After Yossel's departure, Shmuel and I remained in Talitza until my health began to mend. The harsh conditions continued, made all the worse by the fact that eventually we were among the very last left of our original group. The backbreaking work in the forest was taking a heavy toll on Shmuel, and the fact that he had to subsist on half a food ration - as I was still looking after Nina - undermined his constitution even further. It was obvious that we could not expect to survive in this godforsaken wilderness much longer.

Interestingly, it was the local commissar who gave the final impetus to our resolve. During a fruitless audience at which I pleaded for some extra bread, he said with some impatience,

"Are you here of your own free will, or had you been exiled?"

"As I live and breathe, your Honour, we are here as volunteers," I answered.

"Then why are you complaining? You knew what was expected of you. You knew the conditions that awaited you. If you are not in exile and you cannot handle being here, then leave. We can certainly get on without you.".

I could see that he was quickly becoming impatient with me but I had to try.

"Yes, I understand. But for now, please help me as I have no bread," I continued pleading with him.

"Are you working?" he asked.

"No," I answered.

"Then why should we feed you ? To have bread, you must work. Why are you not working?" His voice had become antagonistic.

"Because I have a child and have no one to leave her with. Unlike other villagers who have an extended family, I have no one."

"Leave her with your landlady."

I shook my head. "I cannot leave her with that woman."

"Did you work in Warsaw?'"

"Of course but after my daughter was born, I had to look after her and stopped working."

"Are you saying that life in Warsaw was better than here?"

"Yes!"

I thought he was about to have a heart attack. He looked at me, then over my shoulder at the door again. His eyes narrowed as he fixed a stern expression on his face.

"Hush! You must never repeat this. It will stay between the two of us. Do you realize that you have just suggested that life under Nazis is preferable to life in the great Soviet republics ? I may overlook it, this time, but others may consign you to where your only friends will be white bears. Or worse."

"Now, you say that you are not exiled, and you are not happy here. Why then are you still here? Other young people have left. Why not you?"

"Because my feet are swollen and I cannot walk the sixty-five kilometres to the nearest station," I said emphatically.

"Then, I will provide you with a car. Not from here but from (naming another town seven kilometres away). As long as you are being truthful about your voluntary status."

I could not understand his turnabout but was grateful. Possibly, all he wanted was to rid the village of its last Jews.

So we left, but at the station we were turned back. Again and again we tried to, but each time we were caught and returned to Talitza. It seemed that no-one believed that we were indeed free to leave whenever we chose.

Eventually we received the proper documents allowing us to move from Komi SSR to Vologda, a larger and better-organised community. Situated in central Russia, it was also an abysmally cold place but a proper town, not a village like Talitza. When we arrived in Vologda, Shmuel manged to get work as a tailor but I continued to stay at home with my daughter. If I had been working, I would not have been able to take off even one hour, let alone a day or more. In fact, anyone who arrived late for work risked punishment.

We were still in constant touch with Yossel, but my main aim was to reunite the four of us again. Yossel was living in Mogilev, Bylorussia, and wanted us to join him. As an interim measure, Shmuel suggested that we move to Jaroslavl, which was considerably closer. However, that created a major problem because we were not allowed to travel that far unless we had proper travel documents. Shmuel and I came up with a plan. One Sunday, we would take the train and pretend that we were going on a picnic. We would travel as far as we could legally. We therefore bought two sets of tickets, one to our legal destination another from there to Mogilev. We wore all the clothes we could fit into and Shmuel carried all our money and documents.

As the train stopped at one of the stations, some police boarded and on examining the papers of the travellers in our carriage, took Shmuel off the train. He was the only one taken. I had absolutely no idea why this was done as we were still within our legal limits. I remained sitting in silence, fearing that Nina and I would also be taken off. In any case, our position was precarious, for we now had no money or documentation.

The train continued without my husband reappearing. As the conductor approached us, I told him what had happened and luckily, he accepted my story. He told me not to disembark at the next station, Jaroslavl but to continue until the next station, where officials would board and interrogate us.

Naturally as soon as we stopped at Jaroslavl, Nina and I got off. I did not want to be confronted by any officials. I had to find out what had happened to my husband and organise some money and shelter as soon as possible. As I stood on the platform in obvious distress, a Russian woman approached us. She looked a kindly person but in these trying times, who really knew. She had summed up our predicament, because her first words were:

"You are refugees. What are you doing here?".

"I came to stay with my family but I have lost the address," I replied in a hesitant voice. The longer we talked, the more I trusted this caring woman who only wanted to help a mother with her rather hot and sweaty daughter, dressed in winter clothes.

"I don't live far," she said, "I am here at the station because I farewelled my daughter who is going to stay with her grandmother, my husband's mother. Come home with me. Your daughter can rest and you can look for your family."

When I entered her home, I felt more at ease. It was clean and well looked after. I left Nina with her and headed towards the Wolkowsky Theatre, which I had been told was in the vicinity of the Jewish area. On finding it, I walked along the street, hoping to find someone who could help me. When a young couple walked by, I realised that they were speaking Yiddish. I approached them and asked for their help. I told them what had happened to us on the train and that I was desperate to know where my husband was.

"I do not want any money from you nor do I want to stay with you. All I need is an address so that when I send the telegram, it will have a return address."

The young woman was quite happy to help me but her companion rebuked her.

"Don't you have enough problems? Do you know who that woman is? She could be telling us a story. Who is her husband? What did he do to be taken off the train? You know that the Germans are using young women to spy on people. How do you know that she is not one of them?".

The longer he spoke, the harsher his voice had become. The young woman turned to me and with a sad look on her face, asked for my forgiveness. She could not help me.

"In these times, one has to be careful. I cannot give you my address."

I thanked her, saying that I understood, but could she direct me to the Jewish quarter. This she did, gratefully, and as I walked away, I glanced back and saw her talking animatedly to her companion as she watched me go.

On reaching the area to which I had been directed, I passed a house where stood a young man with a child sleeping in a pram. I asked him if he was Jewish and whether he spoke Yiddish. I told him that my Russian was not good enough for what I needed to explain to him. He assured me that though he spoke no Yiddish, his brother-in-law did. Soon, a young man with a sympathetic face came out. I explained my dilemma and without a moment's hesitation, he told me that he will look after me and send the telegram. Within an hour, he had returned with a reply.

Shmuel's reply stated that he had not been arrested just taken back. Apparently the station where he had been taken was the limit beyond which he could not travel, so he had been sent home. He was glad that I was now in Jaroslavl and that he would send me some money and documents as soon as possible. He further stated that I must stay in Jaroslavl and as soon as he arrived there, we would establish contact with Yossel.

I was about to return and collect Nina when the young couple, Sonya and Ilyusha Freiman, would not let me go on my own. They extracted a me promise from me that Nina and I would stay with them.

I find it hard to understand what made these two wonderful people take to me so easily and look after us. Their home was so small and I had to stay in a tiny room with two children. It was so crowded but the happiness that glowed from this family made us all comfortable in spite of the conditions. He was subsequently called up for miltary duty, where he lost a leg at the front. Returning home, he was unable to resume his job as a chef, but fortunately he was a fast learner, and Shmuel was able to teach him photography. This was a godsend, as there were very few around at tha time, and they were very much in demand, photos for loved ones at the front being at a premium.

Long after the war we stayed in touch, although we had settled in Australia. After Sonya passed away, Ilyusha finally fulfilled his dream and emigrated to Israel. It is with deep sadness that I remember that he, too, passed away shortly before I visited there.

As soon as I was settled, I wanted to travel to see Yossel. However, moving from one city to another was almost impossible unless one had some connections. Luckily, Ilyusha was able to use such connections and after many weeks, I finally received a train ticket. As I presented my ticket at the station, the conductor requested special travel documents allowing me to travel between cities. Another disappointment.

I returned home totally dejected and was unsure of how to manage the next step. At this time, I was seven and a half months pregnant and had to look after myself and the child growing within me but my resolve to see my brother was so strong that I would not give up.

By the time I was in the eighth month of my pregnancy, Ilyusha managed to obtain the travel permit for the following day. That night, I came down with such a severe kidney attack that I had to be hospitalised. Fate had again intervened.

Shmuel had still not arrived in Jaroslavl as he could not obtain permission to visit me. I was in hospital for about two weeks and luckily, Ilyusha and Sonya were able to visit me often. In fact, they had to jump the fence as only immediate family was allowed to visit. While in hospital, I gave birth to a son. It was only then that Shmuel was given permission to visit me.

Throughout all this time, I still managed to keep mail contact with Yossel who constantly begged us to join him. However, in his last letter to me, Yossel was adamant that we do not come to him: '… I have changed my mind. Do not leave Jaroslavl because they are expecting a hot summer here. Do not move. I will come to you as soon as I possibly can…'

That was Yossel's last letter. What became of him after that, we will never know.

Unfortunately, we could not stay in Jaroslavl and Shmuel took Nina, the baby and me back to Norskaya where he had been working as a tailor in a textile factory. With our new baby, there was no question of leaving and our harsh existence continued as before.