‘She would love to,’ announced Mrs Mordkowicz.
‘Mama has the hearing of a dog,’ Ruth laughed. ‘Why don’t you go, Dorotha? I can finish up here.’
Dorotha glared at her. ‘I can’t, Ruth. I have a visit to make, remember?’
‘We can run your errand for you, my dear,’ said Mrs Mordkowicz, sidling up next to them and giving Oscar her most winning smile. ‘You go and have some rare time off.’
Dorotha felt flustered. ‘No, I really have to do this errand myself.’
‘Very well,’ said Mrs Mordkowicz, undeterred. ‘She’ll meet you at the crossroads in Marysin in an hour and a half.’
The matter was settled before Dorotha even had time to object. Ten minutes later, they were all walking to Ava and Gabriele’s hiding place.
‘I really shouldn’t be fraternising with Mr Weiss,’ Dorotha protested. ‘He’s my boss.’
‘Only by German design,’ Mrs Mordkowicz shot back. ‘Outside the walls of this ghetto, you’d be free to court.’
‘We’re not courting,’ Dorotha replied hotly.
‘Your mama would want to see you happy, my dear,’ Mrs Mordkowicz said, laying a hand on her shoulder as they slipped down the back alley. ‘That was her dearest wish.’
Dorotha said nothing, just knocked softly on the small basement window.
The scene that met her was a very different one from that dark night four months previously, thanks in no small part to Mrs Mordkowicz and her formidable ability to organise. She had insisted on returning to the basement many times with Dorotha and had formed a firm friendship with Ava Kaminski.
‘Ava, we come bearing gifts,’ Dorotha called softly.
‘What’ve I done to deserve you?’ Ava replied, ushering them in.
Ava had scrubbed the basement to within an inch of its life with detergent Dorotha had managed to purchase. Mrs Mordkowicz had found a small gas stove and a rag rug, and risked several trips upstairs after dark to fetch more furniture and bedding. It was a far cleaner and cosier proposition than the dark hellhole Dorotha had first encountered.
‘Did you bring me a book?’ Gabriele asked, hopping from one leg to another.
‘I did, my littleshlingen bikher.Have you ever heard ofTreasure Island?’
‘No, but I want to go there right now.’
‘And you shall,’ Dorotha laughed, endlessly impressed by the little girl’s ability to find joy in even the most hopeless of situations.
‘She’ll read to you right after we’ve fixed her hair,’ announced Mrs Mordkowicz, pulling out the packet of hair dye that Mrs Cohen had given her.
‘You brought that!’ she gasped. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Oh, please, Dorotha,’ said Gabriele. ‘Can I help?’
The matter was settled. How could she say no to anything little Gabriele asked of her?
‘Why don’t you go and get some fresh air,’ Mrs Mordkowicz said to Ava. ‘You’re white as a sheet.’
She nodded. ‘I haven’t been sleeping.’
‘So go,’ Ruth urged. ‘We can keep an eye on Gabriele, and most of the Schupo are probably drunk and snoring by now.’
‘Just keep off the main thoroughfares, bridges and away from the perimeter,’ Mrs Mordkowicz warned.
‘Can I please go out too?’ Gabriele begged. ‘Please, Mama, I’m so desperate to see the sky.’
A terrible silence stretched over the basement. For everyone knew such a plea, however innocent, was simply not possible. Ava could blend into the thousands of other beaten-down souls walking the streets, but a child like Gabriele would stand out immediately and run the risk of being snatched by a passing field grey.
