Page 15 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

14

LISBON, 1940

The botanical gardens were about a thirty-minute train ride away, along the river. As we settled onto our bench seats opposite each other, I studied Judith closely. Her long tatty overcoat was similar to the one the girl had been wearing the other day, and she was the same height and build. The only thing missing was the long braid, but she could have cut it off since I last saw her. The uneven edges of her bob certainly gave the impression of a haircut done in haste or by a non-professional – or both.

‘So, when exactly did you arrive in Lisbon?’ I asked casually.

‘A few days ago,’ she replied, and my curiosity grew, along with my confusion over what to do. If she was the same girl, how could I tell her that I’d saved her from a knife-wielding monster? I didn’t want to unnerve her. She seemed jumpy enough as her gaze darted this way and that around the carriage. Almost every seat was taken, and the warm air was filled with chatter and laughter.

Judith shook her head and sighed. ‘You have no idea how wonderful this is,’ she said, leaning closer so I could hear her above the din.

‘The noise?’ I asked, raising my eyebrows.

‘Yes! It’s so joyful. I honestly thought—’ She broke off and looked out of the grimy window. Despite the warmth, she kept her long coat wrapped around her.

‘What?’ I asked softly.

‘I thought I’d never hear such laughter again. Or, at least, I’d never be able to be a part of it. You are so lucky to live here. To be from here.’

I’d heard and read all about the horrors the Nazis had inflicted upon the Jewish people in Germany and Austria, but this was the first time I’d met someone who’d actually experienced it. Someone who brought to life the hurt and fear in a way that no amount of newsprint was able to. My inner conflict grew. If she was the girl I’d seen the other day, shouldn’t I warn her that I’d seen her being followed?

‘How did you come to leave Germany?’ I asked, hoping that if I learned more about her, it would help me decide what to do.

‘Have you heard of Kristallnacht?’ she asked.

I nodded. ‘The night of the broken glass.’

‘Yes. My father was captured during the attacks and sent to a prison camp, along with thousands of other Jewish men.’

I shook my head in horror.

‘He’d anticipated something like that happening,’ she continued. ‘The Nazi regime had been in power for five years by then, and they’d already taken away our right to work and study, so he felt certain it wouldn’t be long before they took away our liberty. He drummed it into me that if anything happened to him, I should try to escape.’

‘What about your mother, or any brothers and sisters?’ I asked.

‘I don’t have any siblings, and my mother died when I was a child.’ As soon as she said this, I felt a tug of connection between us, making her story feel even more poignant. ‘I have an aunt in France, and my father had already mapped out the safest possible route for me to take to get to her.’ Judith gave a sad smile. ‘I finally made it there, but after a few months, my aunt urged me to come here as she’s convinced that the Germans are going to invade France too. Now I have to try to get my passage to New York. I have a distant cousin in Brooklyn. It’s literally my last chance.’ She gave a tight little laugh. ‘The end of the line.’

‘Wow!’ I exhaled sharply and gave her a sympathetic smile. I’d thought I’d had it tough, but Judith had made her way across an entire continent. And, even worse, she’d been fleeing something terrifying rather than seeking her fortune. I couldn’t begin to imagine how that must feel, and I knew that I had to do everything in my power to help her. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve been through all of this, but you’re not alone now, OK? You have a friend here in Lisbon. I’m talking about me,’ I added, just to avoid any confusion.

‘Thank you so much,’ she said, her voice cracking slightly.

‘Can I ask you a slightly strange question?’ I asked, leaning closer.

‘That sounds intriguing.’ She smiled. ‘Please do.’

‘Did you have long hair when you first arrived here? In a braid down your back?’

Her mouth fell open in shock, and I knew that my hunch had been correct. She was the girl from the other day.

‘It’s OK,’ I said, placing my hand on her arm to try to reassure her. ‘I think I saw you arriving at the station. When I saw you today, I thought that you looked familiar; I just wasn’t sure why.’

‘Oh, I see.’ She looked relieved. ‘Yes, I cut my braid off. It was too much trouble having to take care of so much hair. I thought it would be simpler, easier.’

‘That makes sense,’ I replied, but I couldn’t help wondering if the real reason was that she’d been trying to change her appearance. Had she realised she was being followed?

‘That’s so funny that you saw me arrive and then we bumped into each other in the café.’ She smiled. ‘Maybe it is bashert that we should meet.’

‘What is bashert ?’

‘It’s Yiddish for destiny, or for people we’re destined to meet. A lot of Jewish people use it to talk about meeting their soulmate, but it can be used for friends too.’

I nodded thoughtfully. It certainly was a weird coincidence that I should have run into Judith twice in such a short space of time. ‘Maybe we were destined to meet so that I can look out for you,’ I said.

She looked at me curiously. ‘What do you mean?’

I didn’t have the heart to frighten her – not yet anyway. ‘I can help you get settled in Lisbon, until you receive your passage to America.’

Her smile grew. ‘That would be wonderful, thank you.’

I smiled back at her before looking out of the window. I would tell her about the man on our way back, so she could enjoy the gardens first.

When we got to the botanical gardens, I took Judith straight to the two jacaranda trees.

‘Isn’t it incredible to think that the seeds that grew these trees came all the way from Brazil,’ I said, gazing up into the leafy branches.

‘Absolutely.’ Judith smiled. ‘Brotero was doing the job of the birds.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, intrigued.

‘Well, normally birds are the ones who spread the seeds of plants from place to place. I love how Brotero did that for Portugal. What a gift.’

‘It really was. I hope one day you get to see them – and smell them – in bloom,’ I replied.

We stood in silence for a moment, and I felt the seed of a new song planting itself in my mind. I didn’t need to scribble it down though. There was no way I was going to forget this moment.

‘In a way, you are like a jacaranda seed,’ I said, still gazing up at the trees.

‘How do you mean?’

‘It’s as if you’ve been carried across Europe on the breeze.’ I turned to look at her. ‘You say you are lucky to have ended up here, but we are lucky to have you too.’

To my surprise, her eyes filled with tears.

‘I’m so sorry.’ I touched her arm. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I know you would rather be in your home country with your loved ones. I just wanted you to know that I’m really glad to have met you.’

‘You haven’t upset me.’ She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. ‘It’s just that that’s the first kind thing anyone’s said to me in a very long time. Thank you.’

Acting on impulse, I flung my arms around her and hugged her tight. Her body seemed to collapse against me, flimsy as a rag doll, and I felt her sobbing into my shoulder.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she cried. ‘It’s just been so hard. I’ve had to be so strong.’

My own eyes filled with tears as I thought of how it had been for me at her age, trying to keep it all together for my mother during her illness and then coming to Lisbon to start a new life for myself. I coughed to try to clear the lump forming in my throat.

‘It’s all right. You’re not alone anymore, you hear?’ I held her arms and looked her right in the eyes. ‘You’ve got me now, and I’m going to help you…’ I paused and took a breath. ‘Just like I helped you the other day.’

She stared at me, her eyes glassy with tears. ‘What do you mean, the other day?’

‘When I saw you leaving the station, I was going to give you a flyer about a place I know that gives free lunches to refugees.’

‘That sounds lovely.’ She frowned. ‘But why didn’t you?’

‘Because I saw someone following you – a man – a German man.’

All the colour drained from her face. ‘How do you know he was German?’ she whispered.

‘I heard him say something.’

‘What?’ she cried, panic-stricken.

‘I don’t know; it was in German, but he wasn’t happy. I got someone to try to stop him from following you, and he ended up with fish all over his suit.’

Judith’s look of confusion grew. ‘Did he have blond hair and a thin moustache?’

‘Yes.’

‘This can’t be happening,’ she gasped. ‘He can’t be here.’ She looked around the garden as if the man might be hiding in the trees.

‘It’s OK – he ran away, and you disappeared before I could tell you what had happened.’

Judith leaned against a tree, looking utterly defeated.

It was as if her fear was contagious, and it caused my stomach to churn. ‘Do you know him?’

She nodded. ‘Unfortunately. His name is Kurt Fischer and he’s in the Gestapo.’

‘Gestapo?’ My fear grew. I’d read all about the Nazi secret police.

Judith gave a grim nod. ‘I thought I’d managed to give him the slip. He’s been chasing me since I left Germany.’