Read Online 22 Britannia Road by Amanda Hodgkinson - Free Book Online
Authors: Amanda Hodgkinson
Ads: Link
windowsill, face against the window.
There are other houses across the way, red brick with outhouses just like this one and long rows of gardens where washing lines flash and billow. The tree at the bottom of his garden is covered in new leaves tight as children’s fists. It’s a perfect tree for climbing and already a towering friend to Aurek. He can almost smell the earthy, beetle-shell scent of its bark and he longs to climb into its branches.
But he can’t go into the garden. His mother is down there, kneeling in the earth, planting seeds. The man she says is his father is working alongside her, digging a trench for potatoes. That’s the man who has taken his mother away from him.
The glass is cold against Aurek’s cheek.
‘You’re not my father,’ he breathes, a circle of mist appearing on the windowpane. ‘ Pan jest moim wrogiem . You are enemy .’
In the garden, Janusz stops his work and wipes his face with his sleeve. He looks up at the sky, and Aurek wonders if he has heard his whisperings and is considering what he said. As Janusz slams his spade into the ground and begins turning over the soil again, Aurek leaps back onto the bed, pulling the covers over him.
Beyond the closed knot of his folded limbs, he is sure he hears the wardrobe door creak. He is shot through with fear. He huddles deeper into his nest and croons to himself, a soft birdsong to keep the enemy away.
In the first few months, Janusz struggles to find an order to their life. He leaves home early for work and when he returns, he teaches Silvana and Aurek English. They read together and then listen to the radio, mimicking the crystal-clear accents of the presenters.
He’s surprised and pleased at the way Silvana picks up the language. She looks better week by week. Her skin is still pale but she has put on a little weight and he’s hoping she will soon lose the watchfulness in her eyes, the constant look of mistrust. What he hadn’t bargained for was the amount of time he would spend teaching Silvana and Aurek not to do things. Not to take a bath in their clothes. Not to fidget when they listen to the radio. Not to steal vegetables from the allotments by the river. After coming home from work several times to find the front door open and the house empty, he also teaches them not to wander off into the town and spend hours getting lost. Aurek has to learn not to hide food around the house; that it belongs in the kitchen. He must not go into his parents’ bedroom. Ever. Nor must he touch his mother’s breasts. Ever. That’s something Janusz has lost his temper over, sending the boy
wailing to his room. The boy also learns not to bring animals of any description into the house after Janusz finds a nest of harvest mice wrapped in a tea towel in his bed.
‘You have to get used to living in a house again,’ says Janusz. ‘Put the past behind you both. The war’s over. This is peacetime. A newstart for us.’ He tries to soften his voice. He is aware that he sounds harsh. ‘I know it’s hard. You must miss Poland. I did too, to begin with.’
He watches their faces: his wife’s nervy stare, the boy’s silent eyes, blank as carved stone.
‘There’s a club in the town. A group of twenty or so Poles like us. Displaced people who have ended up living here. Some of them have children. You could speak Polish there, make some friends …’
‘No!’ Silvana replies, and he is surprised by the fierceness of her response.
‘I don’t want to see any other Polish people,’ she says. ‘They’ll just remind me of what I have lost.’
‘What we’ve both lost,’ he replies, and she turns away from him, as if he has said something stupid.
Janusz brings home pamphlets. They have pictures of smiling families waving British flags on the front of them. He reads to Silvana from a booklet called ‘Learning the British Way of Life’.
‘Home Entertainment for Foreigners’ brings a smile to his wife’s face when he shows it to
There are other houses across the way, red brick with outhouses just like this one and long rows of gardens where washing lines flash and billow. The tree at the bottom of his garden is covered in new leaves tight as children’s fists. It’s a perfect tree for climbing and already a towering friend to Aurek. He can almost smell the earthy, beetle-shell scent of its bark and he longs to climb into its branches.
But he can’t go into the garden. His mother is down there, kneeling in the earth, planting seeds. The man she says is his father is working alongside her, digging a trench for potatoes. That’s the man who has taken his mother away from him.
The glass is cold against Aurek’s cheek.
‘You’re not my father,’ he breathes, a circle of mist appearing on the windowpane. ‘ Pan jest moim wrogiem . You are enemy .’
In the garden, Janusz stops his work and wipes his face with his sleeve. He looks up at the sky, and Aurek wonders if he has heard his whisperings and is considering what he said. As Janusz slams his spade into the ground and begins turning over the soil again, Aurek leaps back onto the bed, pulling the covers over him.
Beyond the closed knot of his folded limbs, he is sure he hears the wardrobe door creak. He is shot through with fear. He huddles deeper into his nest and croons to himself, a soft birdsong to keep the enemy away.
In the first few months, Janusz struggles to find an order to their life. He leaves home early for work and when he returns, he teaches Silvana and Aurek English. They read together and then listen to the radio, mimicking the crystal-clear accents of the presenters.
He’s surprised and pleased at the way Silvana picks up the language. She looks better week by week. Her skin is still pale but she has put on a little weight and he’s hoping she will soon lose the watchfulness in her eyes, the constant look of mistrust. What he hadn’t bargained for was the amount of time he would spend teaching Silvana and Aurek not to do things. Not to take a bath in their clothes. Not to fidget when they listen to the radio. Not to steal vegetables from the allotments by the river. After coming home from work several times to find the front door open and the house empty, he also teaches them not to wander off into the town and spend hours getting lost. Aurek has to learn not to hide food around the house; that it belongs in the kitchen. He must not go into his parents’ bedroom. Ever. Nor must he touch his mother’s breasts. Ever. That’s something Janusz has lost his temper over, sending the boy
wailing to his room. The boy also learns not to bring animals of any description into the house after Janusz finds a nest of harvest mice wrapped in a tea towel in his bed.
‘You have to get used to living in a house again,’ says Janusz. ‘Put the past behind you both. The war’s over. This is peacetime. A newstart for us.’ He tries to soften his voice. He is aware that he sounds harsh. ‘I know it’s hard. You must miss Poland. I did too, to begin with.’
He watches their faces: his wife’s nervy stare, the boy’s silent eyes, blank as carved stone.
‘There’s a club in the town. A group of twenty or so Poles like us. Displaced people who have ended up living here. Some of them have children. You could speak Polish there, make some friends …’
‘No!’ Silvana replies, and he is surprised by the fierceness of her response.
‘I don’t want to see any other Polish people,’ she says. ‘They’ll just remind me of what I have lost.’
‘What we’ve both lost,’ he replies, and she turns away from him, as if he has said something stupid.
Janusz brings home pamphlets. They have pictures of smiling families waving British flags on the front of them. He reads to Silvana from a booklet called ‘Learning the British Way of Life’.
‘Home Entertainment for Foreigners’ brings a smile to his wife’s face when he shows it to
Similar Books
