‘Hurry!’ shouted Herr Fellhaber. ‘If you don’t sort him out quickly I’ll regret my decision.’ He noticed the child Gustav had failed to see. ‘Who is that?’
Herr Fellhaber knew them too well for Elsa to pass her off as a niece. ‘This is Klara. She got separated from her parents while fleeing the front line.’
‘You didn’t say there would be another.’
Elsa bundled her grandfather on board. ‘What do you want me to do? Leave her here alone? She’s only five years old!’
Chastised, Herr Fellhaber returned his attention to the horses. Elsa stopped her grandfather from climbing out. ‘Stay there! Don’t move!’ Gustav stared at her, frightened at her unusually stern tone. She quickly softened. ‘Here, I have brought your favourite rug. Let me tuck you in. It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right.’
She lifted Klara in beside him and tucked the rug over her knees. Her grandfather and Klara stared at each other.
She had barely finished tucking them in when the driver called out to his horses and the wagon jerked forward. Her grandfather wobbled forward then backwards with such force that he was almost lying down. There was little she could do about it but walk on behind. Her grandfather tried to sit up, his arms flaying like fragile birds in the air, but he quickly grew tired and settled back against the bundles. To Elsa’s relief, he almost looked comfortable among the contents of the overstocked wagon, and at least he was quiet. She followed the imprint of the wagon wheels through the deep snow as she retied her mother’s scarf around her head and turned the collar up of her late father’s winter coat. Soon they were beyond the town’s medievalboundary wall. The chaos and turmoil were not just in Gollnow. The road was filled with refugees and news soon reached them that there were no trains to catch, so their little group wordlessly joined the long line of desperation on the road heading west, hoping those ahead knew where they were going and safety was waiting for them.
German soldiers were travelling in both directions, no longer just heading for the front line in attack, but returning... or was it retreating... with vehicles filled with despondent, wounded men. Several times Elsa was forced to take cover from artillery fire, with only enough time to drag Klara under the wagon with her. Elsa was grateful that Klara was obedient and did not cry or scream... yet such mature behaviour was unnerving and a chilling reminder she was used to hiding and staying silent. After each attack, Elsa dreaded returning to the wagon, fearing her grandfather might have been hit. Each time she found him with a crazy, innocent smile on his face as if the artillery fire had been a show put on for his amusement. Perhaps it was better to live in his world of confusion, where gunfire was firework poppers and explosions were stars and bonfires.
‘Ahh, there you are, my little Elsa,’ he said as he welcomed Klara back onto the wagon after the third attack.
‘Yes, here I am,’ she replied as she watched Klara settle down next to him. The child’s serious expression, when compared to her grandfather’s wide eyes and smile, gave the appearance that she was the more mature of the two.
Her grandfather pulled the blanket higher. ‘Not you.’ He turned to Klara and winked at her. ‘Your mother thinks I’m talking to her.’ He looked at Elsa. ‘Is it Sauerbraten for dinner?’
Elsa sighed. ‘Yes, we shall have Sauerbraten for dinner.’
‘With dumplings?’ he asked in a childish tone.
‘Yes, with dumplings.’
‘I love a tasty dumpling,’ he murmured. He lay back against the sacks of possessions and allowed his gaze to wander upwards to the clouds. He blinked slowly as he followed their shapes across the sky. Eventually, to Elsa’s relief, he closed his eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep. It was then she noticed Klara was staring at her. The child knew she had lied.
‘He is old and confused. I didn’t want him upset.’ It was a feeble reason when trying to build trust. ‘I promise I won’t lie again.’
Klara accepted her apology far too easily... or perhaps she didn’t believe it. The girl returned her attention to the people walking alongside them. She had silently watched them from the beginning of their journey, but now her grandfather was sleeping, Elsa could see that it was more than just watching. There was intense interest in the people travelling with them. They varied in size, shape and age, with all manner of possessions and modes of transport. The weak began to fall by the wayside and Elsa hoped that the little girl was too young to comprehend the fate of those that lay down. Klara’s eyes appeared to move unblinking from foot to horse to wagon, lingering only long enough to soak in the details before moving on to the next. It was not a scene any child should see or be part of, but although it was unsettling, it seemed to entertain Klara rather than distress her, and Elsa was thankful that she had remained quiet and well behaved.
Elsa had walked many miles before Herr Fellhaber finally stopped to retrieve some food from the back of the wagon. Elsa followed his example. She gave some food to Klara and climbed onto the wagon to help Gustav sit up.
‘Grandfather, it’s time to eat.’ She gently prodded his shoulder to wake him. He did not stir. ‘Grandfather?’ She touched his cheek. ‘You are freezing. You should have told me.’ She pulled his hat down a little more and carefully arrangedit to cover more of his cheeks. Uncharacteristically, her fussing did not ignite a response. Her hands stilled. His silent, still lips bloomed a greyish-blue tinge. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No! Grandfather, wake up.’ She shook his shoulder. He did not respond. She frantically attempted to sit him up, but his body, heavy and unyielding, made her attempt pitiful. Aware Klara might be watching, she eased him back down, but his head still fell clumsily back onto his makeshift pillow. The new angle of his arched neck allowed his glazed, pale eyes to peer out through barely closed lids. For a moment Elsa could not drag her eyes away from his blind gaze. There was no denying it now. Those lifeless eyes confirmed that his soul had left her many hours before. And she had not realized. What sort of woman does not realize that her beloved grandfather is so cold? She had failed to see his discomfort. She had failed to help. She had failed to protect him. Her shock and disbelief were total.
She sat motionless, staring at him, unsure how to behave. Should she cry? Should she scream? She did not feel she had the capacity, luxury or right to do any of those things. Yet she felt guilty for not trying to force it. She felt his death too physically: a visceral pain that seeped into her gut, her limbs and her brain, slowing everything down and draining every thought and strength from her. Was she dying too? Tumbling into an abyss without a lifeline? She must do something. She moved his lifeless hand for want of something to do. The movement exposed a hole in his blanket. The torn fibre, made by the entry of a bullet, had, until now, been successfully hidden by her grandfather’s large hand. She thought she had watched him fall asleep, but instead, she had watched him die... and she couldn’t help wondering if he knew it at the time.
* * *
‘You cannot leave us here!’ Elsa was shocked by Herr Fellhaber’s suggestion. She had always known him to be a calm, quiet and caring son. He was the only one who had offered her grandfather a lift, but now he wanted to discard him. She grabbed Herr Fellhaber’s arm, but he shook her off.
‘I’m not leavingyou.’ He indicated the body he’d just dragged off the wagon. ‘I’m leavinghim.’
‘This is not like you. You can’t!’
‘This is about life and death, Elsa. I have to think of my mother. I have to think of the living.’ His voice softened. ‘I’m not wasting precious time burying him. And nor should you. The ground is too hard.’ He climbed back onto the wagon.
‘But we can’t just leave him by the side of the road!’
Herr Fellhaber swept the horizon with his arm. ‘Look around, Elsa. The countryside is littered with frozen corpses. If we stay here, we will join them. I have my mother to think about. I have my horses to think about. And what about the child?’
‘I can’t leave him.’ She looked down at her grandfather lying at her feet. Oddly, he no longer looked like the man she once knew, as if her mind was playing tricks on her and had replaced him with someone else. His smile was gone, his body was too frail, and he was so silent. She turned away, heavy with guilt that she was considering leaving him like this, in such an undignified way. To do so would mean she was inhuman and had a stone for a heart.
Herr Fellhaber’s voice dragged her from her morbid thoughts. ‘Get on the wagon or I’ll leave without you. We’re already falling behind.’ The wagon creaked beneath his weight as he rearranged the blanket over his knees.
‘It will only take half an hour to bury him. The horses can rest.’
