Lore (14 page)

—If they blew this one, they’ll have blown them all. All the bridges within a day or two would be my guess.

Lore takes Peter from Tomas; the twins run down off the road.

—Shall we swim it, Tomas? We can see the bottom.

—It’s not very deep.

—You can see the bottom?

Tomas walks down to the water’s edge. Lore crouches down to ease her back, sits Peter in front of her. The river is wide. About forty meters.

—I don’t want to swim across, Lore.

—I know, Liesel.

—It’s not deep. Tell her, Lore. We saw the bottom when we were up on the road.

—I still don’t want to.

Tomas calls them down. Lore can see the bottom, but the water is at least chest deep. Over head-height for the twins. Each of the pillars has a wide base which forms a shelf about a meter below the surface. Tomas beckons Lore closer to the water.

—We can swim between the pillars, and rest on the shelves.

—It’s too deep.

—But we’ll take it in stages.

—I don’t want to, Lore.

—It’s only four meters between each pillar.

—Only four meters, easy.

—Be quiet, Jochen.

Tomas steps closer to Lore. She squares herself.

—We’ll get all our things wet.

—But it’s hot. We can dry them on the other side, build a fire, camp here for the night.

—The bags are too heavy.

Lore crouches down again, shifts the weight of the bundle across her shoulders. Tomas runs along the bank, picking up driftwood. The boys join in.

—Only the big pieces, Jüri. Bigger than that, twice the size. We will have to walk miles along the river before we find another bridge. If we do find one, it will probably be like this. We could lose a day, two days, more.

—What about a boat?

—What boat? We could lose more days waiting for a boat.

Liesel kicks the ground next to Lore, unhappily.

—How will we get Peter across, then?

—I’ll take him. We’ll tie him to me and I’ll swim with him. Easy.

—No.

Tomas ties the wood together into a frame. A handkerchief at one corner, his shirt at another, Jochen’s undershirt at the third. He pulls one of Liesel’s stockings out of the bag and ties off the last corner. He sets the bag in the middle and carries it down to the water. It floats. The bag sags through the middle, and it is heavier on one side than the other, but it stays on the surface. Tomas ties the end of Liesel’s other stocking to one corner.

—I can pull it like that, you see? We’ll take this bag over first, then I’ll come back and take the bundle.

Lore doesn’t look at him. She can see the road snaking off into the distance on the other side of the river.

—It will take us half an hour. We can dry our things and walk on a bit in the evening.

Lore picks at the knot holding the bundle to her back.

—Or we can stay the night.

—I’ll take Peter, not you.

—Very good.

Tomas takes off his boots and ties the laces together. He drapes them round his neck, buttons his jacket, and wades out into the water with his raft. When he is waist deep he starts swimming, holding the stocking between his teeth, pulling the bag after him to the first pillar. When he gets there, he stands up out of the water
and pulls the raft over. He turns to them and waves. Water streams out of his sleeve in an arc, and the twins both laugh and wave back. They run to the water’s edge, but Lore calls them back.

—Yes, wait. I’ll go across and then I’ll come and help you.

Tomas steps off the ledge into the water again and swims to the next pillar. The boys crouch at the water’s edge, watching, tying their bootlaces together as Tomas had done. Lore squeezes Liesel’s hand and tells her to take her boots off, too.

Tomas is past the middle of the river now. Still swimming. He hasn’t looked back again, and Lore wonders absently if he will come back and help them. She calculates what is in the bag. Food and clothes. The last tin of meat. But no money, no valuables. No great loss. Tomas wades out onto the far shore, pulling the bag behind him. He doesn’t look around or wave. He walks up onto the road, out of sight. The twins both stand up and turn to look at Lore. She shrugs, makes a mental list. The tin of meat, the half loaf, three blankets, and Liesel’s coat. She still has the oilskins, two blankets, the twins’ coats, Peter’s jacket, Mutti’s brooch, the money. No food.

Tomas walks back from the road into the river. He is carrying the raft but doesn’t have the bag with him, or his jacket. His chest is bright white against the brown river bank. He waves and starts swimming again, stopping only at the middle pillar on the way back. He pushes the raft ahead of him in the water and speaks to them as he swims, even before he is in earshot. Skin glowing through the murky water, shoulder blades working like sharp wings.

—There’s a good spot for a fire not far off. I’ve spread the blankets and things on bushes to dry, anyway. It won’t take long in the sun. They didn’t get too wet. And there’s plenty of firewood, too.

He is out of breath, greenish. He crouches down on the bank, breathing hard, while Lore and Liesel tie the bundle tight with oilskins. The twins take off their shirts and stuff them into their shorts, boots dangling already around their necks. Lore takes the thinnest blanket and tears it in two. She holds Peter’s back against
her chest and Liesel ties the blanket round both of them. Tomas stands up.

—You should tie him to your back, then he’ll be out of the water when you swim.

—I’ll swim on my back.

Lore ties the other half of the blanket around herself, knotting it firmly around Peter’s waist. His arms are tied under the blanket and he kicks his legs out and complains as they walk down to the bank. The twins set the bundle in the middle of the raft. Tomas checks the knots and tells the boys to pull it between them. He says he will help Lore with Peter, but Lore tells him to help Liesel.

The twins go first, wading into the water, holding the bundle waist high, then swimming steady and serious to the first pillar. When they get there, Jüri climbs up onto the shelf and waves. Jochen treads water and laughs. Lore waves back and Tomas applauds. They set off for the next pillar.

Liesel allows Tomas to take her hand, and he leads her into the water. She looks round at Lore, but carries on walking until she is waist deep.

—It’s cold, Lore!

—You’ll be fine.

She slides into the water and swims, shouting and splashing. Tomas swims beside her and her strokes calm down. She waves when she gets to the pillar; Lore can see she is smiling.

The twins are still swimming on, over halfway there, stopping at each pillar. Their shoulders are hunched round their ears with the cold, but they keep going, jumping back into the water, pulling the bundle between them. Lore ties her boots around her waist and wades into the water. Tomas helps Liesel up onto the shelf by the second pillar and treads water.

—Go back! Wait. I’ll come for you when I’ve got the others across.

Lore ignores him and carries on wading. Peter shifts against her
stomach, uncomfortable in his blanket binding. He tries to look up at her face, his soft head pressing against her chin. He is breathing very fast. Lore has her arms around him, scared to let go, although he is bound tightly to her by the blankets. The riverbed changes from sharp pebbles to soft mud, silky against her feet and warm compared to the water. Lore sinks up to her ankles in the slime. The water is heavy around her thighs and she steps out farther and faster.

It is much colder now that she is out of the shallows. Her ankle bones ache and her stomach contracts, shrinking back from the water. The slow pull of current bends her knees. Peter’s feet skim the water and he shouts and kicks. Bright splashes of cold in the sun. Lore can see Tomas swimming toward them. He has left Liesel at the pillar and is shouting at Lore to go back to the shore. She turns her back to him and lies down into the water, keeping her arms wrapped around Peter, kicking her legs.

The cold knocks the air out of her lungs. Her boots, heavy with water, drag down at her waist. She flings her arms out to keep her torso afloat, but too late, and she pulls Peter down into the river with her.

When they surface, he is screaming, rigid against her chest, arms straining to get free of the blankets. Lore has the grit river taste in her mouth. She can’t reach the bottom. Peter’s head is under the water again. She kicks, pushes her arms out to steady herself, coughing, and lies back into the river. She hears Peter’s screams through a wall of water, like ice around her neck. Her boots kick heavy and lazy at her thighs as she pushes against the current with her legs. Peter’s head is out of the water, but his body is in the cold river with hers. Water floods into her mouth. She sinks again.

Tomas swims underneath them; his arms under Lore’s shoulders; pulling her chest up out of the water, and Peter with it. Lore retches, wants to cry. Tomas pushes her up onto the ledge, jarring her cold bones against the stones. She stands up out of the water and Tomas unties the blankets. He is not angry as Lore expected. Peter still
screams, but with tears now, and not so stiff. Once his arms are free he pulls himself up against Lore and presses his face into her neck. Liesel is standing and watching at the next pillar, arms wrapped around the stone, and the boys are watching from the opposite shore. Tomas shouts to them to build a fire, and tells Liesel to wait until they get to her. She nods, silent and shivering.

Tomas pulls Peter away from Lore’s chest and he screams again, fists and feet attacking the air in fury. But Tomas puts him back down against Lore’s shoulders, high up, so he can wrap his arms around her neck again. Tomas wrings out the dripping blankets into the river, and ties them back around Peter and around Lore’s chest. He pulls them tight and Peter screams, but Lore makes no protest. After he has checked the knots, Tomas hangs Lore’s boots around his own neck and slides back down into the water. He holds out his hands.

—Ready?

Lore hesitates; eyes fixed on the reaching arm; on the blue smudge below the greenish skin; the tattoo halfway between wrist and elbow. Numbers. Blurred. As if the river water has seeped under the skin and smeared the ink. Tomas takes her hand and Lore sits obediently down on the ledge into the water. Peter grips her neck, but he is quiet now. Tomas lets go as Lore slides down into the river, swimming with her to the next pillar. Peter breathes in gasps in her ear. Tomas smiles encouragement. Liesel pulls her up onto the ledge and they rest in silence for a few minutes, Tomas treading water in the river next to them. They swim on together. When they get to the last pillar, they wave to Jüri, who is waiting for them on the shore.

—We’ve built a fire!

He gestures over the rise. Peter starts to cry again before they reach the riverbank, but he is not upset anymore, just cold. They wade out of the water. Liesel’s lips are ringed blue and Lore can’t feel the stones under her feet. None of them can undo the knots in
Peter’s blankets; even Jüri’s hands are still weak with the cold. They walk over the rise of the road together. In a dip on the other side, their clothes and blankets are spread out over the bushes to dry, and Jochen is stoking the fire in the middle. He has hammered open the last of the tins with a sharp stone and has cut the loaf into slices, laying them out on the flat rocks around the fire.

—The bread got wet in the bag.

Lore is woken by the twins murmuring on the other side of the fire. Liesel and Peter are asleep next to her and the embers glow warm against her cheeks. She lies still and listens to her brothers, separating out their voices. Jüri’s whispers are squeaky, small; Jochen’s are bolder; and the third voice, low and even, belongs to Tomas.

—I was in the east before. While they were still fighting.

—Who? The Amis or the Russians?

—The Russians. I was in a forest east of here that was full of Russian soldiers.

Tomas points to the dark horizon, his arm a jagged shadow against the blue night.

—Did you shoot at them?

—No, I didn’t have a gun.

—I will have a gun when I’m a soldier.

—Did you fight with them?

—They had guns, so I had to hide from them.

—Did they find you?

—No. They stole lots of things, the Russians. From the villages. And then they threw most of the things away again. I got this suit in that forest.

—And after that?

—At night, when they stopped shooting, I ran away, back into the American zone.

—Why did you run away? I would have stolen a gun from them while they were asleep.

—Best to keep away from the Russians. Anyway, when I got to the American zone again, people told me the war was over. I already knew it would be. Weeks before. When the Russians arrived, that was it.

Lore tells the twins to go to sleep. They lie still and Tomas pulls the blanket over himself, shifting. Lore closes her eyes and listens for Tomas’s movements. After a few minutes he sits up and puts more wood on the embers, blowing to encourage flames. He shifts away from the twins and leans back against the tree trunk a meter or two from where Lore lies.

Lore wakes up when the birds start to sing. The sky is still dark but the fire has gone out. Tomas is awake by the tree.

When Lore wakes again her hair is soaked in dew and Peter is shivering. There is light on the far horizon. She looks over to the tree and finds Tomas sleeping. Slumped, one arm lying in the wet grass next to him, stretching pale and thin from his sleeve. Lore can see the tattoo again, and the prominent veins leading from elbow to wrist. She rolls quietly off her oilskin onto the cool soil, toward the outstretched arm. She doesn’t get too close; she doesn’t want to wake him. Just close enough to examine the dark numbers scratched into the pale skin. Green-blue lines, some of them edged in tender pink. Tiny flakes of dead skin peeling off the new-healed scars. Lore watches Tomas, holding her breath, afraid that any small movement now might wake him. But he sleeps on, eyes dancing under his lids as the dawn creeps up.

Lore rolls onto her oilskin again, onto her back, holds Peter close. The sky is gold at the edges and blue above. Mist lies like milk on the fields.