Read Online The Woman from Hamburg by Hanna Krall - Free Book Online

his slow, heavy steps in the distance. He would stand still in the middle of the barn, check to see if any strangers were there, and approach the hiding place. He’d remove the straw and bend back the nail; only he knew which nail could be bent. He would take out a board; only he knew which board was not nailed down. He’d place the large, cast iron pot on the threshold. One of the boys would stick out his hand and drag the pot inside. The farmer would put the board back in place, bend the nail back, and straighten the straw. They sat in darkness. Fredek and Szmul talked in a whisper, and Tojwełe listened. Tojwełe was small, red-haired, and freckled. True, before the war he used to smear himself with Halina brand anti-freckle cream that he’d stolen from his mother, but without results. The other boys were two years older thanhe was; they came from big cities and they didn’t have freckles. They talked eagerly about the cars that they would buy after the war. Fredek was going to buy a Panhard, and Szmul, a Buick. This was the first time Tojwełe had ever heard those names. He interjected that he would buy an Opel, the same kind that Captain Lind owned. An Opel! The boys burst out laughing disparagingly and began reminiscing about railroad stations. Some of them were approached through long, dark tunnels, and thundering trains passed overhead. Did you ever see a tunnel? Tojwełe had to confess that there wasn’t a single tunnel in Izbica. Half a year passed. Marcin B. told them it was spring already and the apple tree was in bloom. It grew near the barn, next to their hiding place. There will be a lot of apples, Marcin B. said. He asked where they had gotten such nice sweaters and a leather jacket. From Sobibor, from the sorting room. They lent him the jacket and a sweater. He went off to church on Sunday, wearing them. On Monday, several men came to see him. They screamed, Where are you hiding the Jews? We want leather jackets, too. They probed the straw in the barn with sticks, but they didn’t find anything. Maybe their sticks were too short. You heard them, Marcin B. said that evening. Go away from here; I’m afraid. They asked him to buy them a gun, and then they’d go into the forest. They’ll catch you, he said, they’ll ask where you got the gun and you’ll betray me. We won’t betray you; please buy one. You’ll definitely betray me; go away, I’m afraid.
    A couple of days passed. In the evening they heard the farmer sending his children to their grandparents’ for the night and calling the dog into the kitchen. Later, he came to the barn. He bent back the nail, removed the board. Fredek crept out to get the pot. They saw a bright light and heard a crash. Fredek curled up and his legs began thrashing. Someone’s hands shoved Fredek to the side. They saw the chubby face of a boy they didn’t know and another light. Tojwełe felt a sting in his jaw. He touched his cheek; it was wet. He, too, was shoved aside by someone’s hands. When he opened his eyes, in addition to the darkness he saw Uncle Jankiel. He was sitting beside him on the straw, tiny and hunchbacked as always. Aha, Tojwełe thought, I am seeing Uncle Jankiel. When someone’s dying, he sees his own childhood, so I’m dying now. You know, said Uncle Jankiel, a person’s hair and fingernails keep growing for three days after he dies. He can hear, but he cannot speak. I know, said Tojwełe, you already told me. I am no longer alive; I can still hear and my fingernails are growing. He heard voices and crashing sounds, one after the other. Make sure he’s dead, or he’ll start moaning when morning comes. That was the farmer’s wife talking; who knows, maybe she was talking about him, about Tojwełe. Mister, please let me live; I’ll be your servant for the rest of my life. That was Szmul talking. The men didn’t want Szmul to be their servant, because there was another bang and Szmul fell silent. He’s already getting stiff. That was