22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [14]
‘I want you to see the garden,’ he says, unlocking the back door and throwing it open. ‘It’s a bit wild, but I’ve cut the grass and dug some beds for roses over there. And I’ve got a vegetable garden started. I want a real English garden for us.’
Silvana nods, although she doesn’t know why an English garden should be different from any other kind of garden. The long lawn is tidy and the flower beds are freshly dug, the earth dark and rich as coffee grounds. Aurek darts past her and runs across the grass, crashing back and forth haphazardly, like a fly caught in a jar.
Janusz leans against the door watching him, a wide-shouldered man with a tired face and strong blue eyes. The suit he is wearing creases across his back. He looks foreign in it; a bit English. He looks older too. But what did she expect? They are both older. She wonders if he knows how much hope she has invested in him, in this new life, this rented house. It seems unfair to ask so much of him after all this time apart, but what choice does she have? Her loyalty is with the boy. He needs a proper home. She has to see to it that Janusz understands this.
Janusz turns and looks at her. ‘So you never saw my family after I left?’
Silvana feels the blood rush to her face. Was this why he had found her and brought her here? So that she could give him news of his family?
‘No,’ she says, looking at her feet. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know about my own parents either. I don’t know what happened to them.’
She unties the apron and lays it on the kitchen table as Aurek runs inside with a broken doll in his hands, a pink, armless, naked thing with rolling eyes and matted black hair. He grins and holds it up triumphantly in front of Janusz.
‘Let’s have a look.’
Janusz reaches out to take the doll, but Aurek ducks behind his mother, making growling sounds. Silvana acts before she thinks, pushing Janusz back, protecting her son. She sees the bewilderment on Janusz’s face and instantly regrets her quick movements.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … He’s not used to sharing. We’ve been on our own for a long time … He …’
Silvana is searching for a way to explain when a woman’s voice makes them all turn round.
‘Hello there, anyone home?’
The woman stands in the hallway, a cigarette in her hand. Silvana guesses she must be in her fifties. She has a middle-aged, matronly look about her. She’s a tall redhead, big-shouldered for a woman, and just the size of her makes Silvana feel small and out of place. The woman wears a tweed skirt and white blouse covered by yards of apron, a big messy design of faded pansies and pink roses that flower right over her hips and across the broad acres of her bosom.
‘Ah,’ she says. ‘I thought I heard voices. I’m Mrs Holborn from next door.’
Silvana lets go of Aurek and he backs away and runs into the garden, the doll clutched in his arms. Janusz bends slightly at the waist as he greets the woman. For a moment it looks as though he is going to kiss her hand like a good Polish gentleman. Instead he straightens up and shakes hands.
‘Mrs Holborn, did you say? Well, we’re pleased to meet you. How do you do.’
Silvana sees Janusz’s eyes upon her and realizes she is meant to say something. She remembers the English the soldiers taught her, the classes she attended in the camp.
‘Good afternoon,’ she says carefully. ‘Good afternoon to you, madam.’
‘Charmed,’ says Mrs Holborn. She takes a step towards the back door and Silvana sees her gaze settle on Aurek in the garden.
‘And is that your boy?’
‘Yes, he’s my son,’ says Janusz, and Silvana hears the pride in his voice. ‘His name is Aurek.’
‘Aw– what? Sorry, I didn’t get that. Can you say it again?’
‘Aurek,’ says Janusz slowly.
‘Oh, that’s a hard one to get your chops around. Can’t say I’ve heard that one before.’
‘In Polish it means golden-haired.’
Silvana watches