Read Online Restitution by Eliza Graham - Free Book Online Page A

back. Gregor tried to concentrate on the landscape through the window,
strips of field then forests, fields again, then forests stretching on and on. He fell into a near-reverie for the hours that passed, staring at the trees and hardly hearing the whispered
conversations or the wail of babies. He thought of Warsaw, now gone from his life like Berlin before it: the markets with the women in their brocade shawls and bodices, the streetside shrines where
tapers flickered before saints. And now he was travelling even further away from the city he still thought of as home, and even further away from his father. And from Alexandra. He wondered what
had brought her memory back to him. He’d hardly thought of Alix since the war had started. She was German, after all. Perhaps she thought the invasion justified. He felt ashamed. She
wouldn’t approve of the invasion; not with parents like hers.
    It had all started back there. Someone back in that old Pomeranian house with its scent of spices and its gardens full of roses had said something, done something, which had drawn attention to
Eva. Not Peter, not Marie. There’d been another man at Alexanderhof that evening, a man he had despised and feared. Gregor shuddered, remembering him. There’d been a dinner party and a
storm and—
    Reuben was nudging his arm and nodding towards the corridor. Jacob was already waiting outside for them.
    ‘The train will slow in a minute,’ Reuben muttered when he’d closed the door. ‘Grab your rucksack. As soon as we’ve crossed the river be ready to jump. Jacob and I
don’t want to end up in the town.’ The smooth chunter of the wheels turned to a hollow clatter as the train reached the bridge. Gregor did what he was told.
    Gregor watched Reuben. The older boy seemed to be listening out for something. The engine was braking. Suddenly Reuben nodded and sprang up, opening the door and jumping out of the carriage.
Gregor hesitated a second before forcing himself to step out after him, feeling the rush of air on his face and the nothingness beneath him. He landed on his feet at the top of the escarpment like
a parachutist before losing his balance and rolling down the slope, coming to a halt at the bottom, winded but unhurt. A grunt behind him announced the arrival of Jacob.
    ‘Quick.’ Reuben pulled them to their feet and led them across a field, not letting them draw breath until they’d reached a clump of trees where they doubled over, gulping in
air. ‘Brest’s close.’ He pointed over the field towards its church spires and fortress. ‘Find your mother before they close the frontier. Bring her west to this
village.’ He stuffed a piece of paper into Gregor’s hand. ‘Leave a message for us if we’re not there. You can trust the baker.’
    Gregor peered at the name on the scrap, thanking God for the hours he’d spent with Reuben before they’d left Warsaw, memorizing the touring map and the new boundaries.
    ‘It’s a long walk but just keep heading west. You’ll know you’re going the right way if you keep the railway on your right, but stay out of sight of the
carriages.’
    Gregor folded the scrap and was about to stuff it into his pocket.
    ‘No.’ Reuben stopped him. ‘Memorize it. Nothing written down.’
    Gregor tore the paper into tiny fragments, which the wind blew away. In turn Reuben and Jacob shook his hand. ‘If the Russians get you, remember to swear like we taught you,’ Jacob
told him. ‘Act rough, not like a good little boy who practises piano and knows his French irregular verbs.’
    ‘Sod off, psia krew.’ He only knew the one Polish curse: dog’s blood. Lydia had taught it to him. She said she’d picked it up from the men who delivered the coal.
Gregor’d kept it up his sleeve for a suitable occasion.
    Jacob turned and grinned. ‘Dog’s blood yourself.’
    And they were gone. For a few minutes Gregor stood watching their retreating backs and swallowing hard. It took all his