‘Are you prepared to tell me?’
‘This building. I’ve seen the plans. You’re not going to like what it is.’
‘Surely it can’t be any worse than what goes on here already.’ Lale now stands, bracing himself on the pile of bricks.
‘It’s called Crematorium One,’ Victor says quietly, and looks away.
‘Crematorium. One. With the possibility of a number two?’
‘Sorry. I said you wouldn’t like it.’
Lale punches the last brick laid, sending it flying, and shakes his hand in pain.
Victor reaches into a nearby bag and produces a piece of dried sausage wrapped in wax-paper.
‘Here, take this, I know they’re starving you people, and I’ve got plenty where this came from.’
‘That’s our lunch!’ Yuri cries, rushing to take the sausage from his father’s outstretched hand.
Victor pushes Yuri away. ‘It won’t hurt you to go without for a day. This man needs it more.’
‘I’m gonna tell Mum when we get home.’
‘You’d better hope I don’t tell her about your attitude. You’ve got a lot to learn about being civilised, young man. Let this be your first lesson.’
Lale still hasn’t taken the sausage. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.’
‘Well, you have,’ wails a petulant Yuri.
‘No, he hasn’t.’ says Victor. ‘Lale, take the sausage, and come and see us again tomorrow. I’ll have more for you. Hell, if we can help just one of you, we’ll do it. Right, Yuri?’
Yuri reluctantly extends his hand to Lale, who takes it.
‘Save the one, save the world,’ Lale says quietly, more to himself than the others.
‘I can’t help you all.’
Lale takes the food. ‘I don’t have anything to pay you with.’
‘It’s not a problem.’
‘Thank you. There might be a way I can pay you though. If I find a way, can you get me anything else, like chocolate?’ He wanted chocolate. That’s what you give a girl if you can get it.
‘I’m sure we can work something out. You’d better move on; there’s an officer paying us a bit of attention.’
‘See you,’ Lale says as he shoves the sausage in his bag. Stray snowflakes drift around him as he walks back to his block. The flakes catch in the last rays of the sun, bouncing strobes of light that remind him of a kaleidoscope he played with as a boy. What’s wrong with this picture? Lale is overcome with emotion as he hurries back to his block. On his face the melted snow is indistinguishable from the tears. The winter of 1942 has arrived.
?
Back in his room, Lale takes the chunk of sausage and breaks it carefully into even parts. He tears strips from the wax-paper and wraps each piece tightly before placing them back in his bag. As he comes to the last piece, Lale stops and considers the small, fulfilling parcel of food, sitting there next to his rough, dirty fingers. These fingers that used to be smooth and clean and plump, that handled rich food, that he used to hold up to tell hosts, ‘No, thank you, I couldn’t possibly have any more.’ With a shake of his head he places it too into the bag.
He heads towards one of the Canada buildings. He once asked a man in Block 7 if he knew why they called these sorting rooms by that name.
‘The girls who work there dream of a place far away where there is plenty of everything and life can be what they want it to be. They have decided Canada is such a place.’
Lale has spoken to a couple of girls working in this Canada. He has checked everyone exiting many times and knows Gita doesn’t work here. There are other buildings he cannot easily access. She must work in one of those. He spies two girls he has spoken to before, walking together. He reaches into his bag, withdraws two parcels and approaches them, smiling. He turns and walks alongside them.
‘I want you to put out one of your hands, but do it slowly. I’m going to give you a parcel of sausage. Do not open it until you’re alone.’
The two girls do as he says, not breaking step, their eyes darting about for SS who might be watching them. Once the sausage is in their hands, they wrap their arms across their chests as much to keep themselves warm as to protect their gift.
‘Girls, I’ve heard you sometimes find jewels and money – is that correct?’
The women exchange a glance.
‘Now, I don’t want to put you at risk, but do you think there’s any way you could smuggle a little of it out to me?’
One of them says nervously, ‘Shouldn’t be too hard. Our minders don’t pay much attention to us anymore. They think we are harmless.’
‘Great. Just get what you can without causing suspicion, and with it I will buy you and others food like this sausage.’
‘Do you think you could get some chocolate?’ one of them says, her eyes bright.
‘Can’t promise, but I’ll try. Remember, only take small quantities at a time. I’ll try and be here tomorrow afternoon. If I’m not, is there somewhere safe you can hide things until I can get to you?’
‘Not in our block. We can’t do that. We get searched all the time,’ one replies.
‘I know,’ says the other. ‘The snow is piling up at the back of our block. We can wrap it in a rag and hide it there when we go to the toilet.’
‘Yeah, that will work,’ the first one says.
‘You can’t tell anyone what you’re doing, or where you’re getting the food from, OK? It’s really important. Your lives depend upon you saying nothing. Got that?’
One of the girls draws her finger across her closed mouth. As they near the women’s compound, Lale splits off from them and loiters outside Block 29 for a short while. There is no sign of Gita. So it must be. But it will be Sunday again in three days’ time.
?
The next day Lale completes his work at Birkenau within a few hours. Leon asks him to spend the afternoon with him, wanting the opportunity to talk about their situation without a block full of men straining to hear every word. Lale begs off, saying he isn’t feeling well and needs to get some rest. They go their separate ways.
He is conflicted. He desperately wants whatever food Victor has brought, but he needs something to pay him with. The girls finish work around the same time Victor and the other visiting workers leave. Will he have enough time to see if they have managed to lift anything? In the end he decides to visit Victor and reassure him that he is working on obtaining a source of payment.
Bag in hand, Lale makes his way over to the block under construction. He looks around for Victor and Yuri. Victor sees him and nudges Yuri to follow as they separate from the other workers. Slowly they approach Lale, who has stopped and is pretending to be looking for something in his bag. With an outstretched hand, Yuri greets Lale.
‘His mother had a word with him last night,’ offers Victor.
‘I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to get anything to pay you with, but I hope to have something very soon. Please don’t bring anything else until I’ve paid you for what you’ve given me already.’
‘It’s OK, we have plenty to spare,’ Victor says.
‘No, you’re taking a risk. At the very least you should get something in return. Just give me a day or two.’
Victor takes from his bag two packages, which he drops into Lale’s open bag. ‘We’ll be here at the same time tomorrow.’
‘Thank you,’ says Lale.
‘See you,’ says Yuri, which makes Lale smile.
‘See you, Yuri.’
?
Back in his room, Lale opens the packages. Sausage and chocolate. He holds the chocolate to his nose and inhales.