22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [100]
There wasn’t much in the room. The bed, a wooden chair. An oval hand mirror. A metal trunk in one corner. Silvana lifted its lid and peered inside. It contained some dresses and hats and several pairs of black silk stockings. Silvana found a richly embroidered headscarf. Birds and flowers criss-crossing a red paisley print. She put her book back in her bag and tied the headscarf over her head. Marysia had stolen Silvana’s belongings and now she would take something of hers.
She was about to step out onto the front porch, ready to confront Marysia in the yard, when she heard the sound of a vehicle driving over the uneven farm track. A canvas-covered truck was coming towards the cottage. It stopped under the big chestnut tree and a German soldier got out. Silvana turned to see the old woman, Ela, standing behind her.
Ela’s face tightened. ‘The man outside mustn’t see you. He’ll think we’re hiding you. You stay out of sight until he’s gone.’
‘Is he her lover?’ Silvana hadn’t meant to ask. The sight of a German soldier had frightened her more than she realized. She had to know who he was.
‘What?’
‘Marysia. Is that her lover? She sleeps with a German, doesn’t she?’
Ela smiled and Silvana saw a viciousness in the curve of her lips that she had not noticed before. The old woman’s hand went to her throat and Silvana saw a flash of colour there.
‘What’s that?’ Silvana reached out and drew Ela’s hand away roughly. The old woman was wearing her glass pendant, the green glass tree sitting in the hollow of her wrinkled neck.
Now she looked at it properly, the old woman’s face was harder than she had thought: her nose had a cruel sharpness to it, her eyes were flinty and quick.
‘It’s mine,’ said the old woman. ‘Don’t forget we saved your life. You should be careful what you say. Marysia keeps this family fed. She makes sacrifices for us. The fat on your cheeks is thanks to her. The soldiers take food from everybody in the village. We’re not even allowed to keep our grinding stones to make our own bread. Do you think this is what she wanted?’
‘So he is her lover?’
‘A year ago, he came here with other soldiers. They took our grain. He came back alone for Marysia. He took her away and we didn’t see her for days. Do you want to know how she cried when she came home? For days she shut herself in her bedroom and wouldn’t speak to us. It wasn’t just him that hurt her. There were other soldiers too. All of them shared her between themselves.’
Ela wiped her nose on her sleeve.
‘You think you’re better than us? You don’t know how we suffer. There’s an underground movement in the village. We know who the resistance members are, but we don’t say anything to the Germans. And what thanks do we get?
‘Marysia’s had death threats from the resistance, but still we don’t say anything. We could tell the soldiers all about what goes on in the village, but we don’t. So who are the bad people here? The villagers who would kill one of their own, or my daughter who has no choice but to do as she’s told? Now get out of sight. And make sure the boy stays quiet.’
Silvana remembered the soldier in Warsaw, the one that made her lie down on the bed, taking what he wanted from her. Maybe Ela was telling the truth. Maybe Marysia had no choice. She ducked back slowly into the room and stood in the shadows watching as Ela walked out into the yard. Then she crept to the window with Aurek.
The woodsman was in the yard, and he and Ela approached the soldier as if they were greeting a neighbour, lifting their hands and calling out cheerfully. But the soldier yelled at them. He strode towards them, brandishing