‘Close your eyes,’ Lale says.
‘Why?’
‘Just do as you’re told. Trust me.’
Gita closes her eyes.
‘Open your mouth.’
She opens her eyes.
‘Close your eyes and open your mouth.’
Gita does so. From his bag Lale produces a small piece of chocolate. He places in on her lips, letting her feel the texture of it, before slowly pushing it a little further into her mouth. She presses her tongue against it. Lale pulls it back to her lips. Now moistened, he rubs the chocolate gently across her lips, and she licks it off with delight. When he pushes it into her mouth she bites down, taking a chunk off, opening her eyes wide. Savouring the taste, she says, ‘Why does chocolate taste so much better when it’s fed to you?’
‘I don’t know. No one has ever fed it to me.’
Gita takes the small amount of chocolate Lale still holds in his hand.
‘Close your eyes and open your mouth.’
The same teasing takes place. After Gita has smeared the last bit of chocolate on Lale’s lips, she gently kisses him, licking the chocolate away. He opens his eyes to find hers shut. He pulls her into his arms and they kiss passionately. When Gita finally opens her eyes, she wipes the tears that run down Lale’s face.
‘What else have you got in that bag of yours?’ she asks playfully.
Lale sniffs, and laughs. ‘A diamond ring. Or would you prefer an emerald?’
‘Oh, I’ll have the diamond, thank you,’ she says, playing along.
Lale rummages around in his bag and produces an exquisite silver ring with a single diamond set in it. Handing it to her, he says, ‘It’s yours.’
Gita can’t take her eyes off the ring, the sun bouncing off the stone. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘Girls working in one of the Canada buildings find jewels and money for me. That’s what I use to buy the food and medicine I’ve been giving you and the others. Here, take it.’
Gita puts her hand out as though to try on the ring, but then pulls back. ‘No, you keep it. Put it to good use.’
‘OK.’ Lale goes to put it back in his bag.
‘Stop. Let me look at it one more time.’
He holds it between two fingers, turning it this way and that.
‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Now put it away.’
‘It’s the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,’ says Lale, looking at Gita. She blushes and turns her face away.
‘I’ll have some more of that chocolate, if you have any left.’
Lale hands her a small block. She snaps off a piece and places it in her mouth, closing her eyes for a moment. She wraps the rest within her sleeve and tucks it up.
‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Let’s get you back to the girls so you can share it.’
Gita reaches up to his face, caresses his cheek. ‘Thank you.’
Lale sways, unbalanced by her proximity.
Gita takes his hand and begins to walk. Lale is led. As they enter the main compound, Lale sees Baretski. He and Gita release hands. He exchanges a glance with her that tells her all she needs to know. It aches to part from her without a word, and with no certainty about when they will next meet. He walks towards Baretski, who is glaring at him.
‘I’ve been looking for you,’ says Baretski. ‘We’ve got work to do at Auschwitz.’
Along the road to Auschwitz, Lale and Baretski pass work details, of a few men each, who must be being punished with this Sunday work. Several SS guarding them call out a greeting to Baretski, who ignores them. Something is very wrong with him today. Normally he’s quite the talker but today his whole body seems tense. Ahead, Lale sees three prisoners sitting on the ground, back to back, supporting each other, clearly exhausted. The prisoners look up at Lale and Baretski but make no attempt to move. Without breaking step, Baretski pulls his rifle from his back and fires at them repeatedly.
Lale freezes, his eyes locked on the dead men. Finally, looking back up at the retreating Baretski, Lale recalls the first time he saw such an unprovoked attack on defenceless men – sitting on a board in the dark. That first night he arrived at Birkenau flashes before him. Baretski is getting further away from him and Lale fears he will take his anger out on him next. He hurries to catch up to him, but remains a slight distance away. He knows Baretski knows he is there. Once more, they arrive at the gates into Auschwitz and Lale looks up at the words emblazoned above: ARBEIT MACHT FREI. He silently curses whatever god may be listening.
Chapter 9
Lale reports to the administration office to get his instructions. The weather is improving slowly. There has been no snow for a week. On entering, he sweeps his eyes around the office to make sure Gita is where she should be. There she is, still seated beside Cilka. The two have become very close and Dana and Ivana seem to have welcomed Cilka fully into their little circle. His customary wink to the two of them is acknowledged with suppressed smiles. He approaches the Polish girl behind the counter.
‘Good morning, Bella. It’s a lovely day outside.’
‘Good morning, Lale,’ Bella responds. ‘I have your work here. I’ve been told to tell you that all the numbers today are to have the letter Z in front of them.’
Lale looks down at the list of numbers and sure enough each one is prefixed with the letter Z.
‘Do you know what this signifies?’
‘No, Lale, I’m not told anything. You know more than I do. I just follow instructions.’
‘As do I, Bella. Thanks, I’ll see you later.’
Holding the instructions, Lale heads out the door.
‘Lale,’ Bella calls out.
He turns back to her. With her head turned towards Gita, she asks, ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’
Smiling at her, he turns to Gita and raises his eyebrows at her. Several girls hold a hand over their mouth, eyes on the lookout for the SS who oversee their work.
Leon is waiting for Lale outside. Lale fills him in as they walk to their workstation. Trucks are unloading their cargo nearby and the men do a double-take as they register there are children among those being helped down, along with older men and women. Children have never been seen before at Birkenau.
‘Surely we’re not marking kids. I’ll not do that,’ Leon pronounces.
‘Here comes Baretski. He’ll tell us what to do. Don’t say a word.’
Baretski strides up. ‘I see you’ve noticed something’s different today, Tätowierer. These are your new companions. You’re going to be sharing from now on, so you better be nice to them. They’ll outnumber you by quite a lot – a hell of a lot actually.’
Lale says nothing.
‘They’re the filth of Europe, even worse than you. They’re Gypsies, and for reasons I’ll never know, the Führer has decided they are to live here, with you. What do you say about that, Tätowierer?’
‘Are we to number the children?’
‘You’ll number anyone who hands you a number. I’ll leave you to your work. I’m going to be busy at the selection, so don’t make me have to come over here.’
As Baretski marches off, Leon stammers, ‘I won’t.’
‘Let’s just wait and see what comes our way.’
It doesn’t take long for males and females, from babes in arms to hunched-over elderly, to make their way to Lale and Leon, who are grateful to learn that the children are not to be numbered, though some presenting numbers seem too young to Lale. He does his job, offering smiles to children standing by as he numbers their parents, and telling the occasional mum holding an infant what a lovely baby she has. Baretski is well out of earshot. He struggles most in numbering the elderly women, who seem to be the walking dead: vacant eyes, perhaps aware of their imminent fate. To them he offers a ‘Sorry’. He knows they probably don’t understand.