Page 68 of The Storyteller of Krakow

Because you looked like my brother for a moment.

Because I am tired of watching boys die.

Because tonight I came searching for a bear and found you as well.

‘Because we are near the end. Too many dead,’ I said.

He watched me, his breathing uneven.

‘I shot at you – the Poles,’ he said faintly. ‘You help, but I shot at you all.’

‘I know.’

Silence settled between us.

As I finished putting the bits of gauze back in my bag and began to look about the cellar for something to cover him with, my helmet, too large for my head, fell off and rattled to the stone floor. Immediately, Wojtek picked it up and started to play with it.

I didn’t think anything of it, didn’t think to pick it up, and continued to look for something, anything to use. Then, I saw it, a holed canvas sack.

I dragged it over and placed it on his legs.

‘You are…’ he began, then stopped. ‘Woman?’

I pretended I hadn’t heard him and tucked the sacking around him. It didn’t matter, I told myself, that he saw I was a woman. He would have heard it in my voice – I hadn’t been playing my role well at all. It didn’t matter because he was German and I would leave and he would either be found or would die. It didn’t matter.

I finished covering him and stood.

‘You won’t move far,’ I said. ‘So don’t try.’

‘I cannot,’ he said and gave a brief smile.

‘If a patrol finds you, you surrender.’

‘Yes.’

I hesitated, then added, ‘Stay quiet. You might live longer that way.’

‘You come back?’ he asked.

I didn’t answer straight away.

‘I will try,’ I said at last.

I turned towards the stairs.

‘Wait.’

I paused, but didn’t look back immediately.

‘Your name,’ he said. ‘Please.’

I almost refused and yet, what did it matter though – really?

‘Lena,’ I said.

I climbed the steps before he could say anything more.

Behind me, in the dim, cold cellar, his voice followed, soft, uncertain, but clear.