The Golden Doves by Kelly Martha Hall

Author:Kelly, Martha Hall [Kelly, Martha Hall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical, War, Adult
ISBN: 9780593354889
Amazon: 0593354885
Goodreads: 61058362
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 2023-04-18T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 30

ARLETTE

FÜRSTENBERG, GERMANY

Ravensbrück Concentration Camp

1944

Before.

Willie cried, his face swollen scarlet as we left Pantin station, standing and packed tightly into the last cattle car on the train. We’d been imprisoned in Paris for a week by then and fed next to nothing, so I had little milk to give him. Josie and I still wore the clothes we’d been wearing when arrested at the apartment, a green dress for me and the birthday blouse and trousers I’d sewn for her. Willie wore his undershirt and a diaper, and I’d been lucky to grab Josie’s baby blanket before we left, to wrap around him.

Josie took a turn peering out the crack. “My mother will do something.”

I wiped the sweat off my upper lip. “What can she do? She’ll be lucky not to be on the next train after us.”

From the hurt look on Josie’s face I knew I’d gone too far. But, after all, she was the one who let Fleur into the apartment. At least the Nazis hadn’t discovered we were the Doves; they’d simply arrested us for intent to distribute underground newspapers. And to our knowledge they hadn’t discovered the bloodstain on the floor.

I felt Willie’s wet diaper and checked his bottom, crimson with diaper rash. How selfish I’d been, thinking I was some sort of daring spy, saving France. Where was France to help us now? Our poor angel Thérèse had been done in by them too. Perhaps she should have left me at that Lebensborn home. At least Willie would be safe.

Fleur appeared and nestled herself in close to me. “My little draga,” she said, running one hand down the baby’s leg.

Was that something her mother once said to her? I couldn’t stay angry with her for long. How could she have known she would get us all sent to God knows where?

Willie turned to her and stopped his fussing.

Fleur leaned close to me and whispered. “A lady gave me this.” She slid from her pocket a perfectly lovely teething biscuit.

“Brilliant girl.”

She smiled up at me, with her dear, heart-shaped face. It wasn’t her fault. I brought all this bad luck on us by killing Auntie.

Willie devoured the biscuit and soon slept, mocha-colored flecks speckling his white undershirt.

I sat on the wooden floor and Fleur rested her head in my lap and slept next to Willie. What a sweet-natured girl she was. And maybe ten years old I guessed, though her growth had probably been stunted from being homeless so long. Does she even have parents?

It rained for much of the three-day trip, and one evening, after passing through a forest of pines, the train shuddered and stopped. The door rolled open as our eyes adjusted to the light, and guards beat us out and lined us up five abreast in front of metal camp gates. It was still raining, and we lifted our faces to the sky to wet our mouths.

As the guards opened the gates, we stared up at the sign hung above, which read This Is Your Death in German, above a red and yellow painted sign of a hideous fat louse.

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