Free Touching the Wire by Rebecca Bryn Page A

good he hoped never to see bad . Half these poor
women would die, forced to stand naked and wet after the cold showers, perhaps
all night, while their clothes were subjected to high-temperature baking and
the block was gassed free of lice, as the Hauptsturmführerknew well.
Truly, lice meant death. Who needed selections with such ruthless efficiency?
    ‘I’ll inspect the surgery,
now.’ He ran a finger over the table top. ‘Clean this.’
    There was nothing to be
gained by pointing out that they had no water. ‘Yes, Hauptsturmführer.’
    ‘What are these?’ The SS
doctor pointed to the smuggled packages with his cane.
    ‘Surgical dressings, Herr
Doktor… A pitiful supply. We need more dressings, more medicines. More water.’
He held his breath; if the explosives were discovered they were all dead. One
of his hands, held behind his back, clutched Miriam’s: she was trembling.
    He poked one of the packages and leaned forward to peer
closer.
    ‘Found it!’
    Fear almost stopped his
heart. Charlotte held a bar of chocolate triumphantly in the air. He hadn’t
heard them come in. He sat down hard on the sofa and shook: he couldn’t stop
shaking.       

Chapter
Six
     
    Walt sat on the edge of Lucy’s bed. Dobbin
stood in the corner, long outgrown. ‘Lie down and don’t interrupt. Charlotte,
into bed, please.’ How many times had he told this story, overlaid now with
embroidered threads? ‘Where was I? Oh, yes, Wselfwulf asked the woodcutter to
choose which daughter to give to him to eat.’
     Charlotte and Lucy
glanced at one other.
    ‘How could he choose? He
couldn’t, of course. He loved them both. Take me, instead, the woodcutter pleaded . The wolf blinked a long, slow blink. You are tough and old. I want
tender little girls. ’
    Charlotte grinned. ‘You’re
tough and old, aren’t you Grandpa?’
    He laughed and blessed Tykhe
for her gift of granddaughters. ‘Cheeky young madam… and I said not to
interrupt. You’re only trying to delay bedtime.
    ‘I can’t decide, said the
woodcutter. Give me an hour and I’ll tell you. The wolf agreed and sat down
outside the door to wait. The woodcutter thought and thought. What could he do
to save his daughters? We can’t let the wolf eat our children, the woodcutter’s
wife said. We must escape. He packed a bag and threw it over his shoulder.
Putting on his green coat and his hat with the feather, he led them through the
back door and they crept into the forest. Don’t think you can escape me, the
wolf growled, as he appeared from behind a tree. Have you decided?
    ‘The woodcutter stood in
front of his family. You promised an hour, he said. They hurried home. I have
an idea, he told his wife. You and the girls must stay here, by the window,
where Wselfwulf can see you, while I creep away. I won’t be long, I promise.
Neighbours had a little girl the same age. He must give Wselfwulf the
neighbours’ child.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Remember the chicken? The
life of the neighbours’ child was less precious to him than that of his
daughters, and he could think of no way to save them but trickery.’
    Charlotte wasn’t impressed.
‘Couldn’t he have killed the wolf?’
    The grey shape in his mind
raised a paw and tasted the air, his eyes and ears missing nothing. Could he
have? Would it have made a difference? Sometimes no choice was right.
    ‘So he didn’t eat his little girls?’ Lucy pretended they didn’t know, or had forgotten, so he’d tell
the story again. He’d thought, at nine, they’d grown out of Wselfwulf, but they
still loved a story.
    ‘Wselfwulf was clever. He
could see that the woodcutter would do anything to keep his daughters safe so,
every week, he promised not to eat them if the woodcutter found him a child.
The woodcutter hated what he did, and the wolf knew it. He tried following the
wolf into the forest to trap him and kill him, but Wselfwulf was too clever.
The woodcutter was afraid and ashamed. You see, Lucy, he’d