1.

I went past Svoboda’s shoe shop and round the corner. The pavement sloped alongside a row of houses and without being aware of it I broke into a run as though I could smell the dinner my mum was making. It was going to be great – lentils with fried onions! Just a little further to the old acacia tree and I was home. It was already in blossom and looking beautiful…

There was a black car just a few steps away from our house. And on the pavement opposite stood a man in a long coat. He turned around, looked in my direction for a moment, and then quickly disappeared around the corner, so I was unable to get a good look at him. I stopped in surprise for a second or two, and then as though I didn’t want to suspect what was going on, took a deep breath and made a dash for the entrance.

The door flew open, banging against the wall. I walked into the gloom. The tenement house welcomed me with its familiar damp chill, mixed with the good and bad smells from all the tenants. I was just about to take the stone stairs two at a time when I heard the sound of booming voices from the top floor. The next moment the stairs trembled under the weight of heavy footsteps. I stood, waiting, and then crouched down. The steps were getting louder and louder, closer and closer…

At the last moment I squeezed myself into a dark alcove behind the staircase. The steps now seemed to be right above me. Suddenly, there they were. Four men were coming down the staircase, heading outside. The one in front was carrying some kind of weapon and wearing a long dark coat… I couldn’t see much through the wrought-iron railing, so I leaned out. The figure at the end of the staircase, barely two metres away from me, stopped and turned to the three who were following him. Two of them were also carrying pistols. But between them… It was like being struck by lightning. My dad! They were taking away my dad!

I went numb, my legs were like jelly. Even so, I tried to look him in the face, see into his eyes, but I could hardly make out anything in the gloom. The man in front flung open the door and a few yellow rays of afternoon sunshine spilled into the building. I leant out even more and at that exact moment my dad also stopped for a second and turned his head. He seemed to look in my direction, and I was just about to call out to him…

“Schnell!” said the man behind him sharply, nudging him towards the door.

One second, two, three. The door banged shut behind them and I was left in the dark again. I had stopped breathing and my mind was blank, for how long I didn’t know. Then I gave a start and dahsed outside as though in a speeded-up film. The car was just disappearing into a neighbouring street.

“Dad!” I wanted to shout, but all that came out was a faint croak. They were gone.

I don’t even know how I got to our flat. The door was wide open and from the corridor I could see heaps of things strewn across the floor – books, clothes, flowers and empty flower pots, broken dishes. Otherwise it was silent.

“Mum…” I said timidly. Nothing. I broke into a sweat.

“Maruška,” I called out to my sister, taking a few steps forward.

“Honza…is that you?” I heard my mum’s voice at last. I almost didn’t recognise it. “Maruška went over to play at the Novotnýs’ after lunch.”

She was sitting on the floor in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by overturned chairs, silently looking out of the half-open window.

“What happened?” I gasped.

“Dad…” she said, almost whispering. “He wasn’t expecting it. He wanted to flush the leaflets down the toilet, but…” Her voice trembled. I knew that my dad had been organizing something. He sometimes met up with other people, some of whom I didn’t even know, and at home I’d see some books and papers. Occasionally he’d send me to deliver a message to some address or put a leaflet through a letterbox. Just last night some people had come to visit us. Maruška and I had been sent to bed early, but through the door I could hear them listening to the radio late into the night. Even before that, I had suspected what was happening, but I had never got up the courage to ask, and I was also slightly annoyed with my dad for still treating me like a child. Now I just hoped that none of it was true.

“Did they arrest him?” I asked timidly. My mum nodded. I said nothing for a while and then a torrent of words began to gush out of me. “They’re sure to let him out soon. I mean, he didn’t do anything, did he? You’ll see, he’ll explain it all to them, that it was just a game, and anyway, who would teach at the school in his place? It’s the end of the term soon and they’ve got exams…” I don’t know who I was trying to reassure more – my mum or myself.

My mum turned towards me, struggling to smile, her eyes moist. Then she stood up as though nothing had happened and began clearing away the mess. I closed the door to the corridor and, without saying a word, began to help her.

“Are you hungry?” she asked me after a while, but I shook my head. She looked at me for a long time as though she was making an important decision.

“Would you run over to Uncle Martin’s?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” I replied hesitantly, “but don’t you want me to help you clear up first?”

“Go now and tell them that the Gestapo have taken your dad. That they’ve not to come over here and…” She didn’t finish, but there was no need to.

“I understand,” I said, nodding. “I’m on my way!”

“Honza!” she said anxiously as I was standing in the open doorway. “Be careful.”

I ran down the stairs. Second floor, first floor, ground floor. I stopped for a moment in front of the door and looked around. Two young boys were running along the pavement opposite, and there was the noise of a dog barking from around the corner. Otherwise nothing. I walked quickly up the street, and everything that had just happened replayed in my mind like in a film. Images, questions, anxiety… What was going to happen next? What if they were going to beat up Dad? Tomáš at school said that was what the Germans did. Or would they lock him up? And what if…

I felt a surge of fear and the ground swayed beneath me. I paused for a moment and tried to breathe deeply. Suddenly I felt as though I was in the dark, as though fear and darkness were crushing my soul and pushing it towards the void. They are sure to come for your mum…and for you… As though I could hear a stranger’s voice in my head. I looked back at our door.

Something moved on the corner. Like the shadow of a figure which disappeared behind the edge of the building the moment I turned round. Had I just imagined it? Or was there someone following me? What if it was that man I’d seen when I was on my way home?

Run! a voice inside me cried, and I ran up the street as fast I could. The doors to the houses flashed past me like planks in a fence. Occasionally a pedestrian would turn round and quickly step out of my way. And I ran and ran. I turned sharply at the main street. There were more people there, so I had to weave in and out of them. Some uniformed guards were standing at the corner. Fortunately they were looking the other way, laughing at something…

I managed to find a way through a narrow gap between the bushes beside a small playground. One leap over a wall and I was on the street below. Hurrah! A tram was passing – I had to catch it! My heart was pounding and my chest was burning, but some force gave me such a boost that I managed to catch up with the tram as it slowed round a bend, and I jumped onto it with relief.

“What’s the hurry, young man?” smiled the bearded conductor. I was happy to see a friendly face again.

I breathed heavily and stammered: “I’m of to see my friend…maths homework.”

 

2.

“She’s coming! She’s coming! Quick!” screeched Marcela from the classroom door. Everyone ran to their seats as though they were being shot at. A couple of boys spent a few more seconds rummaging through their satchels, swapping the jotters and textbooks on their desks, but soon they all sprang to attention, looking expectantly towards the door. A greying schoolmistress entered, carrying a large wooden set square and a pair of compasses. A test!

I had meant to do some studying the night before, but it was impossible after everything that had happened. Maruška, Mum and I had been tidying up until dark, alternately crying and reassuring each other that Dad would be home soon. I completely forgot about schoolwork.

“Place your exercise books with your homework on the edge of the desk. I’ll have a look at them while you draw,” said the teacher after instructing us from the dais to be seated.

“Markéta, hand out the papers… Put all your things in your satchels. Leave only a pencil, set square and compasses.” I was for it! I put my exercise book on the edge of the desk, but I hadn’t done my homework. The teacher began to dictate the instructions for the individual problems while writing them on the board.

“Draw triangle ABC, if you know the length of side AB, the angle…” The classroom was as silent as the grave. Apart from the teacher’s voice, all that could be heard was the scraping of pencils and the chalk on the board, and the occasional tapping of nibs in inkwells. I wrote mechanically, managing to make two blots in the very first row.

“Don’t forget to sketch it out first,” continued the schoolmistress, and I could see everyone starting to concentrate on their work. In the meantime, I was visited by that familiar pressure in my stomach. I read the instructions again and again, but I felt as though it had all been written in a foreign language.

After nearly five minutes had passed, I looked around the classroom in desperation. Everyone was hunched over their tasks, apart from Matouš in the opposite row, who obviously had no idea what he was supposed to do.

“What’s the matter, Kratochvíl?” asked the teacher, turning to me. “Is something unclear?”

“No,” I stammered, “everything’s fine…”

She got up, walked slowly towards me and stood right above my test paper. No, not that! When she saw that my paper was blank, she silently opened my exercise book.

“Why haven’t you done your homework?” I looked at her in silence. “And did you bring a letter of apology?” she asked quietly, but more sharply. “I will have to give you an F…”

I nodded and bit my lip. The teacher returned to her desk and opened her assessment notebook. I looked at her again, then at the test, and my eyes filled with tears. I gritted my teeth so that no-one would notice.

“Draw triangle ABC,” I read once more, and then I took a pencil and began sketching what I thought the triangle should look like. The sadness about disappointing my mum and especially my dad was mixed with anger at my total uselessness. And so I slowly drew the first problem and began studying the second one, but despite all my efforts, the tears continued to flow. I wiped my eyes with my hand and sniffed. Meanwhile, the teacher was walking past the desks, collecting the exercise books. She finally reached mine and stopped.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in her usual strict voice, though with a hint of sympathy too. I wanted to bravely reply that nothing was wrong, but instead I blurted out: “Yesterday the Gestapo arrested my dad!”

As if on command, everyone apart from a couple of girls stopped writing and looked at me.

“What’s all of this commotion?” said the teacher, looking at the class. “Get on with your work. And if anyone has finished, then raise your hand.”

But I heard all of this as though from behind a wall. Those six words had broken down a dam of sadness and tears within me, and I wept like a child. At the same time, I tried to control myself because everyone was watching me.

“Go and wash your face,” she said to me in a neutral tone. “And then come back and finish off…” she said, looking at my test.

I got up and wiped my eyes with my sleeve: “It’ll be fine, thank you…” But I slowly walked over to the sink in the corner of the classroom anyway and turned on the tap with some relief.

When I returned to my place a little while later, she said to me in a low voice: “It’s not completely wrong… Look at the picture and mark on it what you were instructed to.”

I nodded and got down to work again.

The lesson went by unbelievably quickly. When I handed the test in at the end, the teacher adjusted her glasses and smiled slightly: “Honza, if you bring the homework in tomorrow, I’ll score out that F, OK?”

“OK… Thank you, Miss.”

As soon as the interval began, I slipped into the corridor and hurried towards the toilets. I felt so stupid and wanted to be alone. Not just because I had cried, but mainly because I had no idea what I was going to say to my classmates now, or what I could actually say. After a few steps, however, it was clear that I wasn’t going to be alone. Matouš and Petr had set out after me, caught up with me at the door to B class and for a while just walked alongside me as though nothing had happened.

“Honza,” said Matouš, and it was obvious he didn’t know how to begin. “Me and the lads wanted to tell you that…”

I looked at him. He was the smallest in the class, but everyone liked him. He was able to arrange everything, settle people’s arguments, plan trips or an afternoon at the ice rink. He and Petr wrote the school magazine – well, Matouš did the drawings and Petr did the writing, even though it had been worse over the last year because our other classmates were afraid to contribute anything in case they ended up in trouble, what with there being a war on. I was glad it was those two who had come to talk to me.

“It’s awful what happened to you,” said Petr, finishing Matouš’s sentence, giving my shoulder a firm squeeze, “but don’t worry, you can rely on us. If you need anything… And we know how to keep quiet.”

“Everything will work out OK, you’ll see,” added Matouš, ever the optimist.

“Thanks, I hope so,” I said.

Jakub appeared from around the corner. He was nearly a year older and wasn’t much of a talker, but when he did say something, it was worth saying.

“Why did they arrest your dad?” he asked quietly once he was standing right beside me.

“I don’t know,” I answered evasively. Perhaps I was afraid of saying something which might have unforeseen consequences. All three of them looked at me tensely.

“I get it,” said Jakub, brushing it aside. “Listen, I was thinking, if you need help with your maths…”

“Hey, I need help too!” blurted out Matouš before I had the chance to say anything. “I didn’t have a clue, and at home I’d done all of the problems from the textbook!”

“Thanks, lads,” I replied. “That sounds great, but…” and again I stopped for a moment, then I sized up all three of them and added quietly: “I think they arrested Dad because he was organizing something against the Germans. I don’t know much about it, but…” I could see them hanging onto my every word, stepping ever closer. “They could even come for me…” I added, almost in a whisper.

“Surely not! You’re only twelve,” interrupted Matouš in surprise, but I continued: “It could be really dangerous for all of you.”

“How do you mean?” asked Jakub.

“Well, if they saw you with me…”

“So we’re supposed to leave you in the lurch?” answered Petr almost reproachfully, turning to the other boys. Matouš nodded and Jakub added tersely: “It’s obvious, fuck the Germans.”

“Hey, Honza, I know it’s awful,” said Petr, looking right at me. “But for us, your dad is a…” He paused for a moment as though searching for the right word. “Hero.”

“Do you at least know where they’re keeping him, so we could go and visit him this afternoon?” asked Matouš, but I shook my head. At the time, the question didn’t strike me as being naïve.

“We don’t know anything. Maybe by the time I get home my mum will know something.”

“So three o’clock by the Vltava?” said Jakub matter-of-factly. “I’ll bring my maths stuff.”

“I’ll definitely come,” said Matouš, smiling for the first time.

“Great, that’s settled. Hey, Matouš, what if we put together another issue of The View?” said Petr enthusiastically, and it was obvious that he was relieved the conversation had shifted to a lighter topic. Then he turned to me: “And what about you, Honza?”

The day before I would have been grateful that the lads were including me in their group like this, but today everything was different.

“That would be great, but…you know, I need to see how things are at home. Don’t take it the wrong way, lads, it’s just that my mum is there alone with my sister and…”

“You want to be with them… I understand. And would you want us to come over to yours?” suggested Petr.

“Probably not… I don’t know what my mum would say and all that,” I said vaguely, turning them down.

“Well, if anything should change, you know where to find us.”

“Thanks anyway…for everything.” I said, just as the school bell started ringing. I hadn’t even had a chance to finish saying how much it all meant to me. We ran into the classroom.

 

Translated by Graeme Dibble