Far to Go - By Alison Pick Page 0,59

clock. Around three in the morning she thought she heard a key turning. She crept in her bare feet along the Persian rug that lined the hall, and stood looking at the ornately carved wooden front door. A slow squeak came from the latch. She saw the handle turn, but the door didn’t open. She waited a full fifteen minutes, shivering under her nightdress, but nothing else happened. Finally she heard footsteps retreating down the building’s corridor. She stood there feeling she should do something, notify someone, but there was nothing she could think of to be done, and so she forced herself to go back to bed. She lay there for a long time though, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. She was thinking of a sheet of paper she’d found, crumpled up in Pavel’s wastebasket. A single question typed in the centre: What if she changes her mind?

The following afternoon the brass cowbell on the yellow cord by the front door rang. Marta was lifting the newly polished Seder plate up to the highest shelf; she froze with her hands in the air, as if she were being held up at a bank. Her heart leapt when she thought it was the Bauers, already back—but it was far too soon, she realized, and besides, they would just use their key.

The cowbell rang again and the handle rattled, someone testing the lock. Should she answer? She’d been moving around the flat with the drapes open and the electric lamps lit. It was already dusk. From the street she would have been clearly visible, so she couldn’t very well pretend nobody was home. She looked at the door, wishing she could see through the heavy wood to the other side. The knocking started up again; it went on for a full minute. Whoever was there was going to break down the door.

Marta crossed the room, smoothing her hair with the flat of her hand. She moved quietly, and when she pulled the handle the man on the other side gasped in surprise. “Marta! You scared me!” His hand flew up to his chest.

He knew her name. It was Ernst. He was wearing a day cravat and a black homburg. “May I come in?”

Ernst took off his hat and made to step past her, but Marta blocked the door. Her heart was thudding in her chest. Ernst belonged to the old town, to the old factory, not to this new world of Prague. She’d almost succeeded in banishing the thought of their affair; to see him now was to be reminded of a part of herself she’d prefer to forget. She’d relegated him to that tiny corner of her consciousness where her father’s memory was hidden. It was a corner she did not visit often.

But Ernst gave her a look, and she found herself stepping aside in deference. He didn’t speak at first but put his homburg down on the settee and crossed the parlour, his hands clasped behind him. He stood in front of the silver-framed family photos on the mantelpiece, gazing at them for quite some time. “So this is Anneliese’s brother’s place,” he said finally.

“Sister’s,” she answered.

“Alžběta. Right.” He peered at a picture of little Eva Stein. “What a beautiful baby,” he said, his back still to Marta.

He lifted the heavy menorah in one hand, testing its weight. “Are you here alone, Marta?”

She glanced down at her clothes, the dull tweed skirt and the blouse with a stain on the collar. She felt caught out somehow, as though it was her own fault to find herself without the Bauers’ protection at a time when she needed it most. “No,” she said, “I’m not.”

Ernst turned towards her. She was still surprised to actually see him in the flesh, in front of her. It was a little like seeing a ghost.

“The Bauers will be back on Thursday,” she said automatically, picking lightly at a flap of skin by her thumbnail.

Ernst set the menorah back down on the mantel and gazed at her, vaguely amused.

“They’ll be back on Thursday,” she repeated.

Ernst made a little clucking noise. “Is that what you really think?”

Marta shrugged.

“Lying doesn’t become you, miláčku.”

To hear him speak to her this way—the word miláčku soft and surprising after the other, harsh sounds—brought tears to her eyes. She thought for a minute that he was going to try to kiss her, and she took a step backwards. The desire to protect the Bauers rose fiercely inside her. “Mr. Bauer