Blue as a Fedora

Chapter 4: Pencil, Paper and Box

Malvina ran back into the village, her cheeks stained with tear streaks and her clothes and legs covered with dirt. The soldiers. The people. Those symbols. Were these men from Germany? Were they from Hitler? No matter how Malvina looked at it, she realised that there was no other explanation.

She got funny looks from the villagers and she sprinted across the village. Some of them looked at her as if she were filth, whilst others gazed with confusion and sadness. The absolute worst part was how Malvina recognised almost every face, though the expressions made everyone a  stranger.

Her heart was beating faster than ever and her head felt heavy with thoughts and worries. Where did that train lead to? What was going to happen to Peter and his family? Malvina knew that the only person who would answer her questions as honestly as possible, would be Papa.

She reached the hills and continued sprinting through the winding roads, not looking at the view of Albas that she always liked to look at. She also refused to look down at her necklace, because every time it would catch a beam of light that would reach her eyes, she felt like crying again.

She finally met the path that led to her home. She started speeding up her sprint, desperate and anxious to talk to Papa. When she reached the gate, she opened it clumsily and shut it with a slam. She reached the front door and burst it open.

"Papa!" Malvina screeched, the door slamming shut with a loud 'bang' behind her. "Papa!"

Papa, who was sitting in the living room watching the TV, immediately stood up to look at Malvina. When he caught sight of her expression and her state, he instantly turned off the television.

"Malvina, my darling," he whispered, quickly edging towards her, and putting his hands on her face. "What happened?"

"What's with all the noise?" Mama said suddenly, coming out of the bathroom with a dustpan. When she caught sight of Malvina's face, she dropped what she was carrying, which smashed onto the floor.

"Goodness, what happened to you?" Mama burst out in horror.

Malia and Ella came out of the bedroom to see what was happening. Both looked in surprise at Malvina's state.

"Papa," Malvina mumbled, her voice trembling. She was trying as hard as she could to keep herself together, but with every passing second it got ten times harder. "Papa – it's – it's..."

But Malvina had finally burst into tears, and hugged her father so hard that it was as if she thought she was never going to see him again. Papa stroked Malvina's hair gently and bent down to her level.

"It's okay, everything's okay..." Papa said, leading Malvina to the living room couch. "Just tell us what happened..."

Mama went to get some tissues as Malvina sat herself on the couch. She looked up at Malia and Ella. Malia looked completely perplexed, but Ella seemed to know why Malvina was in such a state. Ella gave Malvina a questioning look and, through stifled sobs, Malvina attempted to mouth the word 'Peter.'

"Malvina, what's going on?" Malia said, as Mama came bustling through the living room with a box of tissues. Malvina blew her nose and looked up at her family.

"I – I was going to say hello to Peter," Malvina said, still trying to stifle her sobs, "and then I heard arguing..."

Malvina attempted to explain in detail what had happened. She explained how she hid behind the tree when she heard the arguing and how the fighting just seemed to get worse. Then she told them how four soldiers burst out of the house with Peter and his family, and how Malvina pursued them in a worry. Then she told them how they had gone through the village to the train tracks, but when it came to explaining the scene she saw, Malvina didn't know how to put her horror into words.

"It was so, so ugly!" she cried, the image of the train appearing in her mind's eye. Everyone was looking at Malvina with horror etched on every part of their face; except Papa. Papa was looking very grim. "It was this huge train! But there were so many people! There were hundreds of them! And they were all being crammed into tiny compartments! I've never seen so many people in my life! And – and the soldiers were being so cruel to everyone! It was as if none of them were human!"

"So did you see what happened to Peter?" Papa asked gently, handing Malvina another tissue.

"He and his dad were put in a – in a different compartment than his mum," Malvina sobbed, blowing her nose once again. "And then the train started to leave. I tr – tr – tried to follow but it was too fast!"

Malvina felt more tears falling down her cheeks as she tried to steady herself.

"Papa, what the hell does this mean?" Malia asked her father. When Malvina looked up at her sister, it was to see Malia looking almost furious. "What is going on? Have those – those soldiers been collecting people from all over France or something?"

"Malvina said 'hundreds of people,'" Ella agreed. "They can't have all come from Albas."

"Zamir," Mama said to Papa, but Papa simply shook his head.

"Listen, Malvina," Papa said softly to his daughter. His tone suggested that he was going to explain everything, though there was a little pause that made Malvina think that he didn't know where to start. Papa took a steadying breath and tried again.

"You know what Peter was, do you?" Papa asked gently.

"A – a child?" Malvina guessed, feeling puzzled.

"For crying out loud Malvina, he was a Jew," Malia groaned from behind Mama. "We had this conversation when Papa used to do nightly questions with us."

Papa went a little red, but other than that he didn't react to Malia's words.

"Wait," said Malvina, now finally finishing with her sobbing. "So, all those people on the train were – were Jews?"

"Yes Malvina, they must've been," answered Papa weakly. "They must've been collecting them all over France."

"Collecting?" Malvina said, now starting to feel a little anger grow in her stomach. "Why are they collecting anybody? Who is they anyway?"

"Nazis, Malvina! Nazis!" Malia spat. "They're taking away all the Jews! And the gypsies and the homosexuals and whatever! I'm going to my room," she added to everyone, stomping away to the door of the bedroom, "I can't stand this."

And with that, Malia slammed the door. Malvina could hear her getting into her bed, probably for more reading.

"So, the – the Nazis are taking the Jews," Malvina continued nervously, because she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to the question she was about to ask, "to – to do what to them?"

Papa looked at Malvina sadly, and his answer came as a serious blow.

"I'm not sure," he said weakly.

Malvina gazed straight into her father's eyes and, this time, she was starting to feel really angry, though she wasn't sure where this anger was coming from.

"What are they doing to them?" Malvina said again. 

"Malvina, I don't know –"

"Papa!" Malvina screeched, now getting up from her seat, "Peter is with them! They're doing something to them! Something horrible! And I need to know! PAPA! WHAT ARE THEY DOING?"

But Papa simply shook his head sadly, which did nothing to ease Malvina's anger, which was now burning like wildfire throughout her body.

"Torturing them? Killing them, maybe?" Malvina said viciously.

"What? No!" Mama said indignantly to the room. "If they were doing anything horrible, surely everyone would turn on Germany. Right Zamir? Right?"

Papa didn't answer straight away, which seemed to add gasoline to the fire spreading in Malvina.

"Get out my way," she said angrily as she pushed her father to the side. There was such cold poison in her voice that Papa didn't protest. Malvina opened the door to the backyard, then ran down the stone stairs, cold fury in every step she took. Then she found herself in the middle of the backyard. She looked around her, at everything. How peaceful...

And then she started screaming. Fury and pain and sadness and guilt and worry all mingling together to create the harsh sound that was emitting from her mouth. She cupped her face in her hands and collapsed onto the soft grass, still screeching her head off as if she were being tortured. She didn't care if her parents could hear, she couldn't care if Albas could hear. In this moment, all those innocent people and Peter – poor, poor Peter – were being sent to who knows where to do who knows what.

Malvina didn't know how long she stayed on the ground, every so often emitting a dry sob, but when she got up, it looked as if it was late afternoon. Malvina didn't want to go back inside. She instead went back to her usual hiding spot and leaned against the crooked tree as she always did, as if hoping that she could transfer some of the emotion inside her to the tree, so that it could be eased off her, so she wouldn't have to feel...

Malvina refused to look at the necklace around her neck. Every time she did, half of her wanted to tear it off her and throw it away, to never see it again; but the other half of her wanted to cherish it and keep it until her dying day.

Her eyes were closed and her brain didn't seem to be working. She just wanted to stay there, leaning heavily and not having to deal with those vicious beings known as humans. If only, if only, she could've saved Peter. Disturbing images flashed through her mind as her brain thought up disgusting things that could be happening to him. She was hoping Mama was right in thinking that doing something awful was too risky... but... could it be possible? Could torture possibly be done in secret? It sounded ever so unlikely, but... but with everything else happening in the world, who was to consider what was impossible?

Malvina sat leaning against the tree for what only felt like ten minutes, when she suddenly heard the door to the backyard slide open. Malvina expected that it was Ella, who always managed to use the right words to calm Malvina down and make her feel better. When Malvina turned to look, however, she was surprised to see not Ella, but Malia stepping down the stone steps with something in her hands, her long brown hair reflecting the light of the low sun.

Feeling curious, Malvina left her little place and met Malia in the middle of the backyard. Malvina could now see what Malia was holding: it was a little, brown box, with a piece of paper and pencil sitting neatly on top of it.

For a moment, Malvina and Malia simply stared at each other in the middle of the circular backyard. Malvina didn't really feel like talking to Malia right now, as Malia was rarely good with advice, or words.

"What time is it?" Malvina eventually said.

"It's four-thirty," replied Malia soothingly. She looked down at the box she was holding, then back up at Malvina. "Listen, Malvina, I know everything right now is a little – everywhere. The war, the dictators, our home, the Jews and everything else. It's bad, I know..."

Malvina didn't really know where Malia was going with this. She simply stared at her with curiosity. Was she attempting to make Malvina feel better? And what was with the box?

"When – when I'm angry," Malia continued, now blushing a little, "I usually write my emotions down, and it helps."

"In English?" Malvina said, but she found that this talk was helping her lose a little of her anger.

"Sometimes," Malia shrugged. "But... but what I want you to do is write down everything you're feeling. Can you do that?"

"What?" Malvina said, but Malia was already shoving the pencil and paper into Malvina's hands. She then gave Malvina the little box as a surface to lean on when writing. Malia then stood, waiting for Malvina to do something.

"Um – what do you want me to do?" Malvina asked confusedly.

Malia bit her lip in an impatient manner and took a short breath. "Write anything you want," she explained, with a tone that suggested she was explaining what one plus one equalled. "Just make sure your emotions are out afterwards. Damn it Malvina! Whatever you want!" she snapped, when Malvina continued to look perplexed. "Maybe a short story, or a letter to Peter! Just – just write something!"

Malvina, still feeling a little confused, looked down at her paper and pencil and – not knowing what she was going to write – starting scribbling on the paper: