Sign of the Times

by Susan Buchanan

  “Morning,” yawned Wojciech. Czeslawa looked up.

  “Sleep well?”

  “Like a log.”

  “Mummy, are we going to God’s house today?” Angelika burst into the room.

  “Yes, after breakfast.” She’d looked into Catholic churches and there was one in Kilburn. Today, their first full day, they would go to twelve o’clock mass. That way they could relax and have a leisurely breakfast. Maybe they’d take Angelika to the park afterwards. Sunday was the only day Wojciech had free. Back in Poland, they would have joined Mama and Anastazy for lunch. Their family was very close-knit. On Saturdays, the girls would go cycling with Anastazy, whilst Mama prepared dinner. Once they were more settled, she would see what there was to visit.

  The church was a concrete block. Inside, it was marginally less gloomy. The cavernous chapel held over a hundred pews. Czeslawa checked her watch. It was eleven fifty five. Dipping her hand into the font, she blessed herself as Wojciech strode ahead of them. Czeslawa watched her husband choose a pew and when she reached it, she genuflected and sneaked in after him.

  Czeslawa took in the interior of the church. It was vast, with huge windows. It was such a stark contrast to the churches in Gdansk. They were buildings of beauty and grace. The altar was sparse and the white tablecloth bore only a few items, amongst them candles and goblets, presumably for the wine, although she’d heard you were rarely offered wine in Scottish Catholic churches. With any luck, there would be a Polish mass near them soon.

  The mass was short by Polish standards. In three quarters of an hour, it was over. The elderly priest’s mumbling had been difficult to understand. As they filed out, they came across churchgoers mingling with their fellow worshippers, now that the rain had finally stopped. The scene lightened Czeslawa’s heart. So, the church was ugly, but the community spirit was there. She watched the elderly people greet each other. Children ran around beside the car park, relieved to be out in the fresh air. With a final glance around, Czeslawa moved towards their eight year old Ford Fiesta.

  “Mummy, can we go and explore?” Angelika asked, as they ambled up the path.

  “Yes darling. Let’s change out of our church clothes and then we’ll go for a walk. I believe there’s a park near here.” Angelika almost ripped her dress off, once inside, but her mother scolded her. “Lika, you’ll ruin it. Take it off properly.”

  “Mummy. I’m ready,” declared Angelika, who appeared wearing a cream skirt, a pink t-shirt and red and yellow Wellingtons.

  “Lika. I don’t think so,” her mother said. “It’s beautiful outside. Go and put on shorts and trainers. If you want to go on the slide at the park, you can’t wear a skirt.”

  Angelika thought about this, then skipped off to change.

  Ten minutes later, they were ready for their second outing in the village. George was sitting on his doorstep, smoking his pipe. He greeted them gruffly.

  “Hello George,” Wojciech said. “Lovely day now.”

  Czeslawa hid a smile. Wojciech had chosen the right thing to say. The British loved talking about the weather.

  “It won’t last. It was raining at five o’clock.”

  “I suppose not,” Wojciech agreed.

  “George, can you tell me where the park is?

  “Up on the hill.”

  “Thank you. Perhaps we will see you later. Angelika, say goodbye to George.”

  “Bye Mr George,” Angelika said, clambering up the steps.

  “Mummy, look!” Angelika sang, as she hurtled down the chute.

  “Be careful,” warned Czeslawa.

  Her parents watched as Lika played on the slide, the roundabout, which they were duty bound to ride with her and the see-saw, where they took turns at being on the other end. They laughed until they thought they would burst.

  *

  Back home, Angelika played in the garden, whilst her parents took a well earned rest.

  “Would you like a beer?” Czeslawa asked Wojciech.

  “Yes please.”

  Just then George came out to bring in his washing. Czeslawa noticed his large, lonely white underpants and brown socks, accompanied by a couple of vests, which presumably had been white in a previous life.

  “Hello George,” she called.

  George grunted. At least it’s some sort of response, she thought. She saw him laugh at Angelika chasing a butterfly. He watched her, as the butterfly flew away and she started digging in the dirt with her spade, overturning bugs and worms.

  “Look Mummy, this one wriggles,” her daughter proffered her a woodlouse.

  Czeslawa prayed her daughter would not bring her any further such treats and that she’d outgrow this fascination with creepy-crawlies. Just then George piped up,

  “Round here, we call that a slater,”

  “Slater? Is that not a person who puts roofs?” asked Wojciech.

  “Yes. It’s the same word. Do you want me to show you some more?” he asked kindly.

  Czeslawa turned away to stifle a laugh. What an attractive thing to suggest to a six year old girl. Well, if it helped bond with George, she was all for it. Angelika skirted the fence and headed towards George who was pointing at a large stone. As she approached, he lifted it and about a dozen slaters scurried out.

  “Ugh!” said Czeslawa.

  “I can do better than that.”

  George asked Wojciech if it was OK for Angelika to follow him to the other end of the garden. Wojciech agreed and as they walked, Angelika took George’s hand in hers. The old man looked at her fondly. They came to a wooden structure, with wire leading from it.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “You’ll see,” George said, smiling at her.

  He opened the box. Inside was a rabbit.

  “A rabbit! Mummy, Daddy, look!” Looking at George, Angelika asked, “Can I pick him up? Is it a boy? What’s his name?”

  “He’s a boy and his name’s Goldie and yes you can hold him. Put your arms out like this.” George showed her how to cradle her arms, then placed Goldie in them.

  “He’s lovely. How old is he?”

  “Two.”

  “I’m six. Daddy, come and see the rabbit!”

  Czeslawa and Wojciech came to admire Goldie.

  “He’s beautiful,” said Czeslawa.

  “Look how big he is,” said Wojciech.

  “Do you want to see him play in his run?” George said, pointing to the wire fencing that ran twenty feet round the garden.

  “Yes please,” said Angelika.

  They watched as Goldie scampered through the run, stopping here and there, to nibble some grass, his little white nose scrunching up. Angelika continued to question George, long after her parents retired to their loungers. Angelika was still playing with Goldie when Czeslawa started preparing dinner.

  “Angelika, dinner’s ready,” Czeslawa called over the fence. George and Angelika appeared a few minutes later.

  “Thank you, Mr George. I like Goldie very much,” said Angelika solemnly. The old man’s face turned pink.

  “You’re welcome,” he told Angelika. “Maybe I will see you tomorrow?”

  “George, would you like to join us for dinner?” Wojciech asked.

  “Oh, you don’t want me intruding.”

  “You are not,” said Czeslawa. She realised he would like to join them. She could see him already eyeing up the food on the table.

  “It’s nothing special. Simple, Polish food. Meat,” she said, in an attempt to clinch it, “and salad and potatoes.”

  “Well, I would be honoured,” the old man replied.

  George ate his schabowy with relish. He even had a beer with Wojciech. He told them about his wife, Marjorie, who had died of cancer ten years earlier. He had kept himself to himself after that. George had been a miner until he retired at sixty. His two children had emigrated, one to Canada, Elise, after her grandmother; and Bernard, who had gone to New Zealand. Czeslawa detected a trace of bitterness in his voice. She felt sor
ry for the old man.

  “Bernard doesn’t have any children. Too selfish. Can’t even keep a decent woman. Too busy living the high life and barely a phone call. He hasn’t been back once. Twenty five years now.”

  The young couple exchanged a worried glance as George continued, “Elise. A beautiful girl, just like her mother, petite with huge eyes and a heart of gold. She went to Canada and came back engaged. Of course we were happy for her, but they’ve only been back twice in the last five years. My grandchildren are all grown up now. Stevie, he’s a dad now. I’m a great-grandfather and I haven’t even seen her. Sophie. Elise calls regularly, but something always stops them coming over.”

  Wojciech and Czeslawa listened to the soap opera unfolding in front of them. How sad. Czeslawa hoped when Angelika grew up, she wouldn’t forget her parents and move far away. It was one thing for children to fly the nest, quite another for them to disappear off the face of the earth. George suddenly realised how sombre he had rendered the atmosphere. With a forced smile, he asked about their life in Poland. Czeslawa sensed it was an act, for their benefit. For his sake, they fed him tales of Gdansk, Wroclaw and the countryside. She noticed George had stopped drinking.

  “More beer?” she asked him.

  Shaking his head, George said, “No thanks. I really best go.”

  “Tea?” The British never refused tea.

  Looking at his watch, George said, “OK then, one cup.”

  As Czeslawa and Wojciech lay in bed, spooned into each other, Wojciech whispered in Czeslawa’s ear, “Najdrozsza, we need to look after George.” Czeslawa turned towards her husband and said,

  “I agree. He’s lonely. He came out of his shell a bit today.”

  “Yes he did, thanks to you inviting him to dinner.”

  “I wanted to.”

  “Goodnight Czeslawa, I love you.”

  “I love you too, moj najdrozszy.”

  Chapter Fifty Eight

  Over the coming weeks, they settled into their new home. Angelika spent most of the time with her mum, or next door with George. Wojciech was working a lot, as he had to prove himself in his new position. Her husband was ambitious and anxious to make their move from Poland to Scotland work. They aimed to save enough to buy a house when they returned to Poland.

  As Angelika played, Czeslawa made their house into a home. She bought material and sewed pretty curtains for the living room. On the few sunny days they had, she sat in the garden. She felt blessed, as if it were a good omen for their new life. George continued to accept their invitations to dinner.

  Whilst Angelika played and Wojciech worked, Czeslawa read the newspapers. As her English improved, she asked Ian’s advice on the better newspapers to buy. She knew that the next step was to get a job. Now her broadband was connected, she could use the net to search for jobs. Once Angelika started school next week she would have more time.

  She came across dozens of websites offering jobs. She didn’t really know where to begin. She was aware her English wasn’t really good enough yet to go for interviews. She didn’t want to be turned down at the first hurdle. Picking up her bag, she called Angelika in from the garden, and told her they were going to Kilburn.

  In Kilburn, Czeslawa tugged Angelika along, threading her way through the pedestrian precinct, past elderly men seated on benches and mothers taking a break from pushing prams. She passed the travel agent and the greengrocer, the pharmacy and the newsagent and finally, when she’d all but given up hope, she came across a bookshop. Czeslawa was in luck. They had the book she was looking for. It was on special, so with her meagre income she could just about afford it. Without better English she was unlikely to get a decent job.

  Czeslawa decided it was time to find out what Angelika would need, when she saw the outfitter’s sign, ‘School Uniforms.’ Venturing inside, she waited patiently, as a woman with three school age children in tow had them measured. Then it was Czeslawa’s turn. The matronly woman peered at them and said,

  “How can I help you today?”

  “My daughter’s going to Kirk Field. Can you tell me what she needs?”

  “She’ll need two grey skirts, thick grey tights and several pairs of grey socks. Black plimsolls and shorts, two red jerseys and two red polo-shirts.”

  “OK. Can you give me prices please and do you have her size?”

  After ascertaining what size Angelika took, the woman rattled through the prices, which horrified Czeslawa. Gulping, she ordered the uniforms and the lady handed her a receipt and told her to collect them on Thursday.

  “How was your day?” Czeslawa asked her husband.

  “Strained.”

  “Strained?” Czeslawa asked puzzled.

  “There was some trouble.”

  “Involving you?”

  “Yes, although I didn’t do anything.”

  “So, why did it involve you?”

  “Because I’m Polish.”

  “What?”

  “Some guy started mouthing off about Poles taking their jobs.”

  “That’s terrible!” Czeslawa said.

  “Yes and our boss gave him hell, but I’ve made an enemy. He’s angry because my team is more productive. He’s just a bad manager.”

  “What happens now?”

  “He’s been given a warning.

  “Can he push you out of this job?” Czeslawa asked anxiously. They’d only just got here.

  “No, but he can make life uncomfortable.”

  “He wouldn’t hurt you, would he?” now Czeslawa was afraid.”

  “I don’t think he’s that stupid.”

  “You’ve obviously had a dreadful day. Why don’t I make us some nice zrazy?

  “That would be wonderful.”

  As Czeslawa seasoned the beef, Angelika read to her. She placed the bacon, cucumber, breadcrumbs and mushrooms inside the beef and then rolled it shut.

  “That was delicious,” Wojciech patted his stomach. As Czeslawa cleared away the plates, Angelika climbed onto her father’s lap and started reading. Smiling, she left them to it.

  When she returned, they were asleep. Lifting Angelika off her father’s chest, she carried her through to bed. She lifted the blanket and sheet and placed her daughter underneath, then covered her again. It was seven thirty. Czeslawa went into the kitchen and made a cup of tea. She’d let Wojciech sleep. He was obviously worn out. She’d make a start on her English course.

  The next few days were busy. Fortunately Wojciech had no further problems at work. George and Angelika spent a fair bit of time together, since she was starting school on Monday. He even offered to look after her, whilst Czeslawa went into town.

  *

  Finally the day arrived. Angelika was overjoyed. She wriggled as Czeslawa tried to tease the tangles out of her hair. Dressed in her little grey skirt, red polo shirt and black shoes, she was ready. Taking her mother’s hand, Angelika waved to George and they set off.

  Reassured by Miss McKenzie, Angelika’s teacher, that she would be fine, Czeslawa left. Her little girl was growing up. She would make friends no problem. Reluctantly, Czeslawa walked out of the school building and made her way home.

  “Mummy!” Angelika shrieked excitedly, as her mother crossed the playground towards her.

  “Hi darling. Did you have fun?” she pushed her daughter’s hair back from her face.

  “Yes. We played games and read books and I made lots of new friends.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Czeslawa’s heart lifted.

  “I have a special friend. His name’s David. He’s five.”

  “That’s great. Is David here?” Czeslawa asked, looking round.

  “No. His mummy took him home.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes,” Angelika said, “but can we go to the park after lunch?”

  Angelika settled in well at Kirk Field. By her second week, she already acted as if she’d been there for months. Since Angelika wouldn’t be out of school until after three, Czeslawa headed into
Kilburn.

  The bus deposited her in Main Street. She crossed the road and was about to push open the door to the dry cleaner’s, as she’d need to get her interview suit cleaned, when a woman coming out barrelled into her.

  “Oh, so sorry.”

  “Is OK,” said Czeslawa.”

  “You’re Angelika’s mum, aren’t you?”

  Czeslawa was surprised, “Yes, Czeslawa,” she said, holding out her hand. The woman introduced herself as Maria, saying her son; David was in Angelika’s class. So this was David’s mother. Maria invited her for coffee. Czeslawa decided this was the way to make friends. Maria led them to a tearoom and asked Czeslawa what she would like. Czeslawa had five pounds. Everything was so expensive and she knew she’d have to be frugal until Friday, so she settled for just tea, but then Maria coaxed her into having a cake, announcing today was her treat. Czeslawa would return the favour some time.

  They chatted about the children. Maria asked if Angelika could come to play later that week and Czeslawa was delighted. Angelika had a real friend here already. They chatted about her life in Poland. Although she struggled with some of the words, Czeslawa enjoyed her conversation with Maria. She was reluctant to leave, but knew she had to get back for Angelika. As they left the tea room and Czeslawa started for the bus stop, Maria offered her a lift. Czeslawa had a warm feeling in her heart, when Maria dropped her off. Perhaps Angelika wasn’t the only one who could make friends.

  Czeslawa waited until Angelika was in bed and then started to surf for jobs online. There wasn’t a great deal. Maybe it was a bad time of year. The pay was terrible when you considered how much things cost. She had to start at the bottom again. In Gdansk, she had been Office Manager. Short of working as a cleaner, or a checkout operator, she didn’t know what she could do, without any experience. She felt a little deflated, so made herself some hot chocolate and sat down to read her book. Wojciech was in the bath. He’d been a little distant lately. She hoped everything was OK at work.

  On Thursday, Czeslawa spent the morning in the garden. George sat on the step, watching her.

  “How’s the job hunting going?”

  “Not good,” she replied ruefully.