Her father is waiting for her by the side of the hut, as he is each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday if it’s not raining. They sit down together on a large stone. That’s her school. Her father has already traced a map of the world in the mud with a stick. When she was younger, her father would help her to remember places by telling her things like that the Scandinavian peninsula was the head of a giant serpent and Italy was the boot of a very elegant woman. It is hard to recognize the world he’s drawn into the mud of Auschwitz.
“Today we’re going to study the planet’s oceans, Edita.”
But she just can’t concentrate on her lesson. She thinks about how much her father would enjoy the atlas in Block 31. Removing the books is prohibited, however, and with Mengele breathing down her neck, there’s absolutely no way. She’s too distracted to listen to her father’s explanations, and on top of that, it’s freezing cold, and it has started to snow.
So she’s delighted when her mother turns up a bit early.
“It’s freezing. Leave it for today, or you’ll both catch cold.”
Here in Auschwitz, where there’s no medicine or even enough blankets and food, colds are a killer.
Dita and her father get up, and even though he’s the one shivering with cold, he wraps his own jacket around Dita.
“Let’s go to the hut; they’ll be serving dinner soon.”
“Calling a piece of dry bread dinner is really optimistic, Mama.”
“It’s the war, Edita—”
“I know, I know. It’s the war.”
Her mother falls silent, and Dita takes advantage of the silence to raise the topic that’s been worrying her, though she does so indirectly.
“Papa … if you had to confide a secret to somebody here in the camp, whom would you trust absolutely?”
“You and your mother.”
“Yes, I know that. I mean, apart from us.”
“Mrs. Turnovská is a very good woman. You can confide in her,” her mother interjects.
“There’s no question you can be confident that if you tell her something, even the head of the latrine cleaning brigade will know about it pretty quickly. That woman is as good as a radio,” her husband replies.
“I agree, Papa.”
“The most upright person I’ve met here is Mr. Tomá?ek. In fact, he came by not long ago to see how we were. He takes an interest in what’s happening to other people. There aren’t many people like that in here.”
“So if you were to ask him for an honest opinion about something, do you think he’d tell you the truth?”
“Absolutely. But why do you ask?”
“Oh, nothing special. Just asking.”
Dita makes a mental note of Mr. Tomá?ek’s name. She’ll have to go and have a chat with him and see what he thinks about Fredy.
“Your grandmother used to say that the only ones who speak the truth are children and madmen,” her mother adds.
Dita thinks of Morgenstern. She can’t go to just any adult with her doubts about a person of such high standing as Hirsch. They might accuse her of betrayal, or who knows what, in front of everyone else. But she doesn’t run that risk with Morgenstern. If he were to spread her tale, she’d simply say it was another of the old man’s crazy inventions. Would he know something about Hirsch?
She tells her parents she’s going to see Margit. She knows the retired old architect usually stays in Block 31 until it’s soup time, often in that hidden corner behind the woodpile she goes to when she wants to leaf through a book.
The assistants aren’t allowed to stay behind after classes are over, but Dita’s the librarian, and that gives her certain privileges. That may explain why the other assistants seem to dislike her. Not that it really bothers her. Her head is full of worry and doubt.
A group of teachers are chatting together inside Block 31. They don’t notice her when she comes in. She heads to the back and peeps around the woodpile. Professor Morgenstern is refolding an origami bird made out of a well-used piece of paper.
“Good afternoon, Professor.”
“Well, well, it’s Miss Librarian. What a delightful visit!”
He gets up and bows.
“Can I be of service to you?”
“Oh, I was just walking by—”
“A good idea. A daily half-hour walk extends your life by ten years. A cousin of mine who used to walk for three hours each day lived to a hundred and fourteen. And he died because on one of his walks, he tripped and fell into a ravine.”
“It’s a pity that this place is so horrible that you really don’t feel like going for a walk.”
“Well, you can just move your legs. Legs can’t see.”
“Professor Morgenstern … have you known Fredy Hirsch for long?”
“We met on the train bringing us here. That would have been…”
“In September.”
“Precisely so.”
“And what do you think of him?”
“He strikes me as a distinguished young man.”
“That’s it?”
“You don’t think that’s enough? It’s not easy to find people with class these days. Good manners don’t count for anything anymore.”
Dita hesitates, but she doesn’t have many opportunities to be honest with someone. “Professor … do you think Fredy is hiding something?”
“Yes, of course.”
“What?”
“Books.”
“Damn it, I’m already aware of that!”
“Excuse me, Miss Adler, don’t get upset. You asked me, and I’m giving you an answer.”
“Yes, of course. Forgive me. What I wanted to ask you, in confidence, is if you think we can trust him.”
“You ask some very strange questions.”
“Yes. Please forget that I asked.”
“I haven’t quite understood what you mean by being able to trust Hirsch. Trust in his competence as block chief?”
“Not exactly. What I wanted to ask was if you think he really is who he seems to be.”
After a moment’s reflection, the professor replies, “No, he isn’t.”
“He’s not who he appears to be?”
“No. Nor am I. Or you. Nobody is. God silenced our thoughts so that only we could hear them. No one else ought to know what we are really thinking. People get angry with me whenever I say what I think.”
“Indeed…”
“I think what you’re asking me is whom can you trust in this hole called Auschwitz?”
“That’s it!”
“I must confess that as far as trusting, or what is understood by trusting, is concerned, I personally trust only my best friend.”
“And who is your best friend?”
“Me. I am my best friend.”
Dita stares as he continues to smooth out the tip of his paper bird. She’s not going to get anything useful out of him.
*
When Dita reaches her hut, she lies down on the bunk. She hasn’t seen Mengele for a couple of days. But she mustn’t become overconfident; that man sees everything. She wonders if she could talk about Hirsch with Miriam Edelstein, the deputy director. But what if Miriam is his accomplice?
It’s all so confusing. She’ll try to talk to Mr. Tomá?ek. As Dita’s eyes start to close, an image pops into her head: She and Margit lie flat on the snowy ground, Renée looks on, and the three roar with laughter. As long as they keep on laughing, all is not lost.
11.