Nocturne by Diane Armstrong

Author:Diane Armstrong [Armstrong, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-09-09T04:00:00+00:00

Thirty-Three

Elzunia didn’t know how long she’d been stumbling along unfamiliar streets, brushing against buildings for support. Only one thought spurred her on: to put as much distance as possible between herself and the smouldering Ghetto. As though in slow motion, her knees buckled and she leaned against a large plane tree, shivering in the cool May evening. Plastered to a lamp-post nearby, large black letters proclaimed that any Jews caught outside the Ghetto, and those who sheltered them, would be shot. She broke into a cold sweat. So she had merely exchanged one set of dangers for another. She had thought that if she could dodge the bullets and the flames, avoid being buried alive in collapsing tunnels, and get to the other side of the wall, she’d be safe. But now she realised that this had been an illusion. No matter where she was, her life was still in peril.

Her limbs were heavy and she wanted to crawl into a dark corner and sleep, but she knew she had to keep going. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to move on. Warsaw had become an alien, hostile city where dark buildings threw malevolent shadows and people cast suspicious glances as they hurried to reach home before the curfew hour.

Home. Elzunia swallowed hard to hold back the tears. She had no home, no parents, not even a roof over her head. Her identity card! Where was her identity card? She plunged her hand into her skirt pocket. Thank God, it was still there. But a moment later she realised the card was useless on this side of the wall, worse than useless. She had to get rid of it and fabricate some plausible story to explain how she’d lost it in case a policeman or Gestapo agent stopped her. She had to get off the street. But where could she go?

Think, quick, think, she urged herself, but the more panic-stricken she felt, and the faster her heart raced, the more paralysed her mind became. There must be someone she could trust. She recalled all the parties, dinners and happy occasions they’d celebrated with her parents’ friends, including her own name day. Surely someone would shelter her. She thought of couples she had particularly liked, and visualised the delight on their faces when they opened the door and saw that she’d survived. She could almost feel the warmth as she fell into their arms.

Then she remembered that some of them had turned against her mother when they’d discovered she was Jewish, while others made sympathetic noises but had done nothing to help. Perhaps her father was out there somewhere, longing to tell her how desperately he’d tried to get the three of them out of the Ghetto, but she knew that was a fantasy.

Her girlfriends — how could she have forgotten Gosia and Lydia; surely they’d persuade their parents to take her in. Then she remembered. Her friends had no idea she was Jewish, and she doubted whether they would help her when they found out.

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