22 Britannia Road Part 13

'How you might feel. Did they scare you? I understand what you've been through. What happened in your country. I've read about it. Those camps. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'

Silvana backs away from him. 'I should go now.'

'Of course you shouldn't. Not yet. Please, at least let me offer you a cup of tea. You can't go home yet.'

His eyes are dark brown and fixed on her. If she fell he would catch her. She knows it. That is why she is here. She has to place her trust somewhere, now that Ja.n.u.sz has hurt her so badly.

He cups her elbow in his hand. 'Forgive me, but you look lonely, Silvana.'

'I...'

'Don't misunderstand me. I'm glad you came.'

'I should go...'

'Not until you tell me what makes you so sad. Do you need something? I can get you anything. Will you tell me what's troubling you?'

Silvana thinks of the letters. 'Can you speak French?'

'French? No. Why?'

'Could you read French? It's like Italian, isn't it?'

'I don't think so. But I have a FrenchEnglish dictionary somewhere. Would that help?'

'Yes. If I could borrow it.'

'You can have it.'

'And... And please don't tell my husband.'

Tony's arm is around her waist and she feels the heat of it through her clothes.

'I won't breathe a word. Will you tell me one day why you want a dictionary? You're not planning a holiday on the Cote d'Azur, are you?'

He lets go of her, laughing gently, and she tries to relax her face.

'No. Not a holiday.'

'Good. I don't want to think you're going away. Well now,' he says, stepping away from her, the intimacy between them vanis.h.i.+ng. 'May I get you that cup of tea?'

When he offers her a sandwich in his flat above the shop she realizes she has been hungry for days.

The foreman's office feels crowded with just the two of them in it. Silvana stands one side of a wooden desk covered with paperwork piled high in untidy, slippery heaps. The foreman sits the other side, puffing on a cigarette that hangs in the corner of his mouth, as he searches through his papers. Beside him a window looks out onto the shop floor, and Silvana wishes with all her heart she was still at her machine, working alongside the other women.

'I'm sorry, love,' says the foreman, finally pulling a page out of a stack of doc.u.ments. 'Do you understand? We're laying you off. We're paying you now but you can't come back.'

'Please. I can sew faster.'

'You're not keeping up with the workload. We can't pay workers who can't keep up.'

She thinks of pleading, of getting down on her knees. But she knows it would do no good. She has been a hopeless worker. Instead she nods and apologizes.

Walking across the yard, she is surprised by the sense of relief she feels. The sun is warm on her face, and she is free of that dusty, dark factory.

When she arrives home, the house is empty. Ja.n.u.sz must have picked up Aurek from school and taken him for a walk. And how will she tell Ja.n.u.sz her news? He will see it as a failure.

She wanders into the garden and hears Ja.n.u.sz's voice drift over the fence. Peering over, she sees him with Gilbert and Tony, sitting at a card table. Their heads are bent over it, almost touching, elbows splayed.

She walks out into the street and up to Doris's open front door.

'h.e.l.lo, love,' says Doris. She is standing in her hallway smoking a cigarette. 'You've seen the men, have you?' She hoiks a thumb behind her. 'Out in the garden, playing at card sharks. Tony turned up with bottles of booze and organized an impromptu get-together. I've got your little lad in the front parlour with me. Go on through. He likes his grub, doesn't he? I don't know where he puts it. He's been eating bread and jam like it's going out of fas.h.i.+on.'

The front parlour is a dark room filled with more furniture than she and Ja.n.u.sz have in their whole house. The walls are papered in white and olive-green stripes. A mirror hangs above the fireplace with two large red and white china dogs sitting either side of it. There are ornaments on every surface.

Aurek is playing with a toy tractor, pus.h.i.+ng it up and down the floor, weaving it in and out of the chair legs.

'He's been playing, happy as Larry, all afternoon. I'm glad you called round because I've got something for you. Here. Hair dye. Don't take this wrong, but I thought you could get rid of all that grey. My Geena gets 'em from Leslie's hairdresser's. He got them cheap from Woolworths after they were bombed out. Chestnut Harmony. Looks lovely on the packet, doesn't it? Now, you sit down and we can get on with it.'

Silvana hesitates. 'I don't know.' She touches her headscarf. 'Perhaps I should ask Ja.n.u.sz?'

'Oh, leave him to his cards. This is just between us women. In this country you don't have to ask your husband's permission to do your hair. This isn't the Dark Ages, you know. It's best not to ask your husband anything. What they don't know they don't grieve over. Come on, I did a stint at a hairdresser's before I married Gilbert. I know what I'm doing. Let's get rid of that headscarf and bring you up to date.'

Having her hair washed and her scalp rubbed makes Silvana feel sleepy and relaxed.

'I had long hair before,' she tells Doris. 'Long red hair.'

'Did you? Well, we're all a bit older now. There comes a time when it's better for a woman to have her hair short.'

Doris wraps Silvana's hair in a towel like a turban, and they drink tea while they wait for the colour to take. From the garden they can hear the men's voices, a rumble of talk and laughter. Silvana can hear Tony's laugh, louder than the other two.

'Have you known Mr Benetoni a long time?' she asks.

Doris picks up a bag of curlers and starts sorting them on her lap.

'Tony? Years. I remember his mother. She was a lovely lady. Died when he was quite young. And then the poor man loses his wife. Terrible tragedy, that was. Tony went away during the war. People say he did something a bit hush-hush, but I don't think so. Gilbert says more likely he was banged up in prison somewhere when all the fuss about foreigners being spies went on. A couple of years ago he came back and opened up a pet shop. It was very nice to see him back. He's a real gentleman.'

'And did you know his wife?'

'Not really. She was such a pretty young thing. She came from a very good family. Far too posh for Tony really, but she fell for him hook, line and sinker. He was a real looker. Still is, or haven't you noticed?' Doris laughs throatily. 'I must say, whoever wins him will have done very well for herself. Quite the eligible bachelor, Tony is. Pity the little boy didn't get his father's charm or his mother's looks. Funny kid, isn't he? He's the apple of his grandparents' eyes, though. They dote on him. Right little Billy Bunter. Your lad could do with a few of his pounds. Now let's have a quick peek at your hair. Yes. That looks just right. Come on, let's get some curlers on.'

When Doris has curled and set Silvana's hair, she moves the china dogs and calendars on the mantelpiece so that Silvana can look at herself in the mirror.

'Do you like it? That's what we called the "Victory style" during the war.'

Silvana turns her head from side to side. Her hair is a dark shade of mahogany, curled tightly at the front and looser at the back. She doesn't recognize herself.

'Wait a minute.' Doris scrabbles through her handbag and pulls out a small gold lipstick case. 'Here. Put a bit of this on.'

Silvana laughs. Doris is so excited for her. The woman is clasping her hands together, as if she is an artist who has just unveiled her latest masterpiece. The Polish woman remade. And why not? She kisses Doris on her powdered cheek, feeling pitted skin beneath her lips, and realizes life has taken its toll on Doris, too. 'You are a good person,' she whispers.

'Don't be daft.'

'You remind me of a friend I once had,' Silvana says, reaching down to stroke Aurek's head. 'Hanka. She was very kind, like you.'

'Oh now, stop. I'm just your neighbour. To tell you the truth, I like having you around. Since our Geena left home, I've missed out on female company. I used to like having my daughter at home. But they grow up so fast. Look at your little lad. He loves you, doesn't he? I've never seen a mother and son as close as you two. Gilbert calls you the Russian dollies, you know, those wooden toys that fit one inside the other? And the boy's the spitting image of you.'

'Do you think so?'

'He's got your looks completely. Now, let's call the men in. I want to show them how I've got Vivien Leigh in my front parlour.'

'No. No, don't. I'll show Ja.n.u.sz later.'

'Nonsense. They may have had a few drinks this afternoon, but they can still appreciate my handiwork.'

And Doris has left the room before Silvana can say another word.

The three men crowd into the room and Doris takes Silvana by the shoulders, turning her one way and then the other.

'So, what do you think?'

'I didn't recognize you,' says Ja.n.u.sz. He is swaying on his feet slightly, and it is easy to see he has drunk too much.

She is embarra.s.sed by his vagueness, the way he smiles sleepily at everybody. She looks at Tony and realizes that she cares what he thinks of her hair. She is anxious about his reaction. What if he thinks she looks ridiculous? She keeps her eyes fixed on Ja.n.u.sz, his slumped figure, the cigarette in his hand, the smoke from it rising lightly over his hand and wrist.

'You're beautiful, Silvana,' says Tony, as if he has read her thoughts. He catches hold of Doris's waist, swinging her around the room in a waltz. 'And so are you, Mrs Holborn.'

'Oh now, stop that. Put me down.'

'Don't get her dancing,' says Gilbert. 'That's how she caught me. I was only a young lad. She took me in her arms and that was that. I was hooked like a sprat on a line.'

'You do talk nonsense,' laughs Doris. 'Our Geena is the one that likes dancing. You should give her a call, Tony. I'm sure she'd be free one evening to go dancing in town with you.'

'I'd be glad to,' says Tony. 'I haven't been dancing in a long time.' He catches Silvana's eye and winks.

'Aurek?' Silvana turns to her son. 'Look. Look at Mama. What do you think? Aurek?'

Aurek shakes his head. 'Tractor,' he says, and pushes it over the carpet, cras.h.i.+ng it into the chair leg, knocking over a bra.s.s coal scuttle and sending a pair of fire tongs flying into the hearth.

'Mind what you're doing, young lad,' says Doris.

'Well.' Gilbert rubs his hands together. 'Shall we get on, gentlemen? Another round of cards?'

Tony stops swinging Doris around. He salutes her. 'Good idea. Another game. I'll get some more refreshments from the car. I have presents for the ladies too. Would you excuse me for a moment?'

'All right,' says Gilbert. 'But if you're any longer than five minutes, we'll send a search party out.'

Tony comes back with two boxes of chocolates and a sugar mouse.

'There we are. Milk Tray and something for Aurek.'

'Oh now,' says Doris, as he hands her a box with a red ribbon tied across it. 'It's been years since I got a box of chocolates from a man.'

'Don't go spoiling her,' says Gilbert. 'G.o.d only knows what she'll be wanting next.'

'At least I'm not slurring my words,' says Doris. 'I'll make you all a cup of tea. Jan, you look like you need one. Come through to the kitchen.'

Doris ushers them out of the room, and Tony and Silvana stand together in the front parlour, Aurek wheeling the tractor around their legs.

'Open it,' says Tony, handing her a box of chocolates.

Silvana takes off the ribbon and the lid. There are no chocolates. Instead a small red book nestles inside. A dictionary.

'It's what you wanted, isn't it?'

She nods, trying to think of something to say.

'Shhh,' he says. 'Not a word.' He touches her cheek with his fingertips, gives her a crooked smile and leaves the room.

That night, after Ja.n.u.sz has gone to bed, Silvana sits at the kitchen table with the red dictionary open on her lap and Ja.n.u.sz's EnglishPolish dictionary beside her on the table. Slowly, she translates the first few lines of one of the letters. It takes her a long time, flicking through the books, writing down words in English, then finding them in Polish. Finally she has something she can make sense of.

My Dearest, It is necessary that you do not feel bad. If you have no news of your wife, perhaps she find someone else? And remember, you never want to fall in love. It just arrives. I read something today. Where love is, there is forgiveness. I believe this. It is necessary that you do not feel bad. If you have no news of your wife, perhaps she find someone else? And remember, you never want to fall in love. It just arrives. I read something today. Where love is, there is forgiveness. I believe this.

Silvana walks to the pantry and puts the letter back in the box, turns out the light and climbs the stairs to bed in the dark. She knows the number of stairs, the turn on the landing, the feel of the banister under her hand. This house has become her home. But it is a home full of lies.

And if Ja.n.u.sz knew Silvana's secret, would he forgive her? She has no words for what happened. No: it is better to guard her secret, to keep it dark, pickled and slippery, like a jar of something forgotten, pushed so far to the back of the pantry that not even she can remember what is floating in there.

In the bedroom she puts the red dictionary in a drawer along with her headscarf. Silvana thinks of Doris as she slips into bed, of what she said about Aurek. How he looks like her. She closes her eyes. Sometimes it feels as though Doris knows everything and absolutely nothing all at the same time.

She hears Ja.n.u.sz stirring in the bed beside her.

'What have you been doing?'

Silvana starts at the sound of his sleepy voice.

'I was having a cup of cocoa. I didn't mean to wake you.'

She pulls her blankets around her and shuts her mind to the letters. They hurt her too much to think about.

'Ja.n.u.sz? They sent me home. I lost my job.'

Silvana turns on the bedside lamp.

Blinking in the light, Ja.n.u.sz looks hungover, his eyes bleary, his hair standing up in tufts. He asks her to turn off the light.

'You never liked the job anyway,' he says. 'We'll talk about it later. I have to sleep now.'

Silvana listens to Ja.n.u.sz's breathing settle. She thinks of Tony. The way he looked at her when he gave her the dictionary, the touch of his fingers against her cheek. Her hand rests on her chest and, slipping it inside her nightdress, she cups her breast, fingers tracing circles over the nipple. She's come this far. Her goals for the rest of her life are clear to her: marriage, motherhood, this house. A third of the rest of her life for each of these. With these thoughts turning in her mind, she b.u.t.tons her nightdress, sinks back onto the pillow and lets sleep pull her into the darkness of her dreams.