22 Britannia Road Part 26

'Please. Get your things.'

The boy won't speak. He rocks himself on the step and Silvana takes him by the arm and pulls him to his feet, dragging him outside into the street. He growls miserably as she marches him down the hill, trying to twist out of her grip. Only hours ago she was saving him. Now what is she doing to him?

She wonders if Ja.n.u.sz will come after them. She crosses the road and imagines she hears the sound of him running behind them, calling them back. As she walks, she decides he will come on his bicycle, and when she reaches the high street she does hear a bike, the wheels spinning behind her. She turns, relief cracking across her face. But it's not Ja.n.u.sz. It's a stranger who lifts his cap as he pa.s.ses and rings his bell at Aurek.

By the time she gets to Tony's pet shop she has given up hoping. She knows Ja.n.u.sz is not coming.

Poland

Silvana

One morning, early, they heard men in the forest. There was a commotion of shouting, and Silvana and Aurek hid in thick undergrowth and watched two German soldiers lining up three men against a row of trees.

The soldiers took their time before they killed their prisoners. One of them was never still. His chin was stubbled, his eyes sunken and empty-looking. He walked around, lifting his gun to his shoulder and then lowering it again like a rehearsal, a gesture that he found funny. He was the one who touched the men's faces with the end of the barrel. It was as if the gun was part of him, an accusing finger that he pushed into the men's chests and stroked their cheeks with. Sometimes it wasn't enough for him and he slung the gun across his back as if it got in the way. Then he lifted his hand to the men's heads in turn, c.o.c.king his index finger against his thumb and pretending to jump as his wrist flung upwards.

The other soldier rolled himself a cigarette and smoked it, sucking his cheeks in as he took hard drags, his face showing the structure of his skull beneath the grey-looking skin.

When they shot the men, Silvana pulled Aurek down onto the ground so that their faces were pressed against the earth. The air was filled with the sound of gunshot and the ground smelt of decay. She wiped away her son's tears. 'Hush,' she whispered. 'Hush.'

When it was getting dark, Silvana and Aurek climbed out of their hiding place and went to look at the dead men. Silvana took a jacket off one, a coat off another. One had a rucksack at his feet which contained a half-drunk bottle of vodka and some black bread.

Silvana picked up a cap from the floor and rubbed mud off the small red enamel star pinned to it. She put the hat on and smiled at Aurek. He stared. She rocked her head from side to side and did a little dance, feet outwards like a duck. Aurek began to laugh. Breaking a low branch, she used it as a walking stick, head tipping from side to side, feet splayed, kicking leaves up in the air.

'Charlie Chaplin,' she whispered. 'I'm Charlie Chaplin.'

Aurek copied her, his laughter quiet like the murmur of a fast-running stream.

Ja.n.u.sz On a concrete runway, in an East Anglian field in the pouring rain, Ja.n.u.sz imagined the farm up in the hills beyond Ma.r.s.eilles. When his squadron was moved to Yorks.h.i.+re, he trudged through snow, dreaming of Helene with her brown hair in plaits.

In Kent, he imagined her voice in his ear. Every new thing he saw he wanted to tell her about. He wrote letters to her, describing the pretty stone houses in villages, the English churches with their gra.s.sy graveyards and big vicarages attached. He picked roses in the summer of 1943 and pretended he could give them to her.

Flying over Italy in spring 1944, dropping propaganda leaflets, he recorded the colours of the hills, the fields, the cities. Just for her.

And Helene wrote to him. Letters that might arrive out of sequence or three at once after a long wait. He read them all; he knew each one by heart.

When a letter arrived for him in the autumn of 1944, Ja.n.u.sz opened it gladly, in front of the other men in his mess hall, settling down in an armchair. He was surprised to see it was written in English. And it wasn't from Helene. It was from her brother.

Dear friend, I am Helene's brother. I hope you are quite well. I hear a lot about you from Helene. My parents speak well of you. I have news that is hard to tell. I try writing before but I don't know if the letters are arriving. Our home has suffered of war but not destroyed and we live always at the farm. I must tell what happens and how sorry I am. I am Helene's brother. I hope you are quite well. I hear a lot about you from Helene. My parents speak well of you. I have news that is hard to tell. I try writing before but I don't know if the letters are arriving. Our home has suffered of war but not destroyed and we live always at the farm. I must tell what happens and how sorry I am. Helene and I are in the city together. Le Panier near the Vieux port and German soldiers barricade us in the street. Helene got caught in the crowd and I lose her there. There is no one left in Le Panier. The soldiers shoot everyone. I search and I find Helene in a hospital. I am very sorry. Her wounds were bad. She asked for you many times. She died in hospital. I am sorry to give you this news. I think you are good man. I finish this letter with my grat.i.tude for your fighting in this war and for your sufferings... Helene and I are in the city together. Le Panier near the Vieux port and German soldiers barricade us in the street. Helene got caught in the crowd and I lose her there. There is no one left in Le Panier. The soldiers shoot everyone. I search and I find Helene in a hospital. I am very sorry. Her wounds were bad. She asked for you many times. She died in hospital. I am sorry to give you this news. I think you are good man. I finish this letter with my grat.i.tude for your fighting in this war and for your sufferings...

Ja.n.u.sz didn't read any more. He folded the letter up and put it in his wallet. He listened to the blood running through his veins until he thought he could hear it draining from him. Blood must have been seeping from his body, because he couldn't stand. His ankles, knees, thighs were closing up like a fan. His head rolled. The wind blew over him like a wail of a voice, or it may have been his own voice. Or her voice.

Or it may have been the sound of his blood and his heart beating so very loud when he wanted it to stop. He clasped his head in his hands, aware of the fragility of flesh and blood, the easy way people were killed and blown apart by guns and bombs and terribly afraid that he, on the other hand, was condemned to live through it all.

Ipswich

'You can't stay here, Silvana. Not in the flat.'

Tony is sure about that. It's the first thing he says when he opens the pet-shop door, ushering her inside quickly. She thinks she sees panic in his eyes. She is sure she knows what thoughts are racing through his mind. How has he become lumbered with this woman and her child? He is a man of the town after all. He knows local dignitaries, and his dead wife's father is a magistrate. He can't afford to be seen collecting foreign waifs and strays.

She is about to apologize for coming, about to walk out. The docks, she thinks. I will go and find a s.h.i.+p and we'll stow away. Then Tony grabs her hands in his. She can smell whisky on his breath and his eyes have a wild look in them. Fear. That's what she can see in them. He tells her that he will look after her. He will not let her down. What about a hotel for the night?

Silvana says no. She doesn't want to be in a hotel with people staring at her.

Finally he says he will take her to the house by the sea. It's the only thing he can think of.

'Yes,' she says. How can she say no? She is homeless.

She nudges Aurek, hoping he will express some kind of thanks, but the boy kicks at her s.h.i.+n and pinches the skin on the back of her hand, so that she pushes him away. She regrets the action immediately, pulls him back to her too fast and he falls over at her feet.

'Thank you,' she says, and Tony smiles at her.

'Shall we have a drink?'

Tony steps around Aurek carefully, the way somebody might move past an unreliable dog.

'A bit of Dutch courage before we go?'

Tony doesn't talk in the car, and Silvana is happy with that. She tucks Aurek up on the back seat with a blanket and he eyes her warily.

'Where's Peter,' he demands.

'With his grandparents,' she whispers. 'You'll see him again soon. Now go to sleep for a little while.'

The town of Felixstowe sits on the edge of pale yellow sand and rough open sea. Coloured lights greet them. The sea is dark and inky, but the lights on the pier and along the seafront s.h.i.+ne red and yellow, swaying in the wind, so that the colours smudge and blur in the rain.

'The pier used to be longer,' Tony says, slowing down. 'Part of it was demolished during the war. It would have been too easy a landing point for the Germans. They talk of rebuilding it, but I doubt it. Years ago, I used to fish off the end of it.'

He parks the car and cuts the engine. The noise of the wind becomes louder, and rain stings Silvana's face when she steps onto the kerb.

'This is the house Lucy and I lived in,' Tony says, taking her bag and ushering her towards a narrow, weatherbeaten house painted pink. 'I moved out after she died. I use it as a store now. I'll have to tidy up a bit, but it's somewhere for you to stay.'

There are two heavy padlocks on the door, and Silvana stands s.h.i.+vering in the rain while Tony pulls keys from his pockets and fumbles with locks in the dark. Aurek runs up and down the street, and she doesn't bother to call him back. He wouldn't come anyway. Finally, Tony lets them in and feeds the electricity meter in the hall. When the lights come on, Silvana blinks in surprise.

Cardboard boxes fill the hall. Packed to the ceiling are labelled boxes of soap and was.h.i.+ng powders, biscuits, chocolates, custard, cigarettes. The place looks like a warehouse. A staircase rises in front of them, stacked with piles of newspapers.

'We'll get the place warmed up,' says Tony, moving a wooden crate out of the way. 'Sorry about the boxes. This lot'll all be gone soon enough.'

He has lost his buoyancy. He seems embarra.s.sed and unsure, and she senses that this is the side of his life not many people see.

'What's that smell?' she asks. There is a sweet odour coming from somewhere.

'Aah. I've got a crate of bananas in here. They're going tomorrow. Come on in. I know it's a bit of a mess, but it's a roof over your head.'

Silvana and Aurek wait in the cold front room, sitting on cardboard boxes full of tins of corned beef, while Tony goes out to buy fish and chips. Aurek turns his back to Silvana and she knows he is angry. She tries to sound cheerful.

'This is an adventure,' she tells him, and nearly chokes on the tears that thicken in her throat. 'Well, I'm hungry,' she says when he doesn't answer her. 'Shall we get the table set for supper?'

The boy curls up into a ball and turns his back to her, so she leaves him to himself and goes into the kitchen, a narrow room, more modern than her own, with matching units in a pale-yellow Formica. Opening cupboards and drawers, all of them seemingly full of tins of fruit, she finally locates some plates and knives and forks. When Tony comes back he moves a case of London Gin off the kitchen table and they sit down.

'You're hungry, Aurek,' says Tony. 'I didn't know you could eat so much.'

For Silvana, it is nothing new. The boy always eats as if the food in front of him might be his last meal, and she has long forgotten that other children don't behave like this. She looks at Aurek. He has changed lately. He has filled out a little, and his hair is longer and thicker.

'Where do you put it all?' Tony is asking. 'Have you got a tapeworm, Aurek?'

Aurek looks suddenly anxious.

'It's a long wiggly worm that eats all your food before you can get the goodness from it. Lots of kids get them.'

Silvana shakes her head and puts her hand on Aurek's arm.

'Aurek, he's only joking.'

'Of course I am. I didn't mean to upset you, old man. Here, have some of my chips. Your mother's right. You do need to eat.'

After they've finished, Tony smokes a cigarette and reads a newspaper. Aurek sits on the floor of the kitchen while Silvana washes up the dishes. When she's done she drifts back to the front room with its bay window and hears Aurek slip in behind her. She stares out at the night and the lights from the s.h.i.+ps out at sea. Despite everything, it is a relief to have confessed to Ja.n.u.sz, to have told him the truth. He has deserved at least that for a long time now. It's a kind of relief, but it also may be the stupidest thing she's ever done. She looks at the boy and feels afraid. Where has her promise to him gone now? Who will be his father?

Silvana prepares a bath for Aurek. She twists the bath taps on full and brown water glugs out. Through the open door she can hear cla.s.sical music playing on the radio. She thanks G.o.d it is not Chopin. A Polish melody would undo her. Steam rises in the room and Aurek appears at the door.

'There you are,' says Silvana. 'It's all ready for you. Don't stay in for too long.'

She begins to undress him, but he pushes her away.

'No,' he says angrily. 'I do it myself. Go away.'

'Don't speak like that.'

Aurek pushes her away from him again and Silvana gives up. She stands looking at him. He still has mud in his hair and up his legs. Against the white skin of his calves he looks like he is wearing black ankle socks and garters. She wants to plant him in the bath and scrub him clean, but she knows he won't let her.

'All right.' She sighs. 'Whatever you say.'

She goes downstairs and watches the fis.h.i.+ng boats again. She doesn't know how long she sits like that, but suddenly she is aware of Aurek beside her, stroking her hand, leaning his head against her shoulder.

'I want to go home.'

'Soon,' she promises, wrapping an arm around him. 'Soon. We'll be all right, my darling. You'll see.'

She puts Aurek to bed in the camp bed Tony produces from a cupboard. He pulls it out of a green canvas bag with pale stencilled letters and numbers on the front and a stamp saying it is the property of the British Army. It's a clattering mix of strong cotton twill, webbing and wooden dowelling that he folds out and a.s.sembles into a bed.

The boy climbs in and digs a nest out of his blankets, pulling them over him so that Silvana cannot kiss him goodnight. She doesn't blame him. She pats the covers and goes downstairs. In the living room Tony stands waiting for her.

'In bed, is he?'

'Yes. He's sleeping in his clothes. I forgot to bring pyjamas.'

'I think I've got some. In a box around here somewhere. Woolworths cotton flannel. I can have a look.'

'It doesn't matter tonight.'

Tony steps towards her and wraps his arms around her. He lifts a stray strand of her hair from her cheek, and she feels the tenderness in his touch. It makes her legs shake. Kindness is the last thing she must have. Her heart twists and aches. Does she love two men? Is that possible?

'Tony, do you think he heard us?'

'Who?'

'Aurek. Do you think he heard what I said to you? In the flat?'

Tony sighs. 'No. He couldn't have. Look, I'll have to go to Ipswich tomorrow. I always have Sunday lunch with my parents-in-law and I need to see Peter. I'll come back in the evening. I'll get you settled in, but I will have to go back to Ipswich on Monday afternoon. I haven't got enough petrol to keep toing and froing. I can be here Friday night. In the meantime, if anybody does speak to you, if the neighbours ask you what you are doing here, I think it might be best to say you are a housekeeper. Best for you. Just to begin with.'

'Housekeeper?'

'Yes. Sounds a bit more respectable, doesn't it?'

She thinks back to the s.h.i.+p that brought her to England. The two choices women had. To be a housewife or housekeeper.

'More respectable than what?'

'Silvana, you've left your husband. People know me round here. They know I live on my own. I don't want you to be gossiped about. I want to keep you safe, that's all.'

Oh, she thinks. Oh. Oh. Then it dawns on her that he is afraid of people believing she is his mistress. She begins to cry, and he hands her his handkerchief. Then it dawns on her that he is afraid of people believing she is his mistress. She begins to cry, and he hands her his handkerchief.

'It'll be all right,' he whispers. 'Come on now, don't cry. It'll all be all right. You know I care for you.'

They listen to the radio, Tony c.o.c.king an ear towards it, repeating lines and laughing as if he is alone and not sitting in a room with somebody else's wife. She can see he has the habits of someone used to living alone. When it ends, they sit in silence for a while. Silvana looks around the room.

'All these boxes. I had no idea...'

'That I was a black marketeer? No, I'm not really. I get asked for certain things and I supply them. Once rationing ends, I'll do something else. Lucy's father got me into it. He was offered some cheap rum from the navy stores at the docks. He's a member of a gentlemen's club in Ipswich and the club agreed to buy the rum. He couldn't do the deal himself he's a magistrate, after all. So I stepped in and we split the cash. That's how it all started. Once you know the right people, it's easy.

'Everybody's doing it. There's a man at the Food Office in Ipswich who forges purchase permits for grocers. So, for instance, Mr Blake at Lipton's gets tenfold the amount of sugar he should get. The surplus he sells on to me. I sell it off ration. And that's the tip of the iceberg. Like I say, everybody's doing it.'

Tony gets up and goes into the kitchen. 'All these boxes will be gone in a day or two,' he calls out. 'Don't you worry about them.'

He comes back with two mugs of cocoa.

'This'll make you feel better,' he says, handing her a mug. 'I've put a dose of whisky in it. It'll help you sleep.'