22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [46]
They stopped at farmsteads and were hidden in attics and barns. Bruno had been telling the truth when he said he had money. Where he could, he bought sugar, salt, vinegar and soap. They became precious commodities and worth more than cash. He bartered and got them all civilian clothes.
Slowly they became aware of an underground movement of men and women. The Home Army, it was called. Men and women who were proud to be Polish, who wanted to fight any way they could. These people sent them on to safe houses and told them which towns and villages to avoid.
There were men from other regiments trying to get across to France, and news was swapped and speculated upon. Stories filtered through to them via secret whisperings and illegal pamphlets, and it was always bad news. There had been large-scale arrests by the Russians in the east: government officials, police, clergymen. Always at night. Nobody could ever be sure he would sleep through a peaceful night.
Janusz slept lightly. He woke at the slightest noise, ready to move. He saw himself in a mirror in a house and didn’t recognize the stubbly, red-eyed man looking fearfully back at him. The loneliness of the journey made him short-tempered. He felt sure arrest was just around the corner. Each new day brought more miles to cover. His feet hurt. He had blisters that, unattended, turned to sores.
Bruno was stronger. He said they owed it to Poland to stay free. If hiding was the way to do it, so be it. France was their only chance. There, they’d be trained to fight, and they’d whip the Germans and the Russians both.
‘I have my mother’s medallion to protect me,’ explained Franek. He held a chain on his neck and showed them the small silver disc hanging from it. They were in a barn waiting for a guide to come and take them to the next safe house. Outside, a gale blew, and the barn creaked and rocked like a boat in rough seas.
‘Saint Sebastian will see me through. God won’t be calling me yet. He calls those he loves, but he’s not ready for me yet.’
Bruno patted his duffel bag. ‘I’ve got my insurance. Some nice gold watches and cufflinks to barter with. And a couple of pounds of flour. What about you, Janusz? What will save you?’
Janusz stared down at his feet. ‘I have my boots,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think they’ll save me. In fact, I think they’re killing me.’
Bruno and Franek looked at him. Bruno started laughing and Franek joined in too. A full thirty seconds behind the joke, Janusz suddenly coughed up a laugh.
It had been a long time since he had found anything funny.
Weeks later, they stood on the banks of a frozen river, preparing to leave Poland and cross into Romania. They had avoided the towns filled with soldiers, and a guide had taken them along the riverbank for miles during the night. Now, at dawn, Janusz felt numbness creep across his chest, as if his shirt bound him too tightly. He undid the buttons on his coat and loosened the necktie around his throat, but the numbness spread to his head, tightening around his eyes. He was leaving his country and didn’t know if he would ever return. Flat fields lay behind him, and thick woodland welcomed him across the narrow river. He thought of turning back. Of making his way across Poland again, working his way north, back to Silvana.
‘We’ll walk across,’ said Bruno, tapping Janusz’s arm and waking him from his thoughts. ‘The ice will hold us.’
It took only minutes, stepping out onto the ice, feeling it solid under them, and then they had crossed over and were running for cover into the trees.
Janusz stopped and looked back at the border to his country. He stood quietly for a moment as though at the graveside of a friend. How surprising then, when he found in his heart a strong fluttering, a surge of hopefulness. No matter what he expected to feel or how he tried to make this last image of his own country fix in his mind, the thrill of adventure overtook him and he ran after the others, into the trees, towards the future.
Ipswich
It smells of tree roots inside the underground shelter and Aurek likes