The Tattooist of Auschwitz (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #1) - Heather Morris Page 0,75

stands casually in the back.

She steps out onto the road.

Time stands still as the horse stops of its own volition in front of the young woman.

Lale climbs down from the cart.

Gita takes a step towards him. He doesn’t move. She takes another step.

‘Hello,’ she says.

Lale drops to his knees. Gita turns around to her two friends, who are looking on in astonishment.

‘Is it him?’ one of them calls out.

‘Yes,’ says Gita. ‘It is him.’

Clearly Lale is not going to move, or is incapable of moving, so Gita walks to him. Kneeling down in front of him, she says, ‘In case you didn’t hear me when we left Birkenau, I love you.’

‘Will you marry me?’ he says.

‘Yes, I will.’

‘Will you make me the happiest man in the world?’

‘Yes.’

Lale sweeps Gita up into his arms and kisses her. One of Gita’s friends comes over and leads the horse away. Then, with Gita’s arms around Lale’s waist and her head resting on his shoulder, they walk away, merging into the crowded street, one young couple among many in a war-ravaged city.

Epilogue

Lale changed his name to Sokolov, the Russian surname of his married sister – a name more readily accepted than Eisenberg in Soviet-controlled Slovakia. He and Gita were married in October 1945 and they set up home in Bratislava. Lale started importing fine fabrics – linen, silk, cotton – from throughout Europe and Asia. He sold these on to manufacturers desperate to rebuild and reclothe their country. With the Soviet Union having taken over Czechoslovakia, according to Lale, his was the only business not immediately nationalised by the communist rulers. He was, after all, providing the very materials the government hierarchy wanted for their personal use.

The business grew; he took on a partner and profits increased. Once again Lale began wearing stylish clothing. He and Gita dined at the best restaurants and holidayed at spa complexes around the Soviet Union. They were strong supporters of a movement to establish a Jewish state in Israel. Gita in particular worked quietly behind the scenes, obtaining money from wealthy locals and arranging for it to be smuggled out of the country. When the marriage of Lale’s business partner ended, his ex-wife reported Lale and Gita’s activities to the authorities. On 20 April 1948, Lale was arrested and charged with ‘exporting jewellery and other valuables from Czechoslovakia’. The arrest warrant continued, ‘As a result, Czechoslovakia would have suffered untold economic losses and Sokolov would have obtained for his unlawful and marauding action significant values in money or possessions.’ While Lale had been exporting jewellery and money, there was nothing financial in it for him. He had been giving money away.

Two days later his business was nationalised and he was sentenced to two years in Ilava Prison, a place famous for holding political and German prisoners after the war. Lale and Gita had been smart enough to stash some of their wealth. With contacts in the local government and judiciary, Gita was able to bribe officials to help. One day Lale received a visit in prison from a Catholic priest. After a while the priest asked the prison officials to leave the room so he could hear Lale’s confession, something that was sacrosanct and for his ears only. Alone, he told Lale to start acting as though he were going mad. If he did a good enough job, they would have to get a psychiatrist to see him. Before too long Lale found himself in front of a psychiatrist, who told him he was going to arrange for him to be given leave to go home for a few days before he ‘went over the edge and couldn’t be brought back’.

A week later he was driven to the apartment where he and Gita lived. He was told he would be picked up in two days to complete his sentence. That night, with the help of friends, they slipped out of the back of their apartment building with a suitcase each of possessions and a painting that Gita refused to leave behind. The painting is of a Gypsy woman. They also took a large amount of money to give to a contact in Vienna, destined for Israel. Then they hid behind the false wall of a truck taking produce from Bratislava into Austria.

At a given time on a given day they walked along a platform at Vienna train station looking for a contact they had never met. Lale described it as like something out of a Le Carré