Far To Go by Alison Pick Read Free Book Online Page A

permanence.”
    “Prague is part of our country.”
    “The factory is here.”
    “But your mother—she wants to go.”
    Pavel scoffed. “Like Jesus rose to heaven she does!”
    “She’s too old to stay if things continue this way.”
    “My mother would not leave here if—”
    “Then what about Pepik?”
    Marta had heard a rumour that the Jewish children from Cheb had been rounded up and shot. It was only a rumour though, and nothing she could be sure of. She wiped it from her mind like a schoolgirl wiping a sponge across her slate.
    Pavel was saying something Marta could not discern; she cocked her ear towards the parlour but made out only the words “bonds” and “infrastructure.” She could see him sweeping his wife into his arms, stroking her dark, curly hair. When he spoke again his voice was clear and calm. “My mother will be fine,” he said. “She wouldn’t leave here if you put a gun to her head. And Pepik will be fine. I’ll make sure of it.” He paused. “We can’t run away, Liesel,” he said. “We must stay and live what we believe in. Otherwise Hitler has won without even firing a shot.”
    “Hasn’t he already won without firing a shot?”
    Marta realized that Anneliese was right. But Pavel would not be baited.
    “We’ll stay,” he said. “You have to trust me. Everything will be fine.”
    Three days later Marta carried a telegram over to Pavel to open. The Bauer factory would be occupied by the Nazis.

Český Krumlov, 1 March 1939
    My dear son Pavel,
    Where are you? Have you arrived?
    I posted a letter to you via Ernst Anselm, but as yet have heard nothing. I also asked him to send a telegram on my behalf.
    Did you not receive it?
    I hope that Anneliese is happy to be in the city of her birth. Have you settled into Max and Alžběta’s flat? And how is your new job? Is the factory continuing to run despite
XXXXXXXXXX ?
    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX .
I am very eager to discuss this. I fear I made a grave mistake by staying behind. I have tried to contact you, but to no avail. I wonder why I’ve received no response and I wonder if
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX .
    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Please, send a letter or a cable as quickly as possible.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
phone lines, so it is better to write. I look forward to hearing from you and trust you will help me join you and that we will all be happily reunited.
    Please give my love to Anneliese and little Pepik.
    Your forever loving,
    Mother
    ( FILE UNDER: Bauer, Rosa. Died Birkenau, 1943)

SOMETIMES I’LL BE WALKING .
    Say it’s dusk, and the end of October. The buses leaving the university are lit up like bright aquariums, the buses themselves swimming through the dark element of the evening. The ducks have forgotten to fly south, and huddle dimly together at the edge of the pond. Say there’s a chill in the air; I’ve been resisting my winter jacket, and now the wind slips a cool hand down my back, the first touch I’ve felt in . . . forever. It comes over me then. I’ve had a good day at my desk but still I get the sense that I’m missing, or that something within me is missing, some crucial piece of me that used to make my whole self run. I’ve been taken apart one too many times, and the little cog at the centre of my chest has slipped into the gutter and been lost.
    It’s hard to imagine anyone ever finding it.
    It’s too hidden, too covered in leaves.
    It would take a small person, someone curious, someone low to the ground.
    It would take a child—and of course it’s far too late for that.
    The children suffered the most. This is what my research has led me to believe. Some would say otherwise, but the children
did
know. Even the little ones—perhaps the little ones especially—soaked it all up. They absorbed it directly, a straight hit to the bloodstream. All of the stress, the incredible