Part 13 (1/2)

'How you might feel. Did they scare you? I understand what you've been through. What happened in your country. I've read about it. Those camps. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'

Silvana backs away from him. 'I should go now.'

'Of course you shouldn't. Not yet. Please, at least let me offer you a cup of tea. You can't go home yet.'

His eyes are dark brown and fixed on her. If she fell he would catch her. She knows it. That is why she is here. She has to place her trust somewhere, now that Ja.n.u.sz has hurt her so badly.

He cups her elbow in his hand. 'Forgive me, but you look lonely, Silvana.'

'I...'

'Don't misunderstand me. I'm glad you came.'

'I should go...'

'Not until you tell me what makes you so sad. Do you need something? I can get you anything. Will you tell me what's troubling you?'

Silvana thinks of the letters. 'Can you speak French?'

'French? No. Why?'

'Could you read French? It's like Italian, isn't it?'

'I don't think so. But I have a FrenchEnglish dictionary somewhere. Would that help?'

'Yes. If I could borrow it.'

'You can have it.'

'And... And please don't tell my husband.'

Tony's arm is around her waist and she feels the heat of it through her clothes.

'I won't breathe a word. Will you tell me one day why you want a dictionary? You're not planning a holiday on the Cote d'Azur, are you?'

He lets go of her, laughing gently, and she tries to relax her face.

'No. Not a holiday.'

'Good. I don't want to think you're going away. Well now,' he says, stepping away from her, the intimacy between them vanis.h.i.+ng. 'May I get you that cup of tea?'

When he offers her a sandwich in his flat above the shop she realizes she has been hungry for days.

The foreman's office feels crowded with just the two of them in it. Silvana stands one side of a wooden desk covered with paperwork piled high in untidy, slippery heaps. The foreman sits the other side, puffing on a cigarette that hangs in the corner of his mouth, as he searches through his papers. Beside him a window looks out onto the shop floor, and Silvana wishes with all her heart she was still at her machine, working alongside the other women.

'I'm sorry, love,' says the foreman, finally pulling a page out of a stack of doc.u.ments. 'Do you understand? We're laying you off. We're paying you now but you can't come back.'

'Please. I can sew faster.'

'You're not keeping up with the workload. We can't pay workers who can't keep up.'

She thinks of pleading, of getting down on her knees. But she knows it would do no good. She has been a hopeless worker. Instead she nods and apologizes.

Walking across the yard, she is surprised by the sense of relief she feels. The sun is warm on her face, and she is free of that dusty, dark factory.

When she arrives home, the house is empty. Ja.n.u.sz must have picked up Aurek from school and taken him for a walk. And how will she tell Ja.n.u.sz her news? He will see it as a failure.

She wanders into the garden and hears Ja.n.u.sz's voice drift over the fence. Peering over, she sees him with Gilbert and Tony, sitting at a card table. Their heads are bent over it, almost touching, elbows splayed.

She walks out into the street and up to Doris's open front door.

'h.e.l.lo, love,' says Doris. She is standing in her hallway smoking a cigarette. 'You've seen the men, have you?' She hoiks a thumb behind her. 'Out in the garden, playing at card sharks. Tony turned up with bottles of booze and organized an impromptu get-together. I've got your little lad in the front parlour with me. Go on through. He likes his grub, doesn't he? I don't know where he puts it. He's been eating bread and jam like it's going out of fas.h.i.+on.'

The front parlour is a dark room filled with more furniture than she and Ja.n.u.sz have in their whole house. The walls are papered in white and olive-green stripes. A mirror hangs above the fireplace with two large red and white china dogs sitting either side of it. There are ornaments on every surface.

Aurek is playing with a toy tractor, pus.h.i.+ng it up and down the floor, weaving it in and out of the chair legs.

'He's been playing, happy as Larry, all afternoon. I'm glad you called round because I've got something for you. Here. Hair dye. Don't take this wrong, but I thought you could get rid of all that grey. My Geena gets 'em from Leslie's hairdresser's. He got them cheap from Woolworths after they were bombed out. Chestnut Harmony. Looks lovely on the packet, doesn't it? Now, you sit down and we can get on with it.'

Silvana hesitates. 'I don't know.' She touches her headscarf. 'Perhaps I should ask Ja.n.u.sz?'

'Oh, leave him to his cards. This is just between us women. In this country you don't have to ask your husband's permission to do your hair. This isn't the Dark Ages, you know. It's best not to ask your husband anything. What they don't know they don't grieve over. Come on, I did a stint at a hairdresser's before I married Gilbert. I know what I'm doing. Let's get rid of that headscarf and bring you up to date.'

Having her hair washed and her scalp rubbed makes Silvana feel sleepy and relaxed.

'I had long hair before,' she tells Doris. 'Long red hair.'

'Did you? Well, we're all a bit older now. There comes a time when it's better for a woman to have her hair short.'

Doris wraps Silvana's hair in a towel like a turban, and they drink tea while they wait for the colour to take. From the garden they can hear the men's voices, a rumble of talk and laughter. Silvana can hear Tony's laugh, louder than the other two.

'Have you known Mr Benetoni a long time?' she asks.

Doris picks up a bag of curlers and starts sorting them on her lap.

'Tony? Years. I remember his mother. She was a lovely lady. Died when he was quite young. And then the poor man loses his wife. Terrible tragedy, that was. Tony went away during the war. People say he did something a bit hush-hush, but I don't think so. Gilbert says more likely he was banged up in prison somewhere when all the fuss about foreigners being spies went on. A couple of years ago he came back and opened up a pet shop. It was very nice to see him back. He's a real gentleman.'

'And did you know his wife?'

'Not really. She was such a pretty young thing. She came from a very good family. Far too posh for Tony really, but she fell for him hook, line and sinker. He was a real looker. Still is, or haven't you noticed?' Doris laughs throatily. 'I must say, whoever wins him will have done very well for herself. Quite the eligible bachelor, Tony is. Pity the little boy didn't get his father's charm or his mother's looks. Funny kid, isn't he? He's the apple of his grandparents' eyes, though. They dote on him. Right little Billy Bunter. Your lad could do with a few of his pounds. Now let's have a quick peek at your hair. Yes. That looks just right. Come on, let's get some curlers on.'

When Doris has curled and set Silvana's hair, she moves the china dogs and calendars on the mantelpiece so that Silvana can look at herself in the mirror.

'Do you like it? That's what we called the ”Victory style” during the war.'

Silvana turns her head from side to side. Her hair is a dark shade of mahogany, curled tightly at the front and looser at the back. She doesn't recognize herself.

'Wait a minute.' Doris scrabbles through her handbag and pulls out a small gold lipstick case. 'Here. Put a bit of this on.'

Silvana laughs. Doris is so excited for her. The woman is clasping her hands together, as if she is an artist who has just unveiled her latest masterpiece. The Polish woman remade. And why not? She kisses Doris on her powdered cheek, feeling pitted skin beneath her lips, and realizes life has taken its toll on Doris, too. 'You are a good person,' she whispers.