Mala's Cat by Mala Kacenberg

Author:Mala Kacenberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2022-01-04T00:00:00+00:00

BOOK THREE Amid the Enemy

20. Alias Stefania

The interrogation had taken its toll on me, and I sat on a bench to give myself a much needed rest. ‘Goodbye, Mala Szorer,’ I said to myself. ‘Now I am Stefania Iwkiewicz.’ Another good Christian name, just like Marysia had been. It occurred to me, however, that the name Iwkiewicz was Ukrainian, and I was claiming to be Polish. I hoped the Germans would not discover that mistake. I wondered if Zosia had been killed. She would have deserved it, but that thought did not make me happy. Now that the danger had passed and I was more myself, I pitied that foolish girl.

Everyone in the station was staring at me with amazement, for I had entered the room with a German police officer. Though the curiosity on their faces was plain, they seemed afraid to question me. One girl, however, approached me and offered to share her sandwiches.

‘Thanks, but I have my own,’ I told her.

‘Why did you enter with the police officer?’ she suddenly blurted out.

‘This is a secret between us,’ I said.

She looked at me curiously but said no more. I allowed myself a little smile and left her guessing.

I sat next to another girl who became increasingly curious about what happened.

‘Don’t tell anyone I told you,’ I said. ‘I tried to escape and go back home.’

‘How foolish of you!’ she said. ‘You never would have made it.’

‘I would not,’ I agreed. ‘I was foolish, but I hated leaving my country to go to a strange place. I thought they might treat us very badly there or even starve us.’

‘We will all have to endure it together,’ she comforted me. ‘And don’t ever try to escape again.’

‘I won’t,’ I assured her.

She then told everybody what I had attempted to do, adding that I had lost my shoes in my flight. Her need to inform the others about me suited me well.

We waited in the bitter cold for the train. It was not much warmer inside, for our transportation was not a proper train but an unheated cattle car. Sitting on the hard floor, I covered my feet with my long coat, trying to warm up and relax. Feeling safe with my new identity card, I dozed off.

I awoke to find a boy heading in my direction. Was he also going to demand my coat? I wondered. I knew quite well that a typical boy would not want to start a conversation with a girl who was dressed as peculiarly as I was. He did not seem to notice how odd I looked and kept approaching. He told me that he was a doctor’s son and had seen my injured thumb. (My thumb had become a bit mangled during my fight with Zosia.) He said it would require immediate attention, or else it would become septic.

‘Here, have this,’ he said, handing me a bit of antiseptic zinc ointment. ‘What happened to it?’

‘I tripped while running,’ I lied.

‘I’m not at all surprised you did, dressed in that long coat and those oversized socks.

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