Chapter 7

7

Jana had been assigned to work on the first floor of Salm Palace, situated in one of the numerous courtyards of Prague Castle. Here were the administrative offices of the SS command. She had slipped into fill Lenka's role perfectly.

She was just finishing her shift, flicking dust from a large oil painting of a general with a bushy moustache astride a magnificent black horse when firm footsteps made her look up.

She recognised him immediately; he was young, tall, athletic looking with a long, narrow face. As he marched towards her, he removed his cap with the skull insignia and smoothed back his blond hair. His long coat was unbuttoned, revealing his black SS uniform underneath. He swished past her without a glance, leaving a charged energy in the air that buzzed around her. She shuddered.

Reinhard Heydrich: the Butcher of Prague.

He unlocked the door of his office further down the corridor and slammed it behind him. Jana glanced at her watch; her shift finished ten minutes ago. She would put away the cleaning articles and then hurry down the hill to open the bookshop. As she collected her feather duster, bucket and bottle of disinfectant, she saw a secretary approach. She was balancing a tray with a pot of coffee and a glass of water and managed to free a hand to open the door to Heydrich's office. Jana watched as the secretary flipped her foot back at the door to close it, but the door didn't quite shut. Hearing Heydrich shouting into a telephone, Jana edged towards the gap in the door.

‘…I don't give a damn how full the dump is. Put them six to a bed for all I care. Anyway, transportation will begin imminently?—'

Footsteps. The secretary was retreating from the room. Jana scuttled away down the long, elegant hallway, past the portraits of fierce faces and impassive expressions of past generations.

She collected her coat and walked across the courtyards, taking a moment to stop in front of the majestic Saint Vitus Cathedral, which could be seen from all over Prague. She craned her neck up at the spikey, snow-tipped towers that pierced the insipid February sky. Here beat the Czech heart of Prague, where coronations had taken place and where saints were entombed. Yet the Nazis were trying to squeeze that heart out of existence, Germanise the people. Engulf and swallow up the small Czech nation until it dissipated within the black soul of the Third Reich. The thought sickened her to her stomach. She was eager to receive her first instructions from the resistance.

Later that morning, Jana prepared for the first book exchange meeting. She didn't have enough chairs for everyone so she improvised by covering upturned crates with blankets. As she positioned them in a circle, Heydrich's words spun in her mind. What was the ‘dump' he mentioned. Terezin? A chill went through her as she thought about Michal's parents.

She turned her attention back to the task in hand and arranged an array of children's books on a low table. Should she bring out the toy box too? No. The focus today was books and the joy of reading.

Five mothers arrived with their children including Karolina, the woman who'd returned the Jane Austen book and given Jana the idea for the book exchange club. Lenka also joined the group and Jana insisted she take the armchair.

Once the children were settled with books on their laps, the older ones reading to the younger ones, the woman pulled the books they'd brought for the exchange from their handbags.

They took it in turns to give a brief introduction of their book. These stories were of course all approved by the Third Reich, many portraying wholesome romances where women waited at home with a brood of children whilst their beloved went to war as a hero. Or light, frivolous tales set in the Heimat , the homeland.

Once all the books had been discussed and everyone had agreed which books they wanted to borrow, Karolina leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘You know what I would find interesting? To hear if anyone has read one of the banned books, and what it was about.' She smiled. ‘I've read The Great Gatsby .'

Jana looked towards the children. ‘Wait, one moment, Karolina.'

It was time for the children to make more noise so they didn't hear this change in conversation.

‘Time to close books now children and play.' She pulled out the toy box and animated the children into liveliness. Jana put the closed sign on the shop door.

Now with the increased noise level from the children, Karolina continued. ‘It is set in America in the twenties when everyone was partying, and dancing to jazz and having affairs. All very decadent!'

The women edged forward on their stools, their eyes shining. Jana smiled; it was good to see everyone enjoying themselves. The mood turned more serious as they discussed the Czech author, Franz Kafka, who, as a Jewish author, had been banned years ago in Germany. Then Jana talked about another banned author, Helen Keller. The women held their breath as Jana told how this courageous woman, despite her blindness and deafness, became an author and activist. ‘A truly inspirational woman,' she finished.

‘They've been burning books in Germany,' said Lenka, shaking her head.

‘I don't know if you've read anything by Heinrich Heine,' said Jana, looking around her group of friends, ‘but he wrote in a play, this…' She paused, taking a deep breath, then quoted, ‘"There where they burn books, they will ultimately burn people."'

Her words plucked the air from the room; no one moved or spoke as each of them tried to process what they had just heard. Jana hadn't intended to end the meeting on such a terrifying note; the words she had read at Charles University had come to her unbidden. But the noise of the playing children brought them quickly back to their immediate surroundings.

As everyone prepared to leave, bundling children into hats and coats, Jana said to Lenka, ‘How ironic it is that by banning books, people want to know even more about them.'

‘Absolutely,' said Lenka, struggling to do up her coat buttons over her baby belly. ‘It was a very good meeting today. I think we all got a lot from it. '

‘Like I told the others, we can meet here every two weeks and put the world to rights.'

Lenka put an arm on Jana's shoulder. ‘We must be careful no one discovers what we're talking about.'

Jana nodded, and mimicking a severe German accent, said, ‘Free speech is verboten .'

‘What isn't forbidden these days?' Lenka said in a wry tone, pulling her hat firmly over her ears. Then she kissed Jana on her cheek and left with the other women ushering their children out of the bookshop.

When quiet descended, loneliness fell upon Jana. It occurred to her she had been the only woman at the book exchange without a family. The only one without a partner. She was already twenty-two, but she had never met a young man that had captured her heart. She was very fond of Pavel, of course, and his recent help with getting little Michal out of Prague had made her warm to him even more. She knew he had feelings for her; maybe she should give their relationship a chance to grow.

That night, as she lay on the edge of sleep, a memory came to her: Mama's horrified face as she looked at the newspaper, a gasp escaping from her lips. Jana saw her twelve-year-old self, a glass of lemonade in her hand, look over her mother's shoulder. On the front page was a grainy photograph of a bonfire surrounded by people tossing something into the flames. When Jana had peered closer, she saw what was being destroyed. Books.

She fell asleep and dreamt of those bonfires; she could smell the burning paper, felt the flutter of ash on her cheeks. The quote from Heine swept into her sub-consciousness.

There where they burn books, they will ultimately burn people.

She was so hot; the heat from the flames scorched her skin. Her heart was racing, sweat pouring from her. In a silent scream, she wrenched herself from sleep, forcing herself up through the waves into reality. Panting, she sat up in bed, the images fading. But the quote remained emblazoned in her mind.

It was nonsense, she told herself. Burning books was one thing, but people? That was something from the Middle Ages, not something that happened in civilised society.

The following afternoon, as Jana sat at the counter next to the register, crafting bookmarks, Lenka hurried in, her coat covered in snow, her teeth chattering. Jana pulled the armchair close to the small, iron stove, settled her friend down and brought a blanket which she draped around her shoulders. She then approached a Wehrmacht soldier who was browsing through the German section and asked if she could be of any assistance.

He had pockmark scars on his cheeks and eyes set close together.

‘Have you got a copy of our Führer's master work, Mein Kampf ?' he asked.

Jana balked at his request, momentarily speechless.

‘I can't seem to find it,' the soldier continued.

‘I don't have it in stock,' she said, her voice tight.

‘Really? Why ever not? I think our SS General Heydrich should make it compulsory.'

This was her bookshop. Her mother had opened it with the freedom to sell what she chose. And now the Nazis were turning the shop into an outlet for their propaganda. Indignation boiled within her, but she strained to keep her voice even.

‘Thank you, sir, for pointing out the omission of a – sorry, what did you call it? A master work,' she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. ‘I seem to have overlooked it and of course shall rectify the situation.'

He stepped closer and Jana could smell a sickly-sweet odour emanating from him which she couldn't quite place.

With a sneer, he said, ‘Good, then I shall return next week for a copy.'

Jana clenched her jaw as he stamped out the shop, his army boots leaving filth all over the floor.

The shop now empty, she went and sat with Lenka at the back of the shop and sighed.

‘I'll have to get the wretched book now. I can't wait to get back at the hateful Nazis. But the resistance hasn't contacted me yet.' She had been waiting expectantly since Lenka had told her the password.

‘Be patient,' Lenka said. ‘You've only been at the castle three days.'

Not long, but she'd already heard disturbing things; Heydrich's words about transportation worried her. She was tempted to tell Lenka about it, but looking at Lenka's baby belly, she decided not to involve her. Instead, she asked, ‘How's the little one?'

‘Quick, put your hand on my tummy.'

As Jana reached out, she saw the whole of Lenka's stomach shift sideways, and as she placed her hand on her stomach, Jana felt the strong kick of baby feet, or maybe the punch of little fists. It was incredible: a little being beneath her fingertips, hidden by a few centimetres of her friend's skin. Jana's eyes welled up and she looked into Lenka's grinning face.

‘How amazing. You and Ivan have made a little miracle. I'm so pleased you're out of danger now. Ivan never knew about your activities, did he? '

‘No, he didn't.' Lenka paused and fidgeted with her wedding ring.

Unease flickered in Jana's stomach.

‘You have finished with it all, haven't you?'

Lenka gazed into the distance.

‘Lenka?'

Her friend shrugged. ‘It's just one last thing. Then I'm finished. Promise.'

‘No, that's crazy. Your baby is due in a few weeks. I don't know how the resistance can expect a highly pregnant woman to take risks.'

‘That's the whole point. A highly pregnant woman is less suspicious.'

Jana let out an exasperated sigh. ‘What are you going to do?'

Lenka looked towards the front of the shop. There was no one around.

‘Transport some radio parts. That's all.'

‘That's all?' shouted Jana. ‘Forget it. I'll do it.'

‘I don't want you involved in another resistance group. You've just started at the castle.'

Jana stood up and started to pace. ‘Wouldn't it be better if all these separate groups co-ordinated with each other?'

‘I'm not sure.' Lenka shifted herself in the chair, trying to find a more comfortable position and the blanket fell from her shoulders. Jana picked it up and wrapped it back around her.

‘Thank you.' Lenka gave a weak smile. ‘I suppose small separate groups are safer if anyone gets caught by the Gestapo. Fewer people to betray under interrogation.'

Nausea crept up into Jana's throat at the thought of Lenka and her unborn child in the hands of the secret police. ‘Say no.'

‘I can't let them down.'

‘Let me do it. Please, for your baby. '

‘All right. I'll think about it. The job won't be for another week or so.'

Jana was about to say something more but the conversation ended when the bell over the door rang and an elderly couple entered the shop.