22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [128]
Peter’s grandmother steps inside without being asked. She takes off her gloves and looks around at the hallway, its polished floors and vase of flowers on the table.
‘So Tony has finally got this place cleaned up,’ she says.
Silvana notices Aurek standing at the end of the hall watching, and motions to him to come and stand beside her. She blushes and holds her hand out.
‘I am Mrs Nowak,’ she says. ‘I’m the housekeeper. And here … here is my son, Aurek.’
‘I know who you are,’ says Peter’s grandmother, ignoring Silvana’s outstretched hand. ‘I think you know who I am too. I used to see you walking your son to school. You can call me Moira. I’m Tony’s mother-in-law. And this is Peter’s friend? Hello there.’
She fishes in her handbag and brings out a small paper bag.
‘Peter tells me you like sweets. Come along, young man. I’ve brought you a bag of sherbets.’
When Aurek refuses to come forward, Moira simply holds the bag out. Silvana is sure she is going to drop it and so she reaches out for it, grabs it like a ball suddenly thrown in her direction. She puts the paper bag on the hall table and in the moment it takes her to do it, she sees the old woman seize the chance to look at her. There is a strong sense of curiosity in her eyes, and surprisingly a look of nervousness too. Silvana has no idea why this woman is here. Should she tell her Tony is in Ipswich?
‘Peter says they are friends, the two of them?’
‘That’s right.’
Moira puts her gloves in her handbag. ‘He’s shy, isn’t he? My Peter is a very sensitive child too. Goodness, it’s a frightful day. Far too hot. Could you make me a cup of tea? I’m absolutely parched.’
Silvana serves the tea in the front room. Moira has half closed the curtains so that the sun drives only a blade of light across the room. She stands in the shadows, sharp and immobile as a piece of polished furniture, and her voice rises out of the folds of the curtains.
‘Tell me, can you play cards?’
‘I haven’t for a long time.’
‘You never forget. Pour the tea and then sit down and have a game with me.’
Moira is a canny player. They have a hand of rummy and then whist (she teaches Silvana the Portland Club rules), and Silvana teaches her how to play mizerka and tysiac, both card games she used to play in Poland.
Several hours pass and the sun tracks round so that Silvana is obliged to open the curtains to let the afternoon light bathe the room. Moira has just won another round and looks flushed with her success.
‘Tony is like a son to me,’ she says, apropos of nothing. ‘I’m not used to him being so busy with his life. He usually spends more time with us. You know we brought his son up? Peter is our only grandson. My daughter died when he was just a baby.’
So this is what the old lady has come to talk about. Her family.
‘Tony has told me how much you care for Peter,’ says Silvana carefully.
‘Has he? Did he tell you we bought my daughter this house as a wedding present? It’s in Peter’s name now, did you know that? Tony doesn’t have a penny in it.’
Silvana turns over her cards. She has lost again.
‘Yes, I know that,’ she lies. She is not going to let the old lady think she is a fool. She wonders if Moira knows about London, that Tony has already put money down on a flat. Does he talk to her about these things?
‘The thing about Tony,’ says Moira, flicking her cards face up, ‘is that he is too kind. People take advantage of him.’
Silvana takes the pack, reshuffles and deals herself another dreadful hand. She stares in dismay at it.
‘So tell me about yourself,’ the old lady says, laying a pair of queens down. She smiles pleasantly. ‘I gather you are married?’
Silvana blushes. ‘That’s right.’
‘Are you going to be staying here long? Has Tony discussed properly your terms of engagement with you?’
‘My terms of engagement?’
‘Yes. You are the housekeeper, aren’t you?’
‘Well yes, but I …’ Silvana casts around for something to say. Something to stop this conversation. She will not let this woman get the last word.
‘Tony has asked me to stay indefinitely,