The doctor seems to feel the tension. ‘For now, I want
to examine Josie, change her dressing, then I need to get
you set up for work here, Cilka.’
Cilka slides off the bed. ‘Shall I wait outside?’
Yelena looks at Josie.
‘You can stay,’ she answers, the chill still in her voice.
Cilka looks away, holding one hand in another, trying
to quell the shaking, as Josie is examined.
Bardejov, Czechoslovakia, 1940
Cilka and her sister, Magda, walk down a street in their
hometown of Bardejov, on a fragrant spring day. Magda
smiles at two boys walking towards them. She is two years older than Cilka and Cilka admires the way she walks, her elegant wrists with her watch glinting in the sunlight, her hips gently swinging.
‘They both like you,’ Cilka says. ‘Which one do you like
the best?’
‘They’re just boys,’ Magda says.
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The boys position themselves in front of Cilka and Magda, forcing the girls to either stop or walk around them. Magda stops and Cilka follows suit.
‘Hello, Lazlo, Jardin,’ Magda says.
‘So, who’s this pretty little thing with you?’ Lazlo says, his eyes wandering up and down Cilka.
‘She’s my sister, my younger sister. Take your eyes off
her,’ Magda snaps.
‘No boy or man is going to want to take his eyes off her,’
Lazlo sneers.
Cilka’s stomach lurches in a confusing way. She looks
down at the ground.
‘Come on, Cilka, let’s go.’ Magda grabs Cilka’s hand and
pulls her away.
‘Hey, Cilka, lose your sister and come and find me,’ Lazlo calls out.
Magda squeezes Cilka’s arm.
‘Ow! Stop it, let me go. What’s your problem?’ Cilka
says, shaking her arm free.
‘You’re only fourteen, Cilka,’ Magda snaps back at
her.
‘I know how old I am,’ she says defiantly. ‘He’s quite
good-looking. How well do you know him?’
Magda stops, puts her face close to Cilka’s.
‘Don’t be stupid, Cilka. You’re just a child. He’s a . . .
well, he’s not a man but he’s not a boy either. You have to be careful.’
Cilka brings her arms across her chest. ‘So, I’m never
allowed to talk to a boy, is that what you’re saying?’
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‘No, that’s not what I’m saying. One day you’ll grow up, then you’ll know . . .’
‘Know what? What do you know about boys? I’ve never
seen you alone with a boy.’
Magda looks away, a dark cloud on her beautiful face.
Cilka has never seen her look this way, shadows behind her eyes.
‘Magda, are you all right?’
‘Come on, let’s get the shopping done and get home before curfew.’
‘No, why can’t we stay out? I don’t want to obey such a
stupid rule. We haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘You can be such a child, Cilka. Do you want to get Papa
into trouble because you won’t do as you’re told? This is so like you, always wanting things your way. This time, little sister, you do as I say and we go home before the curfew.’
‘And if we don’t? What will they do to us?’
Cilka stands still in the warm, scented street. What could possibly happen to them, on such a soft spring day?
‘The Germans? You don’t want to know.’
‘How much worse can it get?’
‘Oh, Cilka, please, just once believe me when I say, we
need to do as Papa asks.’
* * *
Cilka and Josie follow the doctor, Yelena Georgiyevna, to
the end of the ward and are introduced to two nurses,
both Russian, Raisa Fyodorovna and Lyuba Lukyanovna.
They are instructed to teach Cilka what is required in
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filing patient records, making notations and fetching medicine. Raisa is tall and strikingly pale, with large, full lips, and Lyuba is shorter, with almond-shaped eyes and sharp
cheekbones. Both have long dark hair, indicating they are
not prisoners. Cilka wonders again if they choose to be
here, or whether they are assigned their positions. Cilka
and Josie’s hair is still short, beginning to curl lightly in the damp air. Both Raisa and Lyuba speak multiple
languages too, and Cilka is told they will be her main
overseers during the two weeks. Josie is told she will have
to sit in the corner of the room and wait until the end of
the day.
Two other male doctors are introduced to Cilka, told
she is in training to be able to record their notes directly
as they examine and assess patients. Cilka notices the
glances they give her, liking what they see. She cringes. Is
this place as threatening as Hut 29? Only time will tell.
Josie sits on the floor at the back of the large counter
that has four chairs to sit and work from. One of the
women offers her a chair, which she declines. She is soon
curled up asleep. Tired. Traumatised. In shock. A combi-
nation of all three.
Cilka is a fast learner. She catches on to the format and
rhythm of carefully identifying the correct notes for each
patient and filing them. She is taken to a small room at
the back of the ward and shown the range of medications
she will have to correctly write down or collect. Left there
to study the names and spelling of each, she works out
their varied medicinal benefits.
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When Raisa comes to get Cilka from the dispensary for a meal break, Cilka asks her to confirm what she has taught
herself. Raisa tells her she is very impressed, particularly
with her pronunciation.
Another nurse comes in and angrily demands to know
what they are doing. Without waiting for an explanation,
she orders them from the room.
Cilka doesn’t yet understand the hierarchy but realises
that here, as with anywhere, she will have to learn who to
trust and who to avoid.
Taking a seat at the counter, she is handed a tin plate
with a sweet bread roll, a piece of potato and a small
quantity of dried green beans.
‘Is this for me?’ she asks.
‘Yes, eat up,’ Raisa says. ‘We can eat whatever the
patients don’t. This is what is left over. Many of them are
too sick to eat.’
‘Don’t they need it to get better?’
‘Some of them won’t get better and we can’t force them.
If we send it back to the kitchen the greedy pigs there
would only eat it or sell it.’ Raisa’s lips draw tight in a
thin line of distaste.
Cilka’s stomach suddenly feels very small. It wouldn’t
be the first time she’s eaten a dead person’s food.
‘Can I share it with my friend?’
‘If you want.’ Raisa shrugs.
Cilka takes the plate and sits down beside Josie, resting
against the wall. She gently shakes her awake. Josie sits
up, orienting herself to where she is.
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‘Here, eat some of this.’
‘I don’t want your food. I don’t want anything from
you.’ Josie lies back down and closes her eyes.
Cilka breaks the bread roll in two and places one half
on the floor in front of Josie.
Lyuba, the other nurse, comes and sits down beside her.
‘It’s great to have some help.’
‘Oh . . . I don’t know how much help I am yet.’
‘You’ll get there. Raisa said you are a fast learner and
already can pronounce the names of the drugs better than
she can.’
‘I’m good with languages.’
‘Excellent. When you start writing your own reports,
you will need to have your spelling one hundred per cent.
Mostly it doesn’t matter, but every now and then we get
audited and we all get in trouble if they find incorrect
spelling, or something left out.’
‘I don’t want to get anyone into trouble. Can I show
you what I write before it goes on the file?’
‘Of course – that is what I am suggesting. Raisa and I will
teach and supervise you, and I think Yelena Georgiyevna
likes you, so you will be fine.’ She glances at the clock on
the wall. ‘It’s time to go back to work.’
Cilka looks at Josie and the uneaten piece of bread. It
is good, she thinks, that Josie does not just accept her
situation. It is a kind of strength. Still, Cilka feels the pang of distance.
* * *
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That afternoon when Cilka and Josie are returned to their hut before the others arrive back, they find it in total
disarray. All the beds have been stripped of their sheet
and blanket and in many cases tipped upside down or on
their side. The meagre belongings of the women lie in
heaps on the floor of the hut.
Josie, Cilka and Antonina stand in the doorway surveying
the mess.
‘Hmm, looks like Klavdiya Arsenyevna has been here,’
Antonina says.
Stepping into the hut, Cilka asks quietly, ‘Are we allowed
to clean it up?’
‘You can fix your own bed.’
Antonina stands with hands on hips, and Cilka notices
how strong she is, though with a small frame. The muscles
– arms, chest, thighs – bulge roundly out from her joints.
‘What about the others? Can we do them all while we
wait for you to bring the women back?’
‘It’s probably better they see for themselves what
happens without warning.’
‘But why? Why has someone done this?’
‘Klavdiya Arsenyevna is the senior guard for this hut
and the larger brigade; she is looking for things you
shouldn’t have.’
‘We had everything taken from us; how could we have
something we’re not meant to have?’ Josie asks.
‘She knows that. This is her warning to you. And it
might be because she has found out about your job, Cilka.
You have access to things others don’t now. If she finds
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something she doesn’t like you can expect to be sent to the hole for punishment.’
Antonina turns and leaves the hut, letting the door stay
open, the icy air being blown in. Josie closes it. But what
does Klavdiya not want to find? she thinks. They seem to
be allowed to have some possessions. The rules here change
day to day, she thinks. And though this camp has a different
purpose – to get them to work for the Soviet Union, rather
than kill them for being Jewish – in these conditions, and
with constant rape, always the threat of violence and the
‘hole’, Cilka can see that she has gone from one cruel,
inhuman place to another.
She goes to the stove and attempts to coax it back to
life by gently placing small amounts of coal ash from the
bucket on top of the dulling embers. What should they
do about the upturned room, she wonders.
‘I think she was right,’ she says to Josie. ‘We should
leave it for the others to see and we can tell them what
Antonina said.’
Josie ignores her and goes to her bed, struggling to right
it with one hand.
‘Here, let me help,’ Cilka says.
‘I don’t need your help.’
‘Fine,’ Cilka says harshly. She looks away from the spec-
tacle.
Eventually she turns round to see Josie buried under
the blanket, her back to her.
* * *
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Day has turned to night; the stove is pumping out as much heat as Cilka can get from it when the door opens and
the other women stagger in. The solitary light bulb casts
eerie shadows over the chaos, making it difficult, at first,
for the women to see what they have arrived home to.
Slowly, as they each make their way to their beds, it
becomes evident. Several of them turn on Cilka, who is
standing by the stove.
‘What the fuck have you done?’ says Elena.
It hits Cilka that she and Josie are about to be blamed.
‘No, no, it wasn’t us.’ She fights the urge to scream at
the woman. ‘See, my bed is the same. This is how we
found the place.’
‘Then who did this?’ says Hannah.
‘It was a guard, a guard named Klavdiya Arsenyevna
Antonina told us about her.’
‘And why?’
Cilka quickly explains.
‘What is it?’ Elena asks her. Hannah throws her sheet
and blanket and mattress around, looking for some-
thing.
Elena slaps her, hard and sudden. ‘It’s was just a crust,
Hannah!’
Hannah lets out a sob. ‘I was saving it for you.’
The other women look away, set about restoring their
beds, awaiting their call to dinner.
* * *
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After dinner they return to the hut, a reluctance to go to bed obvious in the way the women linger over even the
unsavoury chores. In the brighter light at the mess Cilka
had been able to see other injuries from the night before
on the faces of some of the women and noticed one held
her right arm limply, supporting a painful wrist.
Josie still avoids Cilka, preferring to talk to Natalya.
This fracture in their friendship must be obvious to the
other women but no one comments.
‘Do you think they will come again?’ Olga whispers.
She is whipping a needle and thread through a small piece
of fabric, with hands crooked from overuse and cold. She
will unpick her stitches and do them over, perfecting her
work several times before bed.
No one attempts an answer.
With the light off, the outside spotlight throws a
diffused shadow that dances around the room as falling
snow plays within the beams. The women slowly move
onto their own beds. They have learned already the need
&nbs
p; to be as well rested as possible for the labour they will
have to endure tomorrow.
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CHAPTER 6
The two weeks of treatment for Josie’s hand pass quickly.
It heals, with the ministrations of Yelena Georgiyevna,
beyond the point at which she should have returned to
normal work. The cold continues to intensify, along with
the hours of darkness. The women in Hut 29 have got to
know each other, or at least, become used to each other.
Friendships have formed, and shifted, and re-formed. Fights
have taken place. Josie remains distant, and Cilka accepts
this. She understands that her role in the hospital might
distance her permanently from her hut-mates. She supposes
she ought to take the job and survive. The reaction of those
around her is just something she has to deal with. Some,
like Olga and Margarethe, have expressed gratitude and
already say they are relying on the extra bits of food she
brings, the bandages and fabric to keep them warmer. So
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far, only Elena has expressed hostility. But although she has yelled and hissed at Cilka, she hasn’t laid a hand on her.
The men still visit at night. The women are raped, abused,
injured. And there are other indignities. Two have been
sent to the ‘hole’ for misdemeanours, including Hannah,
Elena’s hanger-on, for simply looking at the guard Klavdiya
Arsenyevna the wrong way. When she returned, for days
afterwards, she was not even able to speak.
* * *
Yelena smooths cream into Josie’s hand before placing it
back in her lap. Josie looks down.
‘I’m sorry, Josie, it has healed well. I cannot continue
to bandage it. In fact, I might compromise it by continuing
to wrap it up; it needs to breathe now.’
Josie looks around the room, her eyes coming to rest
on Cilka, who is standing by the doctor.
Yelena notices. ‘I am sorry, Josie. If I could give you
work here I would, but they only allow so many prisoners
to work with us.’ She looks genuinely pained. Cilka has
learned over the past two weeks that Yelena is a good
person, always doing her best for everyone, but also having
to make hard decisions. She can’t be seen to be too favour-
able towards the prisoner patients, for example, in front
of the other doctors, as it would be seen as being favour-