Heart and Soul

by Maeve Binchy

  Marek and his partners had acted quickly and got a good price. By the time any other buyers had heard of the sale and shown some interest, it was over and done with. The next step was to apply for the liquor license.

  He knew better than to go to Ania's house when the business was concluded. Her mamusia sounded like a force to be reckoned with. So instead he waited. He knew she would find him, and she did.

  Her eyes lit up as she saw him sitting on the bridge.

  “Marek! You got my letter!” she cried.

  “What letter?” he asked.

  “I wrote to tell you about this café. It's for sale.”

  “Not any longer. We bought it. Three hours ago!”

  “Oh, Marek, how wonderful! This is what I prayed and prayed would happen …”

  “And your prayers were answered, little Ania.”

  “But how did you hear about it?”

  “I heard,” he said.

  She was disappointed for a moment. She had wanted to be the one who had steered him in the right direction. But she was so happy that he would be here, it didn't matter.

  “Imagine—we both had the same idea.”

  “You had the same idea?”

  “Yes, yes, I thought it would be wonderful, I wanted you to hear before anyone else. My letter will arrive tomorrow, and now it's already decided!” She clasped her hands with excitement about it all.

  “You had the same idea? That you should come and work for us at our new café?” He sounded disbelieving.

  Ania bit her lip. She hadn't thought of this—but why not? It would mean she could see Marek every day. But there was another hurdle to be overcome. Mamusia wouldn't hear of it. She would say Ania was too young to leave school. She wouldn't like her being associated with a café that sold alcohol to young people.

  But she would think about all that later.

  “I didn't put that bit about working for you in my letter,” she began.

  “But you will? You will, Ania?”

  “Yes, of course I will.”

  • • •

  He could never have known how hard it was for her, but Ania knew that Marek thought life was simple. You wanted do something, you did it. He didn't have people like Mamusia, Mrs. Zak, her sisters, her teachers. But better not to list the problems now. She would wait until the time was right.

  The time became right sooner than she might have thought.

  Marek had endeared himself to the formidable Mrs. Zak, throwing himself on her mercy and saying he wanted a nice young girl from a good, honorable family who lived with her parents but who could work in the new café and attract a nice wholesome type of clientele.

  Mrs. Zak immediately told Ania's mamusia.

  “What a pity you are still at school,” Mamusia said. “It would have been a wonderful job for you so near to home.”

  “About school,” Ania began slowly. This was the most important moment of her life; she must not handle it badly. “About school, Mamusia, the teacher was telling me only last week that she didn't see much purpose in my studying anymore …”

  “She said this!” Mamusia was stricken.

  “Yes, and at first I was upset because I could not see a way that I could earn a living and still help you, Mamusia. But now, possibly …who knows?”

  “Do you think he might give you a job?” Mamusia's eyes were full of hope.

  “We can only see,” Ania said, and ran down the road to the café.

  For the first few days Ania wore a blue-and-white-checked blouse and a dark blue skirt. She served coffee and cakes to people like Mrs. Zak, her own mamusia, two of the priests in the parish, the local doctor and some of the older neighbors. It was a deliberate attempt to win support and fight back any criticism. Ania's sisters said she was lucky to have found work so near home. Her sixteenth birthday came and went and she made no fuss of it, mainly because she didn't want Marek to know that she was still so young.

  There was a small apartment above the café and Marek and his brother, Roman, and their partner, Lev, each had a room there. Ania secretly made curtains, cushions and a quilt for Mareks room. She bought a picture of flowers in a field for him at a local auction, she found an old chest of drawers out back and sanded it and polished it for him. Soon she had Mareks room looking like a little palace.

  She longed to come and live with him there. How happy she would be all day, going to get the bread and milk in the mornings, dealing with the deliveries, maybe visiting her mother once a day for an hour or two to help with the sewing and to chat.

  But this was impossible.

  Ania spent the first hours of the day sewing; then she went to the Bridge Café, helped to tidy up after the night before, aired the place and made herself useful while Marek, Roman and Lev drank coffee and talked about how to bring in more customers. One day they planned their big buy of a jukebox. It would be expensive, but soon it would pay for itself.

  Not, of course, if Mrs. Zak and Ania's mamusia and their like were their only customers. Soon they would make a push to get the younger generation in.

  The machine arrived and they stood around it in wonder, and when it sprang into life and into music all four of them danced around in celebration. Ania had never felt so happy and part of something marvelous.

  Then they had to attract the young people. For one thing, Ania must dress differently. Right now she looked like a prim little schoolgirl. People would come to the Bridge Café to forget school and work, hoping to be transported to somewhere more exciting, and magical. Ania should wear a frilly black skirt and a low red top.

  “Where would I get those kind of clothes?” Anna gasped.

  “You are a dressmaker, you could make them,” Marek said and he sounded impatient. So she made them. Then Marek said that she should dance, to give the others the idea of dancing too.

  “You mean I get paid to dance with one of the bosses. This is okay!” She laughed happily.

  “Yes, with me and, of course, with anyone else who asks you,” he said.

  “But, Marek, I don't want to dance with strangers. I want to dance with you,” she protested.

  “And I want to dance with you, Ania, but work is work, business is business. When they have all gone home we can dance together.”

  “But I can't stay late. I have to go home after work,” Ania said with a trembling lip.

  “Ania, are you beginning to nag and complain?” he asked. She dreaded hearing him talk like this. There was an edge of impatience in his voice. It would be followed by a lack of interest.

  “Me? Nag? Complain? Never!” She laughed.

  Marek rewarded her by putting his arms around her waist. “That's my girl,” he said.

  It was torture having to dance with clumsy men who groped her and be watched by those who waited for the number to end so that they could do the same.

  “We don't have enough girls coming here,” Marek complained. “Can you go up to that school where you used to be, Ania, and tell the girls what a great place it is?”

  So Ania went to the school, and outside the playground gates she told the girls about the fun in the Bridge Café. Lidia was wary at first, but promised to bring some of their old classmates along. Slowly they came to try it out. Nervously they came in, unsure, not knowing what to expect. Marek, Roman and Lev welcomed them warmly and danced with them. It was even worse torture to see Marek dancing with other girls, particularly that bossy girl Oliwia, whose father owned a large bakery. She was always full of self-importance at school and was now queening it over the café.

  Marek laughed when Ania complained.

  “She has plenty of money, Ania. She treats her friends to coming here. Is it not wise to encourage her?”

  Ania thought Marek was being far too encouraging. She saw Oli-wia's flushed face when she left the dance floor. There was no time for Ania to have those beautiful, soft, slow dances where she folded into Mareks arms so naturally. And she couldn't stay the night with him. They were able to steal a few hours
in the early afternoon when business was slack and they could sneak up to Mareks room, but it wasn't very satisfactory. They were always listening for one of the others to call upstairs to them.

  Still Mamusia suspected nothing. One of Ania's sisters told her that the place was beginning to have a bit of a reputation. The word was out: young people were there drinking too much.

  Ania said that simply couldn't be. Mrs. Zak went there every day for her morning coffee. She would have been the first to complain if there was anything wrong, but she went in regularly. Ania didn't say that she had to be sure to have the place shining for her, with no sign of the previous night's bad behavior. They had boxes by the backyard where they stacked the bottles. Then once a week they drove them in Roman's van to a recycling place. Nobody must be allowed to see just how many had gathered there.

  One afternoon when they had a secret hour to spend together, Ania found a woman's hairpins in Mareks bed. The shock hit her like a physical blow as she held them up in horror.

  “I don't wear any hairpins. Marek, where could these have come from?” she cried.

  “Oh, I often curl my hair.” He laughed.

  “Be serious, Marek. Have you had another girl here?”

  His face was very hard. “How dare you ask me that? How dare you accuse me like this? You know I love only you.”

  “Well, how did they get here?”

  “How do I know? Maybe one of the others brought a girl here. We are not policemen, we don't examine each other's movements …”

  “The others have rooms of their own. This is our room.”

  “Yes, well, whatever …” Marek said dismissively.

  Ania sat shivering.

  “Come on, Ania. We haven't much time,” he encouraged her.

  But Ania got up and dressed quietly. She went downstairs and stood behind the bar.

  “My, that was quick,” Roman said.

  “Can you please pack your van with bottles? There are far too many of them cluttering up the yard.”

  “Right, okay. Peace,” he said.

  “Have you ever slept in Marek's and my room, Roman?”

  “I have my own room.” He looked indignant.

  “I thought that was the case,” she said.

  Roman realized he might have said the wrong thing.

  “Maybe, perhaps I made a mistake—like, some night, you know, late. It's possible. I could have …” he said lamely.

  Ania prepared the little uszka and golabki they served at lunchtime; she worked away steadily at the dumplings, the cabbage parcels, and when Marek appeared disgruntled and complaining she took no notice. She talked instead to the customers.

  “Ania, come here and listen to me,” he begged.

  “It's business. You told me to make the customers happy. This is what I am trying to do.”

  “Roman could have managed this—there are only four people here.”

  “There will be more later.”

  “Where is Roman?”

  “Filling his van with empty bottles. I asked him to.”

  “You're making a silly fuss over nothing, Ania.”

  “I have worked for five hours. My arrangement here was for eight hours a day. When would you like the other three?”

  There was something like respect in his face. “Believe me, it's only you I love,” he said.

  “There are ways of showing love, and taking another girl to bed with you, a girl with hairpins, is not one of them.”

  “I love no girl with hairpins. I love you.” His eyes were so big and true. He hadn't said he loved her for a long time now. She softened a little but not totally.

  “So, which three hours, Marek?”

  “It's not like you to look at the clock and count hours.”

  “No, it's not. Which hours?”

  “Come back at seven and we can dance together,” he said, giving in at last.

  So Ania went home and helped her mother.

  “You are very quiet today, Ania. Normally you chatter and chatter.”

  “I am a bit tired, Mamusia, that's all.”

  So her mother nattered instead about the new baby who would be here soon and they must make clothes to welcome it, what would be best and how they could thread in blue or pink ribbons when they knew if it was a boy or a girl.

  After dinner, Ania walked back slowly to the Bridge Café.

  “Come and sit with me,” Marek said.

  “It's my working time,” Ania countered.

  “No, it is not. Just come with me and we will look at the river together.” He held her hand and told her that he had never loved anyone but her. He stroked her gently and whispered in her ear.

  “I came to live in your town, I let you go home to your mamusia every evening when I want you here with me. I dance with other girls to get business for the café; you dance with men for the same reason. What does it mean to you? Nothing at all except that it is building up the business. What does it mean to me? Nothing except that the day you and I can be together all the time comes a little nearer.”

  She said nothing for a long time, and still he spoke and still he stroked.

  “You know I love you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  “So why the sad face?”

  She managed a watery little smile. He still hadn't explained the hairpins in the bed. Or denied that there had been anyone there. With a dull ache in her heart she wondered who it was. Perhaps that Oliwia. The pushy girl whose father was a wealthy man. Lidia had mentioned something, but Ania hadn't paid any attention.

  “Where is Oliwia tonight?” she asked, catching him by surprise.

  “Oh, she doesn't come in every night,” Marek said.

  “No, no, of course …” Ania stood up and went to the coffee machine. She put on a bright smile for the customers and out of the corner of her eye she saw Marek raise his thumb in the air as if to say “good girl.”

  Roman and Lev exchanged glances of relief. The crisis was over.

  Oliwia was staying on at school until she was eighteen, and then she would go to university—or so she had told the crowd at the Bridge Café. But her plans changed. A few months after the Bridge Café opened, Oliwia stopped talking about university. She said university was overrated and after all there was everything anyone could want nearer home.

  Ania meant to discuss it with Marek, but he was away a lot on business, trying to get some more investment in the café. The jukebox hadn't paid for itself, the coffee machine hadn't paid for itself and even the wages they paid from the till every Friday were smaller.

  She hoped he would find an investor soon. Roman and Lev seemed very unwilling to talk about it; possibly they were more worried than they let on about the debt. Still, she would know soon enough.

  Mamusia had been in bed with a very bad cough, and so Ania tried to fit her working hours around looking after her mother. She had come home to make fresh bread and prepare soup. Mamusia was looking a little stronger now and Ania decided to sit with her for a couple of hours.

  “You are so much better now, Mamusia, you will be well in no time,” Ania said cheeringly.

  “All I ask God and his mother is that I should live to see you settled with a good man and a home of your own. Then I will be happy to say good-bye to this world.”

  Sometimes Ania wished she could tell Mamusia just how well settled she was, and that she had a home already waiting for her in the Bridge Café, but she and Marek had decided not to tell anyone until they could be together openly. She walked back to the café. She could see immediately that there were plenty of people there, which was a relief. Marek would be pleased when he came back this evening.

  Oliwia was there, the center of attention; she was showing off her engagement ring, a small diamond that flashed around the café. Part of Ania was pleased with this development. It would mean that Oliwia would no longer come in and lounge around the place hoping that Marek would dance with her. But then, would he miss the business she brought
to the place? Would Oliwia and her new husband still come to this café or would she be too busy furnishing some huge house bought by her father?

  She was about to join the group admiring the ring when Marek came in the door.

  “There he is!” cried Oliwia, and as if it were all in slow motion, Ania saw Oliwia run to his side and put her arm around his waist. And, impossible as it was to take in, Marek was smiling and accepting the congratulations and applause.

  She felt faint. There had to be a mistake. Maybe they were doing this as a joke? Then everyone would laugh at her innocence and the fact that she had believed it. But it didn't look like a joke.

  The room started to go around a little bit and she heard Mareks voice. He was speaking to his brother.

  “Roman, take her outside now.”

  She felt strong arms urging her out of the café into the yard and around the corner, out of sight. She sat on an iron chair and looked at the little garden she had tried to plant here. The flowers she had watered and the little stone rockery she had built. One day they would open a garden café here, they had agreed. For families and children. There would be swings and a seesaw.

  Well, Ania had agreed to this. Marek had just gone along with it. And now it wasn't going to happen. She saw that Lev had brought her a small glass of sliwowica. The smell of the strong plum brandy made her retch slightly, but the hot, burning taste seemed to bring her to her senses. This couldn't be happening. Marek could not do this to her.

  She tried to stand up to go back into the café, but strong, gentle hands were pushing her back. She could hear Roman saying, “Stay here, it is best. He will be coming out to you in a minute …”

  She heard another cheer from inside the café.

  “Why, Roman?” she asked him. “Why did he do this?”

  “Shush, shush …” Roman wiped away her tears with his grubby handkerchief. He put the glass of spirits to her mouth again, but she pushed it away. Then she felt his hands loosen their grip on her.

  Marek had arrived.

  She looked up at him, her face tearstained, as Roman and Lev went back into the café.