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Aurek frowns. He hates these kinds of questions. He digs his spoon in his porridge and stirs it.

‘I’d like to hear about it,’ Janusz says. ‘When I get back from work you can tell me, hmm?’

Aurek’s mother never talks about the forest, and the enemy always wants to. Between them, Aurek feels like he is a secret neither will share properly. But the enemy is smiling at him, and Aurek tries to think of something to say that will keep the smile there.

‘When I was a baby I swallowed a button.’

‘What?’

‘I swallowed a button. You turned me upside down so I didn’t choke.’

The enemy smiles crookedly. ‘That’s right. You swallowed a button. I’d forgotten. But you can’t remember that, surely?’

‘Mama told me. Do I go to school now?’

‘No. You’ll have to stay home until all the spots are gone. I’m off to work. You be a good boy for your mother.’

Aurek follows Janusz to the front door, the tiles icy under his feet.

When Janusz does up his coat and opens the door, a blast of wind nearly knocks Aurek over.

‘A button,’ Janusz says. ‘Fancy that. I’d forgotten. You were always putting things in your mouth when you were a baby.’

Janusz stares out at the day steadily, like a horse that has suddenly lifted its head in a field and looked into the distance. Aurek shuffles closer. He stands behind Janusz’s legs and peers at the fluttering snowflakes outside, at the houses on the other side of the road, their grey windows, the frozen milk bottles on the doorsteps. He touches Janusz’s hand. Perhaps the enemy will try to hug him today? If he does, Aurek will let him.

‘Would you like to make a snowman when I get back from work?’ says Janusz, looking down at him.

‘Now?’

‘No. Not now. After work. Men have to work, you know. You will too, one day.’ Janusz pulls his hat tight over his ears and rubs his hands together. ‘Shut the door behind me,’ he says, and then he is gone, marching away with his shoulders hunched against the cold.

‘Hurry back,’ whispers Aurek.

He goes upstairs, climbing into bed beside his mother, who looks like she is sleeping, her eyes shut, hair across her face.

‘Am I going to have a brother?’

Silvana opens her eyes. ‘What?’

‘A baby?’

‘No,’ she says, slipping an arm around him. ‘You’re everything we need.’

Aurek curls up beside her and feels glad. She’s right. They don’t need a baby.

Poland

Silvana

It began to rain and the camp turned muddy underfoot. Silvana had almost forgotten the war. Here it was as though they were far from everything, in another world. They lifted their beds higher off the ground, making pallets out of branches and fallen trees, but everything was soaked through and there was no way of drying anything.

The old man stopped getting out of his blankets, staying wrapped up in his own mess day and night. His wife let Gregor take his share of the food. Gregor sat chewing on dry bread while the old woman fussed over him, picking nits from his hair, smiling like an indulgent mother. Elsa and Lottie watched her, and Silvana saw the jealousy in their eyes. The old man stared at the canopy of branches above his head. Maybe he never saw the sky at all. Maybe he wasn’t looking that far.

Silvana took to wandering during the day, walking miles with Aurek on her back. Some nights she couldn’t bear the thought of Gregor so she stayed away from the camp at night too, taking her rabbit skins and making bracken beds for her and the boy. One morning she came back to find the old man staring harder than ever at the sky. The old woman was crying.

‘Is he dead?’ Silvana asked.

‘What?’ Sad-faced Lottie looked up. ‘Him? God, no. He’s not dead.’

‘Why do you ask a question like that?’ the old woman shouted. ‘Don’t I look after him? Is that what you are saying? I’ve cared for that man all my life. What would you know? Who are you anyway? You never speak to us. You creep around with that child of yours like a thief in the night. What use are you to us?’

Silvana looked around for Elsa. Then she understood. Gregor had gone.