There was nobody called Arina in the camp that we knew. The letter would go back into Riina’s knapsack. Perhaps one day it would reach Arina, or perhaps it would not. Her children might never know what happened to her, whether she was killed or deported. They might wonder each night where she was, how she was suffering, their thoughts circling as they imagined the worst.
‘I heard they are deporting people from Lithuania and Latvia, too.’
I turned to find Jakob standing in the doorway. His presence made the blood rush up into my cheeks. In the hours after his return, I had found myself so on edge I could not eat or rest as I waited for him to turn me in. I’d sat stiffly beside the dead embers of the fire, waiting for my damp hair to dry, anticipating the shout and then the scuffle of feet outside the lean-to. But so far nothing had occurred. Now it was almost evening, the blue sky shot through with pink, the moon a slim white fingernail glowing brighter as each minute passed.
I reached for another letter, trying to make myself invisible but I felt Jakob’s attention shift to me.
‘Five thousand at least from Riga,’ he said. ‘Perhaps more.’
‘Oh, no.’ Kati sighed. She sniffed, rubbing at the tip of her nose with her thumb. ‘So many gone.’
I stayed silent.
On the mattress behind us, Etti’s baby made a small noise. We all glanced over. Leelo was tucked into Etti’s arm, swaddled in a blanket. She was beginning to stir, nudging the blanket with her tiny limbs. She looked so small and alive, her skin so pink, it was hard to believe that only yesterday she had been waiting to be born. Etti’s eyelids fluttered open as Leelo’s movements grew more restless. I watched Etti’s eyes dart round, resting on each of our faces, before she looked down at the child cradled in her arms.
Kati reached out her hand and patted Etti’s leg gently. ‘Etti? Leelo needs feeding.’
‘Yes.’ Etti nodded slowly, but she was still staring at Leelo as if she was a rare animal who had come close. Etti’s blonde hair was matted, and hung limp over her shoulders. She pulled herself up higher on the bed, rubbing at her tired eyes with her free hand.
‘Yes. Feeding.’ Holding the baby in one arm, she began to unbutton her blouse. Her fingers fumbled clumsily at the buttons. Leelo began to slip awkwardly off the cot. I reached out automatically and scooped her up. She weighed no more than the expensive porcelain dolls I had played with as a child. Her blue eyes latched onto me and she blinked slowly, like a person waking from a pleasant dream. I heard Jakob cough behind me and Kati’s brief intake of breath.
Too late, I realised my mistake. Fear engulfed me. I pressed the baby quickly into Kati’s arms, muttering apologies. I could not look up to meet Jakob’s eyes but I saw him turn swiftly and march away, leaving an awkward silence behind him broken only by the sounds of Leelo’s hungry yelps.
‘It’s all right,’ Kati said to the grizzling Leelo. ‘Shhh. It’s all right, now.’ She glanced at me warily and I sensed the fragile trust between us unravelling. Had Jakob gone to tell the others? She looked away as Etti held out her arms for the child and brought her to her chest.
I stood up and walked outside. If I was going to be executed, I did not want Etti or Leelo to witness it. I would go as far away from them as possible. Etti had seen enough violence and I did not want Leelo’s first experiences of the world to be of bloodshed.
Darkness was closing in outside. Some of the women had rebuilt the fire in the centre of the camp, lighting bits of kindling and throwing them in until a blaze crackled. It was summer and warm but people gathered around it anyway, leaning against each other, their hands fanned against the flames as if they were trying to burn away the bad memories. Liisa handed out small mugs of water and ladles of vinegary broth that people slurped before passing on to their neighbours. Some people were crying while others held each other, talking softly or humming. I caught snatches of their songs, the words both familiar and strange. I had never imagined to hear my mother’s language spoken again.
Nobody spoke to me, but nobody came to kill me either. I tried to see Jakob, to make him from the few men moving about but he remained invisible. I huddled as close to the fire as I dared, letting the heat lick up my arms and fill my belly with warmth. I felt utterly alone, apart from the group despite the fact that I understood what they were saying. One man began to mutter curses at the Russians, heaping bad omens upon them. Other voices called out in agreement.
One woman spat in the dirt and vowed to kill as many Russians as possible if she was captured, even if it meant dying herself. In a tearful voice she recounted how her husband had been reported by a neighbour because he refused to hand over their last cow, which they kept for milk and cheese. The woman’s husband had been arrested and the cow butchered into parts and carted off.
Her voice shook as she clenched and unclenched her hands, trembling with unspent rage. ‘His life was worth less than a stupid cow! The first Russian I see will be slaughtered. I do not need a weapon. I will use my hands, so help me!’
I winced as if her words were rocks against my skin and shifted away until I could not hear. I could not blame her. Until four days ago, I had not known any better. I’d supposed that the people reported had done something wrong; their arrest was proof enough. And if they were innocent, they would be pardoned. I knew the truth now. My own Russianness felt like a mark upon my skin. I shuffled closer to the fire, wondering what it would take, how many years of regret and guilt, to wash away the stain.
‘Careful. Too close and you’ll catch alight.’ I turned to find Kati’s brother standing over me. My pulse sped up. I unknotted my hands from around my knees, ready to shield my face and waited for him to point his gun. Instead he fell to his knees beside me and slung his rifle onto the pine needles criss-crossing the ground.
I watched him, muscles tensed. But he did not seem aggressive. Cautiously, I lowered my hands and hugged my knees again.
‘You didn’t tell me your mother was Estonian.’ Jakob splayed his fingers before the fire. They were clean now, the blood washed away. ‘I thought you were pure Russian through and through.’
‘It makes little difference. It doesn’t change what I am. Who my father is.’ I hunched away from him, holding my hand out, the heat licking my skin. A small ember drifted from the fire and stuck to my palm. I cried out and snatched my hand away, curling it in my lap.
‘Let me see.’ Jakob held out his hand. Reluctantly, I allowed him to uncurl my fingers. It throbbed and stung where the ember had touched it. A tiny spot of red burned in the centre like a jewel.
‘I wasn’t judging you. Does it hurt?’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ I said, trying to pull my hand away. Looking back at the people on the other side of the fire, I lowered my voice. ‘You might not judge me, but they will. I don’t belong here.’
Jakob smiled. It was a sad smile, laced with sympathy. ‘Your mother was Estonian. You didn’t kill anyone. And you tried to save Juudit. I would say you belong well enough.’
I shook my head. ‘You don’t understand.’
Jakob lifted his eyes. ‘Try me.’
I opened my mouth but nothing came. Jakob waited, his hand curled around mine, a patient expression on his face. How could I tell him who I really was? I was a secret wrapped in a secret. I did not deserve to be spared.
‘You—’ I began, then stopped again. ‘Everything is clear for you. Russians are bad. Estonians are good.’ I bit my lip. ‘Things for me are complicated.’
‘But you must know that you have chosen. Even if you didn’t intend to.’ He looked around. ‘You’ve chosen us. It doesn’t matter know who you are. You can’t go back. We’ll keep you safe.’