Then

  I wish Genia looked happy. She’s been frowning and biting her lip ever since she got back with the herbs. I hope she’s not having regrets about using all the fish in the stew instead of saving some.

  She could have preserved some of the fish with salt and stored it in the wardrobe like I suggested. Preserving is a really good way of keeping food for winter. Mum used to do it with carrots. I bet in the future they invent lots of ways of preserving food. I bet by the year 1970 we’ll be able to eat cherries in winter if we want, or lettuce.

  Genia gives a big sigh.

  On a second thoughts I think she’s worried about something more important than preserved fish. I think she’s worried about Zelda, like me.

  I look at Zelda’s fish-bone figures again. Both of them have got fish-bone smiles. I’m glad she’s doing a happy picture.

  ‘Is that your real mummy and daddy?’ I say to her.

  As usual I’m hoping it is. The sooner she gives up this crazy idea that she’s Jewish, the less likely she’ll have to use the emergency hole in the barn.

  ‘Your mummy and daddy look happy,’ I say to Zelda. ‘I know why. It’s because they’ve still got you as their daughter and they love you very much. Love is like preserved carrot. It never goes off.’

  ‘Wilhelm’s right,’ says Genia quietly. ‘A person doesn’t have to be here to love you.’

  Zelda puts fish-bone whiskers on the faces of her figures.

  ‘They’re rabbits,’ she says to me. ‘They’re happy because you didn’t stab them.’

  I sigh. I’m happy I didn’t stab them. But I’d be happier if Zelda could forgive her parents.

  I glance over at Genia. She’s still at the stove. She’s staring at the photo of her husband she keeps in a frame on the shelf.

  She’s been staring at it a lot today.

  Suddenly I realise why she’s unhappy.

  Of course. Here’s me so worried about Zelda, I’m forgetting Genia’s got someone she cares about just as much.

  ‘You must really miss him,’ I say to her.

  Genia looks at me with a guilty expression, like she didn’t want me to see her staring at the photo.

  ‘Yes,’ she says.

  Poor Genia. She hasn’t seen her husband for two years. She must be missing him a huge amount.

  ‘I had some news about him today,’ Genia says.

  I feel a jolt of concern. It couldn’t have been good news, not with her looking so worried.

  ‘Has something bad happened to him?’ I say, hoping I’m wrong.

  ‘No,’ says Genia. ‘Nothing bad.’

  I feel relieved. Except why is she looking so miserable?

  Genia comes over with the stew pot and puts it on the table. She looks at me and Zelda as she slowly spoons more fish stew into our bowls.

  ‘You know I told you how Gabriek was forced to go to Germany to work for the Nazis?’ she says.

  I nod.

  Zelda glares indignantly. ‘Nazis shouldn’t force people,’ she says.

  ‘He’s coming home,’ says Genia. ‘Probably in a few days.’

  At first I’m happy for her. And for her husband.

  ‘Hooray,’ yells Zelda, clapping her hands.

  But Genia isn’t cheering or clapping. She isn’t even smiling.

  I don’t get it.

  Why wouldn’t a person be happy that her husband is coming home? I can only think of two possible reasons. Either she doesn’t like him any more, or she’s worried about what will happen when he gets here.

  I can’t sleep.

  It’s partly because I slept for half the day. And also because I’m worried.

  Zelda can’t sleep either. I can feel her tossing and turning next to me in the darkness.

  ‘Don’t fidget,’ I whisper to her. ‘You’ll drag the covers off Genia.’

  ‘I’m not fidgeting,’ whispers Zelda, turning over again. ‘I’m thinking.’

  Luckily Genia is a deep sleeper because Zelda is the noisiest thinker I know.

  ‘Felix,’ says Zelda. ‘After Genia’s husband gets here, will there be enough food for us all?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘I’m sure there’ll be enough. He can help us get more if we need it.’

  Zelda is so clever. Only six and she’s thinking about grown-up things like that. I’m ten, so it’s natural for me to worry. Specially now I know the real reason Genia is so unhappy.

  Genia told me earlier, when I was helping her clear up.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said to me. ‘Gabriek won’t mind you being here. It’ll be fine.’

  That’s all she said but I know what she meant.

  Genia’s worried that when her husband gets back and sees what the Nazis are doing to people who protect Jews, he might think it’s too risky for me and Zelda to stay here.

  Too risky for him and Genia.

  I haven’t said anything to Zelda yet. I don’t want to worry her. Little kids should be protected from worry as much as possible. Now that Leopold and Trotski and the chickens have gone, poor Zelda hasn’t got anything to take her mind off the war except for one pencil and some fish bones.

  I close my eyes and try to think of a good side to Gabriek coming home.

  For example, if he doesn’t throw us out, Zelda will be able to see him and Genia being loving to each other and that might bring back happy memories of her real mum and dad.

  That makes me feel better.

  I’m not going to think any more negative thoughts about Gabriek.

  I peer at Zelda in the gloom to see if she’s getting sleepy.

  She’s still awake, and she’s frowning.

  ‘Felix,’ she says. ‘After Genia’s husband gets here, what if he doesn’t want us?’

  Then the next day dawned, and the one after that, and quite a few more, and Genia’s husband didn’t arrive.

  ‘He must be having trouble with his travel arrangements,’ I say to Zelda.

  We feel sorry for Genia, but relieved as well. We stay feeling relieved right up until the next morning, when the local police come round to all the farms with strict instructions.

  Everybody be in the town square at ten o’clock on the dot.

  By order of the Nazis.

  We don’t want to go, but we have to.

  Everyone does.

  We’re all very gloomy as we trudge into town. It’s drizzling and the road is muddy and the wind is cold. Me and Zelda and Genia have got our coats and hats on. Mrs Placzek is wearing two headscarves. She’s so gloomy she doesn’t even say hello, just stares down at the road as she walks past us.

  This makes me feel worried. When you’re a Jew in hiding and somebody stops being friendly, it could be serious. Or maybe Mrs Placzek is just worried like us. Maybe she doesn’t know either why the Nazis want us in the town square.

  ‘Genia, why are the Nazis making us be in town?’ says Zelda for the hundredth time.

  ‘Don’t worry, Violetta,’ replies Genia, also for the hundredth time. ‘It’ll be fine.’

  But she doesn’t look very sure.

  Earlier, as we were leaving the house, Zelda whispered to me that maybe everyone was going to town to have a party to welcome Genia’s husband home.

  I told her I didn’t think so. I also told her that he might not be home for a while yet because Germany is a long way away.

  That cheered her up a bit.

  Me too, for a couple of minutes. But now I’m worried again. Why do the Nazis want us in town? Revenge for what happened at the river?

  I’m also worried we might bump into Cyryl and his gang. Even if the Nazis don’t want revenge, I know Cyryl does.

  ‘Genia,’ says Zelda. ‘Will the Nazis make us go shopping in town?’

  Genia gives a big sigh, which can sometimes mean she’s getting cross.

  ‘I might as well tell you,’ she says. ‘You’ll find out sooner or later. They’re making us go there to mock Jews.’

  Genia’s right. That is why we’re here.
>
  Nazi soldiers and local police and Hitler Youth are making everyone stand on both sides of the town square. They’re making us look at a straggling line of Jewish people shuffling past us.

  I can tell the people are Jewish because they’re all wearing white armbands with a blue star. The star reminds me of the one Mum has on her plate for special cakes.

  Used to have, I mean.

  I’m feeling very sad because these poor people are so thin and pale and their clothes are so ragged. A lot of them look ill. I don’t know how they can walk. Specially the old people and the little kids. They probably wouldn’t be walking at all if the Nazi soldiers weren’t yelling at them and hitting them.

  ‘Murdering Nazi scum,’ mutters Genia softly, so only me and Zelda can hear.

  ‘Where are those people going?’ says Zelda in a loud concerned voice.

  A man standing next to us chuckles in a not very nice way.

  ‘Railway station,’ he says. ‘One way ticket to somewhere hot. And I don’t mean Africa.’

  I know where he means. A death camp where the Nazis burn people up after they kill them.

  Some of the people around us are laughing. Others are disgusted. I’m not sure if they’re disgusted with the man, or because some of the Jewish people are being sick onto the cobbles.

  ‘Filthy vermin,’ the man yells at the poor straggling prisoners.

  So do quite a few other people.

  I don’t understand. Why do the Nazis want us to mock and insult the Jewish people? Aren’t the Jewish people suffering enough?

  I wish we could help them.

  I wish we could at least give them some food or clothes from Mrs Szynsky’s shop or something.

  Genia nudges me.

  ‘Shout at them, Wilhelm,’ she whispers.

  For a second I don’t know what she means. Nazi soldiers are glaring at us and making it hard for me to think.

  ‘Filthy vermin,’ Genia yells at the Jewish people.

  I’m not exactly sure what vermin are, but I can tell from the fierce look on Genia’s face that it’s not a nice thing to call people. I’m shocked until I see how sad her eyes are. Suddenly I realise why she’s doing it and why she wants me to do it as well.

  It’s to make us look like we hate Jews, specially me.

  ‘Go on,’ Genia hisses at me and Zelda.

  I can see Zelda doesn’t want to. I can see from her frown that she wants to go home. But she can’t because Genia is holding her hand very tight.

  I’m worried by Zelda’s frown. If she loses her temper, I know what will happen. She’ll yell out something that will make the Nazis think that neither of us hates Jews.

  I have to do it.

  I take a deep breath, and I try not to look at any of the Jewish people, and I do my best.

  ‘Filthy vermin,’ I yell, but suddenly I’m thinking of Mum and Dad and their journey to their death camp and my voice goes wobbly and my eyes fill with tears and I wish I could be like Leopold’s friend and point a gun at all the laughing faces and pull the trigger and…

  I shut my eyes and make the thoughts go away.

  I tell myself to think of Zelda.

  I remind myself I must never do anything to put her in danger.

  When I’ve calmed down, I open my eyes.

  I’m too ashamed to look at the Jewish people. I look over their heads. That doesn’t really help because now I’m staring at all the dead people hanging from the wooden posts. There are lots of them because the Nazis did take revenge for what happened at the river.

  I look in another direction. And see somebody I recognise. Standing near us with his back to the Jewish people, helping the other Nazis supervise the onlookers, is the Hitler Youth boy who spotted my Richmal Crompton book.

  Except he’s not doing much supervising.

  He’s staring off into the distance like I was trying to do. He doesn’t look stern and enthusiastic like the other Nazis, he looks sad.

  ‘Filthy vermin,’ yells Genia loudly.

  I tell myself she’s shouting it at the Nazis rather than at the Jews.

  The Hitler Youth boy must have heard her, because he glances over. And sees me. And now he’s coming over.

  Is he going to bash me for not mocking the Jewish people enough?

  No, he’s grinning.

  ‘Richmal Crompton,’ he says to me. ‘My favourite.’

  I’m stunned. I’ve never met a Nazi Richmal Crompton fan before. Plus he speaks Polish with quite a good accent.

  ‘Good stories,’ says the Hitler Youth boy, still smiling. ‘Very funny.’

  I nod. I’m trying to smile back, but behind the Hitler Youth boy I can see a Jewish man and a Jewish woman, their thin arms round each other, helping each other stagger along.

  They look like they’re in so much pain.

  Somebody pushes past me.

  ‘Violetta,’ I hear Genia yell frantically. ‘Come back.’

  I turn to see what Zelda’s doing.

  Genia must have been distracted by the Nazi Richmal Crompton fan too, because Zelda has pulled away from her and is darting past the Nazi supervisors.

  She goes up to the Jewish man and woman.

  ‘My mummy and daddy are dead,’ she says to them. ‘If you want, you can be their replacements.’

  The man and the woman stare at her.

  So do I. She learned that word replacements from me and I wish she hadn’t.

  ‘If you be my new mummy and daddy,’ Zelda says to the man and woman, ‘you can come and live with me and Wilhelm and our aunty Genia and you won’t have to go to the hot place.’

  A Nazi soldier grabs Zelda with one hand and raises his rifle.

  He’s going to smash her in the head with it.

  I fling myself forward.

  ‘No,’ I shout. ‘She’s only little. She doesn’t mean any harm.’

  I’m scrabbling in my coat for Zelda’s locket to show the Nazi she’s one of them. But the pockets are full of fluff and my frantic fingers can’t find it.

  The Nazi soldier turns angrily to me and before I can plead any more, he jabs his rifle butt down and my head explodes.

  Then I opened my eyes and I wasn’t dead.

  Just home.

  In bed.

  In pain.

  Genia is staring down at me. Her face is shiny and worried in the daylight that’s jabbing through the window.

  ‘Thank God,’ she says.

  ‘Where’s Zelda?’ I croak.

  It’s all coming back to me. Zelda talking to the Jewish couple. Being grabbed by a Nazi. Did she get bashed too? Or worse?

  Zelda’s face pops up next to Genia’s.

  ‘I’m here,’ she says. ‘Don’t you know anything?’

  She looks fine, as far as I can see. I can’t see very clearly because my head is throbbing and every time it does the whole room flickers.

  I look around for my glasses. They’re next to the bed and they don’t seem to be broken.

  ‘Are you injured?’ Genia asks me anxiously. ‘Can you move your arms and legs?’

  I move everything a bit. When I do, my head hurts more.

  ‘It’s just my head,’ I murmur.

  ‘You were knocked out,’ says Zelda. ‘You came home in a cart.’

  Genia is dabbing at my head with a damp cloth, which feels cool and soothing and very painful.

  I squint at Zelda, trying to see if she has any injuries. She’s very brave for her age and she might be hiding them so Genia won’t be worried.

  ‘Thanks for trying to rescue me,’ says Zelda, squeezing my hand.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I say to her.

  Zelda nods.

  ‘Violetta’s not hurt,’ says Genia. ‘Thanks to your Hitler Youth friend. He persuaded the soldier who hit you to let Violetta go.’

  ‘He was nice,’ says Zelda. ‘He wasn’t a murdering Nazi scum.’

  I say a silent thank you to the Hitler Youth boy, whatever his name is. And to Richmal Crompto
n.

  Genia is double-checking my arms and legs. She looks at me, puzzled.

  ‘How do you know that German boy?’ she says.

  ‘We like the same books,’ I say.

  ‘Richmal Crompton books,’ says Zelda. ‘Richmal Crompton is English, but we don’t mind.’

  I lift my head off the pillow and squint at Genia, trying to see if she minds that I’ve got a Nazi friend. Grown-ups can sometimes go straight from being anxious to being cross when they realise kids aren’t badly hurt.

  She doesn’t seem to mind.

  I hope she’s not cross with Zelda either.

  ‘Violetta didn’t mean to cause trouble,’ I explain to Genia. ‘What she said to that Jewish couple about being replacements, she got that idea from me.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ says Genia gently. ‘Violetta and I have talked about it. I’d have offered those poor people shelter myself if it was possible.’

  ‘Our bed’s not big enough,’ says Zelda.

  I flop back, relieved.

  Genia dabs my head again.

  ‘It’s stopped bleeding,’ she says. ‘I don’t think it’ll need stitches. But you will have a big bruise.’

  Zelda leans over and kisses my head.

  ‘That’s good for bruises,’ she says.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say.

  ‘Come on, Violetta,’ says Genia. ‘We have to let Wilhelm rest.’ She looks at me again, still worried. ‘Are you feeling any better?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I am.’

  But it’s not true.

  I’m feeling worse. Not because of my throbbing head, because of the thoughts I’m having.

  I try to make the thoughts go away. I try to sleep instead. But every time I hear Zelda’s voice in the kitchen, the thoughts come back.

  I’m thinking about how that Nazi soldier probably wouldn’t have let Zelda go if he’d seen my private part. How he’d have assumed she was Jewish like me and shot us both.

  I’m also having thoughts about how Genia’s husband might let a non-Jewish kid live here, just not a Jewish one.

  Thoughts about how Zelda will never be safe while I’m around.

  Just thinking that makes a pain stab inside me worse than a hundred bayonets.

  But it’s true.

  She won’t.

  I know now what I have to do. I’ve been pretending for ages that I don’t have to do it, but I do.