Roots of Evil

‘No, I must go first to explain it to them,’ said Maria. ‘Their English isn’t very good, and I’ve got a smattering of Polish,’ said Maria. ‘Enough to make them understand that we want them to keep Alraune until tomorrow at any rate. That space over their hut is more than big enough. You stay here, Lu, until I get back.’


‘All right. But what about tomorrow? We can’t put the Polish hut at risk for more than a few hours.’

‘We’ll have to plan a couple of hours ahead at a time,’ said Ilena. ‘Maybe the laundry tomorrow night – maybe the kitchens.’

‘We’ll manage it somehow,’ said Maria, moving to the door. ‘I’m ready to go. Can someone watch from the window for the searchlights?’

‘I will,’ said Bozena. There was the faint ingress of light as a corner of one of the shutters was lifted very slightly. ‘All right, Maria? No, wait, they’ve swung the lights this way – oh no, it’s all right, they’re going away again – Now!’



A thin spiritless dawn was breaking as Alice, carrying Alraune in her arms, slipped out of the hut.

The crematoria chimneys jutted forbiddingly up into the grey-streaked sky and as she walked past them Alice glanced nervously in their direction. A sprinkling of coarse ash covered the roofs of the buildings nearest to her, and a heavy scent clung to the air. Then the ovens had been burning recently? Don’t think about it.

When I am through this, thought Alice, walking stealthily towards the Polish hut, and when I look back, there’ll never be any colour in these memories. Everything will always be in shades of black and grey.

She went doggedly on, her arms around Alraune, praying that he had understood sufficiently to remain silent. But he was apparently curious about this unknown nocturnal world and he did not make a sound. And it was easier than Alice had dared hope to dodge the guards, partly because they moved in sharp unison, the heels of their boots ringing out on the hard ground, giving warning of their approach.

The searchlights were still swivelling around the camp; in this light they were like huge pale lidless eyes. And if we find you, we’ll hang you or shoot you, my dears…But don’t think about that, either. Just think about keeping to the shadows, about staying out of the discs of horrid pallid light. And hide Alraune’s head against your shoulder, because he’s staring at the searchlights…

The women in the Polish hut were waiting for her; they drew her in, exclaiming over the little one who must be hidden from the Angel of Death, whispering volubly of their plans. For what was left of tonight, madame and the baby would stay in the little roof space – it was uncomfortable, but it would suffice. And then tomorrow, after morning roll-call, the small one could be smuggled into the laundry block – they had it all worked out. An armful of linen from the guards’ quarters to hide him: no one would suspect. The three who worked in the laundries would keep him occupied in a quiet corner – there were many such places in that block – and no one would know he was there. And after that, perhaps the kitchens.