Page 22 of The Storyteller of Krakow

‘Yes,’ she urged, turning her head to look at me. ‘Something to take my mind off the cold. Something… different than you usually tell. Something that could actually happen.’

I thought for a moment and decided to share with her my story I had told myself in the gulag, about our home, about how magical and warm it is in my mind.

‘Imagine a place where the ground is soft beneath your feet, and the cold is just a breeze on your cheeks. There’s a river that flows through a valley, its waters warm and inviting, carrying the scent of pine and sweet fruit. You walk along that river and find a young boy waiting for you. He smiles and says, “I’ve been waiting here to share a secret.”

‘Then he leads you to a hidden garden, full of colours you’ve never seen before. At the end of the garden is a house, it’s whitewashed and has a red tiled roof. There are baby-blue curtains at the windows upstairs, and thick crimson curtains in the rooms downstairs.

‘He takes you into the house, and you see a piano sitting, waiting for you to play. You turn to ask the boy to play for you, but he is gone. It doesn’t worry you that he is gone, because you know he will come back. He’ll come back with people you haven’t seen for a long time and you feel safe in the house – like you’ve always known it and⁠—’

‘Lena,’ Zosia interrupted. ‘Is this a ghost story? I said something that could actually happen.’

‘In my mind it can,’ I said, a little hurt that she did not like my story.

‘Well, it sounds strange to me. But the house I liked. I did like that,’ she placated me. ‘It sounds like a nice house.’

‘It was. It might still be,’ I said.

* * *

The following day, I had just returned from the water distribution point when I noticed Janek standing outside the barn, watching me.

‘Lena,’ he said, striding towards me. ‘Why are you carrying that bucket yourself? You’ve been working too hard.’

‘I can carry it,’ I said. ‘I’ve been doing it for months.’

He frowned. ‘I know, but… I worry. You push yourself too far. Where’s Zosia? Hmm? I thought she was your friend. She can carry it for you.’

Zosia suddenly appeared and I thought he was going to interrogate her as to why she hadn’t been helping me, but instead, he smiled at her.

‘Zosia, my dear, how are you? You’re looking much better.’

Zosia flushed. ‘I’ve put on a bit of weight, I suppose.’

‘It suits you,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’ She grinned at him.

‘Not like this one,’ he said. ‘Still as thin as a piece of paper if you ask me. She works herself too hard, doesn’t she, Zosia?’

‘I – I suppose,’ Zosia said, looking to me and then at Janek.

He shook his head and let out an almighty sigh. ‘I try and try to look after her, but she won’t listen, will she, Zosia?’

‘She’s just getting water. I mean, we all have to get water,’ she tried.

‘I know. You’re right. I just worry about her. I really do. And I’m so glad she has you now as a friend, but she’s not getting the rest she needs. When I met her, Zosia, she was a frail thing, almost dead. Have I told you that? And I kept her alive, kept her going. And she knows, like I know, that she needs to rest, but she won’t, Zosia, she really won’t.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Zosia said, then looked at me, her eyes wide. ‘I didn’t mean to tire you, Lena.’

‘You haven’t,’ I said and stepped forward. ‘I’m fine, Janek, really, I am. You don’t have to worry so much any more.’

His face fell, and I almost thought he was going to cry.

‘Janek.’ Zosia placed her hand on his arm. ‘I’m sure Lena means she’s grateful, but maybe she is all right now? She just doesn’t want you to worry, isn’t that right, Lena?’ she prompted me.

‘Exactly so,’ I said.

‘I understand,’ he sulked. ‘I just know you, Lena. I know that all of this, talking, getting water, and all of that, could make you tired again. Don’t you remember how tired you were, how you slept so much? How you couldn’t really do a thing without me?’