Far to Go - By Alison Pick Page 0,74

a real train,” he said. There was a waver in his voice; he was caught between throwing a tantrum and falling back into oblivion. How did he know? Had he heard them talking? He couldn’t have . . .

Marta lifted his limp arms one at a time and pulled off his little sweater. There were patches on the elbows she herself had sewn. She buttoned up his nightshirt quickly so the draft wouldn’t further wake him. He had almost drifted off completely when Anneliese came into the room. “Good night, Pepik,” she said, her voice bright, and Pepik’s eyes flew back open.

“I don’t want to go on a train!” he shouted.

Anneliese shot Marta a questioning look, not angry so much as hurt that Marta would act so explicitly against her wishes. Later that night Marta tried to explain that Pepik had somehow divined what they were planning, that she hadn’t told him anything. She could see that Anneliese didn’t believe her though. A second, auxiliary betrayal. Which worked against them both in the end.

A letter arrived from the family that was taking Pepik.

Scottish, it turned out, not British. The note was brief but generous, introducing themselves and saying they were looking forward to meeting Pepik. They had a son just around his age, a son named Arthur, who was bedridden. They hoped Pepik’s presence would help in Arthur’s recovery. This worried Marta but the Bauers didn’t mention it, so she didn’t either. The letter closed by saying that the fifty pounds was a sacrifice but they were firm believers in doing Christ’s good work. Pavel had been reading out loud; he stopped here and looked at his wife accusingly. “I’d like to have the rabbi come and bless Pepik,” he said. “Before he travels.” He pulled unconsciously at the skin under his chin, as though evoking a long beard.

“Of course, darling,” Anneliese said. Marta waited for her to qualify her remark, but nothing else came, and it was she who asked finally, cautiously, “What about the baptism?”

The Bauers turned towards her, one mind with two faces. Their shared expression told her to drop it.

Marta realized suddenly that there were many things she did not know about the Bauers’ relationship, things she didn’t understand and never would.

The packing for Pepik’s trip was now taken up in earnest. Anneliese had brought out his valise and measured it; finding it two centimetres smaller than the allotted size, she had sent Marta down to the Sborowitz department store to buy a larger one. It was red, with a beige plaid lining, and several centimetres bigger than what was permitted, but Anneliese said she was willing to take the risk. There would be more important things to be done on the platform than measuring children’s suitcases.

Anneliese began to tick off the items on the packing list. She replaced the short pants with longer wool trousers and substituted his well-worn buckled sandals with a pair of tiny galoshes. The tailor was at work on a jacket that could be worn over short sleeves in the summer and over a sweater in winter.

Anneliese said to Marta, “Of course, he’ll be back before the snow comes.”

In addition to clothes there was the matter of what the packing list referred to as “sentimental items.” In a small envelope in the valise’s side pocket Anneliese placed a photograph. It was the family portrait taken after the baby girl’s birth: Marta behind Pepik, touching his shoulders, Anneliese off to the side, her sunglasses lowered, and Pavel holding the bundle in his arms. Marta was surprised that this was the photo Anneliese had chosen to send. She thought it would be confusing for Pepik, who didn’t remember his sister. “It’s just for posterity,” Anneliese said, and Marta wondered what she meant. Anneliese kept repeating that the separation would be temporary and brief, but she was packing as though she expected never to see her son again. She attended to the suitcase as if it were a matter of life or death: it was like a body open on the operating table, the internal organs being removed and replaced at will. It was the second time Anneliese had packed a suitcase for Pepik in two short months, and Marta saw that this time she was determined to get it right; it was as if she thought that if she could only choose the right contents they would somehow ensure her son’s safe passage.

Pepik observed the packing and unpacking of the suitcase as if