Someone Else's Conflict by Alison Layland Page B

up his troubled childhood. He looked again at the photograph he was still holding. If only he’d had the guts to talk to the man last week. Why? It was probably a complete stranger, and if not, what did any of it matter? He put the photo down as if it was contaminated and swallowed the last mouthful of cake with difficulty.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ he said suddenly in English. ‘I go.’
    â€˜No! Please.’ Her grip on his arm was tight, insistent, and he sat back.
    He enjoyed listening to her talking about Ivan as a boy, and nodded politely as she mentioned others in the family. He paid particular attention as Anja told him about his aunt, Vesna, wondering if he’d learn anything about her marriage to Mihal Novak. Anja merely said they’d divorced. Vinko tried to keep his voice casual as he asked why.
    â€˜From what she told us, there was no one reason. Things just got steadily worse. He was often away on business, sometimes for weeks, leaving her with the kids. He ran a small transport company, though we weren’t convinced everything they carried was strictly legal. And when he was at home, he was…not an easy man to live with. Worse when he drank. Towards the end, we believed – though Vesna never said – he’d threatened her with violence. Even hit her. Though we were never sure.’ She looked sad and angry. ‘Divorce is never good, especially not when children are involved, but I’m not ashamed to say I was relieved.’
    It was also a relief of sorts when the back door opened and they both looked round. Boris came noisily through to the living room.
    â€˜So you’re still here? Come and shake your granddad’s hand, then.’
    Vinko obeyed and could smell drink on the man’s breath as he approached.
    â€˜It is an honour to meet you, sir,’ he said in the language his grandmother had led him to associate with these surroundings.
    â€˜We’ll have none of that here. English it is in this house. You can speak English?’
    â€˜Yes. Though I like more to talk my own language if I can. With my family.’
    â€˜Well you can’t. Not in my house.’
    â€˜Boris—’
    He cut Anja short. ‘I daresay I’ve forgotten every word I ever knew – I chose to, like I chose to make a new life here – and I’ll not have you two whispering behind my back. So if you’re going to stay…’
    Vinko looked at Anja, saw the plea in her eyes. ‘If this you want.’
    â€˜Aye. That’s what I want.’
    He sat down in an armchair. Vinko perched on a dining chair at the edge of the room, shy about returning to Anja’s side on the sofa. She rose and picked up a magazine from the coffee table together with the letter and photos she’d hastily concealed beneath it when her husband arrived.
    â€˜I’ll just go and make a start on the dinner.’
    â€˜Hide ’em away well, love.’ Boris laughed to himself as she left the room. ‘Thinks I’ll chuck ’em on t’ fire one day.’
    Vinko flashed him a look but kept silent.
    â€˜So what brings you here? Spinney found you, did he? Been talking to you?’
    â€˜I don’t know who is…Spinney.’
    â€˜Do I look like I were born yesterday? If he’s sent you here for us to see you right ’cause you claim to be our Ivan’s kid, he can think again.’ He pronounced it eye-van, which got Vinko’s hackles up. He focused on this legitimate annoyance to keep from betraying himself by asking Boris too eagerly, too soon, to clarify what he meant by ‘see you right’.
    â€˜I don’t know who or what you talk about.’
    â€˜Now look here—’
    â€˜He doesn’t, Boris,’ said Anja, coming through from the kitchen. ‘He didn’t even know Jay was still alive. And of course Vinko’s who he says he is. Haven’t you got eyes in your