by Emma Fraser
Selecting a book she wanted to read, she went downstairs to make some coffee. She’d brought a small jar with her as well as milk, bread, salad and a few other essentials.
She took her coffee into the small sitting room and looked outside. An elderly lady was sitting on a bench, her handbag neatly placed on her lap. She appeared to be waiting for someone.
Sarah sat at the writing desk and started reading, taking notes as she went along. The first-hand accounts of what had happened to survivors of the war were harrowing and draining. Therefore when the doorbell rang, she was almost pleased.
Rubbing the small of her back, she went into the hall and opened the front door.
On the doorstep was a thin, elderly woman with short grey hair, clutching a cheap, vinyl bag. She’d been the one sitting on the bench opposite a short while ago.
‘Can I help you?’ Sarah asked.
‘I believe this is Lord Glendale’s house? At least it used to be.’ Her English was perfect but accented. She peered past Sarah as if expecting someone to appear. ‘I might have made a mistake. It’s been so long and my memory isn’t what it used to be.’
Immediately Sarah knew this was Magdalena. ‘Yes this is Lord Glendale’s house. Are you Miss Magdalena Drobnik, by any chance?’
The woman straightened. ‘Dr Magdalena Drobnik, dear.’
‘Please. Come in!’
Suddenly Magdalena seemed to deflate and she clutched the door jamb for support. Sarah caught her, putting her arm under the woman’s shoulder, noting the fragility of her bird-like bones. She helped her inside and onto the sofa, lifting her legs so she was lying flat.
‘Please don’t fuss,’ Magdalena protested. ‘I’m a little light-headed, that’s all.’
Sarah shook her head. Magdalena’s lips had a bluish tinge to them. ‘Stay put,’ she said. ‘I’ll just get some water.’
By the time she returned from the kitchen a few moments later, Magdalena was sitting up and fumbling in her handbag. She brought out a brown plastic bottle and tapped a blue pill into the palm of her hand. Sarah passed her the glass of water and Magdalena washed down the tablet with large noisy gulps.
‘The beginnings of heart block, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry to have alarmed you.’
‘It’s all right. Take your time.’
Magdalena placed the glass carefully on the coffee table. ‘I came as soon as I could, but it took a while to get my passport in order. My country might be a democracy again,’ a smile flitted across her face, ‘but it seems the bureaucrats still hold the power.’
‘The solicitors didn’t tell me you were already here.’ Then she realised she hadn’t introduced herself. ‘I’m Sarah Davidson.’
Magdalena’s face brightened. ‘Sarah – I rather hoped you were.’
‘I’m sorry if it looks as if I’ve taken up residence in what is, after all, your property, but you probably know that Lord Glendale appointed my mother as his executor in your absence.’
A look of unutterable sadness passed across her face. ‘If I’d known Richard was ill… I should have guessed when he stopped answering my letters. Not that it would have made any difference. I couldn’t have come to him then. If only he had been able to hold on a little longer – I would have been able to see him one last time.’
‘Would you excuse me? I’ll be back in a moment.’ Sarah ran upstairs and took the photograph of Magdalena from the mantelpiece before hurrying back downstairs.
‘He has a painting of you like this – in his bedroom – opposite his bed. You were the last thing he saw when he closed his eyes, the first thing he saw in the morning.’
Magdalena took the photograph. ‘Oh, Richard.’ Her eyes filled and she dabbed them with her handkerchief. ‘I thought I had cried all the tears I was going to.’
Sarah sat down and waited for Magdalena to gather herself.
‘I’ve been longing to meet you,’ she said, when the older woman seemed composed again. ‘My mother remembers you. She really wants to see you again.’
Magdalena’s head snapped up. ‘She remembers me?’
‘Oh, yes. You meant – mean – a great deal to her.’ She took the photo Richard had left her mother from her handbag and passed it across. ‘That’s her.’
Magdalena covered her mouth with her hand and when she looked up her eyes were luminous. ‘So it is,’ she murmured. ‘Oh, and look, she’s wearing my necklace.’
‘You gave it to her? It’s her most precious possession.’ Sarah hesitated. ‘What I don’t understand is why Mum remembers you and not Irena Kraszewska. The woman who rescued her from Poland.’
Magdalena smiled. ‘My dear, that’s easy to explain. Magdalena is my assumed name. I had to change it when I went back to Poland and so I chose the name of a very dear friend of mine who died in the war. I couldn’t take her last name, though – the Germans were very zealous record keepers. But Irena Kraszewska was the name I was born with and if you don’t mind, now I’m here, it’s the one I’d prefer to use.’
‘You’re Irena!’ Suddenly it all made sense. Perfect sense. Magdalena and Irena were one and the same. Now she could see it. She had the same almond-shaped eyes as the woman in the photograph, the same full bottom lip, even the way her mouth turned up at the corners as if caught in a permanent smile. ‘I can’t wait to tell Mum.’
‘How is Leah – I mean Lily? Is she here?’ Irena looked around, her eyes shining. ‘I’ve been so looking forward to seeing her again.’
‘She’s not well. She had a stroke a few months ago and is in hospital getting intensive rehab.’
Irena’s face fell. ‘But she’s so young! How is she now?’
‘She’s improved quite a bit in the last few weeks. I think knowing Magdalena – you – were alive gave her something to look forward to.’
‘Do you have a recent photograph of her?’
Sarah reached into her handbag and opened her purse. She had one that was taken when they were on holiday in Dorset and which she always kept with her. It was her favourite. In it, her mother looked so happy, so carefree.
Irena studied it. ‘Leah,’ she breathed.
‘What can you tell me about her? How did you meet her? Who was she? Are any of her family still alive?’
Irena smiled. ‘So many questions! Of course, I’ll tell you everything – at least what I can.’ She drew her hand across her face. Suddenly she looked exhausted. Of course it was bound to be emotionally draining for her to be here. Sarah also needed to give her time to recover from her journey.
‘We’ll leave that for later.’ She glanced at her watch. It was after seven. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘Not since lunchtime. I don’t eat very much, although I have to admit, I’m a little peckish.’ She smiled in delight. ‘There! I remembered one of your idioms.’
‘Are you planning to stay here?’ Sarah asked. ‘I could easily make up a bed for you. Or you could come home with me, if you prefer? There’s plenty of room. You’d be on your own tomorrow, but there are shops nearby and a bus stop if you wanted to go anywhere.’
‘Thank you, you’re very kind, but I would prefer to stay here.’
‘Of course.’ But Sarah wasn’t sure she should, not on her own, not when she clearly wasn’t well. However, it wasn’t up to her.
‘This house holds so many memories for me,’ Irena continued, looking around, and fingering the velvet tassel of one of the cushions. ‘I never thought I’d see it again.’
‘If it’s all right with you, why don’t we both stay? I’ve slept here myself, once or twice. It keeps it aired as well as making it easier for me to use the library. I’m sure there’s enough in the fridge to throw together a sandwich.’
‘I don’t wish to put you to any trouble.’
‘You won’t. Now I’ve found you, I’m damned if I’m going to let you out of my sight – not until I know everything.’
Irena took off her spectacles and rubbed her eyes. ‘I’m a little tired, but I’d love to see your mother aga
in. Would it be possible to visit her this evening, after we’ve had supper?’
‘I’m afraid visiting hours are over for today. For some bizarre reason, they’re restricted on Mondays – I guess they don’t want hordes of people cramming into the ward and tiring the patients. But you must come with me tomorrow afternoon – Mum will be thrilled.’
‘I’d like that very much.’
‘How long are you in Scotland?’
‘A month.’
‘Then we have plenty of time for you to tell me everything.’
Sarah made Irena a cup of tea and left her while she made up some sandwiches and placed them on a tray. As an afterthought she added the remains of the bottle of wine she’d opened the other night. Even if Irena didn’t need a drink, she did.
‘Would you mind if we had supper on our laps?’ Sarah asked when she returned with the tray. ‘I’m afraid the dining room is a little chilly.’
‘Of course not. I’m sorry to put you to all this trouble.’
‘Believe me, it’s no trouble. You can’t imagine how much I’ve being hoping to meet you.’ Sarah held up the bottle of wine and to her surprise, Irena nodded. ‘Let’s have our supper, then we can talk,’ she said.
When they’d eaten, Irena leaned back in her chair and took a sip of wine. ‘If you would indulge an old lady, I’d like to start at the beginning?’
Sarah nodded.
Irena closed her eyes. ‘My – our, because it is your story too – story begins in Warsaw. I was about to begin the fourth year of my medical training, but all that changed when the Germans invaded my country.’
Sarah listened, fascinated, as Irena told her about her life in Warsaw, the typhus ruse and why she’d decided in the end to leave Poland.
‘The boy, Dominik. Did he make it?’
‘Then, yes. Although I’m not sure if he survived the war.’
‘I couldn’t have done what you did. I would have been terrified.’
‘I was terrified. Almost all the time.’
‘No, you were brave. Incredibly brave.’
A shadow crossed Irena’s face. ‘Oh my dear, I wasn’t always as brave as I should have been.’ She brushed a hand across her eyes. ‘Would you mind if we left the rest of the story until tomorrow?’ She looked utterly drained.
Sarah hid her disappointment behind a smile. ‘Of course. I’ll show you to your room. There’s plenty of water if you’d like a bath before bed?’
She went to help her out of the low sofa but Irena brushed her away with an impatient hand. ‘I might be old, but I’m not yet incapable of getting to my feet unaided.’
Sarah should have known from the little she had learned about her guest that she was made of stern stuff. All the women she’d met in the course of her search seemed made that way.
After Irena was settled in her room, Sarah went back downstairs and cleared away their dishes.
Irena and Magdalena were one and the same and she couldn’t wait to tell Mum she was here.
Chapter 51
When Sarah went down to the kitchen the next morning she found Irena already at the kitchen table, dressed and with a lot more colour in her cheeks than she’d had the previous evening. In fact, she was almost buzzing with energy.
Irena pointed to the teapot on the table. ‘I made some tea. I remember from when I lived here that you Scots like it in the morning.’
Sarah poured herself a cup and sat down at the table.
‘I gather you lived here. I also know you completed your medical training at the Polish medical school. I hunted down a Dr Wilinski and he told me.’
‘You’ve been looking into me?’ Irena seemed less than pleased.
‘I was curious. My mother seemed so desperate that I find Magdalena – I mean you.’
Irena joined her at the table and gave her a rueful smile. ‘Sorry if I snapped. Comes from living more than half a lifetime under Communist rule. Until recently when someone looked into your past it was never for a good reason.’
‘I understand.’ But did she? Although the Cold War had been going on as long as she could remember, what could she possibly know about life behind the Iron Curtain?
‘It’s still difficult to talk about the past.’ Irena sighed and rubbed her eyes. ‘I made so many mistakes and yet there is so much I can’t regret. Especially loving Richard and having him love me. I know it’s not easy to tell, but behind this wrinkled face still beats the heart of the woman you saw in the photograph.’ Once again there was glimmer of a smile. ‘Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder who the old lady staring back at me could possibly be. Perhaps it’s for the best Richard and I only knew each other when we were young and beautiful. At least he was beautiful. As for me?’ she shrugged. ‘He persuaded me I was.’
‘You loved him too,’ Sarah stated.
‘Oh, yes. Very much.’
‘Why do you think Richard didn’t leave me a letter with the photographs?’
Irena thought for a while. ‘I suspect he wasn’t sure if your mother knew she was adopted. Knowing him, he wanted to leave you just enough information for you or your mother to find out, if you really wanted to.’
The sun shone through the large sash window, illuminating the thousands of dust motes suspended in the air.
‘Why don’t I make us some breakfast while you carry on with your story?’ Sarah suggested.
Irena inclined her head. ‘A boiled egg would be lovely. Now where did I get to last night?’
‘You’d decided you had to leave. How did you get out?’
‘Henryk and Stanislaw arranged it all for me. They made sure it looked as if Irena Kraszewska had died, bought papers for me and found a guide prepared to take me. It wasn’t an easy journey but I made it to London and Richard’s father’s house. That’s how I met Richard…’ Irena let out a long sigh. ‘But don’t you have work?’
Sarah glanced down at her watch. ‘Cripes. Yes, I’m afraid I’ll have to abandon you to your own devices. Will you be all right?’
Irena’s mouth twisted. ‘I’ve survived this long on my own, my dear, I dare say I’ll manage another day.’
When Sarah returned to Charlotte Square, after a quick detour to her flat to check for mail, she found Irena in the kitchen, up to her elbows in flour and a pot of stew on the stove.
‘Something smells good.’
‘I found a butcher’s on George Street. I’m making dumplings, too,’ Irena said. ‘I bought bananas and apples for after.’
‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘You can pour me some vodka,’ Irena said. ‘I bought a bottle, seeing as there was none in the house.’
It took all Sarah’s self-control not to raise her eyebrows. She rummaged in the kitchen cupboards. ‘I can’t find it, I’m afraid.’
‘It’s in the fridge. It’s best when it’s cold.’
‘You drink it straight?’
Irena smiled impishly. ‘Of course. There is no other way.’
Sarah poured a finger into a tumbler but when Irena raised an eyebrow she reluctantly added another one. ‘What sort of doctor were you in Poland?’ Sarah asked, placing the glass on the table.
‘A paediatrician.’
‘Can you tell me now how you came to know my mother?’
The sparkle in Irena’s eyes dimmed. ‘It’s not a happy story.’
Sarah poured herself a glass of Chardonnay and took a long sip. ‘Somehow I didn’t think it would be.’
Sarah felt sick as Irena told her how she’d met her mother and what had happened later at the hospital. It was shocking, nauseating, almost unbelievable.
‘To lose her mother and brother like that! Do you think she remembers what happened?’
‘Yes. She might not have been aware of what was going on but she would have known it was something terrible.’
Sarah could have howled for the little girl her mother had been. It explained so much: her over-protectiveness, her fears, the constant sadness lurking behind her eyes. And
why she hated being in hospital so much. ‘I have to get her out of there.’
‘My dear, are you sure?’
‘I should have taken her home ages ago.’ She jumped to her feet. ‘I’m going to fetch her.’
‘Would you like me to come with you?’
‘I think it’s something I need to do myself.’ She pulled a hand through her hair. ‘My God, if you could do what you did, I can do this.’
‘Where will you take her?’
