22 Britannia Road - Amanda Hodgkinson [94]
He pulled out the photograph of Silvana and Aurek from his pocket and looked at it.
Hélène took it from him. She stood up and walked to the edge of the cliff.
‘Will you stay?’
She held the photo out over the edge of the rocks.
‘Shall I let this go?’
Janusz hesitated.
‘I love you,’ Hélène said. ‘Do you love me? Shall I let it go?’
Janusz shut his eyes.
‘If you want to.’
Hélène gave the photo back to him and he put it on the ground beside him, pulling her into his arms.
The same day, as Janusz was standing on the barn roof, setting red tiles into place, he heard the noise of a motorbike coming up the hill towards the farm. He slithered quickly down, climbed down the ladder and stood in the shadows watching as the motorbike cut up the white stone drive, sending dust clouds high into the air.
He picked his way carefully around the back of the barns and watched Bruno get off the bike and walk across the yard. The fields beyond the farm looked tempting. Nobody would find him up there. Or he could hide in the barn. He could get himself lost all day and not come out until Bruno had gone. But no, he had to see what this was about. He’d see his friend again and explain he was staying.
He found Bruno smoking a cigarette, talking to Hélène in the loud, playful voice he used with women. Janusz quickened his pace and stepped between them.
‘Bruno.’
‘Janusz? Hélène was just telling me you weren’t here. There’s a boat leaving for Southampton tonight. The British are taking Polish soldiers with them.’
Janusz glanced at Hélène. ‘I’m not going.’
‘You’ve got no choice, mate.’ Bruno dropped his cigarette, stamped on it. ‘The Germans are moving down through France. They’ll be in Marseilles before you know it. I’m sorry, Jan. You have to come with me. Pack up your stuff. We have to go now.’
‘What did he say?’ Hélène asked. Then she backed away from him. ‘I can see it in your face. You’re leaving, aren’t you?’
‘No, I …’
She slapped him on the chest and turned away, hurrying towards the house.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Bruno.
Janusz ignored him. He hurried after Hélène and caught up with her by the front porch.
‘Wait.’
‘For what?’
She fell into his arms, sobbing.
‘I’ll come back,’ he said. ‘I will.’
‘You have to,’ she whispered, clinging to him.
He could hear the stiff bravery in her voice and was reminded of Silvana. Was this what the war would be for him, a series of goodbyes?
‘You have to,’ she repeated. ‘I’ll die without you.’
‘I swear I’ll come back to you.’
She raised her eyes to him. ‘I’ll be here. Waiting.’
Janusz let her go and she turned, walking into the farmhouse, shutting the door behind her. Janusz tried to fix the moment in his head, to give himself a picture of her: how pretty her hair was, the way her shoulders rounded as she hugged herself, her steady step up as she went indoors.
‘I’ll come back,’ he said to the wooden front door. ‘I promise I’ll come back.’
He had nothing to take with him, only the clothes he stood in. He walked back to Bruno and climbed onto the motorbike behind him. They rounded a corner and tall, dark poplar trees hid the farm from view. Then he concentrated on watching the road in front of them.
A coal boat took them to Britain. It set sail with its crop of foreigners, and Bruno and Janusz were billeted down in the hold, eating hard yellow cheese from the iron rations they had been given, sitting on sheets of metal, shoulder to shoulder, squashed in with crowds of men all talking about their beloved Polska.
Janusz borrowed a Polish guidebook on England from a group of men, the only book of its kind among hundreds of them, passed between them all like a bible. He started studying it, learning a few phrases, muttering them under his breath.
Good morning. How do you do? Do you know where I can find a post office?
He and Bruno had stilted English conversations about buying umbrellas and visiting the doctor.
‘Is that all they do in Britain?’ Janusz asked, handing the book over to another soldier.
Bruno shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Here