Father threw back his eiderdown, stood up, circled the room and inspected the walls. ‘Hmm,’ he said, ‘can’t see much in this light. They’re bark beetles. They’ve had me too.’ Turning his attention to coaxing the fire back to life, he poked around the ashes to find a glowing ember, to which he added some dry kindling from the pile of logs by the door. Within minutes he had skilfully brought it to life.
I tried to help fuel it, but the top logs were new and still wet.
‘Bring them from the bottom of the stack, child. The only way to destroy bark beetles,’ he said, ‘is to set fire to this shack. Pity whoever built it didn’t think to first strip off the bark.’
Karol, now awake, slapped his neck and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Huh, our safe haven.’ He attempted to stamp the bugs out, but the blighters just scattered. ‘How can anyone live like this?’
‘Don’t bother son; they give off a disgusting stench when you squash them. I’ll see if they’ll move us to a clean shack – if they have any.’
I stood at the window in search of daylight but saw only ashen clouds congealing over the camp.
Mother lit another candle from the one remaining flame. ‘You’d have thought they could have left us with at least some paraffin in that lamp.’
I hoped that our next room might have more furniture because apart from these wooden slats for beds, there was just a crude table with a wonky top. Where were the chairs, the shelves, something in which to wash up? Apart from a stove set into the wall serving our room and Gerhard’s, there was nothing in here.
I longed for my thick palliasse, the feel of Mother’s rag mat when I swung my feet out of bed, net curtains at the windows, dried lavender hanging from the rafters – and what had we got? Bugs!
Lodzia arrived with Ella a little later. ‘Gerhard’s trying to shave. I hope he doesn’t slit his throat. Trouble is, there’s nothing flat on which to stand the mirror. It keeps toppling over on the table, but he insists we try to maintain as much normality as possible.’
‘I’m growing a beard,’ Karol announced. ‘At least it’ll keep my face warm.’
‘Lodziu, do you have more furniture in your room?’ I asked. ‘This one’s beyond basic.’
‘No, it’s identical to this.’ She headed for the swag bags, ‘are we going to unpack these? We might as well try to make ourselves at home.’
Mother stopped her. ‘Kohanie, Ignacy said he’s going to ask if they can move us to another shack, so there’s no point yet. We’re all bitten.’
‘So are we.’ Lodzia uncovered her arm in solidarity. ‘We’ve already asked. Everyone we’ve spoken to is the same. The entire camp is lousy. Oh,’ she said, noticing Karol’s bicycle leaning on the wall beneath the window, ‘was that allowed?’
‘No, it wasn’t.’ I glared at him with icy patience. ‘Neither was his accordion, but he still brought them. If it wasn’t for his stuff, we might have got a ride here on Natasha’s sleigh, instead of disappearing up to our waists in snowdrifts.’
‘Well, Gerhard brought his guitar,’ Lodzia said, affecting a look of puzzlement. ‘Ah,’ she said, picking up the onyx clock, ‘I’m glad we didn’t leave this behind. Where shall we put it?’ She settled on the windowsill, and there it sat, a potent reminder of our past lives. In here, it looked like a new hat on an old scarecrow.
Before ten, Mother reached for some of her shawls and handed half to me because my coat was still wet. ‘I suppose we’d better see what this Camp Kommendant has to say.’
‘Yes, but what about finding a shop, Mama? Shouldn’t we go there first – we need food?’
‘We’ll find one later.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘It’s always, ‘yes but’ with you, kohanie. I’m sorry, this time it’s important we go to the meeting, so we know what’s going on here. We’ll fetch the food later. They’ve been expecting us, so it’s not as though they will run out soon.’
Gerhard joined us, his face looking as if he had done battle with a hawthorn bush.
Setting out, we met other families from nearby shacks. Cold, hungry, despondent, dishevelled and bitten; everyone headed in the same direction to line up under the Soviet diktat.
The Camp Kommendant came out, flanked by three NKVD cronies. A cursory look around, he stared at us with dead eyes and launched into his speech, but had the good grace to pause while those of us who understood Russian translated to others.
‘My name is Kommendant Ivanov.’ He turned to the man on his right, ‘and this is Vice Kommendant Smirnov, Head of Security, amongst other things. If you have any issues about anything, Vice Kommendant Smirnov is your first point of contact.’
‘The name of this ‘settlement’ is Posiolek Vodopad. It is a corrective labour colony, and we have brought you here so we can re-educate you into earning your living by honest toil.’
Spontaneous laughter and jeering erupted from amongst those who were farmers.
Decent working men, including my father and my brothers, needed no lectures about honest toil from a pen pusher like him.
Various voices from amongst the crowd rose in challenge. ‘Rubbish! Nonsense! Toil? What do you know about hard work?’
Undaunted, Ivanov continued. ‘You will earn your living in the forest, and you will abide by the basic tenet of socialism, which means he who does not work does not eat. The settlement staff will be your instructors.’
His speech then slipped into some received socialist liturgy, which washed over my head with its ‘munificence’ whatever that meant, of the great Soviet government and how we should be ‘grateful’ – ha, grateful, ‘for its generosity’… I switched off.
Unbowed and defiant, someone called out, ‘Then feed us. We’re starving here.’
‘You will receive payment for your work, and you will buy your food in the settlement shop and the cantina. Comrade Szefczuk who runs the commissary will do everything possible to satisfy your needs. You will find both him and his wife very helpful.
‘Today is a free day to allow you to settle into your dwellings and become acquainted with the Posiolek. Tomorrow morning, those of you aged sixteen or over will start work in the forest. The Station Headman and his staff will assign you your tasks.’ He was about to leave but stopped. ‘For those of you who may contemplate escape – let me assure you, you will fail. Vast forests, swamps and the estuary of the immense Northern Dvina surround you for thousands of kilometres in every direction. Also, a myriad of lesser tributaries criss-cross the entire region and are major rivers in their own right. You will never find your way out. The NKVD will shoot you if you succeed.
‘Although there are no physical barriers to keep you here, I have to warn you the forests contain many dangerous animals, every bit as hungry as you are, so unless you relish being eaten alive I would advise against it. All of you will spend the rest of your lives here. You will get used to it.’
There was no opportunity to protest, or to ask questions. Having delivered his death sentence, he turned away and he and his henchmen filed back into the admin shack.
That was it; we would never get out of here alive.
Father raised his brows, said nothing, but removed Ella from his shoulders where she had been sitting throughout, and set her down on the ground. Gerhard rubbed his temple, took a deep breath and gave Lodzia a grim smile who – after a moment – looked away. Karol stared ahead without blinking, perhaps thinking life might be quite pleasant here if he got to know Natasha better. Mother said, ‘And may God help us all.’