That night, sleep evades him.
The next morning, Victor places medicine, along with food, into Lale’s bag.
That afternoon, he is able to get it to Dana.
?
In the evening, Dana and Ivana sit beside a now fully unconscious Gita. The pull of typhus is stronger than they are; the black stillness has completely overtaken her. They talk to her but she gives no sign that she hears them. From a small vial, Dana places several drops of liquid into Gita’s mouth as Ivana holds it open.
‘I don’t think I can keep carrying her to the Canada,’ an exhausted Ivana says.
‘She will get better,’ Dana insists. ‘Just a few more days.’
‘Where did Lale get the medicine from?’
‘We don’t need to know. Just be grateful that he did.’
‘Do you think it’s too late?’
‘I don’t know, Ivana. Let’s just hold her tight and get her through the night.’
?
The next morning, Lale watches from a distance as Gita is once again carried towards the Canada. He sees her attempt to raise her head on a couple of occasions, and is overjoyed at the sight. He now needs to seek out Baretski.
The main SS officers’ quarters are at Auschwitz. There is just a small building for them at Birkenau, and it is there that Lale goes in the hope of catching Baretski as he is coming or going. He appears after several hours, and seems surprised to see Lale waiting for him.
‘Not enough work for you, eh?’ Baretski asks.
‘I have a favour to ask,’ Lale blurts out.
Baretski narrows his eyes. ‘I won’t do any more favours.’
‘Maybe one day I can do something for you.’
Baretski laughs. ‘What could you possibly do for me?’
‘You never know, but wouldn’t you like to bank a favour, just in case?’
Baretski sighs. ‘What do you want?’
‘It’s Gita …’
‘Your girlfriend.’
‘Can you get her transferred from the Canada into the administration building?’
‘Why? I suppose you want her where there’s heating?’
‘Yes.’
Baretski taps a foot. ‘It might take me a day or two, but I’ll see what I can do. No promises.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You owe me, T?towierer.’ The smirk is back as he fondles his swagger stick. ‘You owe me.’
With more bravado than he feels, Lale says, ‘Not yet I don’t, but I hope to.’ He walks away, a small spring in his step. Perhaps he can make Gita’s life a little more bearable.
?
The following Sunday, Lale walks slowly alongside a recovering Gita. He wants to put his arm around her like he saw Dana and Ivana do, but he daren’t. It is good enough to be near her. It doesn’t take long for her to be exhausted, and it is too cold to sit. She wears a long woollen coat, no doubt something the girls have appropriated from the Canada with no objection from the SS. It has deep pockets and Lale fills them with food before he sends her back to her block to rest.
?
The following morning, a trembling Gita is escorted into the main administration building by an SS officer. The young woman has been told nothing and she automatically fears the worst. She has been sick and now she is weak – clearly the authorities have decided she is no longer of use. As the officer speaks to a more senior colleague, Gita looks around the large room. It is filled with drab green desks and filing cabinets. Nothing is out of place. What strikes her most is the warmth. The SS work here too, so of course there is heating. A mixture of female prisoners and female civilians work quickly and quietly, writing, filing, heads down.
The escorting officer directs Gita towards her colleague, and Gita stumbles, still suffering the after-effects of the typhus. The colleague breaks her fall before roughly shoving her away. She then grabs Gita’s arm and inspects her tattoo before dragging her towards an empty desk and shoving her down on a hard wooden chair, next to another prisoner dressed just like her. The girl doesn’t look up, only tries to make herself smaller, unobtrusive, so as to be ignored by the officer.
‘Put her to work,’ the grumpy officer barks.
Once they’re alone, the girl shows Gita a long list of names and details. She hands her a pile of cards and indicates that she is to transcribe the details of each person first onto a card and then into a large leather-bound book between them. No words are spoken, and a quick glance around the room tells Gita to keep her mouth shut too.
Later that day, Gita hears a familiar voice and looks up. Lale has entered the room and is handing papers to one of the civilian girls working on the front desk. Finishing his conversation, he slowly scans all the faces. As his glance passes Gita, he winks. She can’t help herself – she gasps, and a few women turn to look at her. The girl beside her nudges her in the ribs as Lale hurries from the room.
?
With the day’s work ended, Gita sees Lale standing a distance away, watching the girls leave the administration building for their blocks. The heavy SS presence prevents him from approaching. As the girls walk together, they talk.
‘I’m Cilka,’ Gita’s new colleague says. ‘I’m in Block 25.’
‘I’m Gita, Block 29.’
As the girls enter the women’s camp, Dana and Ivana rush to Gita. ‘Are you all right? Where did they take you? Why did they take you?’ Dana demands, fear and relief on her face.
‘I’m OK. They took me to work in the administration office.’
‘How … ?’ Ivana asks.
‘Lale. I think he somehow arranged it.’
‘But you’re all right. They didn’t hurt you?’
‘I’m fine. This is Cilka. I’m working with her.’
Dana and Ivana greet Cilka with a hug. Gita smiles, happy that her friends are so immediately accepting of another girl in their midst. All afternoon she had worried how they would react to her now working in relative comfort, without having to deal with the cold or any physical effort. She could hardly blame them if they were jealous of her new role and felt she was no longer one of them.
‘I’d better go to my block,’ says Cilka. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Gita.’
Cilka walks off and Ivana watches her go. ‘Gosh, she’s pretty. Even dressed in rags she’s beautiful.’
‘Yes, she is. She’s been throwing me little smiles all day, just enough to reassure me. Her beauty goes beyond the surface.’
Cilka turns back and smiles at the three of them. Then, with one hand, she removes the scarf from her head and waves it to them, revealing long dark hair cascading down her back. She moves with the grace of a swan, a young woman unaware of her own beauty and seemingly untouched by the horror around her.
‘You must ask her how she has kept her hair,’ Ivana says, scratching absently at her own headscarf.
Gita pulls her own scarf from her head and runs her hand over her short spiky stubble, knowing all too well that it will soon be removed again, shaved back to her scalp. Her smile disappears briefly. Then she replaces her scarf, links arms with Dana and Ivana and they walk towards the meal cart.
Chapter 8