The Story of Us: The sweeping historical debut of 2018 that you will never forget. Lana Kortchik
who could recognise me.’
‘When the war is over, we won’t have to hide. This day will come, we just have to be patient.’
Natasha prayed for the day when she could tell the whole world about her feelings for Mark, when she could bring him home and introduce him to her family. When she imagined this day, she felt the cold despair inside her melt a little. But then she remembered Olga’s words. ‘You are on their side, Mark. On Hitler’s side. You are a part of this horror. Don’t you feel responsible for what is happening?’
‘Every day of my life. But what choice do I have?’
‘There’s always a choice. They sent you here, to the Soviet Union, to fight against us. Yes, it wasn’t what you wanted for yourself. But you made a choice to go along with it. Because it was easier, because it was safer. I understand.’ She looked up into his face and her lips trembled. ‘But everywhere in the world, people risk their lives to defy Hitler. How can I be with someone who chose to support him?’
He staggered away from her as if she had slapped him. So much hurt was in his face, so much shame, she regretted her words instantly. She wanted to hold him close and tell him how sorry she was. But instead, before her resolve weakened, she got up and walked away, her tears blinding her.
*
Despite all their prayers, Grandmother didn’t get better. Natasha ran to fetch the doctor, but all she found was a terrified Olga who hid in the wardrobe and didn’t come out until she heard Natasha’s voice. The German doctor was no longer staying with them. He had disappeared the day before, and no one knew what had become of him.
On the way home, Natasha knocked on Petr Nikolaev’s door, her heart skipping in fear as she recalled the drunken Germans in his apartment. She didn’t expect to find the doctor and wasn’t surprised when there was no answer.
As she cooked lunch, she tried not to think of Mark because thinking of him filled her with agony. She tried not to look at her sister, who hadn’t moved from her corner. Lisa’s eyes were closed and her body rocked to some sad, monotonous melody that only she could hear.
‘Babushka, I made some barley. Please, have some. You need your strength,’ Natasha begged, holding the small plate in her lap with hardly a handful of gluey flakes boiled in water, with no milk, no salt and no butter. ‘If you don’t eat, you won’t get better.’
‘Maybe it’s for the best.’ Grandmother’s voice was faint. It was barely a whisper.
‘Don’t say that, Babushka. You’ll be okay. Once the fever goes, you’ll be good as new.’ Natasha adjusted her pillows.
‘It’s better not to see what’s happening to Kiev. What’s happening to all of us.’
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