22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [121]
‘Tony, I have to know. You can tell me. Were these Lucy’s?’
He’d been matter-of-fact in his response. ‘No,’ he said, taking her hands in his. ‘Of course not. I gave away Lucy’s clothes years ago. They are yours. Only yours.’
She turns her ankle to see the leather shine in the sun. She’s never had such good boots.
Tony comes back from his swim, hungry. He takes them to a restaurant and a girl serves them boiled potatoes and fish in parsley sauce, dripping the sauce over the tablecloth as she puts their plates down.
‘Aurek, you’re as brown as a berry, old chum,’ says Tony. ‘You could pass as a little Italian lad,’ he continues. ‘Don’t you think, Silvana?’
No, she thinks. He looks Polish.
‘Absolutely,’ she says, wiping the sauce off the edge of her plate with her napkin.
Tony finishes his glass of wine and orders another. Silvana sips her own wine and smiles at Tony and Aurek.
‘Good health. Na zdrowie!’ she says, raising her glass to them both.
Here we all are, she thinks. She feels such tenderness for Tony, she is carried along by it, by the feel of pearls against her neck, the silk stockings he gives her, the food he offers them. Maybe it is the effect of the wine she is not used to drinking, but she looks at Tony and her brown-faced son and believes they can be a family.
After a long and late lunch, they walk through the Massey Gardens. Tony teaches Aurek crazy golf and Silvana sits watching them. At 6 p.m., when the deckchairs on the beach are being packed away and people start drifting towards home, Tony goes to a bar and Aurek and Silvana stroll along the promenade. The two glasses of wine she drank earlier are still making her feel pleasantly numb. Necklaces of coloured light bulbs swing brightly over kiosks selling seafood and sweets and postcards. The air smells vinegary and sharp. Silvana buys Aurek a toy that whirs in the wind and some chocolate. He gives her a lump of it, popping it into her mouth. She closes her teeth on it and feels the sweet, milky texture. She laughs and throws her head back. As she does, she sees a woman looking at her from across the street. The sight of her sobers Silvana up.
‘Look at you,’ Doris says, walking over to her. ‘Your bread obviously landed butter side up.’
Silvana will not be intimidated. She could walk away. She’d like to, in fact. She’d like to turn on her heels and maybe even swish her elegant blue coat as she does so. A toss of the head would be satisfying. But Doris can tell her how Janusz is.
‘So you’re living the high life here by the sea while your poor husband goes barmy, digging up his roses?’
Silvana pushes her hair away from her face. ‘Have you seen him?’
Doris takes her time. She leans in close, like an actress about to speak her most important lines, making her audience wait. And Silvana is a good audience. She hangs on the woman’s silence, waiting for news of Janusz. A smell of cooking fat rises off Doris’s clothes.
‘Your husband destroyed his beloved garden before he left,’ says Doris finally.
‘Left?’
‘Didn’t you know? Your husband has left Britannia Road. He’s moved away.’ She steps back, as if ready to take a bow now she has delivered her line. ‘You’re on your own now, young lady. You made your bed, you can blooming well lie in it.’
And she stalks away, head held high and triumphant.
Aurek pulls on Silvana’s sleeve. He has eaten all the chocolate.
‘I’ll buy you some more,’ Silvana says, watching Doris disappear into the crowds. ‘We can stay out a bit longer.’
They sit in front of