22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [104]
‘Were you indeed?’ Doris tuts loudly. ‘Don’t be so bloody daft. You spend all our money on beer, fags and the pools. Was it local, Jan?’
‘From the other side of town. Do you want to see inside, Gilbert?’
Janusz unlocks the door and both men sit in the front seats, examining dials and checking the interior.
‘You know our Geena is seeing a lad from Romford,’ says Gilbert. ‘Don’t tell Doris, but from what Geena says I think it’s pretty serious. I thought it’d be good to have a car. If he does pop the question, she’ll be living over that way. We could visit them on the weekends. I’d like to do a bit of touring too. Mind you, Doris says she prefers buses.’ He runs a hand over the dashboard. ‘And you’ll be hard pushed to get petrol at the moment. You should ask Tony. He’d be the man to ask. He can get you anything.’
Janusz lets his hands rest on the steering wheel. He’ll go to the council offices and find out what he is entitled to. He doesn’t want to get anything on the black. It’s not his style to break the law. He adjusts the rear-view mirror and imagines driving away down the hill.
‘Tony? Yes, I might ask him, but I think if I’m careful I’ll be able to manage.’
‘Would you two like a cup of tea and a biscuit?’ Doris asks, leaning in the open window on the driver’s side.
‘I could murder one,’ says Gilbert.
Janusz nods. ‘Yes, please.’
They both get out of the car and walk around it one more time. Gilbert pats Janusz on the back.
‘You lucky beggar, eh? No hard feelings. Why shouldn’t you be foreman? You work bloody hard. But that’s the thing I don’t get with you foreigners. I suppose you’ve got no other life.’ He walks away into the house, still talking, his back to Janusz. ‘We don’t want to work all God’s hours.’
‘I just want to do a good job,’ says Janusz. ‘If we can produce more, then the …’
Janusz is about to follow Gilbert inside for a cup of tea when he sees Aurek running up the street. The boy looks like he’s crying. He’s stumbling as he runs. As he comes nearer, Janusz can see his tear-stained face clearly. He looks like he’s had a fall. His shorts are sticky with mud and his shirt is stained with green.
‘What’s happened?’ Janusz demands, but the child sinks his head into his stomach, fists banging against him.
Janusz bends down. ‘What is it? What’s happened? Why are you covered in mud? Aurek? Tell me. Has someone hurt you? Who hurt you? Where’s your mother?’
What Aurek has to say knocks the breath out of Janusz.
‘I don’t understand. Say it again. Slowly.’
Aurek repeats the same story.
‘You’re sure?’
‘I saw them.’
Janusz lets go of the boy. He feels the blood rushing in his ears.
‘Are you coming in?’ Doris calls from somewhere in the house. ‘Do hurry up, the tea’ll get cold.’
Janusz takes Aurek by the hand.
‘Don’t worry. Stop crying. Not a word. All right?’
‘The lad had a bit of a scare in a tree,’ he explains when they step into Doris’s front parlour. ‘Nearly fell, apparently.’
Doris ruffles Aurek’s hair.
‘Where’s your mum, then?’
‘She’ll be back soon,’ explains Janusz. ‘He’s come home ahead of the others. Isn’t that right, son?’
Janusz keeps a steady eye on Aurek, who says nothing. Doris gives Aurek a slice of bread and jam and his favourite toy tractor to play with. Janusz drinks brown tea and eats biscuits. He talks about gearboxes and spark plugs and how to dismantle four-stroke engines. And all the while, his own heart creaks and stutters, like an engine that’s sprung an oil leak.
‘I think I’ll take the boy home,’ he says, standing up.
‘Tell your Sylvie to give him a bath when she gets back,’ says Doris. ‘He’s muddy as a dog in winter.’
Janusz doesn’t bother to wash the mud off Aurek. He puts Aurek to bed in his clothes and tells him to stay in his room. The child strokes his hand, and Janusz kisses him lightly on the forehead.
‘We’ll be right as rain. Don’t worry. Now, you get some sleep and I’ll be downstairs.’
He doesn’t know what to do, so he stumbles into the garden and begins to weed the beds. That is what he tells himself he is doing,