22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [66]
On Friday afternoons, Tony collects Peter at the school gates to take him home for the weekend. Just the sight of the man standing, waiting for his son, makes Silvana’s heart race. It frightens her how she hopes to see him, and she often tries to hide among the other mothers collecting their children. He always finds her though, his hand lifted high in greeting, as if he has seen her in the middle of a much larger crowd than there really is, and has to attract her attention with an extravagant gesture.
They walk through the park with the two boys racing ahead. Talking to Tony is so easy. With him she can leave her past behind. She believes he understands her. Every time Silvana searches for a word, he has it already, finishing the sentence for her.
It used to be like that with Janusz when they were young. They could look at each other and know what the other was thinking. Even their dreams overlapped sometimes. These days, there is a cool politeness between them both.
‘I miss certain foods,’ she says in response to Tony’s question about her homeland. He often asks questions about Poland, and she is happy to answer as long as he doesn’t touch on the war. When he tries to ask her about the years she spent in the forest, she changes the subject, or diverts his attention, pointing out a squirrel scampering along the path, or finds her coat sleeves need straightening, a button needs buttoning, her handbag clasp checking.
‘Pierogi,’ she says. ‘I miss them. Dough filled with cabbage and cheese, or mushrooms and onions. Anything you like. We always ate them with sour cream. You can have sweet ones too. Honey and apple and nuts. When I think of pierogi, I feel …’
‘Nostalgic?’
‘Tesknota. Yes. Nostalgic. That’s why I don’t think of these things very often.’
Tony holds his hands in front of him, a politician about to give a speech, playing to the crowds. Silvana likes this self-important way he has about him. As if he is out to impress her. And it has been years since a man has tried to do that.
‘Do you ever think of going back?’
‘Janusz thinks we’ll be able to go home one day, but how can we? There’s nothing to go back to. Our homeland is communist now. We couldn’t go back even if we wanted to.’
‘But Aurek has the right to know where he came from. Everybody should know who they belong to and where they come from.’
Silvana looks at him. ‘Aurek belongs to me,’ she says firmly.
On the edge of the park, they turn to watch the boys playing behind them.
‘Well, I had better go,’ Silvana says.
‘Must you? Why not let the boys play a little longer?’
Tony holds her hands for a moment, gently, as if they might break if he grips them too firmly. She looks at them when he lets go, to see if they are as fragile as he thinks. But no. She has tough hands. Small and muscular and always searching for something to fill them.
‘I’d love to walk you home,’ he says. ‘But people might talk if Janusz isn’t back from work and they see us arrive together. I wouldn’t want to set tongues wagging. The British are narrow-minded and sharp-tongued, and the inhabitants of this town are the worst of a bad bunch.’
‘Well,’ she says as they wait for Aurek to come down from the tree he is climbing. ‘I’ll see you again soon.’
‘Perhaps you and Janusz would like to take the boys for a walk this weekend. Or we could go to the boating lake with them?’
‘Yes, that would be nice.’
She is used to Tony making suggestions like this. Sometimes he shows up, but more often than not he doesn’t. Then he turns up out of the blue, days later, with gifts for them: oranges and glassy green grapes; a freckled banana each; pork sausages that they have to cook right there and then because they are, as he says, slightly on the turn. Things so unexpected and delicious, Silvana forgets all about the missed outings.
‘Tell me,’ he says. ‘Before you go. The dictionary? I know I shouldn’t ask, but I am curious. Was it useful to you? You’ve never said.’
Silvana considers the question, fidgeting with her