Page 82 of The Watchmaker of Dachau

‘Yes.’ She latched on to the fact that he seemed to brighten, if only a little. ‘Greta thinks his name was Adam.’

‘Adam – perhaps his middle name,’ Isaac said. ‘What happened to him?’

‘He died,’ Anna said simply. There was no need to tell him the details of the violence, the blood that had spoiled on the floor of this very shed. ‘He was homosexual too.’

‘Aha!’ Isaac sat straighter now. ‘So his letters, his love letters, they were to someone in the camp! I thought as much, but then I wondered how he had met a woman and fallen in love in such a way. Now, now it all makes sense. Here, Anna, get the papers. There are a few left – let’s read them together.’

Anna scrabbled around on the dusty floor until she found the loose floorboard, picturing Adam doing the same as he tried to hide his writings to his love. She imagined the fear he would have felt as they dragged him out, the pain as he lay dying. Finding the papers, she pulled them out and sat on the upturned bucket. ‘Shall I read?’

‘Please do.’ Isaac was brighter now – a mystery had been solved. He crossed his arms and leaned back, closing his eyes whilst Anna began to read.

Chapter 30

J. A. L.

September 1944

They know.

I can tell that something has shifted.

This morning I was woken by a guard who had a scar over his eye. He grinned at me as I lay there and waited for the inevitable blow, but it did not come.

‘Get up,’ he told me. ‘You’re needed at the house.’

It was too early for me to come here – the sky was still heavy with sleep – and yet he marched me here and asked me to wait in my shed.

‘What work should I do?’ I asked him.

Again, that grin. ‘No work for you today.’

As soon as he left, I needed to write. I think it is the last time that I will be able to. He saw us, you see, the guard with the scar, he saw as I kissed you behind the bunkhouse. A fleeting kiss – our first and our last.

Is he with you now, the guard with the scar? If they ask me, I will tell them I made you do it – I forced you – and perhaps they will leave you be.

Oh, why did we risk it? In all the months of talking to one another, of telling each other about our lives and dreams, we never took a risk – not even to hold hands.

Yesterday it was the stars, I know it was.

I told you how I loved to watch them, that each time I did it gave me some hope, however foolish, that since they were always there, a permanent scar in the sky, it was possible that I would exist too – although only for a part of their lives, it is enough for me.

You laughed, then ran your hand down my cheek, and our eyes locked. It was that simple and yet that complicated.

Do you think I am being paranoid? Oh God, I hope I am! I hope they have brought me here so early for some job that must start as soon as the sun begins to rise.

I will write as quickly as I can, just in case I am no longer here come tomorrow. I have foreseen the dangers of what could happen if you fall out of line – I have witnessed them first-hand. It would be foolish of me to think that if they did see us there will be no reprisal – there will be, and when it happens, I just pray to God that it is quick.

I have not prayed in some time. It is as though I have forgotten how to.

I told you the story of the day when I was young, when my father took me fishing and told me that God was everywhere. It was easier to believe that sitting on the riverbank, watching His creation. It has been harder here.

I went away with my father and we talked of God once more. I was perhaps fifteen or so, no more than that. It was summer, our favourite time of year. The days were long and warm, the garden overflowing with colour, and bumblebees hummed happily, filling the still air with a sort of music from nature.

Father had to go to Krakow to visit an academic friend of his who had some papers he was desperate to read. He asked me to accompany him, taking us on a train journey overnight, and to spend three days where we could visit the university and the bookshops.

Of course, I went. The thought of spending time with Father surrounded by learning, by books and fine architecture, appealed more to me than having to spend most of my days in the house with my siblings, as I had very few friends.

Krakow was the city I decided I would live in when I grew up. The Wawel Castle drew me to it, as though it could one day be my home! Oh, how I dreamt of wandering those streets at night, sitting at cafes and bars, talking with like-minded friends.