Page 16 of The Storyteller of Krakow

‘Good people,’ he said. ‘I needed to make sure you would be with me and with good people. Can’t have you with all those men, now, can I?’ He chuckled.

‘I wasn’t going to be with all the men,’ I said.

‘Well, now you won’t be, will you? You’ll be with me, and I’ll watch out for you, just as I said. Now, come on, eat the rest.’ He nodded at the last dregs of soup.

When I didn’t, he leaned in and said, ‘Eat,’ ever so softly that it made a chill creep down my spine.

I ate and handed him the bowl.

‘Aren’t you going to say thank you?’ He laughed.

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I do appreciate you taking care of me, Janek, I do,’ I started. I had to make it clear to him that I needed him to step back a little without offending him. I appreciated him, of course, but now I was feeling a little stronger, more like myself, I couldn’t help but notice that something was just not quite right.

‘I do appreciate it,’ I said again. ‘But you don’t have to keep helping me. Goodness, you need to look after yourself too!’ I tried a laugh, but it came out wrong.

His eyes widened. ‘Someone’s feeling better,’ he said. ‘Is it because you’ll make new friends now? Perhaps I’m boring you?’

‘No. No,’ I said, and saw how his head had dropped, his hands by his side as if he were a small, disappointed child.

‘No. I still need you, Janek. I just worry you’re doing too much,’ I tried.

He lifted his head and smiled. ‘Don’t you worry about me, my little bird! Don’t you worry one bit. You know, my father took care of my mother when I was a boy. She was a sickly woman, and he took care of her and would say to me that you have to take care of those close to you. No matter what. I believe that to be true. And I’m doing exactly what he told me to do.’

‘I’m sorry about your mother,’ I said. And really meant it. This was the first time Janek had revealed anything about his life prior to this place.

He shrugged. ‘She died. Everyone does, you know. My father didn’t take it too well.’

‘Mine either,’ I said, finally feeling some kinship with him.

‘Yes, didn’t take it well at all,’ he said.

The line was finally moving. The group up front called out that they would wave to show which cattle cart they were in.

‘Didn’t take it well, at all,’ he repeated, then whistled. ‘Got a new woman to look after. Took care of her all right. Showed me you just have to keep caring for women, you know. It’s hard for them to survive without us protecting them.’

The chill was back. What did he mean?

I was just about to try to ask him when he called out and waved.

‘Quick, I see them!’ he said. ‘Move, Lena. We have to get in that carriage.’

Although Janek had found a group, it was still too large for this carriage. There were fifteen of us, crammed into each other, a small stove, and a hole in the floor for us to go to the toilet, which was our only creature comfort. As soon as the door slid shut, leaving us in semi-darkness, I felt a cold rush of fear course through my body. I suddenly wanted to jump up, open the door and fling myself back outside.

I made to move, but Janek grabbed me by the arm. ‘Just breathe,’ he said. ‘Just close your eyes and pretend you are somewhere else and concentrate on your breaths.’

I did as I was told, and as the train picked up speed, I could hear him telling our fellow passengers about the time he had tried to chase a train with his friends, each of them seeing who could run the fastest, and how, at some point, he had stumbled and fallen. In this retelling of events, for I had already heard this tale, the stumble was much exaggerated as he talked of rolling down a hill, and then clinging on for dear life to a rock, lest he fall more. It ended with an embellished version of his friend saving him and then the group laughing and stealing his father’s vodka to drink in the barn, toasting to their escapades.

While he talked, I kept my eyes closed and retreated into my mind. Thinking now of Father and how he died in his bed, his eyes open, his mouth slack. How I had stood there, looked at him and then walked away. How I had not been there the day that the other prisoners buried him, and how I would not talk to them about it all.

In that moment, I wished I had died in my sleep like him. I did not want to be on this train; I did not want to find out what would happen the moment it stopped and I did not really want to be this close to Janek any more. Everything felt wrong. I had no control, no say. I didn’t want to be here any more.

As Janek moved on to a new story, I said a prayer to Father and Mother. I told them I missed them. I told them I wanted to be with them.

Then, as if my father were in the train with me, I heard his voice as clear as day in my mind. ‘Lena, be brave, my girl. You will find your way back to who you were. You were once a brave, stubborn girl. Now you need to be a brave, stubborn woman!’

His voice was so adamant, so real, that I, to this day, believe my father was there that day. It was his voice, his words, that would keep me alive on this journey.

For my story was not over yet.