He took her glass across the room. As he poured the drink he heard the slam of the outer door. Marian jumped up and hurried to the living room door. She opened it and went through. After a moment Mirek heard her little-girl voice.
‘My God. Is she all right?’
He heard Jerzy’s urgent voice. ‘Barely. Let’s get her close to the fire.’
They came into the room sideways, Jerzy first, enormous in his fur coat. He had his arm around a smaller figure, supporting it. Natalia and Marian followed.
Mirek stood by the cabinet, bemused, a glass in each hand. As they reached the fire Jerzy pulled the fur coat off the smaller figure. It was Natalia’s coat. Mirek’s view was blocked. He moved forward. It was a woman with her back to him. Marian was rubbing the woman’s hands. Natalia pulled a scarf from the woman’s head. Her hair was ebony black. Mirek knew that hair. He heard the crash as both glasses dropped to the floor.
‘Ania!’
She turned. Her face was white, her black eyes sunken and narrowed. Her lips were quivering. She muttered his name and moved and she was in his arms.
The others stood back silently. Her body was ice cold. He raised her in his embrace and moved her back closer to the fire. Jerzy lifted more logs on to it. Mirek felt her cheeks. They were slabs of ice.
‘How did you get here?’
She held on to him and muttered, ‘The same way as you.’
It took seconds to penetrate, then anger took over.
‘They sent you in that tanker . . . after knowing what I went through? I’ll kill the bastards!’
‘No, Mirek. It was my decision. They warned me. They helped make it easier.’
‘But why?’
‘The Bacon Priest. He decided I should continue with you.’
Mirek’s mind was in turmoil, but then one thing became clear. The body he was holding was both frozen and exhausted.
He turned his head and said, ‘Marian, please fill that sunken bath with hot water. That will warm her quicker than this fire. Jerzy, a brandy please.’
Marian and Natalia left the room. Jerzy brought a glass with an inch of brandy. Mirek held it to her lips. Some went down her throat and some down her leather jacket. She coughed violently. With his hand Mirek wiped her chin, then held the glass up again.
‘Try and drink more. It will help.’
He poured some more through her lips and she coughed and spluttered and shook her head. ‘Enough, Mirek. I’m all right.’
He reached down and got one hand behind her knees and one under her shoulders and lifted her. ‘Come, you’re going into the biggest bath you ever saw.’
Jerzy opened the door and then preceded them up the stairs. The bedroom door was open. As they went through they saw steam coming out of the bathroom.
Natalia came out and said, ‘All right, we’ll take care of her now.’
Mirek set her on her feet, gave her a final embrace and said, ‘Ania, I’ll see you later . . .’
He wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. Natalia put an arm around her and led her into the bathroom and closed the door.
Back downstairs Jerzy put on some muted contemporary jazz and poured two whiskies. Mirek stood with his back to the fire collecting his thoughts and emotions. Finally, as Jerzy passed him a drink, he asked, ‘So what happened?’
Jerzy shrugged. ‘I had a coded telephone message from Warsaw that someone was arriving at the same delivery spot. They were to be picked up and held here. Further instructions would be delivered tomorrow morning. That’s all I know. She’s the woman who was travelling with you?’
‘Yes.’
Jerzy sniffed and said, ‘Well, your people are playing chess. I guess she was a decoy and the authorities would assume that once her cover was gone she would be pulled out. They won’t be looking for her now . . . Very clever.’
‘Maybe,’ Mirek mused. ‘But the Russians also play chess and are very good at it. The best.’
‘True enough,’ Jerzy conceded, ‘but they also have a habit of underestimating the intelligence of other people.’
The door opened and Marian came in. She said, ‘She’ll be fine. Natalia’s looking after her. Mirek, I told her to go straight to bed and that I’d bring her some food there but she insists on joining us . . . She tells me that she has been out of Poland since her childhood.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I’ll make a meal that she will remember.’ She walked to the door and turned to look at him. There was a twinkle in her eyes.
‘So I was right after all.’
Mirek felt an embarrassing flush.
‘She’s just a colleague.’
Marian smiled. ‘I’m sure.’
She opened the door and went out.
Mirek asked, ‘Can that one really cook?’
Jerzy grinned. ‘Wait and see, my friend. That one has more than just a single obvious talent.’
It was close to midnight when they ate. Ania had slept for two hours. Knowing the ordeal she had come through Mirek was astonished by her composure and her physical state. Only her eyes showed residual exhaustion. She had applied a little make-up and was wearing a long skirt of red and blue stripes cut on the bias, with a white lace blouse. Mirek had never seen the clothes before.
She explained. ‘Natalia lent them to me. Mine are all crumpled.’
‘They suit you,’ he answered. ‘They make you look like a gypsy.’
‘I’m beginning to feel like one.’
Jerzy had decided that they would not eat in the formal dining room, but in front of the sitting room fire. He and Mirek carried in a small table and five chairs. Natalia lit some candles on the mantelpiece and as she dimmed the lights Marian came in carrying a tray. On it were five gold goblets and a big jug. She put it on the table and said dramatically to Ania, ‘Krupnik to welcome you back to Poland.’
‘Krupnik?’ Ania said uncertainly and Marian and the others looked amazed.
Jerzy said, ‘You never had krupnik?’
Mirek interjected quickly. ‘She left Poland when she was very young, and spent much of her life with people who didn’t drink.’ To Ania he said, ‘Krupnik is pure spirit mixed with spices and honey. It’s a traditional drink of hunters and travellers when they come in from the cold . . . It’s served hot.’
Jerzy picked up a goblet and passed it to her. She lowered her nose and sniffed.
‘It smells delicious . . . and strong!’
They all had goblets in their hands. Jerzy raised his and said simply, ‘Welcome home, both of you.’
Mirek took a sip. He had often drunk it before but as he savoured the taste he realised that, compared with this, what he had known was pure rotgut.
Marian was wearing a frilly white apron which looked incongruous. The meal she produced was anything but. They started with thinly sliced spiced sausages and smoked meats. Then came golabki, a dish of rice and mincemeat with various spices and wrapped in cabbage leaves. They were delicate but firm. Mirek found he could cut it with his fork. Ania knew the dish well but had not eaten it for many years. She exclaimed with pleasure at the first mouthful and complimented Marian on her skills. This was a new Marian, one that Mirek had not seen. Confident, competent, and with no hint of the coquette. He assumed that the golabki would be the main course but as Natalia cleared away the dishes Marian came back with another piled up tray. It contained zrazy nelsonskirz kasza, a dish made from beaten meat with buckwheat, rolled and skewered and cooked in mushroom sauce.
With it they drank Tokay wine, golden and sweetish. They drank a lot of it, with many toasts. Jerzy asked Ania what music she liked and, when she told him, he searched through a cupboard and found a long playing record of Chopin’s mazurkas.
For a Pole the combination of such food and wine and music can have two effects. One is unrestrained gaiety; the other a form of benign introspection. The effect on these Poles was the latter. They sat around the table with the flickering light of the fire and the candles and drank in the
wine and the music. There was no conversation, just thoughts.
Finally, when the music ended, Jerzy banged his fist on the table and said, ‘Come, on such a night we must not be so thoughtful. It can lead to sadness. Mirek, have you heard some of the latest jokes from our crazy country?’
Mirek shook his head and Jerzy grinned. ‘Well, the newest is this. There was a man in Warsaw who had been queuing for hours to buy a loaf of bread. Finally he blew his mind and left the queue shouting, “I’ve had enough. I’m going to assassinate that incompetent bastard Jaruzelsky.” He came back two hours later. Someone asked him, “Did you do it?” He shook his head and replied, “No. The queue was too long.’”
Everybody laughed. Natalia poured more Tokay and Marian said, ‘I heard one last week. The Mother Superior came running into a militia station in a terrible state. She told the officers that Russian soldiers had invaded her convent and raped all her nuns. She was distraught. She counted them off on her fingers: “There was Sister Jadwiga, Sister Maria, Sister Lidia, Sister Barbara . . . only Sister Honorata was not raped.” “Why not?” asked the officer. The Mother Superior replied, “Because she didn’t want it.”‘
She laughed at her own joke as did Natalia. Jerzy guffawed loudly. Slowly the laughter died as they noticed that neither Mirek nor Ania were joining in.
‘You don’t think it’s funny?’ Jerzy asked.
‘Well . . . sure,’ Mirek said.
‘So?’
Ania said quietly, ‘I was a nun.’
The silence was almost complete. Just the fire crackling. Then Marian said, ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I mean, I had no way . . .’
Ania reached out and put a hand on her arm. ‘Of course you didn’t. Don’t be upset . . . I don’t mind. Of course, it’s a funny joke. It’s just that I personally find it hard to laugh at it.’
Mirek sensed that the mood of the night was about to be broken. Lightly he said, ‘Jokes are always made about people who take themselves too seriously. Bureaucrats. Policemen . . . and the very religious.’
Looking at Ania, Jerzy asked, ‘Are you still devout?’
‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean to say I don’t appreciate a good joke. We even had some in the convent. I’ll tell you one. One day the Mother Superior fainted. Can you guess why?’
They all looked puzzled. Ania smiled and said, ‘Because she found the toilet seat up.’
It took a few moments for the joke to sink in, then Jerzy was guffawing again and having to explain the joke to Natalia.
The ice was broken and the mood restored. The two girls started to ply Ania with questions about life in the convent. Mirek admired her composure as she answered them in a relaxed and friendly way. When they asked her why she had given up her vows she thought for a few moments and then answered, ‘The vows sort of gave me up . . . to something else.’
Neither of the girls, nor Jerzy, understood, but they all nodded their heads at what they took to be something profound.
Mirek noted that Ania was having trouble keeping her eyes open. He said, ‘It’s late and we may have to move on tomorrow. We had better get some rest.’
They all stood up. For some reason it was an emotional moment, as though they had themselves all passed through a journey together. They embraced each other like brothers and sisters. Marian was modest under the compliments piled over her for the food. She kissed Ania on both cheeks and hugged her tightly, and said, ‘Tomorrow we’ll go through my clothes and find you lots of warm things to travel with.’
As they left the room Mirek saw Jerzy lighting up a Thai stick. Natalia was rifling through a stack of records looking for some heavy metal.
Going up the stairs he laughed and said, ‘These kacyki are deeper than they seem.’
Ania looked at him, puzzled.
He explained, ‘It’s what the ordinary people call them, these layabout kids of rich, powerful families . . . the princesses. But we are lucky. Our bunch are all right.’
It was only when they reached the door of the bedroom that he remembered. ‘Ania, this is my room. I’ll have to ask Marian for another one. I’ll just be a minute and then clear out my stuff.’
She stopped him with a hand on his arm.
‘No, Mirek, it’s all right. It’s a very big bed and I trust you. I’d rather not be alone tonight. I don’t know why. I know I’m safe . . . I suppose it was that terrible journey.’
So they went to bed together, separated by a vast expanse of bed. After turning the light out he questioned her about the trip. She explained that orders had come through from the Bacon Priest just after he had left. Her ankle was much better. The only way they knew to get her across was by the same route. When the tanker returned the next day the driver had been graphic in describing Mirek’s condition at the end of the journey. He doubted she would survive. Fortunately Mirek had described to the driver some of the problems he had faced. When she had insisted on going they had advised ways to make it easier. First several layers of woollen clothes under the wet suit. Thick leather gloves over woollen ones. A harness to strap her to the ladder and ease the weight. Anton had gone along sitting next to the driver. It was dangerous but he had insisted that if anything happened to her Mirek would come back one day and kill him. They had stopped three times on the journey, in quiet places, and Anton had opened the inspection hatch to check that she was all right. It had been hell, but she had survived.
As she described it he could picture her in that steel cocoon being bashed about by the sloshing mass of milk. The harness and gloves would have helped but he well knew the physical and mental efforts she had made to come through. He wanted to roll across the bed and hold her in his arms, but he remained still. His own eyes were getting heavy.
After a while he heard her voice, rasping but sleepy.
‘Mirek, are you awake?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s . . . It’s awful but I was sick twice into that milk.’
In the darkness he smiled to himself.
‘Don’t worry about it, Ania. So was I.’
Another silence, then she said, ‘I did something else into it as well.’
He chuckled and said, ‘I bet you didn’t lift the seat first.’
Chapter 20
The word came just after lunch in the shape of Antoni. He arrived in a black BMW. He spoke first to Jerzy in the dining room, then Marian and Natalia were summoned for what was obviously a conference. Ten minutes later they all filed into the sitting room. Mirek and Ania were reading newspapers that Antoni had brought with him.
As they sat down Jerzy said, ‘There has been a change of plan by your masters. I don’t know what the original plan was, but I guess it involved moving you via Wroclaw and then further north before going east. As it happens the powers that be in Warsaw and presumably Moscow are concentrating the security forces, particularly the SB, in that area. So your people have asked us to funnel you through to Warsaw via Cracow. We have agreed.’
Mirek said, ‘That means you’re extending your risk.’
Jerzy nodded and smiled. ‘True, but for us the risk is easily measured and accepted. Cracow is our patch. We know our way around. We have existed there with our group for more than two years now. What’s more, the security forces know us individually — and our family connections. We would be the last people to come under suspicion.’
Ania said, ‘We are grateful.’
‘No,’ answered Jerzy. ‘It is we who thank you.’ He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a thin strip of shiny metal and passed it to her. ‘That is pure gold. We can sell it for fifty thousand zlotys. For this extra assignment we are to be given fifty more. That will finance our newspaper for the next two years. You are obviously very important to someone.’
Ania was fingering the strip of gold. She said, ‘Is that the only reason? Money?’
Marian answered. ‘No, we don’t know what you are doing. We have only been told that your mission is anti-Russian. We would help anyone who is
doing something against those bastards.’
‘So when do we move?’ Mirek asked. ‘And to where?’
‘This afternoon,’ Jerzy answered. ‘We drive up to Cracow.’
‘Just like that?’
Jerzy grinned. ‘Just like that. Your people are astonishingly well prepared. I suspect they are one of the Western Intelligence agencies.’ He held up a hand. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to pry. Antoni was given papers for you both. They look genuine to us - and we know what to look for. The only thing missing is the photos to go with them. We have a camera and dark room here and the necessary stamps to emboss them. Antoni was informed that you have the means to disguise yourselves very effectively. I suggest you do that now and then we take your photos, fix them on to your documents, and we can leave for Cracow.’
‘Just wait,’ Mirek said firmly. ‘It’s not that I don’t trust your strategy or your ability, but I want to know all the details. Where do we stay in Cracow and for how long? How are we to be moved from Cracow to Warsaw?’
Jerzy grinned through his beard. ‘In Cracow you stay at the house of Brigadier General Teador Navkienko, Irena’s father. She is there now preparing for your arrival. The good General is on official business in Moscow for the next two months. He is a widower and being a mean bastard doesn’t like to pay for a housekeeper. Irena looks after the place when he’s away. We have some good parties there and drink his best Nalewka vodka and replace it with rotgut. He’s never noticed the difference.’
Mirek smiled. ‘Do you have a fallback?’
‘Of course. Two apartments. They are safe and have been for two years. But not as safe as the house of a Brigadier General. . .’
‘And how long will we be there and how do we get to Warsaw?’
Jerzy flung out a hand towards Natalia. ‘You leave just as soon as Natalia here can persuade her dear papa that she needs desperately to go to Warsaw for a shopping trip. You will travel there by train.’
Mirek and Ania exchanged puzzled looks. The others were all grinning. Jerzy said, ‘You remember what Natalia’s father does?’
In The Name of The Father Page 26
