want to be sent to Germany to work on a farm. A city girl like you? No. Of course not. That’s it. Give me a smile. I can help you.’
She lay down like he told her to and hoped her obedience would save her. She would not be difficult. She would be anonymous, not interesting enough to remember and too compliant to be worth hurting. And all this decided in the time he took to unbutton her dress.
His clothes smelt of the rain. Her face was pressed against the pillows and she twisted her neck so that she could watch the curtains at the window. They were patterned with dancing children holding hands. The hem was yellowed and dirty where it touched the floor. They needed washing. Finally he rolled off her.
‘Good girl,’ he said, panting heavily.
He straightened his uniform, picked up his coat and left, telling her he’d be back later with the right papers for her.
Silvana washed herself in the bathroom, splay-legged in the bath, wiping herself dry on her dress. In the master bedroom she found a skirt and a blouse, some stockings, underwear and a fur coat: gingery fox with a brown silk lining. At the bottom of the cupboard was a pair of blue leather shoes with a bow at the ankle and tapered heels.
It was dark in her old flat. In a suitcase she packed baby clothes and put her album of film stars on top. She opened the meat safe in the kitchen and took their savings from it. Janusz had withdrawn their money from the bank in August.
‘It’s all right,’ she told Aurek, swaddling him in a blanket. ‘We’ll be all right. Your daddy will come home soon.’
But Janusz had deserted her. That’s what she really felt. He had left her and this had happened. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, told herself to stop snivelling. She washed her face and dried it, put on some lipstick and tidied her hair.
It took hours to walk through the city. Everywhere, the windows of buildings were shattered and roads were blocked. Silvana walked to the banks of the river. She could still feel the soldier, the sticky itch on her thighs, the bruised rush of him inside her, the shame of it. She stood looking at the swiftly moving water. It would be so simple to let that water carry her away.
She stumbled on in the stolen high heels and arrived at the bus terminal.
‘There are no buses heading north today,’ said the guard when she asked.
‘I have money,’ she told him. ‘I can pay. It’s only me and my son. I have to get to my parents-in-law.’
‘I can’t work miracles,’ said the man, eyeing the banknotes in her outstretched hand.
He found her standing room on an overcrowded bus. Yelling at the other passengers to move down and make room for one more, he took her money and wished her luck. The bus was going the wrong way, heading east, but Silvana didn’t care. Janusz was gone. Her home was gone. All she had was her son, another woman’s clothes and a strong desire to leave the city.
The bus passed through wooded countryside and villages, markettowns and open fields. When it broke down, Silvana hitched a ride on the back of a cart. She found another bus. When that ran out of fuel, she got off and walked.
On the road ahead stretched a long line of people with handcarts and farm carts loaded with mattresses, pulled by horses. Silent women pushed perambulators, bicycles weaving through them all, avoiding the crush of the slow-footed crowds.
Silvana swapped the high heels for a pair of wooden clogs and walked for days. She had no idea where she was going, but then nobody else seemed to either. Aurek howled at the wind and dribbled miserably. Around his lips an angry red scab appeared, worsening every day. He caught a cold. Green snot bubbled in his nose and he was hot to the touch. Nothing she did could make him happy. When a woman walking beside her offered to nurse him for her, she only hesitated for a moment before she took off her fur coat, wrapped him in it and handed him over, glad of the rest.
A storm had been gathering
She lay down like he told her to and hoped her obedience would save her. She would not be difficult. She would be anonymous, not interesting enough to remember and too compliant to be worth hurting. And all this decided in the time he took to unbutton her dress.
His clothes smelt of the rain. Her face was pressed against the pillows and she twisted her neck so that she could watch the curtains at the window. They were patterned with dancing children holding hands. The hem was yellowed and dirty where it touched the floor. They needed washing. Finally he rolled off her.
‘Good girl,’ he said, panting heavily.
He straightened his uniform, picked up his coat and left, telling her he’d be back later with the right papers for her.
Silvana washed herself in the bathroom, splay-legged in the bath, wiping herself dry on her dress. In the master bedroom she found a skirt and a blouse, some stockings, underwear and a fur coat: gingery fox with a brown silk lining. At the bottom of the cupboard was a pair of blue leather shoes with a bow at the ankle and tapered heels.
It was dark in her old flat. In a suitcase she packed baby clothes and put her album of film stars on top. She opened the meat safe in the kitchen and took their savings from it. Janusz had withdrawn their money from the bank in August.
‘It’s all right,’ she told Aurek, swaddling him in a blanket. ‘We’ll be all right. Your daddy will come home soon.’
But Janusz had deserted her. That’s what she really felt. He had left her and this had happened. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, told herself to stop snivelling. She washed her face and dried it, put on some lipstick and tidied her hair.
It took hours to walk through the city. Everywhere, the windows of buildings were shattered and roads were blocked. Silvana walked to the banks of the river. She could still feel the soldier, the sticky itch on her thighs, the bruised rush of him inside her, the shame of it. She stood looking at the swiftly moving water. It would be so simple to let that water carry her away.
She stumbled on in the stolen high heels and arrived at the bus terminal.
‘There are no buses heading north today,’ said the guard when she asked.
‘I have money,’ she told him. ‘I can pay. It’s only me and my son. I have to get to my parents-in-law.’
‘I can’t work miracles,’ said the man, eyeing the banknotes in her outstretched hand.
He found her standing room on an overcrowded bus. Yelling at the other passengers to move down and make room for one more, he took her money and wished her luck. The bus was going the wrong way, heading east, but Silvana didn’t care. Janusz was gone. Her home was gone. All she had was her son, another woman’s clothes and a strong desire to leave the city.
The bus passed through wooded countryside and villages, markettowns and open fields. When it broke down, Silvana hitched a ride on the back of a cart. She found another bus. When that ran out of fuel, she got off and walked.
On the road ahead stretched a long line of people with handcarts and farm carts loaded with mattresses, pulled by horses. Silent women pushed perambulators, bicycles weaving through them all, avoiding the crush of the slow-footed crowds.
Silvana swapped the high heels for a pair of wooden clogs and walked for days. She had no idea where she was going, but then nobody else seemed to either. Aurek howled at the wind and dribbled miserably. Around his lips an angry red scab appeared, worsening every day. He caught a cold. Green snot bubbled in his nose and he was hot to the touch. Nothing she did could make him happy. When a woman walking beside her offered to nurse him for her, she only hesitated for a moment before she took off her fur coat, wrapped him in it and handed him over, glad of the rest.
A storm had been gathering
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