Page 38 of The Storyteller of Krakow

Her face softened, and then quickly hardened as Janek appeared at her shoulder as if he somehow knew I was there.

‘There you are,’ he said, ‘my little Zosia. They’ve posted tomorrow’s roster. We don’t want to miss it. We need to know when you are working and when you are free to be with me.’

‘Lena…’ Zosia began, but she was already turning, pulled by the current of him. ‘I’m sorry. Later?’

I watched them go, Zosia half a step behind him, and realised that there was no way back to her for now.

Once, after stargazing and wondering my silly thoughts about heaven and hell and all that could be, I sat in my tent looking at some maps that Sergeant Bell had given me to study.

I had a pencil and a ruler. Roads. Dry cuts of river. Names the British bent. The ink had run where a canteen had leaked on the paper. A brown stain sat over a place we would cross.

Behind the canvas, I heard a noise – a voice I knew: Zosia and then her laughter. I was about to get up, finally getting to speak to her, when I heard Janek.

‘You should sleep,’ he said.

‘I did,’ she said.

‘Not enough. I’ll take you.’

She waited. ‘All right.’

I moved the ruler. The pencil tip snapped.

I took another pencil. By a dry river someone had written uważać – be careful.

‘Give me your arm,’ he said.

‘Janek,’ she said.

‘Stay close,’ he said.

There was a rustle, then quiet, and I was sure I heard Zosia whisper, ‘Don’t,’ but I couldn’t be sure.

Then Janek, whispering, ‘I’ll look after you.’

I pressed too hard on the map and saw that the line I had drawn went through a village. I tried to erase it, but it stayed.

Finally, I heard Zosia laugh, then their steps disappeared. Then nothing.

I didn’t turn. Did not get up to find out what had just happened there, outside the tent, what Janek was doing. I knew. Of course I did. I wondered too if he had chosen my tent to do it outside of. But I didn’t let my mind drift there. Instead, I concentrated on the map. My job. Doing what I was told because that’s all there was.

So it brought me much joy on the day I had a delivery to the men’s camp and found a friend: Wojtek.

I was unloading my truck, or at least supervising as soldiers came up one by one to take out the boxes of rice and cans of corned beef, when I felt a nudge at my leg.

I looked down, and there sat Wojtek, prodding my calf with his paw.

‘Well, hello there,’ I said.

He looked up at me and yawned.

‘I’m boring you already?’ I laughed.

‘He’s had a busy morning,’ one of the men said. ‘Helping unload a few other trucks. Thought he would help now, but seems he is on a break.’

‘Everyone deserves a break, isn’t that right, Wojtek?’ I felt about in my pocket for a biscuit.

‘Can he have this?’ I asked.