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My legs hurt as usual. So does everything else because the flames are very close now.

  I stagger through them to the barn door and make it outside.

  Gabriek is in the farmyard. He’s staring as if he can’t understand how Dom got to the pig trough.

  I go over to explain.

  I don’t get far, just a few steps.

  Suddenly there’s a noise as loud as an exploding train. Part of the farmhouse starts to collapse. I stagger back just in time.

  ‘Gabriek,’ I yell.

  I peer through the swirling ash and sparks. The farmhouse walls are still standing, but pieces of burning roof are all over the ground.

  I can’t see Gabriek anywhere. Then I spot his jacket, lying on the cobbles. It’s on fire. Gabriek is lying next to it.

  I rush over.

  His eyes are closed. For a moment I think he’s dead. But he groans. He’s clutching two things tightly to his chest. His violin case and the picture frame he made from one of Genia’s necklaces and some of her old turnip knives.

  ‘Gabriek,’ I say frantically. ‘Are you hurt?’

  It’s a silly question. I can see he is.

  A smiling photo of Genia is in the frame. Her eyes are worried like they often were.

  I’m glad she’s not really here.

  If she saw Gabriek like this she’d be even more worried.

  You know how when the most precious living person in your life is hit by a roof and judging by the blood on him he’s got a badly injured head and possibly injured hands too and you need to get him to a doctor but he can’t walk and he’s too big to carry so you have the idea of hoisting him up onto the back of a family member who’s a strong and loyal horse?

  How do you do that?

  I’ve been trying to help Gabriek climb up, but he keeps fainting.

  Wait a minute.

  I’ve just had an idea from my education.

  Of course.

  I hurry over to the well through the heat and smoke, and pull on the rope till the bucket appears. I grab the axe and chop the bucket off the rope. I leave the rope threaded through the pulley, tie one end round Dom’s shoulders and tie the other end round Gabriek’s chest under his arms.

  ‘Go, Dom,’ I say, and make the noise with my mouth that Gabriek makes when he wants Dom to move.

  Dom moves forward with slow powerful steps.

  I see that patches of his fur are scorched, but he’s not complaining.

  The rope tightens through the pulley and slowly drags Gabriek onto his feet. I wrap my arms round his legs and as Dom takes a few more steps and the rope pulls some more, I heave Gabriek up onto Dom’s back.

  ‘Well done,’ I pant to Dom as I undo the rope.

  Now we have to get out of this farmyard before the rest of the house collapses.

  Where to? Gabriek needs a doctor, but if we go to one in town the Nazis will grab us.

  I don’t know what to do.

  Blood is dripping from Gabriek’s head.

  He slumps forward onto Dom’s shoulders. His eyes are closed.

  Help me, Richmal Crompton.

  Gabriek opens his eyes and looks at me and mumbles something. At first I can’t hear him because of the noise of the flames. I lean closer and he mumbles again and this time I do hear.

  ‘Partisans,’ he says.

  the barn roof finally collapsed in a distant shimmer of sparks, I didn’t look back again. We just kept walking across the dark fields towards the forest and the partisans.

  Slow steady trudging through the freezing night.

  I’m keeping an eye out for Nazis, but mostly I’m looking up at Gabriek, who’s on his tummy on Dom’s back. I have to make sure he doesn’t slide off. Sometimes Gabriek is unconscious, so he can’t take care of that himself.

  He can’t hold on to his violin either, or Genia’s photo, so I’ve put them in a sack with my things and hung it round Dom’s neck.

  ‘Push-ups,’ mumbles Gabriek.

  When Gabriek’s not unconscious, he’s confused. That must happen with head wounds.

  Gabriek thinks we’re in the barn doing my nightly exercises. I’m glad I tied his hands and feet together under Dom’s belly. If you try to do push-ups on a horse’s back, you’ll definitely fall off.

  ‘Armpits,’ murmurs Gabriek.

  I wish there was somewhere else we could go to instead of the partisans. When you’re badly injured like Gabriek you need rest and gentle treatment, not spending time with people whose main activity is violence and killing. I think nuns would be a better idea. But the nearest nuns are miles and miles away and Gabriek needs medical help as soon as possible.

  ‘Armpits,’ says Gabriek again.

  ‘It’s alright,’ I say to him. ‘I’ve done my lice.’

  It isn’t true. With everything that’s happened tonight, I haven’t had time to do a lice-hunt. But I don’t feel bad about fibbing. Gabriek’s already been hit in the head by his own roof, he doesn’t need more stress.

  ‘Wash,’ says Gabriek.

  ‘I’m washing,’ I say. ‘Brrrrr.’

  I say that last bit because it’s always cold, washing in the barn at night. But I’m not just pretending to be cold now, I am cold.

  Gabriek has got my blanket. The flames dried it, so I put it over him because his jacket got burnt and I had to rip up half his shirt to make a bandage. At least with his head bandaged, Gabriek doesn’t need his earflap hat, so I’m wearing that.

  As we trudge I keep myself pressed against Dom’s side to get some of his warmth. Dom doesn’t mind. He can see my coat is thin and torn and too small. He’s a very kind horse.

  ‘Education,’ mumbles Gabriek.

  I start naming the parts of a clock. It’s not easy. My teeth are jumping around all over the place with the cold.

  And there are other reasons I’m shivering.

  Worry, mostly.

  What if bumping along on the back of a horse is making Gabriek’s head wound worse? It doesn’t seem to be bleeding as much, but I can’t see what’s happening inside.

  I squint across the fields towards the forest, begging Richmal Crompton to make the partisans appear. I’m hoping that partisans get a lot of head wounds, so they’ll know how to fix them.

  Come on partisans, where are you?

  I try not to think about my other worry.

  The partisan leader told Gabriek not to let it happen again.

  Me turning up.

  So what will happen when I do?

  Still no partisans.

  We’ve been walking through the forest for hours. We went past the broken railway bridge ages ago. Dead Nazis were still all over the place.

  You’d think those bodies would be cleared away by now. The Nazis still mustn’t know what happened to their train. But if they don’t know, why did they burn our farm?

  Dom gives a soft sad whinny.

  He must be thinking about what happened to our home too.

  ‘Irenka,’ mumbles Gabriek.

  Poor Gabriek has been unconscious for ages. I didn’t want to wake him up in case head wounds heal more quickly when you’re unconscious. But now he’s awake I’ve got something urgent to ask him because I don’t know how much longer I can stay awake myself.

  ‘Gabriek,’ I say. ‘Where do the partisans live exactly?’

  He doesn’t reply. His eyes don’t even open.

  I ask him again.

  ‘Irenka,’ he says again.

  His voice is croaky with sadness. And my insides go heavy with sadness too, because I realise who he’s talking about. He told me once how he and Genia had planned to have a child of their own. And how if it was a girl they were going to call her Irenka after Genia’s mother.

  I don’t know what to say.

  Dom takes us on through the dark forest. The moon is behind clouds now, and even my very good night vision is having trouble making out the path ahead.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say to Gabriek quietly. ‘I’m sorry you had me and Zelda instead of y
our own daughter.’

  Gabriek doesn’t reply.

  The forest is silent except for the sound of my soft footsteps and Dom’s heavy ones. And another sound. A sound I know.

  The safety catch on a gun.

  ‘Stop right there,’ says a harsh voice.

  I make Dom stop.

  The moon comes out again. Men are standing all around us. Men with guns, but not uniforms.

  At last.

  Partisans.

  One of the men steps forward, his rifle pointing at us. He’s very tall and thin and his bony face looks like he hasn’t smiled for years. I don’t blame him. The only people who smile a lot these days are Nazis.

  The man takes a close look at Gabriek, who is unconscious again.

  He prods me in the chest with his gun.

  It hurts.

  ‘Nazi spy?’ he says.

  ‘No,’ I say, shocked. ‘We hate Nazis.’

  The man’s expression doesn’t change.

  I don’t recognise him. I don’t think he was there when the train was blown up. I look at the other men. Most of them are standing in shadows and I don’t recognise them either.

  The tall partisan obviously doesn’t recognise Gabriek. I need to let him know we’re on his side.

  ‘My name’s Felix Salinger,’ I say. ‘I’m Jewish. This is Gabriek. He helps partisans. He’s been looking after me and he’s wounded and we need your help.’

  Normally I wouldn’t mention I’m Jewish, but now these partisans will definitely know I’m not a Nazi spy.

  One of the other men steps forward and points at Gabriek.

  ‘That’s Borowski,’ he says to the tall partisan. ‘He’s been on missions with Pavel.’

  Pavel. That’s the name of the partisan leader we’re looking for. Gabriek told me that as we were leaving the farm.

  The tall partisan isn’t even looking at Gabriek. He’s still staring at me, and his mouth looks like he’s just bitten into a bad turnip.

  ‘Jewish,’ he says.

  I nod.

  ‘Jam tarts, you Jews,’ he says. ‘Ginger snaps. Sticky sugar mice.’

  I don’t know what he means, but his voice doesn’t sound friendly.

  ‘Wherever you Jews are,’ says the tall partisan, ‘Nazi wasps come buzzing.’

  He raises his gun and points it at my head.

  ‘Not good,’ he says. ‘We don’t want Nazi wasps buzzing around here.’

  I see his finger tightening on the trigger. Frantically I try to think of something to say. That wasps hibernate in winter?

  Suddenly a sound shrills through the forest.

  A bell.

  Out of the darkness two bicycles are speeding towards us. Riding them are two figures with guns slung across their backs.

  The bicycles skid to a stop next to us.

  Dom takes a step back.

  I stare.

  On one of the bicycles is Mr Pavel, the partisan leader I met before. On the other is the woman with the red headscarf, her hand still on her bicycle bell.

  ‘Back off, Szulk,’ says Mr Pavel.

  The tall partisan scowls. He lowers his gun. He looks like he’s been told to back off by Mr Pavel before. He also looks like he’s blaming the woman for bringing Mr Pavel here.

  Mr Pavel leans his bike against a tree, comes over to Dom, pulls back the blanket and peers at Gabriek’s wounds.

  ‘There was a fire,’ I say. ‘A roof hit Gabriek on the head. He needs expert medical help.’

  Mr Pavel signals to a couple of the partisans. They come over and put an empty ammunition belt round Dom’s shoulders as a kind of harness and lead him away with Gabriek still on his back.

  I start to follow, but Mr Pavel grabs me.

  I try to wriggle free.

  ‘Please,’ I say desperately. ‘Let me help look after Gabriek. I’ve had experience. I was the assistant to a dentist once in the ghetto.’

  Mr Pavel doesn’t look like he believes me.

  ‘His name was Barney,’ I say.

  I know that doesn’t sound very convincing, specially as I don’t know Barney’s other name. Plus, as Mr Pavel grips my arm, I remember I shouldn’t be drawing attention to myself.

  ‘Dom hasn’t had any dinner,’ I say.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ says the woman in the red scarf. ‘We’ve got straw. And a surgeon. If Gabriek can be fixed, Zajak will fix him.’

  I feel weak with relief.

  Mr Pavel lets go of me.

  For a second I hope he hasn’t recognised me. But he has. He’s got the same weary expression he had the first time I met him.

  ‘Get lost,’ he says.

  I stare at him, horrified.

  He wants me to go?

  To leave Gabriek and Dom?

  I’m not the only one who hates this idea. The tall partisan grabs Mr Pavel by the shoulder.

  ‘Are you crazy, Pavel?’ he says ‘He’ll be informing on us before the Nazis get the first fingernail off him.’

  Mr Pavel looks long and hard at the tall partisan, who scowls again, but takes his hand off Mr Pavel’s shoulder.

  I’m desperately trying to think of something to say so they’ll let me stay. But before I can, the woman in the red scarf speaks again.

  ‘We need recruits,’ she says to Mr Pavel.

  ‘He’s a kid,’ sneers the tall partisan.

  ‘I’m thirteen,’ I say.

  I don’t actually want to be a recruit. I just want to stay with Gabriek and Dom. But I keep quiet. I can see partisans are more interested in recruits than guests.

  My Pavel looks at me again.

  I can’t tell if thirteen is old enough or not. It should be. Gabriek told me about an army in ancient Greece that was led into battle by a thirteen-year-old. They lost, but still.

  ‘It was my birthday yesterday,’ I say.

  Mr Pavel is looking like he wishes he’d never met me.

  ‘We agreed age doesn’t matter,’ says the woman to Mr Pavel. ‘As long as a recruit has what it takes.’

  ‘I know the rule, Yuli,’ says Mr Pavel crossly. ‘I made the rule. You don’t have to tell me the rule.’

  He looks at me again, then nods.

  ‘Alright,’ he says.

  He turns and gets on his bike and rides away in the same direction Dom and Gabriek were taken.

  I look at the woman.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I’ll be a good recruit.’

  ‘There’s a rule,’ she says.

  ‘I’m good at obeying rules,’ I say. ‘I used to live with nuns.’

  ‘The rule,’ says the woman, ‘is that before a new recruit is allowed to join us, he or she must make a contribution.’

  My insides sink.

  ‘I haven’t got any money,’ I say.

  Some of the other partisans snigger. The tall one doesn’t.

  ‘You don’t need money,’ says the woman.

  ‘What do I need?’ I say.

  The tall partisan steps towards me with an unfriendly smile. He taps me on the nose with his rifle barrel.

  ‘A gun,’ he says.

  I saw that the partisans meant it, that they weren’t joking, that a new recruit has to have a gun to join them, I went to get one.

  Nervously.

  Not sure how.

  Not even sure if I want to be a partisan. Except I have to if it’s the only way I can stay with Gabriek.

  The woman in the red headscarf comes with me, wheeling her bike along the forest path.

  ‘I’m Felix,’ I say, to make conversation.

  ‘I’m Yuli,’ she says.

  She’s speaking Polish, but with a strong accent from somewhere else.

  Before I can ask her where, she stops.

  ‘That’s your best bet there,’ she says, pointing through the trees.

  I clean my glasses on my coat.

  We’re on a ridge in a different part of the forest. Daylight is creeping up on us, and in the distance I can see a grey misty town. I know it’s no
t the town closest to Gabriek’s farm because we’re a long way from there.

  ‘Good luck,’ says Yuli, and gets on her bike.

  ‘Aren’t you coming with me?’ I say.

  She shakes her head.

  ‘My orders are to bring you this far,’ she says.

  I want to plead with her to come with me. I don’t know how to get a gun by myself. But I can tell from her face that partisans are as strict about orders as they are about rules.

  I’m shivering, partly from cold and partly because I’m scared.

  Yuli looks at me for a moment.

  ‘You really are just a kid, aren’t you?’ she says.

  ‘I’m thirteen,’ I say indignantly.

  I’m tempted to point out that she’s only a few years older than me, but I don’t. I’m tired and I need to save my energy. I’ve been walking all night. Early morning is nearly my bedtime.

  Yuli leans her bike against a tree and takes off her gun and her leather jacket. Underneath she’s wearing several layers of clothes. She pulls a wool shirt off over her head and throws it to me.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say.

  ‘Aren’t you going to put it on?’ she says.

  I am, but for the moment I’m staring. Her headscarf came off with the shirt. Her head is shaved. Her blonde hair is so short it’s almost like dandelion fluff.

  The only women I’ve seen with shaved heads are Jewish women after the Nazis have captured them.

  I probably shouldn’t ask, but I can’t stop myself.

  ‘Are you–?’

  ‘Lice,’ she says. ‘They like long hair so I don’t give them the chance.’

  She puts her scarf and jacket and gun back on.

  I put her shirt on under my coat.

  Yuli is pointing to the town again.

  ‘Plenty of guns down there,’ she says.

  I peer through the trees and feel another jolt of fear.

  ‘Do you know where exactly?’ I say.

  ‘Farmers,’ she says. ‘Shopkeepers. Black market collaborators trying to protect their thieving hides. Failing that you’ll always find a gun attached to a Nazi soldier.’

  I try to look confident.

  I don’t feel it, but I don’t want Yuli to decide this early that I’m too pathetic to join the partisans.

  She’s looking at me again. Her eyes are very dark for someone with blonde hair, and sort of gentle. They make her face look a bit less tough.