Herr Fellhaber’s patience snapped again. ‘In this weather? Don’t be ridiculous. We need shelter, not a stop.’ He lookedover his shoulder at his mother. ‘You have an extra blanket now, Mother. Keep hold of it, the temperature is dropping.’
Elsa ran around the wagon and looked up at him. ‘I have to do something.’
‘My advice is to save your energy. You are going to need it.’
Elsa lifted her chin and shook her head. ‘This is not Christian.’
‘Then stay and pray for him.’ Herr Fellhaber picked up the reins. His eyes narrowed as he watched the refugee column receding into the horizon. ‘Say a prayer for yourself too. You are going to need it. And take the Jew.’
Elsa feigned confusion. ‘I don’t know what—’
‘Did you think you were the only one the pastor asked?’
He clicked his tongue and shouted at his horses to move forward. His words shocked her. Hurriedly, she lifted the child off, along with a bag. She held Klara’s hand and stoically watched the large wooden wheels roll away. Then she looked down at Klara, who seemed so small and vulnerable next to her. What had she done? The child would never survive. She let go of Klara’s hand and hastily stumbled after the wagon.
‘Please, don’t go!’ She fell heavily in the rutted snow. ‘Herr Fellhaber!’ She stood up and stumbled after him again, but he did not turn around. Only his mother seemed distressed to leave them behind. She watched her losing ground from the back of the wagon, her thin-skinned, wrinkled eyes wide with horror, her wail muffled by the woollen-gloved hand thrust against her mouth. And in her other hand she clutched Elsa’s purse, plucked from her bag and held aloft as if it were her own.
‘My money! You’ve got my money!’ Elsa shouted.
Herr Fellhaber continued on.
Elsa stopped running, shocked by the sudden turn of events, and watched, panting, as their transport and all the money she had receded into the distance.
She heard Klara approach. ‘I’m sorry, Klara.’
Klara’s small fingers slipped into her hand again as she stood up. Elsa swallowed. She had been reckless and did not deserve her forgiveness.
‘I promise to do better from now on.’
* * *
Herr Fellhaber had been right; the ground was frozen thanks to temperatures that had not been above freezing for weeks. If Elsa had had a spade, which she did not, it would have made no difference, so she dragged her grandfather’s body away from the road with the intention of covering it in snow. Perhaps, when the snow finally melted, he would be gone too. She fell to her knees and began pushing the snow to cover him.
‘Look away, Klara,’ she snapped. ‘Keep moving so you don’t feel the cold.’ Elsa glanced up, aware of the silence from Klara. She had not moved. ‘I told you—’
Klara’s small, lonely figure stole the words from her. What was she doing? This child was living and more important than her grandfather now. None of this was Klara’s fault. None of it. She pushed herself away from the snow, stumbled towards Klara and knelt down in front of her. She took her gloved hands and looked into her eyes. Klara’s sombre gaze held a maturity that no child should have and Elsa was inflicting even more pain on her.
She gently stroked the child’s cheek. ‘I’m sorry for snapping at you.’ Elsa let her hand fall to encase the small hands in hers. ‘Are you scared, Klara?’
The girl stiffly nodded.
‘Are you scared of me?’
The girl remained watchful.
‘You don’t have to be scared of me. Shall I let you into a secret? I get scared too, sometimes.’
Klara’s eyes widened a little.
‘It’s true, but I think it’s normal for people to feel scared sometimes. And, sometimes, when we are scared, we shout at people.’ Elsa tilted her head as she studied the girl. ‘And some people, like you, go very quiet. The important thing is that we don’t need to be scared of each other. I have promised to look after you. In fact, if we are together, like our hands are now, we can feel braver — we know we have each other. Do you understand?’
The girl nodded.
Elsa remembered her grandfather and glanced over at him. This was no place for a child. She should lead her away. Yet her grandfather looked so... discarded.
Klara slipped her hands from between Elsa’s, turned her back on the body and began to walk on the spot to stay warm, her small boots soon crunching two small spots in the snow. Elsa’s eyes brimmed with tears as she returned to her grandfather and began to heap snow over his frail body. Two icy trails of tears formed on her cheeks as Klara began to sing a nursery rhyme that Elsa had not heard since she was a child. Long-forgotten memories of the carefree childhood she had taken for granted stirred, in stark contrast to this surreal scene: a skipping child singing nursery rhymes with death so near. There was no happiness here and no one to help them. They were on their own.
She grabbed a stone and used it to push the snow with trembling hands. It was not just the cold that made them tremble, but the fear she felt inside.
