The Luck of the Weissensteiners (The Three Nations Trilogy) (36 page)

Jonah beat Kolya in three successive games and every time the loser complained about foul play. The three of them had a great evening, despite only having a little watery soup to share between them. Jonah told in great detail the events of the last seven years, about his new gran
dson and about his time on the estate, the hiding and their escape from Bratislava. Kolya was impressed with their survival story and said that having them in his house was like having a lucky charm. With a Weissensteiner present, he was bound to get through this last part of the war.

The next day Kolya had already left when Jonah woke up. The cellar was completely dark and it was hard to figure out what time it was. It was only now that he realised how hard it was going to be to sit in the dark without any distraction and with the premise to make no noise. The hours dragged endlessly without any light but they had agreed to save the oil for emergencies only. Kolya did not return until late. When he opened the trap door it had almost been an entire day since they had last eaten. “Sorry, I had to make a detour on my way home. I went to see my cousin Bogdan. He might be able to help us with the food situation,” explained Kolya.

“How?” asked Alma.

“Well, the black market I guess. Some people claim food rations for their dead relatives and then sell them on. Highly illegal and punished by death but some people are desperate. The resistance is pinching food from
farms and food transports and are willing to trade it for weapons and information. There are lots of deals going on and it is better for me to know as little as possible,” Kolya said. “I have a little ham. It isn't much but it’s better than that disgusting soup.”

Jonah and Alma took the ham he gave them greedily and were finished with it in no time.

“Sorry, that is all there is,” Kolya apologised. “I have some news you might like to hear: The Red Army captured Bratislava yesterday. You got out of there just in time. It won't be long before they get here. We are expecting air raids at the factory but you should be safe here in the cellar.”

“Thank you,” Alma said.

“I need to get up even earlier tomorrow,” Kolya told them. “I will turn in now. The windows are blacked out so you can stay in the living room a little if you like. Good night.”

“Good night and thank you,” said Jonah.

After Kolya had left the two of them found some old papers in the living room and read them. A
ll of course absurd propaganda and not in the least the distraction they had hoped for. The couple also turned in soon for the night but their sleep was soon interrupted by the sound of aircraft engines and bombs dropping.  Only after the attack had almost finished did the air raid alarm go off and the sirens started to sound. With the constant expectation of repeat alarms there was not much sleep to be had for the rest of the night. The couple were still awake when Kolya left for work.

The next three
nights were quiet but naturally no one slept soundly, half expecting another air raid. Kolya told them that the last air raid had been the fiercest the city had ever seen and people were so scared that many had stopped going to work. The fighting had come closer and in parts of the city it was possible to hear artillery noise. It was only a matter of time now.

Kolya had also decided to stay home from the factory, since there were such shortages that production had become something of a farce anyway. Nobody believed that management would be able to pay them soon either. Their Czech friend had not been able to buy any bread for them, only some potatoes. Alma found some ingredients in the larder to make a vegetable broth which Kolya said was worse than no food at all.

That night there was another heavy air raid and the following morning a huge mass exodus of German civilians headed towards the west. Kolya reported that the train station was hopelessly overcrowded.

After two weeks of constant air raids and battle noise the Red Army finally rolled into the city. Nobody could believe it had taken them so long. Kolya told his guests to keep staying in the cellar to avoid confrontation. The soldiers were running through the streets, looting all houses and looking for Germans. The locals used white flags to signal to the Soviets where the Germans were but the looting and raping was not entirely li
mited to those premises.

Kolya reported in the evening that it had been not as gruesome as could have been expected. The Czechoslovak government in exile had set up residence in Kosice in
the eastern part of Slovakia. Because it had advised and assisted the Red Army in the war effort, they had, in exchange, received certain guarantees of humanitarian conduct by the troops against their people.

The Germans who had been stupid enough not to flee the country were violently abused by both the liberators and the Czechs, whose life the Nazis had made so miserable over the last seven years. There was no distinction between Austrians, Germans, Nazis and neutrals. Anyone with a German name or accent was a target.

Alma and Jonah remained in hiding. After all, their papers were now German. Nobody but Kolya could speak for them. Proving their story might be difficult. They had been lucky enough to survive the first days of house searches and looting. That danger was still very present.

Over the next weeks Germans were rounded up and brought together in camps and stories of cruelty and revenge made their way through the streets of Brno. Kolya had contacted his cousin Bogdan and asked what to do about Jonah and Alma. Bogdan came to the house with a few of his men and they took the old couple and brought them to a farm outside of Brno where there was a community of Ukrainian refuges and forced labourers. He explained that the Soviets w
ere keen to bring home all the displaced people after the war and gathered them in camps. This farm was under the protection of the Red Army.

No harm could come to Jonah and Alma here from anyone thinking that they were Germans. He burned their forged passports by the names of Finsterwalder and left them to their fate amongst the other liberated refugees.

The last few weeks had been quite different for the other part of the Weissensteiner family. After a day of rest the women had left Budweis and had travelled successfully to Pilsen in the space of only a few days. The city was heaving with people pushing west. They had to sleep in an open field outside the city limits that the administration had assigned for the passing refugees. Greta was worried that the excitement and chaos of this place might have a negative effect on Wilma but fortunately this was not the case. The sister spoke calmly about missing her father and Egon.

Someone had organised
a field kitchen and refugees were being fed for free. Children were playing everywhere and at times the atmosphere was more like a fun fair than that of a country at war. In this colourful place people traded their possessions and Edith was able to use some of her jewellery to buy more of the serum for Wilma. The tablets would have been more useful because of their less dramatic effect but beggars could not be choosers. Wilma was almost back to her old self, not as communicative and playful as she once had been, but certainly able to hold a conversation and laugh.

Two teenage girls whose cart was righ
t next to Greta's were playing ‘old maid’ and asked Ernst to join them. After a few animated games and a lot of laughter they adopted Ernst for the rest of the day and took him with them on their tour round the field camp. Greta was pleased as it gave her the opportunity to spend some time alone with Wilma.

“You are looking very well,” she said to her ill sister. “How are you feeling?”

“I am so pleased we are in the fresh air now,” was her reply.

“This is like a little adventure!” Greta said cheerfully. “I am looking forward to Paris. They are meant to have food there that we never even heard of. Edi
th said the women all dress in the most amazing fashion.”

“I don't care about
clothes,” Wilma replied. “They are such a waste of money.”

“I am sure that Esther and Edith are going to dress us up like dolls before they even think about being seen with us in their circles. We will have to do our best to fit in,” said Greta.

“I hope we won't be there for long. I want to go back home,” said Wilma.

“I don't want to go back to Slovakia,” Greta replied. “We have been living in hid
ing for long enough. I would like to live somewhere where we can be ourselves. Paris might just be the place.”

“I want to go
back,” Wilma insisted. “Our life is there!”

“Wilma, we need to move on. Our workshop is gone and our rich customers have probably all fled like us. I don't think we will ever be able to go back, and even if we did, it will not be the same. There will
be a new home for us somewhere else,” Greta said hopefully. “I think that prospect is rather exciting and thrilling.”

“Where?”
Wilma asked, not very impressed.

“France, maybe
America. Now that these countries are crushing Hitler's army and his ideology they will look out for us and find a solution. They simply must. Why else would they have come and fought him?

“Let's hope so. I can't shake the feeling that it will always be like it was for us. They liberated the Poles and the Czechs, even the Slovaks but they won't
change anything for the Jews,” said Wilma, disillusioned.

“You mustn't think like that. You and I will either have great adventures or we will settle down somewhere comfortably with the help of the Countess and the ladies,” promised Greta.

“You want to be careful about that,” Wilma warned her. “Edith is still very fond of you.”

“Nonsense.
I think Esther is sweet for you. It will be you who is breaking their hearts,” Greta said with a wink.

Ernst
, in the meantime, had been out exploring with the two girls. Their grandfather had left them alone while trying to find some provisions in the city and even though they had promised him to stay with their belongings and make sure nothing was being stolen the boredom had got the better of them and so they had asked complete strangers next to them to watch out for any thieves.

“What is your name?” Ernst suddenly asked them.

“We already told you. I am Lisbeth and this is Margot. Have you forgotten already? Or is this some game? What is yours?”

“My name is Edwin Finsterwalder!” he said. “My mother is Margarethe Finsterwalder and my aunt is Wilhelmina Finsterwalder.”

“Finsterwalder?”

“Yes, my name is Ernst
, ehm, Edwin Finsterwalder. Edwin Finsterwalder!”

“How funny,” said Lisbeth, who was the older sister and always the one talking for the two of them. “We met an elderly couple by that name on the road. That was only a few days ago. We have to tell grandfather. They left us in the middle of the night and we never got to say goodbye to them. Grandfather was very angry at them for it. You wouldn't know any Finsterwalders who were on their way to Brno?”

“My Grandfather went to Brno. His name is Joseph Finsterwalder and Alma is Anna Finsterwalder,” Ernst said, thinking this was still part of the game.

“What do you mean: Alma is Anna Finsterwalder and why did you say earlier that you are Ernst Finsterwalder? Which one is it?
Ernst or Edwin? Alma or Anna?” asked Margot.

“My name is Edwin Finsterwalder and my gran
dmother is Anna Finsterwalder.” Ernst said now, realising his mistake and remembering how his mother had made him swear never to use the old names again. “There is no Ernst and no Alma.”

The sisters exchanged a meaningful look and whispered into
each other’s ears. Ernst tried hard but could not understand what they were saying.

“Let us go back to our place. Our grandfather must not know that we left the cart. We promised,” said Lisbeth.

Finding the way back was not as easy as they had imagined. The place was full of people who were moving around and it took a while before they saw Greta and Wilma sitting on the grass between the two carriages.

Lisbeth and Margot disappeared to go back to their space behind another cart. Ernst told his mother abou
t slipping up in the name ‘game’. Greta was mortified but could not risk worrying Wilma or her poor little boy who was too young to be forced into lying and being good at it.

“Don't worry. Just make sure you don't make the same mistake again,” she
said in a calming tone. Wilma didn't seem to have taken notice of the news. She was busy pulling petals of daisies.

When the Countess and the ladies got back Greta took them to one
side and told them about their cover being compromised.

“We probably have to think about leaving as soon as we can,” said
Edith.” I heard that we are still too close to the Soviets here. We need to go further west really quickly.”

“It is too late in the day to leave now,” the Countess said. “It will be dark soon.”

“It does not matter, even a few hours ahead of someone who suspects our identity is fake is better than staying another night next to them,” Edith said decidedly.

“I feel the same,
” agreed Greta.

“It will be
a drain on the horses,” the Countess argued. “Without proper rest the poor animals will be slower tomorrow.”