chairs scraping the floor came from above. Where was the woman?
She came back shortly with a thick package. I tucked it in my rucksack and peeped at my watch. I was finished in less than one minute even with Mrs. Slowpoke taking such a long time. That’s when I noticed the girl on the sofa. She sat in shadow, her head bowed.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“None of your affair. You should go.”
I stepped closer.
“Have you hurt her?”
“Of course not. Anna is going to live with a Catholic family. Her parents think she will be safer there.”
“Dressed in such a way?” The girl wore a dark coat over a hand-knit sweater, black boots, and stockings, and her hair was tucked up under a black-and-red plaid scarf tied like a turban, puffed up on top. I was an expert on how Catholic girls dressed, of course, being one myself and, thanks to Matka, the first at mass every Sunday. That girl wouldn’t get far in those clothes.
“No Catholic girl would dress like that,” I said.
I turned to go.
“Would you take a moment and tell her what to wear?” the woman said.
“I don’t know—” I began. This woman was now nice to me when she needed something? I had problems of my own: carrying secret packages through the streets.
“It would mean a lot to her,” said the woman. “She’s all alone.”
“I suppose so,” I said.
I stepped closer to the girl and sat on the sofa beside her.
“I’m Kasia.” I put my hand over hers, which was even colder than mine. “Anna, what a beautiful name. Did you know it means ‘favored by God’?”
“Hannah is my real name,” she said without even a look at me.
“If you are going to live with a Catholic family, first of all, you must give up your scarf.”
Hannah hesitated and looked at me with stormy eyes. It was all I could do not to stomp back up the stairs and leave her.
Slowly, she pulled off the scarf, and her dark hair dropped down around her shoulders.
“Good. Now, it’s best not to wear black stockings or boots. Here, switch with me.”
The girl did not move.
“I can’t do this,” she said.
“Hannah—”
“Three minutes left,” said the woman, standing at the door.
“You need to hurry,” I said.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Hannah said.
I stood and brushed my skirt. “Fine then. I’m leaving.”
“My boyfriend says I am dead to him for doing this.”
I sat back down. Boyfriends could be such trouble!
“You can’t base everything on a boy.”
“He hates me anyway, now. Says I am abandoning my parents.”
“Your parents want this, and your boyfriend will see it’s best.”
The woman stepped toward us. “Finish up, now.”
“They are only taking away the men,” Hannah said. “Maybe I am better off staying home—”
“It’s better to live with a new family than be sent off to work somewhere. Go through with the plan, and you can get food to them—”
“Impossible.”
“People do it all the time. For now, you must cheer up. No sad eyes. The SS look for that.”
She wiped her face and sat up straighter. A start! She was a pretty girl with a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
“Take my shoes. Quickly now.”
“Two minutes,” the woman said from the door.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Hannah said.
“You must. Your boots are a dead giveaway. Switch with me.”
What if I was stopped? I had authentic papers, and Papa would help me no matter what. Hannah pulled down her dark hose and traded them for my white anklets. I took her boots—just a bit smaller than my shoes.
“There. Now turn around.” Fast as I could, I braided her dark hair in one fat plait down her back. “Unmarried Catholic girls wear one braid. Do you know the Lord’s Prayer?”
She nodded.
“Good. Learn the Polish national anthem too. They’re asking for that more now. And remember, if someone offers you vodka, no sipping. Take it in one gulp, or refuse it altogether.”
“It’s time,” the woman said.
I admired my handiwork.
A white Bible lay on the table. “That is a pretty Bible.” I handed it to her. “Just make sure you crack the binding. Make it seem used. And in church, genuflect like this, right knee to the floor, and make the sign of the cross”—I demonstrated—“so. No—the right hand. Yes. Just follow the others. And don’t chew the host. Let it melt in your mouth.”
She took hold of my arm. “Will I have to eat pork?”
“Just say you were sick once from it and can’t stand the sight—”