Let Me Whisper You My Story Read Online Free PDF

chair in one of the bedrooms. There was no mirror for me to check on what she was doing to my hair, but it was relaxing having her methodically twirl my waves into what looked like large sausages.
    Papa and Uncle Ernst went rat-hunting and Mama’s favourite saucepan ended up with a small dent in the middle of it; it would be a permanent reminder of the rat that slunk out from behind a cupboard in the kitchen and was promptly killed.
    ‘Like us,’ Miri commented. ‘Rats in a trap.’
    ‘Stop it, Miri,’ grumbled Aunty Gitta. ‘Help your mama clean. Agnes, finish off styling Rachel’s hair. You can both help too.’
    So Agnes quickly made sausages from my wavy hair and put bows in the middle of them. We found some rags near the sink and wiped down the dark furniture. Aunty Gitta and Mama took turns beating the sofa with the back of the brush, and Miri swept the dust into the small dustpan. Together Mama and Aunty Gitta carried the thin torn mattresses down the stairs at the back of the apartment block. There they methodically beat out the dust with a trimmed branch from a nearby tree. Miri, Agnes and I pulled off branches from the tree and helped. It was fun. I pretended the mattress was Hitler.
    A lady opened the door of a ground-floor apartment and came outside to watch us. She was very old, wearing her grey hair in a small, tight bun. She folded her bare arms and I saw how the skin there hung in loose, wrinkled flaps, much like deflated balloons. ‘What are you doing?’ she said.
    ‘We are just trying to clean the place,’ Mama told her.
    ‘Madam, I am sorry for you. This must be your first experience of life in a Judenhaus. Dust won’t kill you. Use your energy instead to find shops that serve you food.’
    Mama pursed her lips. She would not be told whatto do. She quietly said to Miri and Agnes, ‘Now, sweep up this mess as best you can. There is a garbage bin over there. Be careful. It’s not clean there.’
    We struggled back to our apartment with the mattresses. Slowly, we unpacked.
    I needed to use the toilet, which was at the end of the outside hall leading to the staircase.
    ‘I’ll come with you, Rachel,’ Mama told me. ‘Just give me a minute.’
    ‘I have to go now, Mama. I’m not a baby. I’ll go by myself.’
    Mama nodded. I opened our front door and counted the other apartment doors as I walked down the dark hall. There were two toilets for four apartments on our floor. Three people stood outside one toilet queuing and arguing, two stood outside the second toilet.
    I quietly waited my turn. How bad could this be? What if I had to go in a hurry? Mama would fix up a potty in the washroom, I guessed.
    Nobody from our apartment floor looked down at me. I supposed it was because they all felt desperate for their turn. I shrivelled in the queue, embarrassed, trying to tell myself I had to get used to this. I wished I didn’t have to go so badly.
    A man went before me. He shuffled in, was there for ages, then shuffled out. ‘Excuse me,’ he said to me apologetically. ‘The chain does not work.’
    I went inside holding my breath. I think I set a world record for holding my breath. When I came out, I also told the woman waiting outside apologetically, ‘The chain does not work.’
    T HE WARDROBE IN one bedroom was the only one we had and we divided up the space. All in all, we had not brought much clothing with us. I was dismayed to find that I’d left some of my pretty dresses behind, then I realised how silly this thought was. When would I wear them again?
    When the unpacking was completed I inspected the wardrobe. I saw that shoes now lined the bottom of the robe with socks poked into them. There was a stale smell. Was it coming from my uncle’s socks? Would my parents’ smell eventually take over the wardrobe? I hoped so. Maybe, though, the stale smell would stay forever. I could ask Miri to spray some of her scent there. Now, that was a good idea.
    Mama put her arms around me. This