Let Me Tell You a Story Read online

  ‘Oh you and Baby Doll,’ Mamusia always laughed. ‘The day Tatuś and I gave you that pram, you would not let go of it. Even when you were asleep, you held on to it firmly through the railings of your cot – all night. We couldn’t prise your fingers off it for fear of waking you.’

  I loved Baby Doll but Rabbit was my favourite. He had a blue coat, red shoes and stripy trousers. He had to go everywhere with me. I could not bear to be away from him day or night. Whenever I felt scared, Rabbit was with me. He hugged me when I was sad. He dried my tears when I was crying. He always listened to me and he never looked cross. I loved to suck his floppy brown ears and tell him all my secrets, like touching the stove. He never once told anybody else.

  I put Rabbit on the floor and was trying to get my spinning top to go. It was bright red and stood upright on one leg. It had a handle that I had to pump up and down to make it spin. But I wasn’t very good at the pumping and I couldn’t get it to spin.

  ‘Babcia,’ I called out as usual. ‘Please spin my spinning top for me.’

  Babcia never complained. Out she came, wiping her hands on a tea towel, her kind eyes smiling. She lowered herself on to the floor beside me. Once settled, she pumped its handle up and down and then away my spinning top spun across the room in a flash of colours. We watched it gradually slow and wobble before toppling onto its side. I crawled after it on my hands and knees.

  Babcia sat on the floor, smiling, saying, ‘Quick! Catch the top, Renata.’

  When I had, I handed it back and Babcia pumped the handle and sent it spinning across the room all over again.

  Mamusia had not been gone long when she reappeared at the front door. It was strange to see her home so early and Babcia heaved herself onto her knees and then slowly stood up leaning on one of the chairs and went to the door.

  ‘What is it?’ I heard her ask.

  Mamusia closed the front door and began to take off her coat.

  ‘They don’t want me any more,’ she said. ‘I am no longer allowed to work at the university. I am no longer required.’

  I saw the yellow star on the arm of her coat before she let it fall onto the chair beside her.

  ‘I don’t know how we will survive without my salary. None of the money from Erwin has reached us. We should have done what they advised us to do – given up our religion and we could all have gone with him to . . .’ She never finished her sentence, only looked at Babcia guiltily before saying, ‘I shall have to find some other work.’

  Days passed and my mother was out from early morning until late at night. I saw little of her and, when I did, she had no energy left to play with me. I would sit in her lap, my head on her chest, listen to the steady beating of her heart and wish things would go back to how they were before. Then one evening she returned with news.

  ‘At last,’ she said, ‘Julek has managed to find me some work in the hospital. It’s only menial work but at least there will be a little bit of money coming in.’

  I was so happy because Babcia and Mamusia were smiling again.

  Then I noticed changes inside our apartment. The beautiful things that had filled our house were gradually disappearing. One morning I woke to find the large silver teapot on the sideboard, opposite my cot, was missing. I lay in my bed staring at the empty space.

  At first I thought that Babcia must have put all the beautiful things in our apartment away, out of my reach, like she’d always threatened to do. She didn’t like me touching the ornaments, running my fingers along their smooth surfaces. But I liked to stare at my reflection in the polished silver and make faces. I loved looking into the faces of the little porcelain ladies that Babcia so treasured. The prettiest things were in my grandmother’s bedroom, which was like an Aladdin’s cave. Her ‘jewel’, as she called it, was a large ornate box full of chocolates and sweets, just for me.

  ‘But, Mamusia, where has it gone?’ I asked when she came into the room. ‘Has someone taken it?’

  ‘No, my love. I had to sell it.’

  Now I knew what had really happened to Mamusia’s beautiful things.

  Just before New Year, Aunt Zuzia made a surprise visit to our apartment. We hadn’t seen her for ages and I was overjoyed to see her. But my smile froze when I saw that her feet were bare; she was shaking like a leaf.

  ‘They’ve been to our house and taken my clothes, and my furs,’ she cried. ‘I was too frightened to stay in our apartment on my own waiting for Julek to return. So I decided to come here.’ She sat down on the chair by the door and nervously pressed her little yellow star. ‘You’ll never believe this! On my way here, they demanded my boots. What are they doing – what on earth is happening?’

  ‘Who are they?’ I asked. Now I was really frightened. Someone was stealing people’s clothes and boots.

  No one answered my question.

  Mamusia put her arms around Aunt Zuzia and then went to fetch a bowl of warm water for Aunt Zuzia’s frozen feet. Babcia disappeared into her room and I could hear her rummaging through her wardrobe. When she returned, Babcia was holding a pair of shoes and some clean stockings in her hand.

  ‘Here, take these.’ She gave Aunt Zuzia a pair of worn brown shoes. ‘The soles are still good. They are a bit small for me so they should fit you. I won’t be needing them.’

  Aunt Zuzia took the shoes and reached forward and gave Babcia a big hug. As Aunt Zuzia sat quietly with her feet in the bowl of warm water I tried to work out who ‘they’ were and what ‘they’ would want with Aunt Zuzia’s clothes.

  ‘Ah, that’s better, I can feel my toes again.’ Aunt Zuzia sighed. ‘I hope I don’t get chilblains.’ She dried her feet, put on Babcia’s shoes and stockings and made ready to leave.

  ‘I must go,’ she said as she pulled on a brown coat that I hadn’t seen before. ‘I must get back to Julek. He doesn’t know what has happened and he’ll think I’ve deserted him.’ She gave a funny sort of laugh that sounded more like a sob and quickly kissed the top of my head. Then she squeezed Babcia’s hand.

  I looked at her strange clothes, the old coat, clumpy brown shoes and thick stockings. She looked more like a brown moth than a colourful butterfly. It was then that I knew that something was terribly wrong.

  Chapter Two

  June 1942–September 1943. Przemyśl Ghetto

  The loud bang made me jump. I’d been playing on the floor with my toys. I ran over to the open window in my parents’ bedroom just ahead of Babcia, leaned over the broken railings and peered down into the street below.

  I grabbed Babcia’s hand.

  ‘Did you see it?’ I asked excitedly, pulling at her sleeve and jumping up and down.

  ‘Calm down, my darling.’ Babcia tried to move herself between me and the window.

  But I could already see people gathering on the street below.

  ‘There’s going to be another one,’ I yelled. ‘Let me see!’

  Babcia took no notice of my cries and pulled me away from the window and back into the room.

  ‘But I wanted to see the fireworks,’ I shouted. ‘I haven’t seen any for ages.’

  Babcia let go of my arm and returned to the window. ‘Stay where you are,’ she ordered before drawing the curtains and blocking out the summer sunshine.

  ‘But, Babcia!’ I cried, unable to understand why she didn’t want me to see these wonderful things.

  ‘But nothing.’

  She drew me towards her and led me to the big sofa that stood in front of the blue-and-white-tiled stove. She picked up a large book of fairy tales from the small table at the end of my bed, sat down and made herself comfortable.

  ‘Well,’ she said, looking up at me. ‘Do you want a story?’

  It was earlier than usual for my favourite part of the day but I wasn’t going to complain. I climbed on to the sofa and together in the dim light of the living room we left the apartment and began our journey into the land of magic. Babcia’s soft voice wove its way through the tales that I knew by heart but, even so, each tim
e I heard them I discovered new and exciting words, and the pictures in my head became more real. I drank in everything and soon forgot that down in the street below and up into the market square beyond the fireworks were still going off, and I wasn’t at the window enjoying them.

  Mamusia returned that evening after I’d gone to bed. I heard the front door open and quietly shut, silence and then gentle footsteps cross the wooden floor only to become too soft for me to hear once she reached the Persian rug outside the kitchen. Then I could hear Babcia’s voice sounding scared but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Mamusia’s replies were calm and unhurried. I caught a few of the words, strange words I hadn’t heard before. Then Mamusia was repeating, louder, what she had said, as if Babcia couldn’t understand, ‘The synagogue has been destroyed.’

  Why were my mother and grandmother so worried about the synagogue? We had never been there even though it was only just down the road.

  Then as she opened the kitchen door I heard her say, ‘We need to pack. We need to be ready. It could happen at any time.’

  I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling.

  We are going to leave this place, I thought. Tatuś must be on his way home and he is going to take us away with him. Why else would we be going? We wouldn’t be going without Tatuś.

  I tried to remember what my father looked like. I could see his dark eyes and the gentle, loving smile as his face came towards me. He was bending over to pick me up and then, holding me high in the air above his head, he was throwing me up towards the ceiling and I was flying and laughing with joy. Just like a bird, I thought, as I spied my yellow canary, Tomek, in his cage at the end of my bed. Then Tatuś’s hands were firmly back around my waist catching me, not letting me fall. Safe. Secure. Oh, I love my Tatuś, I thought sleepily, and drifted off to sleep.

  But it wasn’t my father who banged loudly on the door very early the following morning. I sat up in my bed and watched two soldiers in grey-green uniforms burst in and fill up the narrow hallway. They were carrying guns.

  How rude, I thought, as Mamusia came out from her bedroom fully dressed. I watched her cross the living room and go down the hall. I wanted Mamusia to say something, to tell them to go away, but she looked at the two men as if she had been expecting them. The tall one spoke first, barking at Mamusia, and then when Babcia appeared at her bedroom doorway he laughed a horrid laugh and said, ‘I’ll give you five minutes to get ready. Maximum.’

  Then he turned and strode out towards the stairwell, his feet loud on the polished floor. The smaller one stood where he was, watching Mamusia and Babcia gather together their bags and put on their coats, saying nothing. Mamusia came over to me carrying my coat and dress and shoes.

  ‘Come on, darling, put these on,’ she said softly.

  I could see her hands shaking as she tried to help me with first my dress and then my shoes. She put them on the wrong way round and we had to start all over again.

  ‘Where are we going, Mamusia?’ I whispered, afraid of the reply.

  My mother didn’t look at me. She helped me into my coat, searching for an answer she didn’t have.

  ‘And Rabbit? What about Rabbit?’ I panicked as the tall soldier came back into the apartment.

  ‘Hurry up!’ he barked. ‘We have to go.’

  Mamusia scanned the room quickly and seeing no sign of Rabbit picked up Baby Doll and pushed her into my arms.

  ‘Here, take your doll,’ she said in a voice I didn’t recognise.

  ‘But Rab – What about Tomek? Who’ll feed him?’ I asked, forgetting Rabbit for a moment, as I caught sight of the canary at the end of my bed.

  Mamusia looked at the soldiers who were getting impatient.

  ‘Can we bring the bird?’ she stammered.

  The tall soldier laughed his cold laugh. ‘Take what you want. You’re leaving now.’ His smile disappeared as he raised his gun.

  We made our way, the two soldiers pushing us from behind, out of our empty apartment and down the two flights of worn steps and onto the street below where there were more soldiers waiting. I had never been outside so early in the morning, and I hung back, frightened of what was hiding in the shadows. But Mamusia gently pulled my arm and led the way forward. The canary cage bumped against my leg as we were hurried along the street, Babcia’s stockinged legs kept pace with mine. I wasn’t aware of where we were going or in which direction we were heading. My view was blocked by the river of legs all following the same course, all carrying suitcases and bundles of belongings. I noticed everyone was wearing their yellow stars and no one said a word. Perhaps the sky really had fallen and Chicken Licken was right, after all.

  We hadn’t gone far when we were directed towards an open doorway. We made our way inside and a soldier pointed his gun towards a second door that was not quite shut. Babcia led the way, gripping her small battered suitcase so hard that the veins stood out like blue worms on the back of her hand. Then Mamusia and I stepped into the room together, holding hands tightly. The German soldier followed with his gun held out in front of him.

  The room smelt horrible, like boiled cabbage mixed with the same smell as that of the fruit seller who, sucking on his cigarette, came out from behind his stall to give me a treat whenever Aunt Zuzia and I visited the market. The room was cold and small, blotchy brown in colour with paper curling off the walls. There was only one small, dirty window smeared with finger marks, and newspaper was stuck over much of the glass. It couldn’t let in much of the morning light and so the room was dark even though the summer sun was rising outside. The floor was bare and the floorboards grimy. It couldn’t have been cleaned for ages.

  I glanced at Mamusia, terrified. What were we doing here? I wanted to go home now. Mamusia said nothing, she was taking it all in too, the chipped sink in the corner with its dripping tap, the piles of furniture and the empty light sockets dangling from the ceiling tangled up with thick, grey cobwebs and a huge, scary spider with long hairy legs.

  The room was so crowded with furniture that it was difficult for Mamusia to find us a space. We had so little with us. At home all our things had finally disappeared and there was so much space to play. But this room was not just for us, there were several people here already. Men and women dressed in ragged clothes were sitting on the iron beds shoved together so that they were almost touching. They did not move or smile, they just watched us silently, each one wearing their yellow star on the left arm. As soon as we were inside, the soldier turned and left, and we heard the door being locked behind him. Still no one spoke but everyone was looking at us. There was no room to move and nowhere to escape.

  Mamusia squeezed between the narrow beds, some of which were covered with rags and bits of clothing and others by itchy-looking grey blankets. She found three empty beds for us and, shaking, sat down on one, placing Tomek in his cage on the bed beside her. She looked very shocked. She looked like I felt. We said nothing.

  The people remained silent; no one moved. In the middle of the room stood a large metal bucket that stank and steamed – this I later realised was our only toilet.

  ‘Why are we here?’ I asked. ‘I want to go home. I want Tatuś. And I’m hungry.’ Wailing, I turned and clung to Babcia who, like Mamusia, had so far not uttered a word. She took me in her arms and hugged me tightly.

  ‘You know there is a war on,’ Mamusia replied. ‘Things are always different in a war. We have to live here for now, in this ghetto.’

  There it was, something else this war was responsible for. And what was a ghetto? Why wouldn’t anyone explain to me what it all meant? But I just nodded, I was too tired and didn’t feel that I could ask her again. I longed to be back at home in my cosy bed with Rabbit and all my other friendly toys around me.

  That first night as I lay down to sleep, Mamusia one side and Babcia on the other, the blankets prickled my body and made me itch. Mamusia took me into her bed, held me tight trying to reassure me but I knew that she too longed for our cosy, familiar feather quilts
and soft, comfortable beds. Oh, to be able to snuggle down under the covers as I had done every night, and screw my eyes up tight and imagine I was invisible. Then, and only then, would I be able to hide from the monsters that lurked in the shadows. They wouldn’t be able to see me and I could fall asleep – safe and warm. But here on this hard, smelly bed, I knew there was no escape. In this room full of shadows, the monsters were everywhere and with every passing moment I could feel them drawing closer until one night I knew they would come out of the shadows and get me. I held on to Mamusia tightly and vowed never to let her go.

  Soon after we came to stay in the ghetto my mother stopped laughing and her smiles never reached her eyes. She and Babcia were never in the room at the same time. As soon as Mamusia returned, Babcia went out.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked Mamusia one day as she was preparing to leave me yet again in that dark room.

  ‘You ask me that every day, my darling,’ she replied, ‘and every day I try to explain to you that I have to go to work, in a factory.’

  This word factory meant nothing to me. All I wanted was for things to be as they’d always been. I missed the comforting arms of Marynia, my beautiful Aunt Zuzia and Cousin Zazula – where was she? And why did Babcia, who had always been at home to keep me company, now have to go to the factory too?

  My rumbling stomach made me think, yet again, of food. I thought about food all the time. I longed for Babcia’s bigos – a mixture of sausage, meat, sauerkraut and spices – and her scrumptious red borscz soup that turned a beautiful pale pink with the blob of sour cream that I stirred in with my spoon. I couldn’t understand why Babcia had stopped making these delicious things. Wouldn’t it cheer us up if we had just one tasty thing to eat? All we’d had to eat since we arrived in this room was slices of sour bread and watery cabbage soup.

  I wasn’t allowed to go outside and inside there was nowhere to run and play – no children, only Sophie but she was a lot older than me and had to go to work with the grown-ups. I had to keep quiet all day so passed the time in our room eating what little food I was given, talking to Baby Doll (which was not nearly as good as talking to Rabbit) or telling her stories that Mamusia and Babcia used to tell me before we came here. Often I would speak to my little Tomek whose cheeps, like Mamusia’s smiles, had almost vanished. I would repeat the strange words I’d heard that day, hoping the meaning would pop into my head, as I watched Babcia moving slowly round the room trying to clean the place – an impossible job.