‘Did you know the woman?’
He shook his head.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Nor do I.’
‘Sam, what is it?’
‘You remind me of her.’
‘What station was it?’
‘I don’t know. It was nothing. I told you it was nothing.’
He did not want to elaborate and she could only imagine what it must have been like to be a prisoner and imprisoned for so long. She decided not to pursue it. ‘How did you escape?’
‘When the guards heard that the Russians were advancing, they started evacuating the camps and marching us west. It started in January. Many died along the way.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘Manyfriendsdied along the way. I knew I would be next if I didn’t escape. So, I ran.’
‘Then what?’
‘They shot me and I fell into a gully. They must have thought I was dead because they did not search for me. The wound was only minor but it got infected. I was ill for a while. I don’t remember how long. That farmer you met took pity on me. I would have died if it were not for his help.’
‘And then we met.’
‘Yes.’ He smiled at her. ‘Then we met.’
She translated his story to Klara, adding in English, ‘Not all Germans are bad then.’
Sam did not reply. Keen to drag him away from his dark thoughts, Elsa changed the subject. ‘My family and I moved to Gollnow from Bremen when I was thirteen. We have relativesthere, so that is why we wanted to return. My mother and sister left a few weeks before me. My grandfather needed a little more persuading, so I stayed with him until we had little choice but to leave.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘He died on the way.’
‘I’m sorry. That must have been difficult for you.’
His unexpected sincerity touched her heart. She looked away and stared at the flat green fields on the horizon, but in her mind she could see the mound of melting snow partially covering her grandfather’s frail body, exposing him to the elements more with each passing day. What did he look like now? she asked herself.
‘I don’t want to think about it,’ she added abruptly. ‘My story is no different to many others. We have both lost people we care about, and I can’t help but ask if any of it was worth the suffering.’
‘And Klara? What is her story?’
‘She is my niece. Her story is my story. She has nothing to share.’
* * *
They had walked several hours in companionable silence, content to save their energy for the physical demands of their journey. Gartow lay ahead, nestled against a tributary arm of the Elbe, offering civilization. The village appeared untouched by the war, the neat redbrick houses lining straight, spacious streets. Beyond the surrounding patchwork of trees and fields, the landscape eventually gave way to dense woodland stretching westward.
Elsa and Sam, with Klara on his back, approached the village with caution. It was alluring as it represented the provincial tranquillity of a bygone Germany. Four cows grazed quietly on a patch of grass near the centre, acknowledging their arrival witha brief stare. Few people seemed to be around, and those who were went about their daily lives as if there was no war.
Elsa dragged the remaining coins from her pocket. ‘This is all I have left,’ she whispered under her breath. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
Sam lowered Klara to the ground. Elsa reached for Klara’s hand and set off to search for somewhere to buy or barter for food. She felt Klara turn and saw her smile at Sam as he waved her goodbye. Elsa had to admire him for not showing his concerns in front of the child. Klara needed normality and if normality could be grasped from the simple act of waving goodbye with a tentative smile, so be it.
The appearance of a small, family-run shop was an oasis to her tired eyes. She reminded Klara to be quiet and good and entered. It did not take long before they were returning to Sam, triumphant with their new provisions. Sam pushed himself away from the tree he’d been leaning against as they approached, smiling. Her footsteps slowed, every hair rising on the back of her neck, as she realized he was not looking at her but someone behind her. She looked over her shoulder and saw the two German soldiers who had followed them. She hesitated, unsure if she should acknowledge that she knew Sam at all. The decision was taken from her when they began addressing him in German. He lifted his chin as his gaze moved from them to hers. To her horror she recognized the accusation of betrayal in his eyes. The shake of her head was barely visible, but it seemed enough to reassure him.
She stepped between them. ‘My brother won’t answer you. He is mute and—’ she twirled her finger at her temple — ‘not right in the head.’
