Page 53 of The Storyteller of Krakow

‘Hmmm.’ She cocked her head to the side, then looked at her feet. ‘I’m sure they’re just joking, though.’ She raised her head and gave that smile of hers again, but it did not reach her eyes.

‘Maybe.’

‘Say. Are you still going to drive trucks when we get there? We have to re-train, they say – or at least train at something. I was in the infirmary just doing laundry and things, but I’ve said I’d like to do some first aid, you know? I didn’t think they’d say yes, but they need all the hands they can get, apparently.’

‘They’re requisitioning some of the trucks as ambulances,’ I said. ‘I’ll drive one of those, I expect. Or anything they ask me to drive.’

To be frank, I hadn’t thought of what would happen when we arrived, nor what I would be expected to do. The weeks after seeing Noor, and me and Arthur B. Montgomery changing a tyre in the desert at night, had been a flurry of activity, and I hadn’t even had much time either to think of what she had said about being a warrior, and finding an answer and all that. At the moment, it didn’t really matter. I was just focused on surviving the boat journey.

‘Lena.’ Anka moved close to me and lowered her voice. ‘Do you think I’ll be okay? I mean, to help with first aid? I’ve seen some blood and things, and I was fine with that. But they say that the injuries some of the soldiers have are far worse than anything you can imagine. I’m a bit worried I’ll get it wrong, or I’ll vomit or something.’

‘I think you will be fine,’ I said. ‘When you’re in a situation like that, you find a way to get through.’

‘How did you know?’

‘My father was a doctor. Mother a nurse. I didn’t really learn too much from them, but I saw some patients. Some who were dying, some who had injuries. I thought I’d be scared, but I wasn’t. And then, of course, the gulag.’

‘Right.’ Anka sighed the word out. ‘You were in the gulag. Yes, you women that were there, you have something different about you.’

‘We’re broken?’ I suggested.

‘No. No. Quite the opposite. You have a strength, you know. Like you can keep going no matter what.’

I realised then, I knew so little of Anka. Of how she had arrived. If not from a gulag, then where?

‘Joined up,’ she said as if reading my mind. ‘My parents went to Palestine. Me too. Then there was a call for some to join up. I said I would.’

‘That was brave of you,’ I said. ‘See. You have nothing to be scared of, Anka. You have strength too.’

‘I don’t know about that. I quite liked the look of the men, if I’m completely honest. I’m a romantic, Lena. Just wanting to be swept off my feet by a handsome man in uniform!’ She giggled.

I couldn’t help but laugh along with her, as she reminded me of what Arthur had said that day in the jeep – khaki-wacky.

I told her the saying, and she jumped on it. ‘Khaki-wacky! I love it. Yes, that’s me all right. Still love the men in their uniforms, even though I’m in one myself. There’s just something about them, you know?’

‘They’re not for me,’ I said.

‘Ah, so…’ She didn’t finish the sentence.

‘Not that,’ I said. ‘I’m just not interested in them at the moment.’

‘Ah, you will be soon! How old are you? Nineteen? Twenty? Me, I’m twenty-two. And I think I’ve been in love’ – she stopped and counted her fingers, got to ten and started again – ‘gosh, eighteen times!’

‘I doubt it was real love,’ I said.

‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘It was. I’ve fallen in love repeatedly. Recklessly. Sometimes under very poor conditions.’

I gave a quiet snort.

‘Don’t laugh. I mean it.’

‘I’m not laughing. I’m impressed.’

That made her smile. ‘The quickest I ever fell in love was at a train station. Lwów, I think. Or maybe Przemyśl. Everything before the war blurs together.’

‘That sounds promising already.’

‘It was winter. I was waiting for a train that was late, naturally, and I was cross about it. My suitcase was too heavy, my toes were numb. Then I looked up and saw him.’