‘They took my hair off,’ Gabriele whimpered.
‘Don’t cry, child,’ said the doctor softly. ‘If you keep your head, you will grow more hair.’
‘I’m taking her home,’ Dorotha said. ‘She’ll be safer there.’
The doctor studied her curiously.
‘You’re the girl with the books,’ he said. Dorotha recognised him. Only last month she had lent him Tolstoy’sWar and Peace.
‘You strike me as a clever woman. I wouldn’t advise it.’
‘But what if they come back? What would you do if it were your daughter?’
He sighed. ‘I’d take her home and hope for the best.’
Dorotha looked at the exhausted doctor.
‘Hope is all I have left.’
Without another word, Oscar gently scooped the little girl up and wrapped the hospital blanket around her.
‘Take these and my best wishes,’ the doctor said, pressing a package of medicine into her hand.
Dorotha and Oscar walked unsteadily through the putrid ghetto streets, a fine layer of sweat soaking their cheeks. By the time they reachedBrzezinska, dawn was streaking like a purple bruise over the horizon. That night, the SS had trawled the Hospital for Contagious Diseases and another hospital on Mickiewicz Street and dragged 225 patients, many with tuberculosis, from their beds.
Back inside their room, Ruth and her mother shot to their feet, relief etched all over their face.
‘Put the child straight to bed,’ Mrs Mordkowicz ordered. ‘Then sit. I’ve made you tea, or what passes for it. You both look half dead.’
Almost paralysed with exhaustion, Dorotha did as she was told. But first she bent over Gabriele and kissed her gently on her bald head.
‘It’s a miracle you’ve all come home,’ Mrs Mordkowicz said, pressing a cup of weak dandelion tea into hers and Oscar’s hands.
‘I think your mama was right to pray. Maybe the Almighty is our only hope of survival now.’
After an hour of sleep, they woke to the sound of the factory hooters and the tramping of feet on the cobbles outside. The working day had begun. Dorotha groaned, her head swimming with exhaustion.
‘I’ll stay off and see to Gabriele.’
‘No,’ said Oscar, who had fallen asleep in a chair by the door.
‘You’ll be arrested if you don’t go in and alert suspicion.’
Whatever medication it was that the doctor had given Gabriele looked to be taking effect. She was still desperately ill, but her fever had broken a little and Mrs Mordkowicz had been able to feed her bread soaked in water. She had wrapped her bald head in scarves and bundled her up in blankets and sweaters to keep her warm.
‘I’ll be all right,’ Gabriele said bravely. ‘I have my books.’ She held upEmil and the Detectives, now so well-thumbed that the paper was worn thin.
‘Emil will keep me company today.’
Dorotha looked at her and swallowed a knot of emotion. Such a small human being and no trace of self-pity.
Reluctantly, they left the room, after giving Gabriele strict instructions to not open the door to anyone, and set off to the administration block.
But by the time they reached Baluty, something was brewing. Ghetto administration workers had spilled out of the offices and were now huddled into worried knots in the square.
Mrs Cohen spotted Dorotha, Ruth and Oscar and gestured for them to join her.
‘Biebow’s about to speak,’ she muttered.
