City of Fate Page 14

  Tanya nodded her head and actually laughed, a little, through her tears, ‘That’s about one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard a person say, but I understand what you mean.’

  Emboldened, he added, ‘Why doesn’t Hitler just stay at home and mind his own business?’

  Her laugh became a gentle smile. ‘Ah, but he does. It’s the ordinary men who must do the hard work of invading other countries.’

  He took this delicious opportunity to play the innocent student. ‘But why does he want to invade other countries?’ When had he last sat at his school desk, or moaned over his homework? Only now did he realise how lucky he had been back then.

  To his relief, she laughed again, just a little. ‘My guess is that he wants to rule them, or ruin them. Something like that. Who really knows why anyone does anything?’ She rubbed away the tears that were just about gone.

  The two of them were back, he felt, to the point of them sitting together on their wooden stools, only this time he was ready to hear, and to listen.

  She took a breath and paused, before letting the air back out again. He knew not to comment when she took her hand away, leaving his feeling empty and bitterly cold. Tilting her body towards him, she began, ‘I’m leaving Russia.’

  He nodded calmly, as if he had already guessed that. What could he say to something that sounded so fantastic and impossible?

  She sighed at his cautious response, ‘I know, I know. It sounds so strange to hear myself say that. I don’t think I really believe it yet.’

  He smiled to show he knew how she felt – that he didn’t believe it either, until, that is, she spoke again, ‘Volker is organising it. I can speak German so he’s sending me to his family as soon as he’s finished here.’

  Unaware of how that last line might have sounded to him, and to the people of Stalingrad, she continued, her worried expression being gradually replaced by a happier one. To his sensitive ears, ‘as soon as Volker is finished here’ meant as soon as the Russians had been beaten. How did she not understand this? Yuri was in a daze. It had been confusing to watch Isabella and Sarah play host to the soldiers earlier, but now this. He struggled to find something to say and at last thought of an obvious question, ‘How – when did you meet a German soldier?’

  Tanya’s tone was apologetic and she couldn’t stop herself from checking the look on Yuri’s face as she answered, ‘This is going to sound stupid. A couple of weeks ago, we walked around a corner and gave each other the biggest fright. At the sound of footsteps I thought he was Russian, while he thought I was a fellow soldier. And probably because we terrified one another we just burst out laughing.’

  ‘Well,’ Yuri felt it was only fair to point out, ‘he probably would have shot you in the back had you turned and ran.’

  She gasped, ‘No, he wouldn’t have! He would never shoot an unarmed woman.’

  ‘Oh, right … that’s good,’ Yuri mumbled awkwardly. Gingerly, he moved onto an equally important question, ‘But … but he’s the enemy. They hate us. Look what they did to Stalingrad. How can you just forget all that?’ What about my mother and Anna?

  Wrapping her arms around herself, Tanya closed her eyes. ‘The way I see it, an army is made up of individuals. There is always going to be some men who are suited to killing and men who are not but have to follow orders, just like your friends today.’

  ‘They’re not my friends!’ He said it louder than he’d intended.

  She opened her eyes and finished what she was saying, without looking at him, ‘He wants an end to this war as much as you and I do.’

  ‘So,’ Yuri was thinking aloud, determined to find some way to slow her down, to keep her here for another while, ‘You have only known him for a few weeks. Shouldn’t you wait a bit? You know, to get to know him a bit better?’ He overheard his mother say this sort of thing to his Aunt Annecka when she wanted to marry a sailor that none of the family had met. In the end she married him, because, as his mother grumbled, ‘She always does what she wants in the end. I don’t know why I bothered trying to convince her otherwise!’

  Well, now it was him and Tanya, and he could plainly see that she wasn’t going to take any more heed of his advice than Aunt Annecka did of his mother’s.

  She sighed, ‘You don’t understand!’

  Yuri could only agree. Just then something occurred to him, ‘What about your mother?’

  For the first time since they sat down she looked unable to answer a question. Drinking in her confusion, he pressed on, ‘My mother had to leave me in order to get food for Anna. She had no choice. But your mother is here, safe with you.’ In an instant he was doing the one thing he didn’t want do in front of this girl, he started to cry.

  Suddenly, it occurred to him that perhaps – just perhaps – this Volker could help him too, and his family. ‘But maybe … would … could Volker find out …?’ he stammered, willing her to finish his sentence with a smile and a nod that would mean, yes, she could ask him to find his mother and Anna, and yes he would find them … this Volker. Whoever he was, Yuri felt he owed him that much.

  Tanya, however, was only thinking of her own mother. ‘How can I bring her to Germany, Yuri? Think about it. She can’t speak German and, well, she’s just so Russian.’

  Yuri was bewildered, why is she saying that like it’s something bad? ‘But, she is Russian. And so are you! What’s wrong with that?’ He wanted her to feel ashamed, but she didn’t.

  Glancing over at her sleeping mother, Tanya snarled at him, ‘Maybe I just want to forget all this: this war, this city and not to mention this ugly hole in the ground? I’m sick of being hungry and afraid all of the time, with nothing to look forward to. I can’t stand this narrow existence. What’s wrong with wanting something better?’

  Lost in thought, Yuri’d barely heard what she said, not that she’d noticed. ‘Have you thought about what happens if we lose this war? This place will just become another Germany anyway. Volker is my chance to get out of here until that happens and then I’ll come back.’

  Meanwhile, something had clicked into place in Yuri’s mind. ‘That’s why you asked me and Peter to move in here. You knew you were going away and you needed someone to mind your mother.’

  Tanya didn’t even blush. ‘It’s something I have been thinking about for a while, even before meeting Volker. He offered to help me and I said yes. That’s all.’ She added, ‘It’s just until the war is over.’ She opened her mouth to say more but closed it again.

  ‘What?’ asked Yuri.

  ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I’m not the only one. Hundreds, maybe thousands of our soldiers are running away to join the German Army here in Stalingrad. They call them Hilfswillige or volunteer helper. What does that tell you?’

  He didn’t say what he was thinking which was they’re traitors? Yet, he was genuinely curious, ‘But why would any of our soldiers want to help the Nazis fight against us? It doesn’t make sense.’

  However, the lesson was over. She either couldn’t answer or wouldn’t answer his question. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence after that. Too timid to make the move to signal that their meeting was over, Yuri waited for her to straighten up and tell him it was late. He longed to lie down and escape into sleep. Finally, Tanya stood up. He did the same, careful not to knock the stools over. It seemed incredible that Peter and Mrs Karmanova could have slept through this, when he felt the room was throbbing with anger, accusations and her guilt.

  She began to lie to him immediately, ‘Go on, go to bed. I’m going to lie down for a while too. I’m so tired. Perhaps I’ll wait and explain everything to Mama, myself. I’m sure she’ll understand.’

  He did what she told him to do, crossing the room as quietly as he could, to slide under the smelly blankets, gently clawing a portion of them out from Peter’s grasp. Turning on his side, he shut his eyes tight, refusing to think about anything more until he woke up again. One thing he did not want to dwell on was that she had silently refused to ask Volker
to help his mother and Anna. Within a few minutes he felt that first drifting away of everything as he let go of his surroundings and handed himself over to sleep. As he began to sink in earnest, he imagined that he heard her pause to take one last look at this ugly, depressing hole in the ground, at her mother, at Peter, at him … and then he definitely heard her leave.

  VOLKER

  All along Volker had meant to write home to tell his parents his news, but any time he found himself free to do so, he immediately thought up some other job he had to do instead. For instance, his rifle had never been cleaner, nor had his boots. It was all happening so fast, and the war kept getting in the way of everything. No wonder he wasn’t thinking clearly. Glancing at his watch, he quickened his step. Tanya should be at their meeting place in a few minutes, the burnt out shed in what used to be someone’s back garden. It was dangerous to go out like this, but then this whole situation was dangerous. He was meant to be looking for food for the others; that was his excuse for getting away to meet her. If they knew he was meeting a Russian girl he would be in a lot of trouble. Perhaps he would even be shot, suspected of passing on information to the enemy.

  They had only met twice, and never for very long, yet he was smitten. Furthermore, he allowed himself to believe that she felt the same way about him. She was beautiful, intelligent and laughed at his silly jokes. It was such a pity she wasn’t German or blonde and that her skin was a shade too dark. It was of the utmost importance that no one back home think she might look Jewish or be related to Jewish people. That would never do.

  He was scared again. His parents might not understand and, of course, his two brothers had married good German girls. What if they hate her? What if everyone hates her? But maybe they wouldn’t. Over the last few weeks, he had met plenty of Russian soldiers who decided to throw in their lot with the Germans. These men proved popular with their former enemies; they were hard-working and blatantly cheerful. In fact, he had heard his own sergeant commend the Russian recruits for their bravery.

  Nevertheless, he had not told any of his army mates about Tanya and that was not a good sign. Actually it was worse than that. The plan was to put Tanya on a plane to Germany as soon as possible. She might even be expecting to leave this very night, but he had arranged nothing so far. Everything was happening too fast; his head hurt. Why did I offer to send her to Germany now, surely we could have waited for a bit, to see what was going to happen?

  Snow began to fall, but he hardly noticed it, apart from the freezing temperature. He kept to the shadows as he walked down a long, empty street which was a ghost of its former self, the once-busy street reduced to bits of buildings standing in deep mourning for their former glory, their staff and customers long gone. Volker stopped walking as it suddenly occurred to him, Wait a minute, how silly of me, it’s not too late. Tanya is a reasonable girl. I’ll just tell her that I think we should wait until the war is over. I’ll go home first which will give me the chance to prepare everyone. He nodded his head to himself, delighted to have come up with such a simple solution. Phew. He felt a lot better now.

  A shadow, or something, shifted in an upstairs window, but Volker was too caught up on the ground, plotting his future, to notice. He wasn’t a bad person. All he wanted in life was to get along with everyone and make them happy. Yes, his parents were strict with umpteen rules to be kept, but what was wrong with that? As parents, it was their right to forbid him to stay out late, or to befriend the rough boys – and girls – in his neighbourhood. It wasn’t their fault if sometimes he felt he would never be good enough.

  What was that? He was sure he heard something, perhaps it was Tanya. Pausing to peer back up the street, he waited to see if it was her. Only then did it strike him how creepy his surroundings were, and how exposed he’d allowed himself to be. As he looked around for better cover, he took in the destruction all around him and thought, We have killed this city. He had no pride in this. Instead, he found himself wishing, with all his might, I want to go home!

  Tanya roughly mopped up tears with her gloved hand, narrowly escaping falling flat on her face. Quite quickly she discovered that it was impossible to walk over rubble while crying. She had been so sure of herself an hour ago and now what? Yuri’s reaction annoyed her. Had she really expected him to be pleased for her and encourage her to get out while she could? Oh, forget him, he’s just jealous! She knew he had a crush on her. How could she not see how he blushed when he spoke to her or how his eyes followed her around the basement?

  It shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks. The important thing was not to allow someone’s opinion stop her from doing what she wanted to do. I just want to be free of all this! Germany would allow her to choose something, anything. Germany: the country that was destroying her own. Oh, don’t start, she admonished herself. But it wasn’t so easy to dismiss thoughts like that, so she tried a different way to view her situation. Don’t I deserve to be happy? She answered herself with a resounding YES, but was dismayed to hear another question: Could I really be happy in Germany? Can I really be happy this time tomorrow when Mama realises I’m gone? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

  Just then she heard someone call out to her, ‘Miss! Miss!’ She stumbled nervously as a figure rushed out of the darkness. To her relief, it was an elderly woman who seemed delighted to make her acquaintance.

  Tanya apologised, ‘I’m afraid I don’t have any food.’

  ‘No, no, please!’ The woman gripped Tanya’s arm and steered her to face the house across the road.

  Tanya was too distracted to realise the miracle, so the woman explained, ‘Look at that house; it’s still alive.’

  Tanya did as she was told. It was true. The little house had hardly suffered any damage. It still looked like a proper home with a roof and all its walls in place. Tanya smiled.

  ‘See?’ said the woman. ‘There’s hope now. We’ve come this far and all we have to do is stick together.’

  Blinded once more by tears, Tanya nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, of course!’

  The woman, who must have been eighty years old, patted Tanya’s arm and let her cry. She didn’t smell very nice and her clothes were mostly layers upon layers of dirty rags, but Tanya didn’t care. Indeed, she found herself confessing, ‘I was thinking about leaving. That’s why I’m crying.’

  The old lady shrugged. ‘This poor city has looked after me since the day I was born. When the war is over she’ll need us more than ever. Don’t worry, child. Things will get better again, you’ll see. It always does in the end.’

  A sudden burst of shooting signalled the end to their conversation. The woman gave Tanya a final pat and was gone, as quickly as she had appeared.

  Tanya stood transfixed to the spot. Snowflakes settled on her coat and formed a veil over the rubble and the little house that meant so much in midst of everything. How strange it was that in the middle of a war she should feel so at peace. Boris wanted me to leave too, but I didn’t want to then … and, well, I don’t want to now. She thought about going to say goodbye to Volker, but then realised it was time to start her shift at the factory. Her co-workers would be worried if she didn’t show up. Yes, this was the right decision. ‘Auf Wiedersehen, Volker. Forgive me,’ she whispered her goodbye and turned and headed off to work, leaving the shooting behind her.

  Just a few streets away Volker looked like he was dancing or having some sort of joyous fit: his arms flew up, his head jolted back and his legs kicked out from one side to the other as his body was pummelled with bullets. The Russian machine-gunner only marvelled at the cheek of the German to think that he was free to stroll by himself down a Stalingrad street without fear of punishment.

  PAVLOV’S HOUSE

  ‘Every seven seconds, a German dies in Stalingrad. Every seven seconds, a German dies in Stalingrad.’

  The taped voice droned on and on, repeating the same sentence, in German, for hours at a time, through the loudspeakers which were tied to the back of a tank or sounding out fr
om one of the buildings. This was the Russians’ attempt to convince the German soldiers to stop fighting and surrender themselves to the nearest Russian officer.

  The German method was to fly a plane over the city and drop hundreds of leaflets, written in Russian, down upon the burnt-out streets, suggesting to Stalin’s soldiers that it was they who should give up and maybe even switch sides in the war, fighting for a more grateful Hitler instead.

  ‘I wonder if that really works,’ muttered Vlad, who was sitting in the corner, just inside the window, the glass of which was long gone.

  Leo grunted something of a reply, which could have meant ‘yes’ and could have meant ‘no’. He was concentrating on the letter he was writing to his mother, trying to make it as positive as possible; not that it mattered how many times he wrote that he was safe, she would still insist on worrying terribly about him.

  ‘How many weeks to Christmas?’ Vlad was restless.

  Without lifting his eyes from the scruffy sheet of paper, Leo muttered, ‘Five.’

  Vlad already knew that, he just wanted Leo to talk to him. He, himself, sent home the odd letter; they were short and not very interesting. His parents seemed so far away that it felt like too much of an effort to bridge the huge distance within the page of a letter. Although maybe that was not exactly true. After all, Vlad usually loved to write, indeed he dreamt of being a writer or a journalist one day.

  A while back he thought that perhaps he should start keeping a diary and then, on a dusty street in Stalingrad, he found a child’s copybook. It belonged to a girl called Dina, who was aged eight and a half, and enjoyed writing about her black and white kitten, and Olga, who was her best friend. She obviously liked drawing too, as there was a colourful attempt at a self-portrait. Sometimes Vlad found himself worrying about little Dina, along with her pet and best friend, hoping that the three of them made it to safety. In dark moments he believed that she might be the dead girl he had stumbled over when he first arrived in Stalingrad.