by Nikki Young
She was sure she’d seen this sort of thing in a film before. Where would someone hide? It had to be under the lifeboats where no one was likely to look. Running between them, she checked all that were obvious on the top deck, but there was no sign of Marcel or his younger brother.
Nadia knew she was going to have to check inside and on the other decks. She began to worry the ship might leave for Belgium with her on it. She looked at the docks. There was still plenty of activity going on. She had time.
With her heart beating in time to her steps, Nadia raced inside and began a frantic search. By now, she could also hear other people shouting for Marcel and Jozef. Mr Kaminski must have convinced them to help him look for his sons.
You can’t hide forever, Nadia thought.
Surely, if Marcel and Jozef were actually on the ship, they must have realised people were looking for them. They would be scared, thinking they were in deep trouble.
Would that make them run? Or would it make them stay where they were?
It was impossible to know what someone would do when faced with a situation like this. She just had to keep on looking and hope they could find the boys before the ship was due to set sail.
Nadia went down to the second deck so that she could go outside to check the lifeboats down there. Sliding open the door, a gust of wind blew straight into her face, causing her to take a sharp intake of breath. It was even colder out here by the sea, with no protection from any buildings or trees.
The cold wind made her eyes water as though she was crying and, for a moment, her vision clouded. She stopped to wipe her eyes on her sleeve, and noticed a movement to her left, as a storeroom door opened and then shut again. She saw shadows, one larger and one smaller. Her heart rate jumped up another notch as she slowly crept towards the door.
The metal handle was freezing and almost burned her skin as she took it in her hand and pulled at the door. Inside was so dark, her eyes had to adjust, but as they did, Nadia saw two figures cowering in the corner.
“Marcel,” she said softly. “It’s me. Nadia from school.”
“Nadia?” a voice said from the darkness. “What are you doing here?”
The relief was palpable, almost like a wave had washed through her.
“I was worried about you,” she said. “We’re all worried.”
“Who’s we?”
“My friends, Shirley. . . your dad.”
“Dad knows we left?”
“Of course he knows! Shirley called him the moment she realised you’d gone missing.”
Marcel sighed deeply.
“Is everything okay, Marcel?” came a little voice from the corner. Nadia froze.
Marcel answered in Polish.
“Who is she?” the little boy asked.
“She’s a. . .”
“A friend,” Nadia answered. “I’m a friend and I’m here to help. You don’t need to run. You don’t need to do this. It’s going to be okay.”
“What do you mean?” Marcel said, standing up and coming into view. He looked tired and pale. His eyes were puffy from lack of sleep.
“I mean you don’t have to run away. Things are changing. It means you and your family can stay in this country. The Government is allowing Polish people connected to the Armed Forces to stay and work anywhere in UK. They need people like your dad to help put this country back together again. It doesn’t matter what those stupid boys at school say, you are welcome and there’s nothing they can do about it.”
“How do you know all this?” Marcel frowned.
“Oh. . . well. . .” Nadia floundered, looking around her for inspiration. “It’s because my father works in politics,” she lied. “He told me.”
Marcel scratched his head and looked at his younger brother, who got up and moved closer to his side, slipping a small hand into his. This was the first time Nadia had seen him.
He looked small for a five-year-old. His blonde hair poking out from under a woolly hat. He was wearing a thick coat with trousers and boots.
At least Grandad is well wrapped up, she thought. Marcel had done his best to look after him.
“Please come with me,” Nadia begged. “Your father is worried about you and if we don’t get off this ship soon, we’ll all be going to Belgium.”
Marcel laughed. “That was the idea. Jo loves boats, don’t you?” The little boy grinned and nodded his head enthusiastically. “But if what you’re saying is true, then we can go home to be with the rest of our family.”
Marcel picked up a rucksack and slung it on his shoulder before moving forward towards the door. He squinted as he came into the light, an involuntary shiver making its way through his body. Pulling his brother closer to his side, he nodded at Nadia and followed her back to the upper deck to get off the ship.
People spotted them as they walked across the gangplank back over to the dockside. There was a loud cheer as they realised the missing boys were found. Soon Mr Kaminski and his fellow officer heard the commotion and came running to see what it was. When he saw his sons he pushed his way through the crowd and made his way off the ship, flinging his arms around the two boys as soon as he reached them, burying his head into the top of Marcel’s.
Nadia felt quite emotional. These people were her family yet they didn’t know it. A part of her wanted to be involved in their reunion but she knew she couldn’t. She swallowed the lump in her throat and bit back the tears.
“Excuse me, do you know the time?” she asked the person standing next to her.
“Just coming up to two, my love,” he said.
Time to get back to school, otherwise she would miss the train home and end up being stuck in 1947. As lovely as it was to meet her distant relatives, she needed to get back to her own.
Chapter 21
The Eulogy
Over the next few days, Nadia couldn’t help but play out everything that had happened over in her mind. She had a lot to think about. How her family had struggled to be Polish in a community that didn’t want them once the War was over. They wanted to return home, but they couldn’t. Instead they had to make do with what had once been an army camp, but later became a temporary home for those who wanted to settle and make a new life for themselves.
It hadn’t been easy, but they’d done it, and if it hadn’t been for their early struggles, she might not have had the life she had today. It was a strange thought for Nadia to get her head around, but one she was grateful for. Up to now, she had only ever thought of herself as English, almost denying her Polish side. She knew now she had been wrong to do that.
Nadia also thought about the bravery of Miss Morgan on her first day as a teacher. The words Miss Morgan said echoed around her mind, ‘The only way to deal with your fears is to face them head on.’
Nadia was a confident girl who made friends easily, but just because she’d had a disastrous time when doing a presentation in Year Four, she’d let her embarrassment turn to fear about standing up and making a speech in front of a crowd. It was time to move on from that fear. Her grandad deserved it.
*
On the day of the funeral, Nadia found her palms were sweating as she waited for her turn to read the eulogy. Standing in front of the congregation of mourners, Nadia suddenly became painfully aware of how full the church was. Almost bursting at the seams with not only family but members of the Polish community of all ages coming to pay their respects. Nadia couldn’t help but admire how popular her grandad had been. She tried to block out of her mind how many people were there, thinking only of the five-year-old Jozef, holding hands with his older brother Marcel and looking tired and scared. That image helped her through.
“My grandad didn’t have the best start in life. Being torn away from his home and forced to move to another country. His family were refugees. Some people welcome refugees with open arms. They understand their fear and the need to support them in their quest to find a better life. Other people feel threatened by them. For Grandad and his family, being refugees
at the end of the Second World War was threatening. People were still living in fear. Fear for their lives, fear for their jobs and in fear of the future. Grandad was lucky though. He had his older brother to protect him and he had a mother and father who did their utmost to keep them safe.
“Grandad grew up being proud to be British because of the new start this country gave him. I know he didn’t remember much about Poland, but I hope he was proud of his Polish roots too, because Poland was the country that made him and gave his family that fierce determination to survive and succeed. They say good things come from bad, and in my family’s case, this is certainly true. My grandad’s story has taught me to fight for what I believe in, hold my head up high and be proud of who I am. Most of all, I’ve learned to let go of my own fear because if you don’t, it will only hold you back. Be true to yourself.”
As she returned to her seat, grateful to have made it through her speech without uttering one wrong word, her nana gave her a squeeze.
“Those words were so beautiful. He would be so proud of you,” Nana whispered.
Nadia smiled. She was unable to speak due to the lump in her throat. How she wished she had spent more time with her grandparents, instead of putting them out of her mind because they didn’t live nearby and because she had things she considered more important in her own life.
She snuggled next to her nana, vowing she would make sure they visited her as often as she could.
After the church service, there was food and drinks in the neighbouring hall.
“This was a place your grandfather and I used to come dancing,” Nana said, with a sigh as she looked around the room. “Not much dancing for me these days. I prefer to sit and take it all in. Get us another cup of tea will you love?”
Nadia took the cup and walked over towards the buffet table. She stopped short when she saw who was there. With a plate in hand, piling it high with sandwiches and vol-auvents, was none other than Oliver Ward.
Nadia thought she was going to drop the cup, but quickly recovered and took a moment to study him. Yes, he was still the most gorgeous boy in school, there was no doubt about that, but what was he doing at her grandad’s funeral of all places?
Oliver put down the plate and picked up an empty teapot, unaware he was being watched. He held it under a large urn and pulled up the little tap, but had to stand back to guard against the spitting, boiling water coming out of the dodgy spout.
Nadia laughed. Part of her wanted to shy away and pretend she hadn’t seen Oliver, but the other part, empowered by her speech in church, felt as though she could take on the world. Without thinking too much more about it, she marched over towards him.
“Yep, been there and done that already,” Nadia said.
“Ouch,” Oliver said, almost dropping the teapot, which was suddenly full to the point of spilling over. He managed to set it down on the table without spilling anymore and shook his finger, blowing on it to cool the sting.
“You’d better run that under cold water. Come on,” Nadia said, pulling him by the other hand towards the kitchen.
Oliver looked stunned and allowed himself to be led away, letting Nadia hold his burnt hand under the cold tap.
“I think that might do,” Oliver said, turning off the tap.
“My fingers are going numb now. They might drop off in a minute.”
“Feel better?” Nadia asked and Oliver nodded. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to startle you. What are you doing here anyway?”
“I was getting some food and tea for my grandparents,” Oliver said.
“Your grandparents are here?” Nadia said, then she remembered he had known about her grandad dying. He must have heard the news from his family. “They knew my grandad?”
“Yeah, they did. From what I heard a lot of people knew him. He was a popular guy.”
Nadia smiled at the memory of her grandad. She felt a sense of pride at the thought of him being so well loved. She shook her head and tried to bring herself back to the present. She was, after all, stood face to face and chatting—actually chatting—with Oliver Ward.
“Ah, so that’s why you were taking such a massive plateful of food is it. Are you sure it wasn’t all for you?”
“Were you spying on me?” Oliver said, with a cheeky grin.
Nadia smirked. “Just checking up on the guests that’s all. Keeping an eye out for my nana, which reminds me, I need to get her some more tea.”
Nadia left the kitchen with Oliver by her side. She refilled a teapot, taking care not to burn herself and went to take it over to where her nana was sitting, before returning to Oliver.
“I wanted to come and talk to you, actually,” Oliver said.
“You did?” Nadia said surprised.
“Yeah, to say what a great speech you did earlier in church. It was awesome.”
Nadia felt her face heat at the thought of the eulogy. She’d tried to imagine no one was listening to her, but now, face to face with someone who had actually listened, she felt self-conscious.
“No need to be embarrassed, you did great. I would never have been able to do that if it was my grandad’s funeral.”
“Thanks,” she said, managing a smile. “How exactly did your family know my grandad then?”
“My mum said she knew your grandparents when she was a little girl,” he said. “Mum’s family is a big part of the Polish community around here and my grandparents and yours were friends, apparently.”
“Your mum is Polish?” Nadia asked in surprise. Oliver nodded. “So that makes you. . .”
“Half Polish, like you,” he said. “I don’t go around telling people.”
“Me neither, but that’s ‘cos I’m kind of embarrassed about it. Well, I was, anyway. What’s your excuse?” Nadia said.
“No, it’s nothing like that, it’s just.” Oliver shrugged. “I never really thought of myself as Polish.”
Nadia smiled. “I know exactly what you mean.”
They fell into conversation about their Polish heritage and Nadia’s regrets about how little she knew about hers.
“I don’t even speak Polish,” she confessed. “Which is embarrassing really.”
“I know, neither do I,” Oliver said. “Hey, perhaps we could learn together to make it less embarrassing?”
Thinking once more about her grandad and about his brother, Marcel, who had been through so much in order to forge a life in this country, Nadia felt proud of her heritage for the first time. She wasn’t going to let everything they went through be forgotten by denying her roots. She owed them that much, at least.
Nadia looked at him and smiled. “I’d like that,” she said.
About the Author
Nikki Young is a freelance writer, copywriter and author. She lives in Kent with her husband, three children, a crazy Boston Terrier dog called Barnie and a rescue cat named Oscar. She is the author of ‘The Mystery of the Disappearing Underpants,’ an adventure story aimed at 7 to 9 year-olds and reluctant readers. Her first book in the Time School series was published by Hashtag Press on World Book Day 2020. Time School: We Will Remember Them is a standalone story that sees the friendship group travelling back in time to 1918 during World War One.
As well as writing middle grade and young adult fiction, Nikki runs Storymakers, a creative writing club for children which provides weekly courses and holiday workshops for children aged seven and above.
Find out more at www.nikkiyoung.co.uk
Follow her on: Twitter: @nikki_cyoung
Instagram: @nikkiyoungwriter
Facebook.com/nikkiyoungwriter
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