Page 78 of The Storyteller of Krakow

‘Why? Pride?’

He shook his head. ‘Because if I do that, I won’t see you again.’

‘You don’t even know me, so what does it matter?’ I asked, and yet I liked that he had said what he had.

‘You think I am a fool, don’t you? I am,’ he said. ‘I can’t explain it. But I feel like if I go, if I am taken, then this thing, this great thing that could have been, will never be.’

‘You sound like Anka,’ I said. ‘A romantic.’

‘Perhaps I am.’

‘Or perhaps you are delusional from your injuries and the pain.’

‘Yes. Perhaps that too,’ he admitted.

I wasn’t sure of this conversation – I wasn’t sure what he really meant or whether this was just, like I had said, a delusion, or just another story to be spoken aloud, to take his thoughts away from the reality that he was in. But I wanted it to be true. I wanted this man, this enemy of mine, to want to see me again. I wanted this silly romantic notion that this was like one of Anka’s stories of love. I could see it now – this great saga before my eyes – of falling in love with the enemy and together we would face the world. I wouldn’t be alone. I wouldn’t feel afraid to be myself, I wouldn’t…

‘Why did you bring him?’ Matthias interrupted my stupid daydream. He looked to Wojtek, then back to me.

‘He’s my excuse,’ I said. ‘If someone sees me out here, they assume I’m on some foolish errand for the bear. They don’t ask questions. And,’ I said, ‘I thought you might like to see him, properly this time.’

‘You are risking a lot for me,’ he said. ‘Dressing as a man. Wandering about in the night with a bear. Perhaps you are a romantic too?’

‘I highly doubt it,’ I said, my cheeks burning.

‘It’s wrong that you need it, though, the uniform. Or that you think you need it.’

‘It’s protection,’ I said.

‘But you feel braver wearing it? Freer?’

I shrugged.

‘I told you about my aunt. A woman doesn’t need a disguise to be a warrior.’

As soon as he said the word ‘warrior’, I felt a cold chill nibble at my skin. That was what Noor had said – how I had to be a warrior. How I had to save a friend – and then her parting words: Lena, he loves you.

What was this? What was happening? Was this actually a dream?

‘Lena,’ Matthias said. ‘What have you brought me this time? More food?’

I opened my mouth but words failed me, and I rummaged around in my satchel and drew out more tins, some biscuits and more water.

I opened a tin and handed it to him with the small spoon I had taken from the mess. Wojtek lifted his head at once, nostrils flaring. ‘No,’ I told him, pointing as if he were a recruit who needed discipline. ‘This is not yours.’

‘You speak to him like he understands,’ he said.

‘Sometimes he does,’ I said. ‘Sometimes he only pretends.’ I glanced at Wojtek. ‘He likes beer, cigarettes, wrestling. He’ll salute if you do it first. He’s a better soldier than some.’

‘A bear in Italy,’ Matthias murmured, shaking his head slowly. ‘Nothing about this war makes sense.’

‘But like you say, it’s a good story,’ I said.

‘It is. Tell me, Lena, how will you get me out of here? Where will we go?’

I laughed. ‘I already said – about the surrendering, the camp, the hospital?’

He looked at me. His eyes were red, and for a moment, it was as though he did not recognise me. Then, suddenly he snapped out of it. ‘Ah, yes. No. I know.’ He nodded.