So that’s why, sometimes, we weren’t too mad about Bauer’s ideas. But today, with the salami. . well, we weren’t about to spit on that.
The only problem was that, with all of the food we had now — the onions, the lard, the salami, and the cornflour that takes so long to cook — I was getting even more worried about the wood.
I got up and glanced at the snow in the saucepan. It had almost melted. Soon it would be water, though barely even lukewarm. I shoved what remained of the shutter into the firebox and told the others: ‘There won’t be enough wood.’
‘We need coal. They wouldn’t have been able to take that with them.’
If there were any, it would be in the storeroom. Was it possible I hadn’t seen it? I didn’t think so, but I went back anyway. I pulled the door open and was instantly hit by the icy air and the stink. The Jew, sitting on his heels, lifted his head and looked at me. His wool hat had been pushed further back, uncovering his ears. I felt hatred rising up in me for the snowflake embroidered on it. All the more so as I’d forgotten about it until then. I turned away from it and examined every inch of the storeroom, lifting up bags and old newspapers with my foot. Beneath lay frozen earth, and not a single piece of coal. Not even the hint of one. ‘There’s nothing in here,’ I shouted.
‘What about outside, behind the house?’ Emmerich asked.
‘No, that’s impossible,’ I replied.
I came back out, and while I was pushing the door shut so I wouldn’t have to see the wool hat any more, Emmerich said, ‘Leave it a bit open.’
‘What for?’ I asked, although I knew.
‘He’ll freeze,’ said Emmerich. ‘What good would that do us?’
‘He won’t freeze any more in there than he would in his hole.’
‘Leave it a bit open anyway.’
The Jew watched me. He knew we were talking about him. I went out of the storeroom, leaving the door half-open.
Next, we worked out how much wood was left. There was one chair, the bench, the shelf and the table. We felt remorseful at the thought that it would all have to be burned, though. Bauer pointed to the trapdoor that led to the attic. ‘Why don’t we look up there?’
We pushed the table underneath it and put the chair on top. But who would climb up? It wasn’t very high, but you had to hoist your entire body weight up on your elbows. Thankfully, Emmerich had already taken off his coat. He climbed onto the table, then onto the chair, and he lifted up the trapdoor as he was standing up. It was heavy. It made a very loud noise as it fell onto the attic floor. Everything shook, and black dust fell down on us. Emmerich leaned on his elbows and, using all his strength, grunting and moaning, lifted himself up. To help him, Bauer and I seized one leg each and pushed him towards the ceiling. Finally, he managed to get one knee inside, and then the other. He moaned again, and then he was in the attic. Crouching down, he got his breath back and looked down at us. His whole body shivered. ‘It’s still freezing up here.’
‘So hurry up!’ Bauer told him.
Emmerich turned his head. ‘It’s completely dark.’
‘You want your rifle?’ Bauer asked.
Emmerich half-smiled, half-grimaced, then stood up and disappeared into the darkness.
~ ~ ~
WHILE WE WAITED, we sat with our backs to the stove, Bauer on the table and me on the bench. We could hear Emmerich walking around the attic. We tried to guess where he was. Bauer shouted up at him: ‘Go on! Keep at it!’
Emmerich made some vague reply, and Bauer yelled: ‘Think about the salami!’
‘I’m not thinking about anything. I can’t see anything either.’
‘Use your lighter!’
‘You think I haven’t?’
‘If he doesn’t find any,’ I said to Bauer, ‘we can burn the trapdoor.’
Bauer, instantly struck by this idea, clapped his hands and shouted: ‘Come back down! We’ve found something!’
Emmerich reappeared above the hole. He crouched down at the edge. ‘A mattress, some rotten apples. . I walked in them,’ he said. ‘But no wood. So what did you find?’
‘The trapdoor,’ Bauer told him.
‘Of course!’ Emmerich nodded. ‘Why did I bother looking inside?’
‘Go on, try it. Pull on it.’
Emmerich grabbed hold of it, lifted it up and tried to twist the hinges. But they held.
‘Come and help me! I can’t do this on my own.’
Bauer climbed up on the table, then on the chair, and the two of them pulled hard at the trapdoor, swearing and grunting like animals. I went up there to help them, but just as I did, the trapdoor gave. Bauer sent it hurtling to the ground, and it only just missed me. It cracked on the concrete floor, and a split appeared in the wood. So while Bauer helped Emmerich to come back down, I went to work on the trapdoor. But it was heavy and thick and still very solid. It was difficult to chop it into bits. But never mind, I thought — it would take longer to burn like this. I kept smashing away, though, and eventually managed it, making a reassuring woodpile next to the stove.
The snow had melted in the saucepan by now. The water was beginning to steam. We needed more snow. I asked Bauer and Emmerich for their tin mugs, tied my now-warm scarf around my neck, and went back outside. The cold fell on me like a sledgehammer. The sky too, or so it seemed, as if it were now lower than before, all grey and white. Sky and earth had blurred into one, and there was no comfort to be found in either. While I packed the snow into our mugs, I wondered again how it was possible that we had once seen so many sunflowers here, and not so long ago either. The landscape had been so full of them, so completely covered, that it seemed their oil must have been flowing like a river somewhere. We could have done with some for our soup. Instead of oil, we had lard, which was poor stuff in comparison. Today, though, it seemed like gold. Today, what we missed was not the oil from the sunflowers but their bright yellow light.
I had not put my gloves back on. I packed the snow in the mugs and my fingers hurt so much that for the last mug — mine — I just shoved the snow in with a single movement, not even bothering to pack it down. Then I ran back to the house. Without the balaclava and the helmet, the silence was like a sharp stone.
~ ~ ~
THE SNOW I’D brought back in the mugs had melted, and the saucepan was just over half-filled. The water was steaming again. We were getting there now. Emmerich and I were on the bench, Bauer standing in front of the stove. He cut the onion in four and threw it in the saucepan. The lard, he dropped in whole. Next, he added the cornmeal. All we had to do now was wait. I looked at the salami, which was still sitting on the bench between Emmerich and me. Bauer had not forgotten it — he was thinking about it too — but he was taking his time to reach a conclusion.
Finally, I asked: ‘What about the salami?’
Bauer hesitated. ‘What shall we do?’ he asked dreamily. ‘Shall we eat it or shall we wait?’
Emmerich and I became dreamy too. After a while, I said, ‘Is it frozen?’
‘No,’ Bauer replied. ‘It was pressed against me.’
But, just to check, he picked it up from the bench. He squeezed it and sniffed it.