‘No,’ said Alice, thankful that despite Maria’s warning some of them understood a little German. ‘No, I can’t impose on you after tonight. We’ll take him somewhere else. But your help tonight means more than I can possibly express in words.’ She thought they only understood about half of this, but she knew they understood all of the sentiment behind her words.
The space in the roof was smaller than she had been expecting, but it was sufficiently large for the two of them to curl up against the wooden rafters. Someone handed up a blanket, and someone else handed a half-cup of some warm substance; Alice could not tell what it was, but she drank it gratefully and gave Alraune a few sips. Tomorrow, after roll-call, she would set in motion yet another masquerade, and this time lives would depend on it. She would report Alraune as missing to the guards, and she would play the distraught mother. Would it work? Would Mengele be fooled? The timing was not good – it was too pat, too near to those schedules Ilena had seen, but it could not be helped. This was the best they could do. The guards would search for Alraune, and if they did not find him it was possible that Alice would be suspected of some plot, and would be executed.
She glanced down at Alraune, and reminded him that this was part of the new game, and that they must be quiet. Again he appeared to accept this, although his eyes rested on her suspiciously, and when Alice put her arm around him to make him more comfortable he resisted for a moment.
But then he leaned against her, and fell quickly into an apparently untroubled sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
It was the sound of the guards marching across the yard outside that roused Alice from her shallow uneasy sleep. She sat up abruptly, memory returning. I’m in this tiny space over the Polish women’s quarters, and Mengele wants Alraune, and I’ve got to keep him hidden.
It was one of Auschwitz’s dreariest days; rain drummed ceaselessly on the roofs of the huts, and the stench of the stagnant wastelands seeped into everything.
Alice had decided to report Alraune’s disappearance after the morning roll-call. She considered how she ought to behave. Tears and anxiety, followed by sullen acceptance? Yes, for all of the commandants and most of the guards would probably know what had happened at Buchenwald; they would know that Alraune was not some beloved child of a lost husband, but the living reminder of a violent rape. But not too many tears, thought Alice. I’d better not overdo it; this is real life not a film set. And some annoyance as well, I think – wretched child, I can’t be watching him all the time…How should I know where he goes or what he gets up to…? I just thought you ought to know he’s run off…
Yes, that should strike the right note. A little distress, and then a sulky anger.
It seemed that it did strike the right note. Alice squeezed out a few tears, and then grew sullen. No, she had no idea where the child might be. Yes, he had been in the hut with her before morning roll-call. Yes, she would let them know if he turned up. She saw that they thought it relatively unimportant – children were always wandering off; they were inquisitive creatures. Some sort of search might be made later in the day, but for now she was to return to her own part of the camp.
They don’t know about Mengele’s plans, thought Alice, going cautiously across to the laundry block. That’ll be the real testing time. Will Mengele order a thorough search? How interested is he in having Alraune in his experiments?