Prologue: Owicim, 1941-1942 The train screamed to a halt as it rolled slowly into the platform.

The driver had had to apply the break little by little for fear of sliding; winter was at its peak and had more or less frozen the tracks. It seemed that none of his colleagues had had the sense to salt them. He sighed and pinched the top of his nose where his eyebrows met. The headache had set in three hours ago, and the tiredness did not help. He cast a brief glance outwardly and saw his workmates crunching their way towards the train, overcoats hurriedly thrown on and hair dishevelled. It was the Commandants fault. He wanted the train to arrive as soon as possible, and it was not the drivers first choice to arrive in the middle of one of the coldest nights of the year. He stayed by his console and listened. Let them do the work, he thought. The doors to the train all opened within ten seconds of each other, and the still quiet of the snowy night shattered with them. Everything was noise, shouts from uniformed figures on the platform mingling with the moans and cries of the insurmountable passengers of all ages, babies clutched to their mothers breasts shielding them from the cold night, old men with sticks, all rushing to alight. Ewa Klimkowicz was one such person. Her legs were weak from having been stood upright for the duration of the journey, and she consequently stumbled on her way out of the train. She was tired, hungry and she needed the toilet, and she was almost grateful for the icy bite of the wind, a welcome opposite to the tight, hot conditions on board the train. She looked about her in an attempt to establish where it was that that they had arrived, but the darkness, snow and confusion of people all seemed to conspire against her. She pushed her long blonde hair away from her eyes and started off in an indeterminable direction. Ewa! A familiar voice made her turn around. Hurrying towards her eagerly were her mother, Sarah, and sister, Hanna, who had been lost to her during the loading of the train back home. They briefly managed to put their arms around each other before being directed by a man in a German uniform to a group of other women to wait while the unloading and dividing continued. Im so glad to see you both again, Ewa whispered to them. I know, as am I. I dont know how long we were travelling but it felt like forever, Hanna said. How long do you think we were on there, Mama? Sorry? Their mother asked distractedly. Hanna said, how long do you think we were travelling for, answered Ewa. Sarah was looking away, over to an indistinct mass of people and not taking much notice of her daughters. I dont know, Ewa. Where are we? she asked to nobody in particular. Ewa and Hanna gave each other the same concerned look. Their mother sounded completely out of it, and she had never been a woman to be easily distracted. She always took notice of her children, however mundane their discourse. They followed her scrutiny, when it appeared to have finally settled on an individual in the mass; Ewa was astonished that even in the midst of the pandemonium her mother was still able to determine its apparent source, like she always managed at home. This source was a small man, in a uniform in accordance with the other many uniformed people, talking to several others before they gave him the obligatory Nazi salute and went off. It was evident that he commanded some kind of authority, although as yet it was unclear of what kind. Ewa was drawn away from him by a persistent tugging at her coat sleeve; she turned and saw Hanna motioning to another uniformed person, a woman, who was coming towards the group of women with her heavy boots crunching in the snow. She could not have been much older than Hanna, who had just turned nineteen herself. It disconcerted Ewa to see a girl that young in a Nazi uniform, walking with an authoritarian air
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she had previously only seen in politicians and men about town. What made it worse is that she would actually have been quite pretty but for that uniform and the hair scraped back from her face incomprehensibly tightly she was obviously one of the workforce that took some degree of care in her work, that or she had not been disturbed from her sleep like the others seemed to have been. Ewa watched her as she surveyed the women gathered before her, pacing back and forth before them as she waited patiently for the remainder of the train to be directed either to her or two of her other colleagues. That task completed, she started to bark orders at them in a way that Ewa thought somehow did not match her youth. The voice, although callous and for all its imperative force, contained a minute uncertainty that Ewa could just about sense. It instructed the women to move to a series of low wooden buildings, just barely visible in the darkness, the young woman leading them and two following up the side and rear, considerably older and harder-faced than the other. Once inside, with harsh bulbs lighting the commotion, Ewa was really able to see the others in their group. There were twenty women or so in all, including her mother and sister, varying in age from about thirteen onwards. Her mother seemed to be the oldest, at fifty-one. More orders were shouted; they had to strip bare and leave into an adjoining room. Those who protested felt the sting of the oldest guards riding-crop and did not protest again. Ewa looked to her mother, who was removing her blouse. She nodded to her in a knowing way which seemed to mean, do as they say. Ewa sighed and shrugged off the fur coat that Hans had bought her after saving long and hard to treat her to it on her birthday. What would he have to say about all this? She placed him from her mind and hastily kicked off her shoes and took off her silk dress she was over-dressed compared to the others, but they had not been going to meet a friend for dinner when the Germans took them. Her earrings and necklace she handed without a word to the middle-aged guard when she prompted her. Something told her it was unlikely she would see them again. Naked, she met her mother across the room and they made their way in silence towards the door Hanna had gone ahead and not waited for them, embarrassed it seemed after having been struck by one guard for not removing her underwear. In the next room were five people in a different uniform, grey-blue in contrast to the Germans green. Three of them, two women and a man, bore the yellow star on their chests as Ewa had done since the Germans had taken Poland. The other two, a woman and a man, had red and pink triangles respectively, which Ewa guessed must have some similar derogatory stigma like the stars. All five had shaven heads, and were busy shaving those of the women in turn, who all reacted differently. Of those being seen to when Ewa entered, one was calm, three were unsure, and one was evidently distraught, crying silently and with good reason; her hair was gloriously thick and almost reached her bottom. Hanna, when it came to her turn, did not take kindly to being shaved; she struggled violently which subsequently resulted in the two men having to leave their own work to restrain her, and the older woman guard who had crept in at some point smacked her firmly. Ewa winced with sympathy and anger when she saw blood produce from her sisters mouth to match the eye the earlier blow had given her, but she held back the urge to say anything in protest. She did not watch the rest of it, but kept her eyes down until she was called. She got the man with the pink triangle. He smiled slightly as she sat before him and played with her hair briefly before setting his hand-worked clippers on it. Its a shame, he discreetly whispered to her in her soothing, native Polish, your hair is beautiful. Even with this, she did not feel any urge to cry. She sat calmly, almost as though she did not know what to make of the situation. His hands worked softly, but the sensation of the clippers forcing their way across her skull was a strange one; she immediately felt the
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cold of the night as the first part of her hair fell away and across her face. Vanity did not bother her simply because nobody would judge her for displaying a naked head given that they all had them. In the matter of a few minutes, the work was finished and Ewa dusted her naked body off as she started to follow the direction the others were going. She also stole a stroke of her head; her fingertips barely penetrated the ends of the hairs. Hans suddenly entered her mind again what would he think of his fiance, bald, naked and, worst of all, subservient to the Nazis? That did not seem like her, that was a different woman. Ewa Klimkowicz was a proud woman of beauty, at least Hans seemed to think so, who hated the Nazis with a passion, had sworn at them in the street before now. Why should she now be afraid to put even a toe out of line? Perhaps it was the rumours that were spreading back home. Hearsay for the past few months had consisted of secret places dotted about where the Germans were sending the Jews and the odd Pole or political enemy to work or be killed. Such places were known to exist because some letters had got out of them at the cost of a bribe or whatever. Ewa did not want to die. It was not the fear of death itself but rather what she would be missing out on if she did die, things that she had yet to experience. She and Hans had so much to look forward to together, marriage, a family... But Hans was not here. The Germans had taken him a month before Ewa and her family. She had no idea where on earth he was, if he was still on this earth. This melee of thought went round in Ewas mind as she went through the rest of the motions, receiving her own grey-blue uniform that was too big for her she took this to be a hopeful sign; they would not kill someone they were clothing, would they? But the thoughts stopped when she sat on a wooden bench in still another room, presenting her arm for tattooing. The woman tattooing her had a technique that was amateur at best, but it was still incredibly painful. She moved the nib it looked as though she was using an old blunt pen of some description jaggedly up and down, pressing hard and deep, stopping now and then to refresh the ink from a pot of the stuff. It was stinging and so sore that the thought to hit the woman crossed her mind more than once. She dared a look when the woman was halfway through. It was not a subtle tattoo at all, the characters were long and thick, and when finished would cover the width of her forearm. No amount of make-up would hide it in the future, and that made her feel somewhat angry. The haircut, she felt, had been enough. That would grow. New skin would not. She still did not cry, would not allow the Germans to see her cry. They had taken her things, her clothing, her hair, her identity the tattoo, she saw, was taking the form of some identification number and goodness knew what else. They had taken all her possessions. She would not let them take her tears too. She eventually caught up with her mother and sister in what she presumed to be barracks, that was what she would call them. They were obviously intended to be a place in which to sleep, but there was precious little space and no linen of any description, nor mattresses, just row upon row of wooden structures fit to burst with sleeping women. Her mother whispered loudly as she entered. Here, Ewa. Hanna and I saved you a place. Ewa wandered towards the voice and saw their familiar faces, now with cropped hair and wearing similar uniforms to her. Thanks, mama, she said, and sat between the two, tucking her knees under her chin. You look like a man, mama, with that haircut. The air was tense and she wanted to break it with a joke. It worked. Her mother smiled and said, thanks, child. You and Hanna are still beautiful. Hanna sniffed. What would Isaac think, me, with no hair, and this number on my arm? Isaac was Hannas fianc. Ewa put her arm around her and kissed her cheek.

And bruised. Theyve hurt you badly. I cant stand to see them treat you that way, and I know Isaac would have killed each one of them for doing that to you if he were here. Hes not, though, is he? Hanna fell silent and turned her back to sleep. Or to feign it, Ewa could not quite work out. She looked to her mother. Things will look better in the morning when we have slept, she said lowly. Goodnight, Ewa. And she too went to sleep. Ewa wanted to sleep, too, and tried unsuccessfully. Talk of Isaac had put her own intended back into her mind. She could not erase the mental image of Hans as she lay in the darkness, and his likeness could not have been clearer were he to be stood before her in the flesh. She saw his dark, intense eyes, framed with heavy brows, his wide nose, his beautiful bearded smile, the sidelocks she played with absent-mindedly when they used to lay in bed together. She imagined him now, lying next to her, his reassuring figure shifting his weight to allow him to put his big arm around her to lean into, and with this image, this false reassurance, sleep gradually set in. * Things did not look at all better in the morning, nor any morning after that for a long time. It was constant routine, they were woken early by shouts, were given a hasty breakfast of bread and water, and were led on marches and put to work intermittently. The work was hard. Owing to the weather, it mainly consisted of shovelling snow and digging, which back at the Klimkowicz home would have been considered mens work; the men of the camp because that is what it was, a camp, Ewa had gone over the word in her head had been put to work further afield and were believed to be doing building work of some description. Ewa felt more than able to do this intense physical work; it took her mind away from so many different things. Her mother, too, a heavy-set woman who was used to lifting heavy boxes of goods in the shop back home, found the work little strange. Ewa was concerned for her sister, however, who had never done any manual work in her life; Ewa had been a physically active scholar, but Hanna had been the one who helped to run the shop at home, dealing with books, accounts and serving the public. Exerting herself here was something of a shock to her, and she was finding herself to tire quickly. Halfway through the first afternoon, digging the railway tracks out of the nights snow more had fallen since their arrival Ewa had noticed her stop digging and rest on her shovel, her face red and struggling for breath. Ewa sidled carefully towards her, pretending to dig all the while. Hanna, she whispered, are you all right? Im fine, she managed between gasps. Its my asthma, from when we were children. I must rest. Ewa grabbed her wrist and looked about. None of the supervising guards were taking notice but she spoke hurriedly. You will have to rest later, Hanna. There will be plenty of time for that. You must dig, God knows what they would do to you if they saw you stopping work. Ewa was not being a bully to her. Hanna searched her sincere face and there was genuine concern in her low voice. She took up the shovel again grudgingly. All right, Ewa. Ewa nodded with a slight smile. Go more slowly, if you must, but dont desist altogether. She moved away, back to where she had started. Hanna shovelled on with a newly-incited determination that overwhelmed her, making her forget the tight pain in her chest. The nights, at first, were awkward. Ewas family and the other newcomers who arrived with them on the same night were outcasts for the time being. There was the whole process to incite again, that of making acquaintances with people you had never seen and trying to find something in common with which to form the foundation for possible friendship among solid
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friendships that had been formed long before you arrived. The most obvious thing might have been to comment on the symbols worn on everyones chest, predominantly stars in Ewas barracks, but, amazingly, her mother started a conversation with a woman about five years younger than herself about the guards. Ewa did not involve herself in the conversation for the time being; she listened to her mother comment on the young female guard that had struck Ewa so the first night, and ask after how the system worked. Ewa did not listen to the womans reply for she had spotted Hanna sat on her own with her back to the wall. She made her way over to her and sat next to her not saying a word for five minutes or so. Whats the problem? she asked her finally. What makes you think that there is any problem, Hanna answered, in more of a statement than a question. There was another pause. Its not too bad, really, this place. I know that once we have started talking to people it should be quite pleasant. Pleasant? There was another pause. Perhaps not pleasant. But it should be bearable, at least. Ewa touched Hannas shoulder and looked at her intently. Youre tired? Hanna shook her head. In truth, her body was aching, and her chest was still tight. Hungry, then? Hanna shook her head again. Ewa was reminded of when Hanna had used to be stubborn as a child, saying nothing and communicating with gestures of the head. She sighed and turned away, but Hanna grabbed her suddenly. She turned back again. I miss... Hanna started. Yes? Is it Isaac? Yes, but, no, thats not it. I miss home. I miss God. God? Ewa looked at her incredulously. Home she could understand; Hanna was still young and still susceptible to homesickness. Everyone was. God? She asked again. I feel like hes not there. Her reasoning was childlike, short, simple sentences. Weve been here one night... Ewa began. No. Weve been away longer. And at home, the synagogue... the synagogue she referred to had been burned to the ground when the Germans took them away. Ewa could not understand it. They were far from being an orthodox family. Ewa herself could not stand the thought of religion; too much bloodshed through the ages had been rooted in it in her opinion. ETC ETC until bedtime perhaps God when Hanna unfortunate?. * Time passed, slowly and dateless as one normally encounters in a place of such monotony, and Ewa barely found anything to show that her time had been spent constructively, except perhaps for stronger arms on account of her work. Then one day in the Spring, quite suddenly, a guard approached her and informed her that as of the net day she would be working in what he called Kanada. Ewa did not know what this meant but she hoped that it was something positive, and she confided in her mother and sister that night. Her mother, who was now friends with a number of people and gossiped frequently, gesticulated excitedly when Ewa mentioned the name the guard had said. You know something? Ewa asked, seeing her face light up. Yes! Im so pleased for you, Ewa, my darling. Its a place where the residents she always declined to refer to the people as inmates or prisoners possessions are sorted. Its easier work, apparently. I know a woman who works there.
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Oh, Ewa, that is good news! Hanna said, kissing her. I shall have to see if I can persuade them to let you two join me, Ewa said, more concerned for the wellbeing of her family than her own, as she always had been. Wait for a while. See what happens, first, her mother said. She smiled with shining eyes that her daughters had not seen grace her worn face since back home, and then went to speak with one of her new friends. Ewa did not know what to think. She did not know why she had been chosen, or the kind of work that would be expected of her. All she knew was that, for the first time since her arrival, she slept easily. The next day arrived, roll-call and breakfast taken and then she was given her duties in this Kanada. There were several other women to work beside, who were to instruct her in what to do. Ewa recognised one of them who spoke to her mother frequently, and they gave each other an acknowledging nod. Her primary role was to empty suitcases that had been brought along and to sort their contents into their respective boxes and crates. It took her not ten minutes to clear the first one describe the need to cut off emotionally (pots and pans. these are peoples things well-loved etc.) In the late afternoon, she chanced upon the first mirror she had seen since coming to the camp. No-one being present she was inside the building of belongings at this time she decided to look upon herself, not out of vanity but of pure curiosity, to see whether or not she had changed in the past few months. She had. She was astonished to see herself looking back, more of a distortion of what she had previously known herself to look like. Her eyes were drawn immediately to her face, which had slimmed and now showed off her contoured cheekbones, which in turn highlighted her slightly twisted nose and square jaw. Her eyes, blue as ever, had yet ceased to sparkle as before her mother had always said they gave the appearance that drops had been applied to them and were now framed by slight lines. Her shaven head was odd Ewa did not think it ugly, or crude, but decided that it rather fitted her head neatly, now that it had grown to be more or less a centimetre long, and exposed her ears which she found had slight points to them. She almost liked the haircut. Voices from outside the door forced her to leave the mirror, but the time had been enough. It had enabled her to realise that she was still Ewa Klimkowicz. And Ewa Klimkowicz was a person, with her own personality, with emotions, feelings. She felt that she had in some way regained her identity, and she was determined to keep it. * People came, people went. That was the way things were. Despite its apparent monotony, the camp was alive with change in terms of the people who lived and worked there. Inmates arrived, inmates left, and the system with the camp staff was not much different. As well as new work for Ewa, Spring saw the arrival of five new members of staff, guards, young and fresh-faced. Ewa sensed immediately that the two new women she had contact with had had little experience in terms of exerting authority over others. While she and her colleagues organised belongings, their superiors actually conversed with them like real human beings, a stark contrast to the two old bitches, as they had named them, that used to supervise them. One even took some interest in their lives before the camp. It was a genuinely agreeable atmosphere in view of everything else. One day, however, the weather had turned and Ewa was called upon to help dig some form of drainage ditch in the pouring rain. Visibility was poor, the ground stuck to her feet yet still remained slippery, and the mud she was removing seemed to get heavier with each shovelful. It was excruciatingly tiring, coming something as a shock in comparison to the easy work she
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had been undertaking in Kanada, and, attempting to lift an especially heavy load, she missed her footing and fell front first into the wet mud. She swore and rushed to try and right herself lest one of the guards should see and discipline her. She had seen that discipline a number of times and had miraculously managed to avoid it during her time. A guard did make his way over to her but instead of a beating, he extended his hand out to her in a gesture of kindness and quietly asked if she was all right, genuine concern in his voice. She did not recognise the voice from the camp and knew it must be one of the new staff. And yet, there was something in its tone that struck a chord in the back of her mind. She got to her feet at last, her hand in his, and his other supporting her waist. She heard him bend for the shovel and spun round to quickly utter her thanks, but stopped short. She felt as though she had seen a ghost and been punched in the stomach simultaneously. She knew his face, coming up towards and past hers. It was unmistakeable, and though now beardless, the eyes burned with the same intensity as they always had. The man stood before her in a Nazi uniform was Hans.

Part One: England, 1940

Chapter One The air was tighter than ever this morning, the remaining damp from the previous nights rain and the absurd morning heat mixing with the smoke and debris to create an atmosphere reflective of the general mood of the roads population war was poxy, and no mistake. Vera was one such advocate of this ideology, and the close atmosphere did nothing more than to reignite her anger by way of making her sweat more than she already was. She was running, cursing the Jerries as she sprinted in the general direction of the office. No time for make-up, she was that behind her usual routine. No time to absorb the damaged houses in neighbouring areas, carnaged from the previous night. How they could try it in the rain, Vera would never know. She ran ignorant of the people who leapt out of her way, and would not realise until later that the faces of concern she just made out were the product of thinking she was running for cover from another attack, especially given her dishevelled state. She eventually reached the old, thin building that housed the office in which she worked, and she bounded up the stairs two at a time, crashing through the second-floor door at the grand time of twenty past nine. This is not bad going by ones usual standards, but in her opinion she may as well have sauntered in at ten minutes to home time. Her closest and only true friend and colleague Margaret knew this, and took joy in pointing at the clock from behind her desk and making a joke to cheer Vera who looked on the verge of collapse. My my, this will never do, she sang. Then she sat upright in her chair. Are you alright, hen? Only your face has gone purple. Fineran, Vera managed between lungfuls of air. She rested her hands on her knees and bent over. Bloody hell. Sit down and sort yourself out while I make us a wee cuppie tea. Thatll make you feel better. Vera did not need to be asked twice. She flopped into place behind her desk facing Margarets, and began to pin up her hair which she had not had time to do that morning, using the small hand mirror the two women shared in the laughable office where they worked, typing invoices and calculating finances for a small feed company of which Margarets brother was co-owner. Must have been a rough night round your way? Margaret shouted from the cupboard masquerading as a kitchen. Why dyou ask, Marge? Margaret stuck her head around the doorframe and counted the reasons on her funny fat fingers. Late for work, caused by over-sleeping, caused by sleep deprivation, caused by those bomber bastards. It doesnt take much to work out, hen. I dont know how you do it, Marge, really I dont. You got it in one as per. Aye, well, your best friend kens these things. Bad, was it? One of the worst yet, and they were close. Mind you, I dont know what was worse, I had the planes in one ear and Tom in the other. He snores like a good one, sleeps through anything he does, and it dont half echo in the shelter. Marge laughed. I know the feeling, love. How is your Tom these days? Same as usual, still narked they wont let him enlist with his chest. Ive told him time and again hes better off here, at home. Hes a clever fellow, what goods that out there? You dont need brains to fire a gun. And you dont need brains to invade France, but its happened. Still, I know what you mean. Marge appeared presently with two steaming cups and proffered one to Vera, which she accepted gratefully.
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I suppose we ought to do some work, then, Vera sighed. What is there to do? We filed all the invoices yesterday, we only need to type the new ones and we can do that in ten minutes between us. Thats something, I suppose. You can tell me all about yours and Alfs weekend, then. They really were odd best friends, everybody thought so though they never dared to say so. Vera was a young woman of twenty-one, tall and lean with dark hair and quite introvert, where Margaret was nearly fifty, short and stocky with thick round spectacles framed by fading ginger hair and always spoke her mind. Needless to say, while they looked like an odd pair, they were as close as sisters. They knew each other inside out, and this had become even truer with the war. It always astounded Vera how the government were forever issuing posters telling everyone to hush up, yet everyone knew the business of everyone else and his brother. With the lack of real work, they spent the day chatting leisurely, and Margaret became jealous when Vera told her of the plans that she and Tom had for the following weekend. How on earth did you manage to get tickets for the variety show? Its nigh on impossible! Vera grinned. Tom knows someone at his work in with all the theatre people. I tried to get him to get four so as you and Alf could have come, but he didnt want to push it. I dont blame him, you have to be careful. Is there anybody decent playing when you go? A few, mind you the only real headliner is that Tessie OShea. Old Two Ton Tessie! Shes brilliant, her, makes me laugh. Yeah, Tom likes her too. I prefer George Formby myself, I think fellows suit banjos better. But even so, hen, its bound to be a good night. I hope so. God knows we could do with a laugh. Vera returning from work broken gate. Introduce Tom. Card game and kitchen scene mention of Vs mother (cow) and father (in hospital) Chapter Two Vera leaves early to visit father in hospital (get there for opening time.) Relationship and more bitching about mother. Returns Tom gone to work. Finds his SOE letter. When he gets home, argument. She confides in Margaret.

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Part Two: Owicim, 1942

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Chapter One Ewa stood there in the mud utterly dumbfounded staring incomprehensibly at the man to whom she had previously been engaged. She did not know whether to laugh or to cry, and by the expression on his face, neither did he. His mouth was partially open as though to say something, until suddenly a whistle blew it signalled the end of a days labour and return to the barracks. Come, he said, gathering his wits and grabbing her by the wrist. Look confused. There was no need for her to feign confusion. She had to run to keep up with his unusually fast pace until she was led to an empty building the latrine block, she could distinguish its odour metres away. A wise choice for not being disturbed. Not a word was uttered until the door was closed behind them, and Hans made the first comment. My beautiful Ewa, what have they done to you? I could ask the same of you. For Gods sake, please explain why you are dressed in an SS uniform! Please, darling, keep your voice down. Given the circumstances, dont call me darling. Why are you working for them? I had no choice, I had to You had to? It was inevitable! Ewa, even if I protested, Id still be working for them. As a prisoner, as you are! Ewas jaw clenched and she turned her head away as the disgusting reality dawned upon her she was labouring for the Nazis. She had to in order to stay alive, but it was true. She was the property of the Nazis. Im sorry, muttered Hans. No, no, I understand, she said, calming down. What happened? After you were taken, they came to my part of town. They rounded us all up, everyone, and they started to beat up some of us. When they got hold of me, they cut off my beard and hit me about for a bit. Christ, how they hit me. And then, we were permitted to renounce our faith. What? Our religion, we were told to renounce it or be sent off in the trucks. So right there and then, I renounced on the condition that I could join the SS. It seemed to amuse them, but they took me on. Oh, Hans, what were you thinking? I was thinking of my safety, but of you foremost. I wanted to know that we could still have a future at the end of this. Being one of them allows me access to information, so I could find you, and its a damned good position to be able to start fighting back. Ewa sighed. She looked up into his eyes with a newfound respect and pure love which she had thought lost, and she kissed him. He put his arms around her, a welcome outlet of warmth against the cold environment. Their lips parted, he laughed in his throat and stroked her head. I cant believe that my girls hair is shorter than mine, he smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood, to rekindle the light-hearted conversation that they had been so used to sharing.

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Ewa grinned back. Beautiful, isnt it? But my hair grows so quickly, Hans. And when we get out, you can play with it like you used to. There was an awkward pause. We are getting out, arent we? You have an excellent chance, my love, he started hesitantly. But? Speak to me clearly, Hans, she said sternly, Tell me it how it is. Im not an idiot, and I know the rumours that spread around have to start somewhere based in fact. Theyre killing us, arent they? She looked into his eyes steadfastly. Tell me the truth. He sighed. I will, but you must promise not to repeat it to anyone. Promise me. I promise. Then, yes. Yes, theyre killing thousands a day. Oh God! She had yet to cry during her time at the camp, and although she felt the burning sensation before the tears shed, they would not form. But, Ewa, youre safe. All the while youre in good health, you can work. Youre still, I hate to say it, useful to them. Ewa had started to pace and was biting the inside of her mouth as she listened to him. So much had altered her perspective and consequent life, her possible death, at the camp in the space of just ten minutes. It was incredible how much information she had registered with the brief, surreal conversation with her SS husband-to-be.

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