22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [83]
‘Tokaji?’ It’s been years since she saw a bottle of Hungarian wine. ‘We had Tokaji at our wedding party,’ she says, turning the bottle over in her hands. ‘It’s very generous of you. And rabbit will make a change from horse meat. I find I can get nothing else at the moment. It’s a lovely present. Thank you.’
‘A pleasure.’ Tony lowers his voice. ‘How are you? I mean, really?’
‘I’m sorry,’ says Silvana, desperate to change the subject. ‘I haven’t asked to take your coat. Here, let me help you.’
She almost cries out when his hand brushes against her wrist, and she is glad she has put the wine down because she would surely have dropped it.
‘Oh, it’s heavy,’ she says, taking a handful of coat. Was it an accident, that touch, the way his fingers rested on her skin? Is she imagining things?
‘This is wool, no? It’s the quality of cloth that is important.’ She can hear herself babbling like an idiot, but silence would be worse. ‘So, here is your coat and I … I haven’t seen you since … since …’
‘The park?’
‘Yes, that’s it.’ She sighs. It is remarkable, she thinks, how this man can always finish a sentence for her.
Tony leans towards her. ‘I didn’t want to make your life more complicated so I –’
‘Hello, Tony!’
Gilbert is standing at the parlour door.
‘Gilbert, good to see you.’
‘Well, are you coming in for a drink?’ says Gilbert, laughing. ‘Or are you having a top-secret chinwag out here?’
‘We were just coming,’ says Silvana, and she follows Gilbert into the front parlour, Tony close behind her.
‘Tony,’ says Doris through a haze of cigarette smoke. ‘We haven’t seen much of you for a while. You up to no good again? What’re you selling under the counter today? Snow to the Eskimos?’
‘Hello, Doris. No, I don’t think they’re rationing snow yet. Janusz, I was just saying to Silvana, I have brought you a rabbit. And a bottle of wine to go with it.’
Silvana watches Janusz’s face crease with pleasure as he takes the bottle in his hands. ‘Tokaji? Silvana, have you seen this?’
‘Wine, is it?’ says Gilbert. ‘Very posh. I prefer a pint myself.’
‘Or a nice glass of cider,’ says Doris.
‘You might prefer vodka,’ says Tony. ‘Next time. I have contacts at the docks. The sailors bring things in to sell. I’m sure I can get you vodka.’
Janusz holds the bottle out to let Gilbert and Doris look at it.
‘No, no. I like this wine very much. We’ll keep it for a special occasion. We’re drinking sherry tonight. Would you like one?’
‘Better not get the babysitter drunk,’ laughs Doris.
‘I’ll put these things in the kitchen,’ says Janusz. ‘Silvana, can you pour our friend here a drink?’
‘No, not for me,’ says Tony. ‘Doris is right. If I’m babysitting, I had better keep a clear head.’
‘Oh, a cup of tea perhaps?’ Janusz says. ‘With a currant bun?’
‘No, nothing. Thank you.’
Silvana watches the way Tony smiles at them all. He should be a politician. He has all of them eating out of his hand. And her, too. He leaves and then comes back into her life as if she is a doll he can pick up and put down at will.
‘I’ll have a top-up,’ says Gilbert. ‘Rabbit, eh? I haven’t had rabbit for quite a while. Doris, you used to do a lovely rabbit casserole. Do you remember?’
‘Gilbert, sometimes I wonder if you look at what you eat. We had rabbit just last month. Got it from a lad that works over at Chantry Park.’
‘How could I forget? You had any luck getting potatoes lately? Doris queued outside the Co-op for hours the other day.’
‘Hours, I stood. Doesn’t it craze you? We fought Hitler for six years and had all the spuds we wanted. End of the war comes and not a spud in sight. We’ve not even got proper fish for fish and chips. I tell you, things can’t get worse.’
‘How do you manage to run that car of yours, Tony?