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22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [0]

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22 Britannia Road


Amanda Hodgkinson was born in Burnham-on-Sea in Somerset and grew up in Essex and Suffolk. She currently lives in south-west France with her husband and two daughters. This is her first novel.

22 Britannia Road


AMANDA HODGKINSON

FIG TREE

an imprint of

PENGUIN BOOKS

FIG TREE

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

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Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India

Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Aukland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

www.penguin.com

First published 2011

Copyright © Amanda Hodgkinson, 2011

The moral right of the author has been asserted

All rights reserved

Without limiting the rights under copyright

reserved above, no part of this publication may be

reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,

or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical,

photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior

written permission of both the copyright owner and

the above publisher of this book

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN: 978-0-141-96498-0

To my mother and father. With love.

The dead have need of fairytales too.

Zbigniew Herbert

Table of Contents


Spring 1946. To England.

22 Britannia Road, Ipswich

Poland, 1937

Poland, 1939

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

Poland

22 Britannia Road

Spring 1946. To England.

The boy was everything to her. Small and unruly, he had a nervy way about him like a wild creature caught in the open. All the dark hearts of the lost, the found and the never forgotten lived in his child’s body, in his quick eyes. She loved him with the same unforgiving force that pushes forests from the deep ground, but still she feared it was not enough to keep him. So she was taking him to England, determined Janusz would love him and keep him safe.

On the ship’s sailing list she was named as Silvana Nowak. Twenty-seven years old. Married. Mother of a son, Aurek Josef, aged seven years.

‘What is your profession?’ the British soldier asked her, checking the identity papers she put before him.

She looked at the documents on his desk and saw pages of women’s names. All were listed as housewives or housekeepers.

Behind her, hundreds more women, dressed as she was in donated clothes, stood silently with their children. Above the soldier’s head, a sign in several languages, including Polish, detailed the ship’s rules. All blankets and sheets remain the property of the ship. All stolen items will be confiscated.

Silvana tightened her grasp on her son. The soldier glanced at her quickly and then looked back to his papers. She knew why. It embarrassed him to see a woman so unkempt and a child with such restless ways. She touched her headscarf, checking it was in place, and pressed her other hand into Aurek’s back, trying to make him stand up straight.

‘Profession?’

‘Survivor,’ she whispered, the first word that came to her.

The soldier didn’t look up. He lifted his pen. ‘Housekeeper or housewife?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, and then, aware of the queue shifting impatiently behind her, ‘Housewife.’

So that was it. She was recorded, written neatly into a book in indelible black ink. She was given a transport number,

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