughts day and night; she chided herself for her inaction to discover what had happened to him, and as the first buds unfurled their pink blossoms on an early Monday morning, Jana walked into the Masna coffee shop.

Egon sat near the back, his bulky frame hunched over a mug of coffee. Jana was surprised to see him talking to a pretty, dark-haired girl sitting opposite him. Jana hesitated but Egon spotted her and waved her over.

‘Come, join us and I'll order you a cup of this awful coffee.'

‘No, thank you. I'm on my way to work and can only stay a few minutes,' said Jana, taking the free chair.

‘I'm delighted to see you. Are you no longer at the bookshop?'

‘No, unfortunately. I work at a shoe factory.'

Egon dipped his head towards her. ‘Are you here to join up with us?'

Jana glanced at the young girl whose face remained impassive.

‘This is Nela; she's part of the group, so you can talk freely,' said Egon. Then he nodded at the elderly man behind the counter. ‘The owner's all right too.' Egon looked back at her, waiting for her to speak.

‘I actually wanted to ask a favour; if you know or can find out anything about a police captain called Andrej Kovar. He was working for the resistance and has gone missing.'

‘People go missing every day. That's nothing new.' Nela's tone was clipped.

‘I've heard of him,' said Egon, ‘but I have no information other than he no longer works at the police station in Prague. Why do you want to find him? '

Heat crept up Jana's throat. Because I love him. Because I'm terrified for him . ‘I witnessed him being driven away by the Gestapo and he's not been seen since.'

‘So?' Nela's mouth formed a hard line.

Egon raised a hand to silence her.

‘He was working against the Nazis. He's one of us. Please help me find out what happened to him.' Jana's voice wobbled on her last words and Nela gave her a knowing look.

‘I'll do what I can. In the meantime, maybe you would consider working as a courier.'

This was exactly what she had feared: being drawn into operations again. As if reading her expression, Egon added, ‘Nothing as involved or dangerous as your last assignments. I know what was asked of you then. You would just need to transport small packages. Radio parts, to be precise.'

Jana's stomach churned. That was exactly what Lenka had been doing when she'd been arrested. The memory of her pregnant friend dropping to her knees and being hauled away from the market spiked her chest and made her gasp. She reached for her locket before remembering it was no longer there.

‘At least think about it. If you change your mind, I'll be here next month on the first Monday.'

Jana nodded, wondering where Egon was and what he was doing the rest of the time.

She rose to leave and said goodbye, knowing that Nela was staring at her as she walked away.