22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [13]
Ipswich
So far, what Silvana has seen of Britain is a country as worn down as her own. Signs of the war are everywhere, in the fire-damaged buildings they pass, the queues outside shops and the blank faces of the people. She thought she might have been able to leave her dark sadnesses behind in Poland, but here loss squats in every corner, persistent and obstinate, calling up the past when it is obvious to her that forgetting is what everybody needs to do. But then who is she to think like this? Her own memories threaten her constantly, and forgetting doesn’t come easily.
And yet, as she walks briskly behind Janusz up the steep cobbled hill past more of the red-brick houses that crowd these suburban streets, she feels determined, if not a tiny bit hopeful. The way Janusz had looked at the boy when he met them at the station had been loving. Accepting.
She wants to thank him, but he’s walking so fast she has to keep encouraging Aurek to run beside her to keep up. Just as she is thinking it is warm enough to take off her coat and walk with it over her arm, Janusz stops outside the last house in a terrace.
‘We’re here,’ he says, smiling. ‘Here’s the key. Welcome home.’
She turns the key over in her hand. Aurek reaches out and touches it, and she holds it out to show it to him.
‘Go on,’ says Janusz. ‘I’ve oiled the lock and fixed the hinges. The door was stiff but … well, go on. Put the key in and try it.’
She slips it into the lock and it turns easily, the door swinging open onto a narrow hallway with a door leading off to the left, a staircase to the right and another door at the end of the hall.
‘Perhaps I should carry you in,’ says Janusz. ‘Carry you over the threshold. Do things properly?’
Silvana begins to protest, but he wraps a hand around her waist, scooping her into his arms, holding her tightly. She catches her breath at the sudden sensation of being lifted off her feet.
‘Do you remember,’ he asks, his mouth brushing against her ear, ‘when we got our first flat and I wanted to carry you in, but you were –’
‘I was pregnant,’ Silvana says, finishing his sentence.
Janusz staggers slightly as he tries to manoeuvre them both through the door, and a fragment of laughter escapes her lips, surprising her with its lightness.
For a moment she remembers the girl she once was. She thinks of her usherette’s uniform, the burgundy colour of it, the gold braid on collar and cuffs. Of the apple orchard behind her parents’ house and the way Janusz waited there for her at dusk. The kind of useless thoughts that make her too aware of the lies she has brought with her from Poland. When he puts her down in the hallway she has barely a moment to straighten her coat before Aurek launches himself into her arms, burying his face in her collar.
‘Don’t be scared,’ she tells him. ‘He’s your father.’
Aurek whispers to her frantically, ‘Nie. No. No.’
‘He won’t hurt us.’
‘Of course I won’t,’ says Janusz, and she looks up into his frowning face.
She gives him an apologetic smile, untangles herself from her son’s tight embrace and looks around. The house feels cold and smells of new paint. The sound of their footsteps echoes as they walk through the narrow hallway into the kitchen at the back of the house. It’s a nice little room with a wooden table and three pale-yellow chairs. There is a cooker, a dented-looking kettle sitting on its hob. Ragged lace curtains at the window.
‘I washed the curtains,’ says Janusz. ‘I know they’re old and a bit worn, but once you’ve settled in we can get some new ones.’
Silvana notices how other hands have polished the doorknobs smooth and other feet have worn a small dip in the stone floor by the sink.
‘Who lived here before?’
Janusz looks surprised by her question.
‘I don’t know. Does it matter?’
Silvana shakes her head. She knows she is the interloper here. And she is afraid the house knows it too.
Janusz picks up a package from the kitchen table. ‘A present. It’s an apron.’
She tries it on. A red cotton skirt with a blue band at the waist. In Poland every new wife