‘You’re the librarian, Dorotha. But how do you intend to loan these books to patrons without alerting suspicion?’
Here, she faltered. ‘This needs careful thought. W-what if it can’t be done?’
Mr Weiss replaced the book on the shelf and accidentally brushed her cheek. An awkward silence bunched between them.
‘Reality is as small as this cupboard. But your imagination? That world is boundless, Dorotha. If anyone can find a way, it’s you.’
He turned to leave, then stopped, tapping the door-frame, unsure of himself.
‘Go on...’ Dorotha encouraged, knowing he had something he needed to say.
‘As you know, the rabbinate has been suspended, all schools and orphanages have been closed, and now they’ve closed down the printing press on Brzezinska. I heard orders that all occupants of the building have been relocated.’
He let the meaning hang heavily in the little library.
‘Number 10 Brzezinska is not so far from you. I’m sure if you were to detour there on your way home you might find more books for your library.’
She nodded.
‘Thank you.’
‘And one more thing before I go. I have a gift. Well, two gifts actually.’
He bent down and pulled out a tattered old carpet bag tucked behind a bookcase.
‘I’ve been waiting for the chance to share this with you. Inside is my father’s old briefcase. It’s yours. I thought, maybe, you might be able to use it to transport books.’
‘Oh, Mr Weiss...’ she breathed, her fingers drawn to the battered brown leather and brass catch, its shine long dulled.
‘He no longer needs it.’ Mr Weiss’s voice fell and Dorotha saw him swallow down a knot of emotion, his Adam’s apple rising sharply on his slender neck. He fished about in the bottom of the bag. ‘And these belonged to my younger sister, Mila. They look to be about your size.’
He placed a pair of good leather boots in her other hand, and Dorotha’s eyes grew wide.
‘I can’t take these.’
‘But you must,’ he insisted fiercely. ‘She’d have loved the idea of this library. She was a true bibliophile.’
‘Was?’ she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.
He rubbed his hand up and down the nearest book, his voice thick with emotion.
‘She was shot protecting her charges at the orphanage in Marysin.’
‘Miss Weiss!’ she exclaimed. ‘She was your sister?’
He nodded, staring at the floor as a single tear tracked down his cheek.
‘She was a good woman,’ Dorotha said, touching his arm. ‘I’ll walk taller in her shoes.’
He smiled through his tears. ‘She’d like that.’
He was caught in a shaft of weak light, the bones of his cheeks protruding sharply, but his eyes shone with such kindness. Knowing he was Miss Weiss’s brother subtly changed him in Dorotha’s eyes, as if he had been imbued with the same inherent selflessness that had prompted his sister to lay down her life fora cartload of children. On impulse, she reached up and brushed the tear away with her thumb.
Ten minutes later, Dorotha left the Department of Vital Statistics and walked down the street, carrying her new leather briefcase and wearing her new boots. She walked that bit taller. That bit straighter.
In the distance, she spied the dark silhouette of the gallows in Bazarna Square, casting their ever-present shadow over the ghetto. But there was a new emotion tucked in there with the fear. Defiance.I will get out of this place.
Dorotha knew she should probably get straight back to her room. It was close to curfew, after all, and Ruth and her mother would worry, but the pull of undiscovered books was too powerful to ignore.
