Page 73 of The Storyteller of Krakow

‘I think it’s all right to have a hand now and then.’

‘The thing is,’ I said, ‘I tried that. In my younger years. Tried to trust a few people here and there. I wasn’t always so stubborn.’

‘And what happened?’

‘Either they left and disappointed me, or died and disappointed me,’ I said.

‘Well. That’s one way to sum it up, I suppose.’

‘Wojtek didn’t,’ I mused. ‘Funny that. A bear never left me. Well, not until the end of the war, that is.’

‘That’s not his fault,’ she said.

‘No. No. I was never disappointed in him. Human males, well, that’s something else.’

‘Men can be tricky,’ she agreed.

‘They can. I’m not saying there aren’t some good ones knocking about. There are. I’ve met a few when they were my patients. My father, he was a good man, my brother too. I thought once I’d met a good man. Felt terrible about the whole thing though. I mean, he was the enemy – so I got what I deserved I suppose!’ I laughed then looked at Kasia, whose face was a little scrunched up.

‘The German,’ I said. ‘I told you about him. Finding him when I went looking for Wojtek?’

Kasia shook her head.

Then, it hit me. That was Grażyna I’d spoken to. Last night. How could I have forgotten that?

‘Who was he?’ Kasia had retrieved her mug and pulled her legs up underneath her. She was just like her daughter, wanting a story.

‘Ah. You may as well know,’ I said. ‘I’ve got this far with it all. May as well finish it off.’

20

1944, MONTE CASSINO, ITALY

By the time I reached the lower slopes, my legs trembled with exhaustion, and Wojtek’s steady weight against my hip was the only thing keeping me upright.

I kept my head down as I passed the sentries. No one challenged me. They were hollowed eyed, smoking thin cigarettes and drinking weak tea.

When the glow of the dressing-station lanterns came into view, relief hit me so hard I had to swallow it down.

Wojtek lifted his head, snuffled the air, and gave a small, indignant grunt, making a couple of soldiers turn at the sound. For a heartbeat, nobody moved, then someone let out a laugh.

‘It’s Wojtek!’

A few soldiers started towards us, grinning, hands outstretched. Then I realised what I was wearing – who I was pretending to be. They’d see through it – they’d see that I, Lena, a woman, was dressed in a male soldier’s uniform.

My stomach dropped.

‘Go!’ I said to Wojtek. ‘Go see your friends, they have food!’

Wojtek did not need to be told twice and lumbered towards them, allowing me to dart away quickly before questions were asked and my identity was revealed.

I managed to get to my truck without being seen and changed quickly, tucking the uniform under the seat once more. Then, I heard something. Anka.

‘Lena?’

I turned.

She stood a few paces away, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her eyes flicked from my hair to the ill-fitting uniform.