Chapter Five - In Hiding
‘Katka, wake up.’ It was the touch of another human being that woke her, not the voice that accompanied it, so warm against her frozen skin it almost stung.
‘You’re freezing. You’ll die if you stay here.’
It was an effort to even open her eyes and her vision was blurred. For a moment Katka didn’t even know where she was - what time it was. But she recognised the face that was peering down at her.
‘Anna.’ Katka said, only just able to say her name.
‘Quick. We must get you into the warmth.’ Anna said and with her arms around Katka she lifted her, pulled her from the cold bench she had been sleeping on. Katka could barely walk. She half stumbled, almost falling through the main door of the apartment building Anna lived it. She was shaking uncontrollably.
‘I was coming home from my evening shift at the factory when I saw you.’ Anna said once she had got Katka inside her apartment, which was in a tatty apartment block close to the station - peeling paint in the hallway, a broken banister rail - Anna made tea and wrapped Katka in a warm blanket by the stove.
‘Thank you.’ Katka said.
‘You nearly died.’ Anna said. ‘It’s lucky you only spent part of the night out there in the cold. One more hour and it would have been a corpse I found on the station bench.’ Such a horrible image, but the way Anna said it, her voice unconditionally kind, made Katka feel safe, secure. ‘I thought you were going to Prague.’
‘I can’t go there.’ Katka replied, ‘If I go back they will arrest me.’ and she told Anna the story of how she had run from the soldiers.
‘Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?’ Anna said, then she frowned when she saw the rip in Katka's trouser leg, the blood stain, ‘You need more tea.’ She told Katka and got up from the kitchen table and walked to the stove with the brisk, rigid movements of someone taking charge. She refilled Katka's mug, ‘Everything will be alright.’ She said. Then she listened to the rest of Katka’s story without emotion. The world was filled with bad news now, everyone had a story of the soldiers and the abuse they had received. This was war, it was part of life now.
Eventually their conversation slowed and a tiredness began to weigh heavily in the air, mixing with the steam from their mugs. And when Katka yawned Anna said, ‘You can stay for a few days, until you are well again. Until we have figured out what you should do.’
‘Thank you,’ Katka said, ‘but are you sure? The police will be looking for me -’
'Nonsense! No one knows you're here. You'll be safe.' Anna smiled, ‘You should take a bath. It'll make you feel better.’
Anna then went into the bathroom, which was through a door from the kitchen and not much more than a tap and a bathtub. Above the bathtub was a boiler that needed to be lit with a match and once it was alight Anna came back to the table and sat down.
It took some time until the water was ready. The boiler gurgled as it slowly got hotter, its sound mingling with the other noises in the building - the dripping of a tap, footsteps from the apartment upstairs, the nearby sound of trains - Such a difference from where Anna had used to live, which had been spacious and light and far enough from the centre of the town that it had been a quiet, peaceful place to live.
‘Why did you move here?’ Katka asked.
Anna looked up from her tea.
'I mean why here? The apartment you had before, upstairs from my mother, it must have been nicer.'
‘There was no choice, of course.’ Anna said, making Katka realise at once the naivety of her question. ‘Don't you remember that I used to live with my boyfriend in the old place?’
Katka shook her head. 'I only remembered your little dog.' Katka said.
Anna smiled. ‘Yes, I had a little dog, his name was Fritzie.' She looked at Katka, 'But do you remember my boyfriend too? His name was Kristof, we were meant to be married, but the war put an end to all that.’
'Oh.' Katka said.
Anna looked down at her mug, the palm of her hand clasping at its warm surface.
‘Was he sent away to fight?’ Katka asked.
‘No.' Anna replied, 'He was sent to work in a factory in the north. He was sent along with a lot of other men from this town to do the heavy work in one of the big factories. I don’t know where exactly, I don’t want to know.’
‘But he will be back, won’t he?’
Anna did not answer.
‘I’m sorry.’ Katka said, ‘I suppose that’s why you don’t live in the old building any more. My mother’s apartment also has someone else in it now.’
And to this Anna said sadly, ‘This is not our home any more, Katka. The Germans have made sure of that. They are like magpies, taking everything they like the look of.' And then, as if forcibly changing the subject, she said, 'The water must be warm now. You should have your bath.'
As Katka washed she found herself thinking of her mother. Had it really been that unbearable for her? Had she really been so unhappy? And once she had got out and dried herself she asked Anna, ‘Did she work in the factory too?’
‘Yes.’ replied Anna and she then described the work she did there - the long hours, the terrible effects on her health from the chemicals she was exposed to - ‘We make bullets for the German army.’
‘And you can’t refuse to do it?’ Katka asked.
‘There are no choices anymore, I’m afraid.’ Anna said sadly, then after a pause, ‘You must be tired. You should get some sleep. You can take the my bed and I will sleep in the chair.’
Katka tried to protested but Anna insisted. ‘You need rest.’ She said, ‘Finish your tea and then lie down. I would give you food too, if I had any.’
‘I’m not hungry.’ Katka lied.
‘Not hungry after running away from Prague and after nearly dying of cold? When did you eat last?’
‘I don’t know, I -’
‘No wonder you are so pale.’ Anna replied and she fussed over Katka as if she were her own daughter. ‘Let me see your knee.’ She said and she used iodine to clean the wound. It stung more painfully than when Katka had grazed it and when Katka cried out, Anna only laughed and said, ‘I'll get you some of Kristof's old clothes for you to wear.'
‘Won’t he need them?’ Katka asked.
‘When he comes home, you mean?’ Anna said, making no attempt to disguise the bitterness in her voice.
Because the future is so uncertain, thought Katka as she climbed into Anna’s narrow bed, dressed in a stranger’s oversized clothes. And then she slept. She slept the sleep of the dead and she did not dream. Not even the noise from the railway track disturbed her - heavy transit trains loaded with supplies for the soldiers in the front line.
‘You’re freezing. You’ll die if you stay here.’
It was an effort to even open her eyes and her vision was blurred. For a moment Katka didn’t even know where she was - what time it was. But she recognised the face that was peering down at her.
‘Anna.’ Katka said, only just able to say her name.
‘Quick. We must get you into the warmth.’ Anna said and with her arms around Katka she lifted her, pulled her from the cold bench she had been sleeping on. Katka could barely walk. She half stumbled, almost falling through the main door of the apartment building Anna lived it. She was shaking uncontrollably.
‘I was coming home from my evening shift at the factory when I saw you.’ Anna said once she had got Katka inside her apartment, which was in a tatty apartment block close to the station - peeling paint in the hallway, a broken banister rail - Anna made tea and wrapped Katka in a warm blanket by the stove.
‘Thank you.’ Katka said.
‘You nearly died.’ Anna said. ‘It’s lucky you only spent part of the night out there in the cold. One more hour and it would have been a corpse I found on the station bench.’ Such a horrible image, but the way Anna said it, her voice unconditionally kind, made Katka feel safe, secure. ‘I thought you were going to Prague.’
‘I can’t go there.’ Katka replied, ‘If I go back they will arrest me.’ and she told Anna the story of how she had run from the soldiers.
‘Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?’ Anna said, then she frowned when she saw the rip in Katka's trouser leg, the blood stain, ‘You need more tea.’ She told Katka and got up from the kitchen table and walked to the stove with the brisk, rigid movements of someone taking charge. She refilled Katka's mug, ‘Everything will be alright.’ She said. Then she listened to the rest of Katka’s story without emotion. The world was filled with bad news now, everyone had a story of the soldiers and the abuse they had received. This was war, it was part of life now.
Eventually their conversation slowed and a tiredness began to weigh heavily in the air, mixing with the steam from their mugs. And when Katka yawned Anna said, ‘You can stay for a few days, until you are well again. Until we have figured out what you should do.’
‘Thank you,’ Katka said, ‘but are you sure? The police will be looking for me -’
'Nonsense! No one knows you're here. You'll be safe.' Anna smiled, ‘You should take a bath. It'll make you feel better.’
Anna then went into the bathroom, which was through a door from the kitchen and not much more than a tap and a bathtub. Above the bathtub was a boiler that needed to be lit with a match and once it was alight Anna came back to the table and sat down.
It took some time until the water was ready. The boiler gurgled as it slowly got hotter, its sound mingling with the other noises in the building - the dripping of a tap, footsteps from the apartment upstairs, the nearby sound of trains - Such a difference from where Anna had used to live, which had been spacious and light and far enough from the centre of the town that it had been a quiet, peaceful place to live.
‘Why did you move here?’ Katka asked.
Anna looked up from her tea.
'I mean why here? The apartment you had before, upstairs from my mother, it must have been nicer.'
‘There was no choice, of course.’ Anna said, making Katka realise at once the naivety of her question. ‘Don't you remember that I used to live with my boyfriend in the old place?’
Katka shook her head. 'I only remembered your little dog.' Katka said.
Anna smiled. ‘Yes, I had a little dog, his name was Fritzie.' She looked at Katka, 'But do you remember my boyfriend too? His name was Kristof, we were meant to be married, but the war put an end to all that.’
'Oh.' Katka said.
Anna looked down at her mug, the palm of her hand clasping at its warm surface.
‘Was he sent away to fight?’ Katka asked.
‘No.' Anna replied, 'He was sent to work in a factory in the north. He was sent along with a lot of other men from this town to do the heavy work in one of the big factories. I don’t know where exactly, I don’t want to know.’
‘But he will be back, won’t he?’
Anna did not answer.
‘I’m sorry.’ Katka said, ‘I suppose that’s why you don’t live in the old building any more. My mother’s apartment also has someone else in it now.’
And to this Anna said sadly, ‘This is not our home any more, Katka. The Germans have made sure of that. They are like magpies, taking everything they like the look of.' And then, as if forcibly changing the subject, she said, 'The water must be warm now. You should have your bath.'
As Katka washed she found herself thinking of her mother. Had it really been that unbearable for her? Had she really been so unhappy? And once she had got out and dried herself she asked Anna, ‘Did she work in the factory too?’
‘Yes.’ replied Anna and she then described the work she did there - the long hours, the terrible effects on her health from the chemicals she was exposed to - ‘We make bullets for the German army.’
‘And you can’t refuse to do it?’ Katka asked.
‘There are no choices anymore, I’m afraid.’ Anna said sadly, then after a pause, ‘You must be tired. You should get some sleep. You can take the my bed and I will sleep in the chair.’
Katka tried to protested but Anna insisted. ‘You need rest.’ She said, ‘Finish your tea and then lie down. I would give you food too, if I had any.’
‘I’m not hungry.’ Katka lied.
‘Not hungry after running away from Prague and after nearly dying of cold? When did you eat last?’
‘I don’t know, I -’
‘No wonder you are so pale.’ Anna replied and she fussed over Katka as if she were her own daughter. ‘Let me see your knee.’ She said and she used iodine to clean the wound. It stung more painfully than when Katka had grazed it and when Katka cried out, Anna only laughed and said, ‘I'll get you some of Kristof's old clothes for you to wear.'
‘Won’t he need them?’ Katka asked.
‘When he comes home, you mean?’ Anna said, making no attempt to disguise the bitterness in her voice.
Because the future is so uncertain, thought Katka as she climbed into Anna’s narrow bed, dressed in a stranger’s oversized clothes. And then she slept. She slept the sleep of the dead and she did not dream. Not even the noise from the railway track disturbed her - heavy transit trains loaded with supplies for the soldiers in the front line.