Page 70 of The Storyteller of Krakow

‘Hmmm.’

‘You want to go for another ride on the death lift?’ he asked.

‘I do, if you’ll accompany me, that is.’

The youth grinned and showed me the way.

‘I knew I’d see you again,’ he said as we walked, my gait slower than it was yesterday.

‘You did?’ I puffed. Since when had I become so breathless?

‘Yeah. You remind me of my grandmother. I knew I’d see you again because my grandmother, when she died, she said she’d come back and see if I was all right.’

‘Did she now?’ I thought of how I had believed Piotr had done the same for me in my life then quickly pushed the memory away.

‘I liked her. Just stuck here now with my foster parents. They’re okay. But I miss her. I could tell her things, like all the things.’

We reached the lift, and he pressed the button.

‘I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother,’ I said. ‘It’s hard when people leave you. Even harder when you get left alone.’

‘Yeah. It’s shit,’ he said, then blushed. ‘Sorry. I know I’m not supposed to swear.’

‘I swear all the time. It’s a sign of intelligence,’ I told him. ‘Just choose your times wisely.’

‘Yeah,’ he said.

The doors opened, and we got inside.

‘Can I tell you something, like, as if you were my grandmother?’ he asked as the lift began to shudder and creak upwards.

‘You can.’

‘I made these friends when I got placed here. They’re okay, I think. But my foster family say they’re bad news.’

‘And are they?’ I looked at him and raised my eyebrow.

‘You looked just like her then, when you did that!’ He laughed.

‘So, are they?’

He shifted from one foot to the other. ‘Maybe not. They gave me the cigarette. They said they had more. And vodka too.’

‘How old are you?’ I asked. Not that it really mattered. No child should be doing it.

‘Thirteen,’ he said almost proudly.

‘Bit young for drinking and smoking.’

‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘I prefer to read books. I play chess too. At least I used to, with my grandmother.’

‘You sound like my brother,’ I said. ‘He was like that when he was young. Preferred books and games. Didn’t have too many friends. Got bullied.’

‘Yeah. That happens,’ he said as the lift stopped and the doors squeaked open.

He walked me to Kasia’s door. ‘Is that your family in there?’

‘Not so much. But maybe.’