everywhere. The soups were thin and no one was fed properly, but for a moment, an hour maybe, it soothed the nagging hunger, kept the wild, raging animal at bay.
And so many children! Dressed in filthy rags, barefoot with matted hair, a crust of dirt covering their small faces, they sat listlessly next to their parents, or worse still, huddled together: clusters of lost souls with round, glassy eyes. Such large eyes in such small faces. I didn’t want to look any more. My hand reached for the prince, who lay safely buried inside the coat’s pockets.
The stench of misery and despair was everywhere: a mixture of cabbage, dirt, sewage and death; the smell of imprisoned crowds, thrown together with no escape.
I pulled up the collar of my coat and covered my nose. What could I do anyway with my silly puppet shows? Shouldn’t I be helping in one of the soup kitchens instead, doing something useful? I tried to pass by like a blinkered horse, but even blindfold it would have been impossible to blank out the stench and the sounds: the beggar’s pleading cries, the soft moaning of those too weak to stand, people dying right in front of me, a pedlar’s desperate voice trying to sell his last treasures; a lifetime’s belongings for the price of a loaf of bread.
I was nearing the end of Sliska Street, just around the corner from the address scribbled on my invitation, when a small bundle caught my eye: wrapped in dirty rags, it was moving from doorway to doorway like a nervous dog, rummaging for food. I approached the figure, but before I could say anything, it flew at me, hissing and growling, followed by a shriek and a flapping of small arms.
‘Go away, leave me alone!’ A tiny girl stared at me with big, glassy eyes and a wolf’s determination. She must have been about five.
‘OK, OK, don’t be frightened,’ I tried to reassure her. I stood still for a moment, and then reached into my left pocket. Very slowly, so as not to startle her, bring on another scream or, worse still, a bite, I pulled out the princess.
‘Oh!’ She stood stock still, her tiny hands covering her mouth.
‘Hello, little girl, what is your name?’ Princess Sahara spoke softly.
‘Hannah.’
‘And what are you doing here all on your own, Hannah?’
‘Oh, just looking.’
‘But what are you looking for, my dear?’
She hesitated for a moment, suspicious. ‘Nothing.’
‘Do you want me to help you look? I have very sharp eyes. I can see into houses and inside people’s hearts.’
‘Oh, I don’t know . . . maybe.’
‘Maybe I can find someone else who can help us look.’ With my right hand I pulled out the monkey. For a moment she stared, and then something changed in the girl’s face: the subtle beginnings of a smile.
The monkey jumped on to her arm, ‘I want to help too! Where shall we look? What are we looking for?’
‘My brother, I lost him.’ Now words tumbled out of her mouth like marbles.
‘What does he look like?’
‘Like me, but bigger.’
‘How much bigger?’
She put her hand above her head as far as she could reach.
‘And what’s his name?’
‘Janusz, like the man I live with now.’
‘And when did you last see your brother?’ I asked, bending down to match her size.
‘I don’t know, a while ago.’
‘And your mother and father?’ Silence. The girl’s face clouded over and she retreated back inside herself. I let the princess take her hand.
‘Hannah, do you want to come with me and see a puppet show? Afterwards we can look for your brother.’ The girl didn’t answer but started to walk alongside me. It was a start, and I had a plan.
‘Usually a friend of mine, Ellie, helps me. But today she couldn’t come. I really could do with a little help with the puppets, could you do that?’ Big eyes again and then a faint nod. I gave Hannah the monkey and the princess and she tucked them carefully into her clothes.
I found the right house and rang the bell. Number nine Sienna Street. A
And so many children! Dressed in filthy rags, barefoot with matted hair, a crust of dirt covering their small faces, they sat listlessly next to their parents, or worse still, huddled together: clusters of lost souls with round, glassy eyes. Such large eyes in such small faces. I didn’t want to look any more. My hand reached for the prince, who lay safely buried inside the coat’s pockets.
The stench of misery and despair was everywhere: a mixture of cabbage, dirt, sewage and death; the smell of imprisoned crowds, thrown together with no escape.
I pulled up the collar of my coat and covered my nose. What could I do anyway with my silly puppet shows? Shouldn’t I be helping in one of the soup kitchens instead, doing something useful? I tried to pass by like a blinkered horse, but even blindfold it would have been impossible to blank out the stench and the sounds: the beggar’s pleading cries, the soft moaning of those too weak to stand, people dying right in front of me, a pedlar’s desperate voice trying to sell his last treasures; a lifetime’s belongings for the price of a loaf of bread.
I was nearing the end of Sliska Street, just around the corner from the address scribbled on my invitation, when a small bundle caught my eye: wrapped in dirty rags, it was moving from doorway to doorway like a nervous dog, rummaging for food. I approached the figure, but before I could say anything, it flew at me, hissing and growling, followed by a shriek and a flapping of small arms.
‘Go away, leave me alone!’ A tiny girl stared at me with big, glassy eyes and a wolf’s determination. She must have been about five.
‘OK, OK, don’t be frightened,’ I tried to reassure her. I stood still for a moment, and then reached into my left pocket. Very slowly, so as not to startle her, bring on another scream or, worse still, a bite, I pulled out the princess.
‘Oh!’ She stood stock still, her tiny hands covering her mouth.
‘Hello, little girl, what is your name?’ Princess Sahara spoke softly.
‘Hannah.’
‘And what are you doing here all on your own, Hannah?’
‘Oh, just looking.’
‘But what are you looking for, my dear?’
She hesitated for a moment, suspicious. ‘Nothing.’
‘Do you want me to help you look? I have very sharp eyes. I can see into houses and inside people’s hearts.’
‘Oh, I don’t know . . . maybe.’
‘Maybe I can find someone else who can help us look.’ With my right hand I pulled out the monkey. For a moment she stared, and then something changed in the girl’s face: the subtle beginnings of a smile.
The monkey jumped on to her arm, ‘I want to help too! Where shall we look? What are we looking for?’
‘My brother, I lost him.’ Now words tumbled out of her mouth like marbles.
‘What does he look like?’
‘Like me, but bigger.’
‘How much bigger?’
She put her hand above her head as far as she could reach.
‘And what’s his name?’
‘Janusz, like the man I live with now.’
‘And when did you last see your brother?’ I asked, bending down to match her size.
‘I don’t know, a while ago.’
‘And your mother and father?’ Silence. The girl’s face clouded over and she retreated back inside herself. I let the princess take her hand.
‘Hannah, do you want to come with me and see a puppet show? Afterwards we can look for your brother.’ The girl didn’t answer but started to walk alongside me. It was a start, and I had a plan.
‘Usually a friend of mine, Ellie, helps me. But today she couldn’t come. I really could do with a little help with the puppets, could you do that?’ Big eyes again and then a faint nod. I gave Hannah the monkey and the princess and she tucked them carefully into her clothes.
I found the right house and rang the bell. Number nine Sienna Street. A
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