22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [8]
Silvana saw what a good son Janusz was, how hard he tried to please his family. But she also knew he had no interest in studying law. Janusz loved machinery, anything that had bits of metal and cogs and screws that he could take apart and put back together again. Really, he was the cleverest man she had ever met.
He lived in a three-storey house overlooking the municipal park. His father worked in local government, and the family prided themselves on their fine manners. So fine were their manners, they almost managed not to show their disappointment when, just months after Silvana and Janusz’s first meeting, Janusz took her home and explained that he was going to do his duty and marry his sweetheart.
Janusz believed in God in those days. He never missed church, and he lectured Silvana at every opportunity on God’s purpose for them all. Silvana liked to listen, though she didn’t take it in much. She was too busy dreaming about American movie stars. At mass on Sundays she sat with his dull-eyed sisters, who complained of the aching necks they got from peering up at windows set high in stone walls, their brown felt hats tilted longingly towards the outside. His sister Eve said Janusz only loved God because he didn’t have to talk to him face to face.
‘You must never think Janusz is shy,’ she told Silvana. ‘He has plenty to say. It’s just that growing up with sisters, and Mother being the way she is, poor Jan has been henpecked. His only defence is silence.’
Eve was the middle sister, stuck between two older sisters intent only on marriage and two younger sisters who carried on like twins and went everywhere arm in arm. As a result, she said, nobody noticed her and she was free to do whatever she wanted. And what Eve wanted was music. Her violin was her passion, and she practised for hours at a time, emerging from her bedroom with her brown hair fallen around her shoulders; her face, freckled like Janusz’s, creased with concentration. She was always closer to her brother than the others, and Silvana liked her the best of all of them.
That first summer, when talk of a possible war with Germany was something neither of them took any interest in, Silvana and Janusz had spent their spare time by the river or taking bike rides out of town into the country.
‘I don’t want to say goodbye,’ Janusz told her as they lay on the grass under the shade of a cedar tree.
She laughed and took his hand in hers. His face looked so serious.
‘Janusz, we’ve only just got here. We can spend all day together.’
‘Yes, but then you’ll leave me.’
‘I won’t leave you. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Why do you have to go to work tonight? I see all those men there who look at you when you take their tickets. They only go to look at you.’
‘Don’t be stupid. I love films. I like my job.’ She felt annoyed with him and wanted to be mean, so she said, ‘Anyway, I like it when men look at me. If I’m beautiful, I can’t help it, can I? Maybe you should be careful. I might get bored and go off with someone else.’
He snatched his hand from hers and slapped her across the face, quickly, the way you might knock a crawling fly from somebody’s cheek. Silvana turned away from him as if he had hurt her badly, but she knew it was the other way round. She had done the hurting. When she looked back at him he was red in the face and his eyes watered as though he was about to burst into tears. She was pleased. Pleased to have got a reaction. He loves me, she thought.
She pretended to be angry. She got up and walked away, and he jumped up and ran after her. When she stopped fighting in his arms he kissed her passionately, slipping a hand inside her dress. His fingers pressed against her, following the curve of her breast, the run of her ribs, as if he were looking