22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [55]
They sit at the foot of the oak tree on a tartan blanket. Silvana pours the tea and Tony helps her, passing round the teacups. Janusz lies on his back looking up into the green branches and the blue sky beyond.
‘What are you looking for?’ Peter asks. ‘Enemy fire?’
Tony takes a cup of tea from Silvana. ‘It’s certainly a beautiful view from here.’
‘Enough blue up there to make trousers for a dozen policemen,’ says Janusz.
‘Ah, we say trousers for a sailor here,’ says Tony. ‘A bit of a poet, aren’t you? But of course you are; you have Silvana. Your beautiful muse.’
Janusz glances at his wife. She doesn’t seem to be listening. She has been lost in her own world recently.
‘You were in a hurry the other day when I saw you,’ Tony says to Silvana.
‘What other day?’ asks Janusz. She has not mentioned seeing Tony.
‘A week or so ago. I saw your lady wife out shopping.’
‘I was busy,’ Silvana replies. ‘I didn’t have time to stop.’
‘Next time, I insist you come and have a look at the pet shop.’
‘All right,’ she says. ‘I will.’
Tony turns to Janusz. ‘What a lucky chap you are, having a wife who takes such good care of you.’
Tony laughs and Silvana blushes. Janusz leans back on his elbow, pleased to see his wife looking happy for once. He stops himself from reaching out to her. Even though she is right there beside him, Janusz feels she has become distant from him. Further away from him than the blue sky above.
Poland
Silvana
When the spring came, the farmer told Silvana and Hanka he couldn’t risk hiding them any longer. He looked nervous, as if afraid the women might make a fuss. Hanka shrugged and said it was time they were moving on in any case.
The farmer gave Silvana a pair of boots and Aurek a blanket. His wife handed them a parcel of food for the journey and told them never to come back or she would see to it herself that the Germans would find them.
It was May when they left, and the sun had started to dry out the muddy roads and meadows. Walking away from the farm, Silvana watched Aurek toddling ahead of her. He had grown and his baby curls were gone, revealing a thick head of hair as straight and dark as summer shadows. The sun tanned him and the boy looked happy, gambolling down the road, chasing butterflies and dancing this way and that.
They camped near a river and washed their clothes in the water, drying them on the bank in the sunshine.
‘My necklace,’ Silvana said, putting her hand to her throat. She was sitting naked on the riverbank. Hanka had told her nudity was glorious and she was trying to show that she believed her, although all she wanted was to put her clothes back on.
‘My glass pendant. It’s gone.’
‘That old weasel back at the farm,’ replied Hanka. She stroked Silvana’s neck. ‘He will have stolen it for his wife. You can’t trust peasants with anything. Do you want me to go back for it? I’ll get it for you.’
‘No,’ Silvana said. ‘No. It’s gone.’
Hanka made a daisy chain and gave it to her.
Silvana put it on and felt grateful once again for her friend’s kindness.
‘Here,’ she said. She held out her fur coat. She wanted to give Hanka something, a gift for her friendship, and she had nothing else to give. ‘You should have this.’
‘Really?’ Hanka slipped it round her shoulders, stroking the fur.
She gave Silvana her greatcoat in exchange. That afternoon, Hanka walked up and down the riverbank in the fur coat, head held high, like a model. She didn’t seem to notice the matted, dried bloodstains in the fur and the rips where the silk lining showed through.
‘I thought about stealing it off you anyway,’ Hanka admitted. ‘Fur doesn’t suit you. You’re too thin to wear it.’
They sat together on the riverbank.
‘We’ll go back to Warsaw,’ Hanka said. You can come to the Adria club where I used to sing with the Henryka Golda orchestra.