22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [85]
Inside, a blue neon light glows and thick velvet curtains drape over ribbed plasterwork. An usherette in a neat-fitting navy suit with white piping and a hat to match takes their tickets and shows them to their seats.
‘I was one of those,’ Silvana whispers to Doris.
‘What?’
‘An usherette. In Poland. That was my job before I married.’
‘Really? Not a big cinema like this though?’
‘A beautiful cinema,’ says Silvana. ‘And the usherette uniforms were smarter. You see that girl? She has holes in her stockings and her jacket is too tight.’
Doris purses her lips. ‘Give her a chance. We had a war here, you know. Mend and make do …’
‘Do you remember my uniform?’ Silvana asks Janusz, whispering to him in Polish.
He answers her in their mother tongue. ‘Burgundy with gold ribbons on the sleeves. You looked wonderful in it.’
‘The uniforms were much better in Poland.’
Janusz is quiet for a moment. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I think you are right.’
‘So you had cinemas all over Poland?’ Doris asks.
‘Everywhere,’ says Janusz. ‘Much bigger than this one.’
Silvana is grateful to him for defending her memories. She can’t stand the way the English think everything they have is bigger and better. If you listened to Doris, you’d think wild bears ran through the ruined streets of Europe.
The moment the red curtains part and the screen comes to life, Silvana is entranced. The story is simple. Fred and Ginger are in love. Anyone can see it – except for them. Every word that falls from their lips is the wrong one, and they argue their way through the first two-thirds of the film. Finally, just when it seems they have really lost each other, the right words come to them and the truth tumbles out.
‘I love you,’ says Fred Astaire. ‘Despite everything.’
‘I love you too,’ Ginger Rogers replies.
And they never lose sight of each other again.
‘Beautiful,’ whispers Silvana as the credits roll. ‘Just beautiful.’
By the time they are walking back home, up the hill to Britannia Road, Silvana’s new shoes have given her blisters. Doris and Gilbert are up ahead, Gilbert complaining about the pubs shutting early and not getting a drink, Doris talking about sponge cakes and whether her grandmother’s recipe is better than Gilbert’s mother’s.
Silvana stops walking. She takes her shoes off and feels the pavement wet under her feet.
Janusz takes her shoes from her. ‘Did you enjoy the film?’
‘I loved it. It’s been so long since I last went to the cinema. Fred and Ginger are wonderful together.’
‘Wonderful. And what about us?’
‘Us?’
‘Silvana, why don’t we try for a baby? It would be good for Aurek to have a brother or a sister.’
She tries to think of something to say, but all she can think of is the impossibility of having another child.
‘Look,’ he says. ‘I went to see the doctor … I went to ask him about … about us. I know you’re not happy. You hardly let me touch you these days, and the thing is, the doctor thought that what would do you good – what might make you happier – is another child. I told him I agreed. Another child would be right for all of us.’
Silvana can see Janusz is waiting for a response, his face lit by the streetlamps.
‘I have blisters,’ she says.
Janusz hands her back her shoes. ‘Is that all you have to say?’
‘Yes.’
He turns his back on her and walks on. She hurries behind him.
‘I’m sorry. Give me more time. Aurek is still so young.’
‘He’s nearly nine. He needs a brother.’
‘But we can’t afford another child.’
‘We can if I get this job as foreman.’
‘Isn’t Aurek enough for us both?’
‘So you don’t want to try?’
Silvana shakes her head. The thought of another child terrifies her. She mustn’t have one. She doesn’t deserve one. And how can he ask this of her when he loved another woman – indeed, might still love her?
Janusz shoves his hands in his pockets and hurries his step. She watches him catch up with Doris and Gilbert and begin a discussion about