David looked down at the floor. ‘Frank said just now he thinks you understand him. I suppose that’s because of your brother’s problems.’
She nodded, not speaking.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘They’ve taken everything from you, haven’t they?’
He saw tears in her eyes, but she smiled bravely and said, ‘Gustav and I had happy times. My brother Peter and I had good years, too, before the war. Bratislava was a cosmopolitan city then, and we were part of it. We went to university together.’ She sighed. ‘In that pretty old city by the Danube. I am sentimentalizing, it was dirty and poor, too. But in our circles, among our friends, whether you were part Hungarian, part Jew, part Slovak, part German, part Tartar, it didn’t matter. Everyone is part something, you know. In the nineteenth century not having a fixed national identity was perfectly common in Eastern Europe. But then nationalism turned that into a danger.’
David hesitated again, then sat down on the bed beside her. ‘We English think we’re special.’
‘It’s that part of your culture you share with the Germans. The great Imperial nation part. I think in the thirties you thought fascism would never come to Britain; you had been a democracy so long, and you felt, as you said, special. But you were wrong; given the right circumstances fascism can infest any country, feeding off the hatreds and nationalisms that already exist. Nobody is safe.’
‘I know.’
‘We have our own little Fascist leaders in Slovakia. People for whom nationalism is everything.’
‘And your leader is a priest.’
‘Yes. Monsignor Tiso. The ruling party has Fascist sections and Catholic components. The Vatican and the Fascists work together in most of Europe. They both like order. Though when the Jews were taken away, some Catholic priests came out and protested.’ She shook her head in puzzlement. ‘While others said they deserved all they got. My husband Gustav was a Catholic, you know, a good Catholic.’ She turned to him. ‘A good man, like you.’ She hesitated, then laid a hand on his. And this time David responded. He leaned forward and kissed her.
SINCE COMING TO SEAN AND EILEEN’S house Frank had, for the first time in over a week, passed hours at a stretch without thinking of death. Sitting with the others, talking to them, he would feel a strange warmth inside, towards these people who were endangering their lives for him. He had been frightened of Sean at first but then he’d apologized for his behaviour, something Frank couldn’t remember anyone ever doing before. That afternoon, playing games in the lounge, he had actually forgotten the constant danger, relaxed a little. After dinner his drugs made him tired and he went upstairs to lie down, dozing off for a while.
A soft knock at the door woke him.
‘Yes?’
The woman, Natalia, came in. Frank smiled at her nervously.
‘How are you?’ she asked.
‘Not so bad.’
She leaned against the wall – weighing him up, Frank thought, though in a friendly way. ‘Things must have been very bad for you,’ she said quietly. ‘Ever since the accident with your brother.’ She hesitated. ‘But trying to run off like you did in that field, that was not right.’
‘I know. It put you all in danger. But I didn’t see how we could escape.’
She smiled and spread her arms. ‘But we are here. And you heard Eileen, there is a submarine waiting to collect us. We are moving closer to safety, Frank, step by step. And already you have changed.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I have watched you, this past week. When we first picked you up from the hospital your walk was slouched; you slumped over. Already it is a little less so. And your speech is more –’ she smiled – ‘direct.’
‘Is it?’ He wanted to believe her, to hope, but it was hard. He changed the subject. ‘Where are you from?’ he asked curiously.
‘I am from Slovakia. It was part of Czechoslovakia once: you remember, the country Mr Chamberlain gave to Hitler.’
‘I was always against appeasement. David and Geoff and I used to talk about it at university.’
She took out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’
‘Please. Did you escape from your country?’
‘I was lucky. I met a German, a good German. I came to England with him. After he died I decided to help the Resistance.’
‘You must have met Nazis, too. We’re told they’re our friends, but I never thought so.’
‘The Germans have fallen under the spell of a madman, much of the German army, also. Though they are realists, too, they know now that they can never conquer all of Russia. I think when Hitler dies the army and the SS will fight each other.’ She smiled. ‘And then the Resistance in Europe will have a great opportunity.’
Frank said, ‘The Germans must never get hold of my secret. You do understand that.’
‘Yes.’ She nodded seriously. ‘It must be hard, carrying dangerous knowledge in your head.’
‘But you don’t know what it is, do you?’ Frank looked alarmed for a moment.
‘No.’
He hesitated, then asked, ‘Do you carry one of those poison pills David has?’
‘Yes.’
‘I told him to ask you if I could have one.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid the answer is no. If the Germans come, I promise you they won’t take any of us alive.’ She looked him in the eye. He admired her clear, cool directness.
‘You must think about dying too, all of you,’ he said. ‘A sudden blackness, ceasing to exist. Or heaven, walking in a garden with Jesus.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Or hell. The lives God gives to us, the awful things we can’t escape from. Sometimes I think that sort of God would enjoy making hell for us after we die.’
‘I think we’ll all just face the blackness.’
‘So do I, really.’
‘May I sit down?’ Natalia asked.
‘Of course.’
There were no chairs in the room so she sat on the floor opposite him, leaning back against the wall. Frank asked, ‘Why do you want to keep me alive?’
‘I’ve been told it’s what the Americans want. For us to rescue you and get you to the coast.’
‘Aren’t you curious? You and the Resistance people? About what I know?’
She smiled. ‘We’ve been told not to ask. And the Resistance is like an army, we’re soldiers, we obey orders.’
‘You kill people like soldiers as well, don’t you? The stories about bombs and assassinations, they’re true, aren’t they?’
‘I wish there were another way. But all other roads have been blocked off.’
‘Have you killed anyone yourself?’
She didn’t answer. Frank said, ‘My brother, he started all this, put us all in danger.’
She smiled sadly. ‘I had a brother, too.’
‘Did you?’
‘Yes. But he was not like yours. We were close. But he had – what they call mental problems. Difficulties in dealing with the world. When he was young he was very confident, but I think there was always fear underneath.’
‘Did he go to hospital like me?’
‘No.’
‘My brother Edgar was confident. Everything came his way. Or seemed to.’
She smiled encouragingly. And then, to his own surprise Frank found himself telling her about his childhood, his brother and his mother, Mrs Baker, and then the school. He had never talked to anyone about these things the way he talked to Natalia now. Because she listened, and believed him, and didn’t judge. At the end Frank said, ‘I’ve always been afraid, like your brother.’
