by Ellie Dean
Minestrone soup was followed by roasted local lamb with mint sauce and all the trimmings and a tinned peach Pavlova smothered in thick cream. The white wine was chilled to perfection, the red was dark and fruity, and according to the men, the beer was excellent.
Cigars and cigarettes were lit and buttons and belts discreetly loosened after this feast, and as the staff quietly went round to fill glasses with champagne for the toasts, they waited for the speeches.
Stanislaw struggled to his feet. ‘It has been my honour to stand by my friend on this very special day,’ he began. ‘He is brave and clever, and I could tell many stories about him – but I have promised to keep them to myself today, for he is too modest, and I will not embarrass him.’ He beamed a smile at his laughing audience. ‘But of course, after today I can share some of our adventures with you.’
He raised his chin, his moustache twitching as he battled to hold back his emotions. ‘He is very lucky man to have found such a beautiful woman in Rita, and I hope that one day I shall be as lucky.’
His gaze trawled the room and settled momentarily on Danuta, who dipped her chin, furious to be picked out like that, and even more furious at herself for blushing like a stupid schoolgirl.
‘I know Peter will soon take Rita home with him to Australia, and our hearts will be sad. But they have so much love between them they will have a wonderful life there.’ He blinked away his tears and turned to Ivy who was sitting next to him at the top table.
‘Ivy, you have been best and most loving friend of Rita for long time, and she loves you very much. Today you are most beautiful bridesmaid, and your baby will be just as lovely I am sure.’
He gazed down to the three little girls sitting so obediently with Anne and Martin. ‘Rose, Emily and Daisy, you are so pretty and sweet – and one day it will be your turn to be a bride. I hope you remember this day for all the love and happiness that surrounds you.’
He picked up his champagne glass. ‘I ask you to raise your glasses to Ivy and our sweet little bridesmaids, and to wish them a long life and much happiness.’
Everyone got to their feet and enthusiastically responded, and Peggy noticed that Stanislaw’s face was streaked with tears. My goodness , she thought. I never realised how emotional he was – but then Aleksy had been the same, the tears of joy and sorrow never far away.
Jack Smith got to his feet. ‘Thank you, Stan,’ he said, handing him a clean handkerchief, to everyone’s amusement. He went on to thank everyone for coming and to offer his congratulations to the chef and staff for the excellent meal, and to the club chairman for allowing them to celebrate today in their magnificent function room.
‘I always knew this day would come,’ he went on more soberly. ‘And have secretly dreaded it, for Rita’s always been my little girl, and I rather selfishly wanted to keep her to myself. But now the day is here, and I see my daughter looking so radiant, and clearly deeply in love, I could wish no more for her.’
He reached for his glass, and his voice was unsteady as he continued. ‘Peter, I have entrusted my most precious girl to your care, and I know you will love and cherish her as I have done. I wish you both joy and great success in your new life, and may all your tears be happy ones.’
There was barely a dry eye in the room as they toasted the bride and groom, and Peggy rather suspected she’d managed to cry away most of her make-up.
Peter responded to Jack’s short speech, thanking him for his support, and once again offering him the chance to go with them to Australia – which Jack cheerfully refused. Then he raised his glass to toast his bride, and promised once again to love and cherish her to the very end of his days.
Stanislaw read out the many telegrams that had come in from Australia, the cake was cut, and then the five-piece band struck up with ‘Moonlight Becomes You’. Peter led Rita onto the small dance floor for their first waltz as a married couple and minutes later were joined by Ivy and Andy, Sally and John, and Peggy with Frank – who turned out to be a surprisingly good dancer.
‘Why didn’t Pauline come?’ she asked. ‘Isn’t she well again?’
‘She’s got one of her heads,’ Frank said gruffly. ‘The doctor’s given her some pills, but they don’t seem to help much.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘She didn’t want me to come today, but Rita’s been so much a part of the family that I felt I should be here to wish her well. Do you think that was wrong of me?’
‘Not at all,’ she replied firmly. ‘You have absolutely no reason to feel guilty, and I want you to enjoy yourself today, Frank. God knows you deserve to after all she’s put you through lately.’
‘She is trying to make amends with Brendon and Betty,’ he replied. ‘But Brendon’s very protective of Betty, and Pauline’s rejection of her bit deep. She’s accused me of taking sides, but what else could I do, Peggy? He’s my only surviving son, and I refuse to let her cause a rift between us.’
Peggy watched the young couple making their way slowly around the dance floor, and thought how tragic it was that Pauline couldn’t accept their marriage because it had come some months after their son had been born. But she’d said her piece to Pauline and made it clear what she thought of her; now it was up to Pauline to make amends – to swallow her stupid, all-consuming pride and enjoy her family. Yet it seemed she was unwilling to make the effort, and poor Frank was shouldering the huge burden of trying to please everyone and still hold the family together.
Danuta knew it would happen, and that there was no point in trying to avoid it if she was to discover more about her brother’s exploits after he’d left Poland. As expected, Stanislaw made a beeline for her the minute the band started playing, and as he plumped down in the chair beside her, she gave him a wary smile.
‘Sadly, I cannot dance,’ he said, tapping his prosthetic legs with a walking stick. ‘But if I had my legs, I would have liked to dance with you all evening.’
‘I’m not much good at dancing, so it really doesn’t matter,’ she replied. ‘May I ask what happened to your legs?’
‘I was in dogfight over the Netherlands at very end of war. My plane was shot up and I crash-landed into trees,’ he said with little emotion. ‘But I still live and love life, and one day I will learn to walk again without these,’ he added, jamming the sticks between his knees. ‘You are nurse. You know of these things.’
Danuta couldn’t help but admire his stoicism in the light of such a life-changing injury. ‘My brother was not so lucky,’ she murmured. ‘Where did you meet him?’
He poured them both a glass of wine, and after taking a sip, he leaned back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Aleksy was with me at flying academy in Poland. We trained together and got our wings on the same day. I stay in Poland, but Aleksy want to fight the Communists, so he went to Spain.’
He took a deep swallow of wine. ‘I follow him, but we return to Warsaw just as Russians occupy the east, and Germans invade the west. He find his home destroyed, but no sign of you or rest of his family. Everyone in neighbourhood was scattered, he could get no information and feared you were lost – as my own family had been lost.’
Danuta felt a chill of remembrance and looked at him questioningly.
‘My father was shot for leading the local resistance, and our home and estates in Kresy were stolen by Russians. I manage to get my mother and sister out and onto a ship, but it was sunk by a German U-boat.’
He wiped his eyes with a large handkerchief, took another swig of wine and then continued, his voice rough with emotion as he slipped into his mother tongue.
‘At that time many thousands of military, naval and air force personnel fell into Soviet hands and were sent to Gulags in Siberia. The Russians didn’t want to risk the educated classes rising against them, so Aleksy and I knew we had to escape before we too were captured. Like many before us, we managed to cross Romania and find our way into France where we joined the Armée de l’Air . It was vital to block the German invasion through northern Europe, and they were gl
ad to have us Poles fill their ranks.’
‘But why France?’ she asked in Polish.
‘A Polish government in exile had been set up there after the German invasion into Poland. But then France surrendered to Germany in 1940, and we were advised to get to Britain where the government had agreed to establish an independent Polish Air Force under British control.’
‘That couldn’t have been easy,’ murmured Danuta, who’d experienced her own perilous escape through France. ‘France was overrun by then and every port was heavily guarded.’
Stanislaw smiled and twirled his moustache. ‘Aleksy and I managed to come to England on a fishing boat. Some came from Gibraltar, and there is a story about three who flew their Bloch MB fighters from France to Tangmere.’
‘They were lucky not to be shot down,’ said Danuta.
‘War is all about luck,’ he replied with a shrug.
Danuta took a sip of wine. ‘When Aleksy came to England, he was billeted with Peggy at Beach View before he joined Bomber Command. Where were you?’
‘I was sent to Blackpool to learn how to fly British fighter planes.’ He chuckled and twirled his moustache. ‘They were very modern compared to what we had in Poland and France, with retractable undercarriages we kept forgetting about.’ He grinned. ‘We had many belly-flop landings, which didn’t do our reputation or our planes any good.’
Danuta smiled back. ‘I can imagine.’
‘It was difficult for all of us. None of us spoke much English, and we Poles found RAF procedures and formalities very strange. The British are very cool and formal, but we Poles have fire in our hearts and bellies and are not afraid to show it. The British commanders did not approve of our aggressive skills and tactics during the fighting, but we were here to kill the hateful Germans. It was not a time for good manners.’
Danuta nodded. ‘I can see how the differences must have made things frustrating on both sides,’ she said. ‘Did you and Aleksy meet again before he was killed?’
‘For a few hours before the Germans began to blitz London. We were both on leave and met in a pub outside the town of Croydon. We drank the place dry, I remember, but that was the last time I saw him.’
‘The last time I saw him was in Warsaw shortly before he left for Spain. I came to Beach View too late, so I never had the chance to tell him what had happened to our family.’
Stanislaw gently placed his large hand over Danuta’s. ‘This is not the day for sad memories, little one,’ he said softly. ‘I can guess what happened to them. But how did you get here? Did you come alone all that way?’
Danuta nodded, unwilling to go into any detail of her hair-raising escape across Europe. ‘It wasn’t easy,’ she said, ‘and discovering I was too late to ever see Aleksy again, I counted myself lucky to have found a safe and loving home with Peggy.’
Stanislaw glanced across at Peggy who was now being whirled round the floor by Ron. ‘She has a very beautiful soul,’ he murmured. ‘Her heart is on her sleeve as the English say. I am glad Aleksy found a good home with her before he went into battle.’
He knocked back the remains of his wine and poured more. ‘Peter tells me you are planning to return to Poland soon.’
‘At the end of the month.’
His expression was suddenly very solemn. ‘It would be most foolish to go back, Danuta. The Russians have been given control over most of Poland, and Stalin is determined to rid the country of all who may resist him. He does not believe in democracy, and already he is enforcing Communist rule.’
‘But Poland’s my home,’ she protested, oblivious now that they were still speaking Polish. ‘I’ve waited many years to return, and there is much need for my skills as a nurse now the hospitals are so overwhelmed with all the returning prisoners from the camps.’
‘I share your desire to return to our fatherland, Danuta, but it is no longer free, democratic or independent. Our people fought for freedom from the Germans, but now are crushed once more beneath the Russian boot. No one is safe, Danuta, and I beg you to think again.’
‘But the plans have already been made,’ she replied. ‘And I won’t be travelling alone. Besides,’ she added. ‘I pose no threat to the Russians. I merely wish to do my nursing.’
He leaned towards her, his tone urgent. ‘You would have to explain where you have been all this time, and that will make them suspicious. If they think you have returned to work with the resistance, then you will be sent to Siberia and simply disappear like so many thousands of others.’
‘I’m sure that won’t happen,’ she said, quelling the sudden nervous flutter inside her.
He pressed her hand between both of his. ‘It will, Danuta. Everyone is questioned, and if they don’t like your answers … Please don’t go. You’re young and lovely, and I’m sure most brave – but you cannot fight these people. They do not listen.’
Danuta watched the swirl of dancers, but her thoughts were far from this room and the happiness of the celebrations. She was remembering the years she’d worked covertly behind enemy lines for the SOE and with the underground resistance fighters; the times she’d escaped capture by the skin of her teeth when someone had betrayed her; the horror of seeing her lover being shot; the nights and days of hiding in barns and under bridges from the Gestapo who were so determined to find and punish her – and finally the terrifying days she’d spent being interrogated and tortured by them.
She’d been saved by an Allied air raid which had destroyed her prison and offered escape, and had been so close to death that she was barely aware of anything as the resistance fighter had carried her to safety, and managed to get her on a British hospital ship to England. She’d survived, but at a terrible cost, for the internal injuries inflicted by the Gestapo meant she could never have children.
Could she really risk going through all that again? Did she have the strength and courage to face such a formidable enemy for the sake of doing her nursing? And did this longing to see her homeland warrant putting her life and Solly’s in mortal danger? Her entire family was gone, so there was nothing left for her there, and if Stanislaw was right, it wouldn’t be the Poland she remembered. For the first time in many years, her resolve began to waver.
‘I am very sorry, little one,’ Stanislaw murmured, putting his arm about her shoulders. ‘I have said too much and have made you think of things which have made you sad.’
‘I have dreamed of returning home for very long time,’ she replied in English, easing from his embrace. ‘Do you not wish to go back, Stanislaw?’
‘Every moment of every day,’ he replied. ‘But I will not return until Poland is free again. And I cannot see that happening for a very long time.’
‘But our people are foreigners here,’ said Danuta. ‘What if the British order you to go home?’
‘Then we must resist with all our might. We helped the British to win this war, and have earned the right to stay.’
‘Right-oh, you two, enough of that,’ interrupted Peter. ‘I’m taking Danuta for a dance.’ With that, he drew Danuta to her feet and whirled her out onto the floor in a fast foxtrot.
‘Sorry about that, Danuta. But you looked as if you needed rescuing. Old Stan’s inclined to get too serious about things, and this is supposed to be a happy day.’
Danuta looked beyond him to Stanislaw who was now sitting alone at the table and making his way purposefully through a second bottle of wine as he watched her dance. He looked so sad, and despite all her previous misgivings, she realised he was as lonely as she in this exile, and her heart went out to him.
Peter thanked her for the dance and Danuta returned to the table and would have remained there if Stanislaw hadn’t insisted upon her joining in the dancing. ‘I like to watch you enjoying yourself,’ he said. ‘It’s good to see you smile. You are too serious, I think, for one so young.’
She laughed at that, for she was well into her twenties, but accepted the offer to dance from Brendon, and then returned to Stanislaw’s side to catc
h her breath and have another drink. She wasn’t really in the habit of drinking much, and it was beginning to go to her head by the time Rita and Peter were ready to leave for their London honeymoon.
Everyone trooped outside to where a taxi – suitably adorned with strings of tin cans and ribbons – was waiting to take them to the station. Rita had changed into a cream linen dress and jacket and a neat little hat. She hugged and kissed them all, and when it was Danuta’s turn she held her for a moment longer.
‘Have fun with Stan, Danuta,’ she whispered. ‘He’s such a lovely man under all that bluff and moustache twirling.’
Danuta reddened. ‘I keep him company, is all,’ she stuttered.
Rita laughed. ‘If you say so.’
And then the taxi was pulling away, the tin cans rattling as a shower of confetti rained down on it and everyone shouted their cheerful goodbyes.
Peggy and Cordelia were happily mopping their tears as they turned to go back into the reception room, and Peggy caught Danuta’s hand on the way past. ‘Such a happy day,’ she breathed. ‘I so love weddings, don’t you?’
‘Of course,’ Danuta replied, smiling back with great affection.
‘It’ll be your wedding one day, Danuta, and I promise it will be just as wonderful.’
Danuta nodded and let her carry on into the clubhouse with Cordelia, while she stayed outside to let the fresh air clear her head. Peggy was a romantic, and weddings always made her over-emotional, and although Danuta knew she meant well and yearned to give her a beautiful wedding day, it was unlikely she would ever marry. Her body was scarred and ugly, and not something she’d ever wish to reveal – and what was the point of getting married when she couldn’t have children?
Danuta made her way up the steps and found Stanislaw waiting for her with a fresh bottle of wine. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I’ve had more than enough to drink. I’m on duty early tomorrow morning, so I think I will go home now.’
His welcoming smile faded into disappointment. ‘Oh. Then of course I must not keep you any longer.’ He began to struggle to his feet.
