by Emma Fraser
‘Why wouldn’t I? I love Gilbert and Sullivan.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘If you’re telling me that’s the only reason you’re here, I’m going to be a broken man.’
‘Of course I wanted to see you too,’ she said lightly, although her heart tripped. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we?’
His eyes slid to hers, a small smile playing around his mouth. ‘I think we’re a little more than that, don’t you, Krash?’
Not sure how to answer, she kept quiet.
‘The concert doesn’t start for a while,’ he continued. ‘Would you like to come to the mess for a drink? Meet some of the other chaps.’
‘Why don’t you show me around, Richard? Apart from that day in Dumfries, I’ve never been on an airfield.’ She tucked her arm into his. ‘Is it always this busy?’
‘This is quiet. We’re usually doing training flights day and night, but the weather forecast isn’t good so there’s no flying for anyone tonight.’
He led her over to one of the long huts, shaped like a semicircle and with a tin roof. The planes were parked at the same angles in lines on the runway, apart from the few outside one of the large hangars, with women in blue serge jump suits clambering over them.
‘These women are mechanics?’ Irena asked.
‘Certainly are and pretty good at it too.’ Another woman trundled past them driving a large lorry with packages loaded in the back.
‘Do they share the same quarters as the men?’
Richard grinned. ‘Good God, no. Their COs watch them as closely as if they were nuns in a nunnery – or at least they try to.’ He pointed to the far side of the airfield. ‘That’s their barracks over there, behind a wire fence that’s supposed to keep the airmen out. As you can imagine, it doesn’t work too well.’ His grin grew wider. ‘The women are good at finding a way across.’
She felt a stab of unwelcome jealousy. How many of them had found their way to Richard? Or he to them?
‘Come on, I’ll show you where they check our parachutes. It’s where the pilots try to hang out when they’re waiting to fly.’
They stopped in front of one of the huts and Richard opened the door, standing aside to let her go in first. It was pleasantly warm inside out of the drizzle. Parachutes billowed from the roof, hung over lines that looked like the pulley Hannah had in her kitchen to dry the washing when it was raining.
‘The girls have finished for the day, but since they always have the heaters on so their fingers stay agile, it stays warm for a while.’
‘What do they do with the parachutes?’
‘Check them for tears. Make repairs. We rely on them completely. One day our lives might depend on our chutes.’
A chill swept over her skin and she shivered. But Richard was a trainer now, no longer engaging the enemy in the skies. He had a good chance of surviving the war as long as he was here.
He switched on a radio that rested on an empty barrel. ‘Would you care to dance?’
‘Here?’
‘Why not?’ When she took his hand, he pulled her into his arms. Feeling awkward, she held herself stiff.
But Richard kept the pressure of his hand on her lower back, pressing her into him. He rested his cheek against her hair and she could feel the softness of his breath on her neck as he hummed along to the music. Irena closed her eyes, acutely aware of his warmth and the hardness of his chest against her body. She could see their reflections mirrored in the dark window as he guided her slowly round in time to the waltz. They looked right together. She relaxed into him. It felt so good to be held again.
‘That’s better,’ Richard said softly, tightening his arms around her.
‘Of course you’d say that.’ She tilted her head back so that he could see she was smiling. ‘Because, as always, you’ve managed to get your way.’
Even in the dim light, she could see his eyes glinting. ‘Ah, if only that were true. I haven’t always got my own way with you, have I?’
She didn’t know if it was the soft music, or the way he was looking at her, or just that she longed to feel safe and loved even for a short while, but when he brought his mouth down to hers she didn’t pull away. Instead, she threaded her fingers into his hair and kissed him back. He groaned and cupped his hands round her buttocks, pressing her against him. His lips trailed down her neck, shooting sparks of pleasure along her spine and then he was lifting her up and sitting her on one of the tables. Instinctively she wound her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
‘God,’ he murmured against her mouth. ‘You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.’
His fingers brushed her breasts as he unbuttoned her dress, making her nipples tighten. Her dress fell to the floor and his hands skimmed over her skin, pushing the straps of her slip aside, sending shock waves of desire through her. She could hardly think. All she knew was that she ached for him.
He stopped suddenly and reached into his pocket. It was the practised way he did it, so smoothly, as if he’d done it many, many times before, that hauled her back from the brink. She pressed her palms against his chest and pushed him away. ‘No, Richard, don’t. Please stop.’ She wriggled out of his arms and onto the floor, scooping up her dress from where it had fallen.
He stepped away from her, the sound of their ragged breathing almost drowning out the music from the radio.
‘For God’s sake, Irena, why not? You don’t know how long I’ve imagined this moment – how hard it’s been for me to keep my hands off you. I didn’t plan for it to be like this but, God, I want you so much.’
Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely breathe. She stepped into her dress and started doing up the buttons.
‘I know you want me as much as I want you,’ he continued.
‘Yes,’ she admitted. She’d come within a whisper of letting him make love to her.
He stepped towards her but she held up her palms. ‘No, Richard. Don’t.’
His hands fell to his sides. ‘Is it because of Piotr? Are you still in love with him?’
Was she? She didn’t know any more, but even if she hadn’t been engaged to Piotr she couldn’t and wouldn’t fall in love with another man – especially one who could break her heart. Every time Richard went up in a plane there was a good chance he wouldn’t come back. She couldn’t risk loving him. ‘I’m still promised to Piotr.’
‘That’s not the same as being in love with him.’
‘I don’t know, Richard. I don’t know. But please, if you care about me, let me be.’
‘Care about you?’ He dragged a hand through his hair. ‘Christ, Irena, I love you. I think I fell in love with you almost the moment I met you. You were so brave, so defiant, so beautiful, so damn sad. How could I help myself?’
‘Richard, I’m sorry. I —’ His face blurred as tears burned behind her lids. She felt wretched, right to her core. She’d never meant to hurt him.
He moved then. Wrapping his arms around her, he brought her to him and stroked her hair as if she were a child again. ‘Hush, darling. Don’t cry. It’s all right. I can wait. I won’t stop loving you. When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting. However long it takes.’
She stopped his words with her fingertips.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Don’t. You’ll be wasting your time.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘I think it’s time for the concert to start.’
Chapter 36
Irena was sitting in the doctors’ lounge, taking a break before going back on the wards, when several of the doctors entered, talking and gesticulating. When they saw her they became quiet and she noticed none of them would look her in the eye.
She jumped to her feet. ‘What is it? Has something happened?’
There was an uneasy silence. One of the doctors she knew well came and took her by the hands. ‘There has been an announcement on Berlin radio. We know that everything they say isn’t true, of course, but we have reason to think on this occasion it might be.’
‘What did the
y say?’
‘Tell me, my dear, was your fiancé with the Uhlan?’
‘Yes.’ Everyone knew that. She’d asked about him often enough.
He ran his tongue over his lips. ‘They say they have discovered a mass grave near Katyn forest. They say it contains the bodies of thousands of Polish officers murdered by the Russians.’
Irena sank into the chair behind her. Katyn forest was to the east – the direction Piotr’s unit had been heading on their way out of Warsaw.
‘They could be lying. It could be propaganda.’ Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak.
‘That might be so, but another of the medical students has a brother who’s just come from Russia and he tells the same story. He was there when they were captured by the Russians. He had a bad feeling about it so he removed everything from his uniform that identified him as an officer. There was a Captain Kopiewski in his unit. That was your fiancé’s name, wasn’t it?’
Kopiewski wasn’t an uncommon name.
‘He suggested to him, to all the officers, that they do the same. But they wouldn’t. You know how proud our officers are.’
‘But that doesn’t mean anything,’ she whispered, queasiness catching at her throat.
Dr Bratek sighed. ‘This man, the brother, was there when the Russians separated the officers from the non-commissioned men. They were led away into the forest. He heard shots. Then the Russians came back. There were no prisoners with them. I am so sorry, my dear, but I think what the Germans are saying is probably true.’
‘Perhaps they escaped? I can’t imagine Polish officers going meekly to their deaths. Piotr would have fought with his bare hands rather than do that.’
‘The Germans say the grave they uncovered contains the bodies of as many as four thousand Polish officers, still wearing their uniforms. It wouldn’t have occurred to the men that the Russians were going to shoot them in cold blood. They would have assumed they were being taken to a camp under guard. By the time they realised what was happening it would have been too late.’
Her whole body was shaking. She knew they wouldn’t have told her unless they were absolutely sure. But she still wasn’t ready to give up on Piotr. Not until she had evidence. She stumbled to her feet. ‘I must go. I’m due in theatre.’
Dr Bratek pressed her back down. ‘You’re in no state to work. Go home. Take compassionate leave.’
She couldn’t bear to be alone with her thoughts. ‘I’d rather stay here.’
Dr Bratek shook his head. ‘No. I forbid it. I’ve arranged for someone to take you home.’ He looked over his shoulder and one of female medical students stepped forward.
She took Irena gently by the elbow. ‘Come. Come with me.’
Irena unlocked the door of Charlotte Square and stumbled inside. She felt strange – detached – as if the world no longer existed.
Dr Maxwell was waiting for her. ‘Oh my dear, they telephoned me at the hospital. I’m so sorry.’
She took Irena’s hands in hers. ‘Come and sit by the fire.’ She rang the bell in the hall before taking Irena by the arm and leading her into the smaller sitting room on the ground floor.
Despite the warmth of the fire, Irena’s teeth were chattering.
Isabel crossed over to the side table where the drinks tray sat and poured a large measure of whisky into a glass before handing it to Irena. ‘I’m sorry we don’t have vodka. However, this will serve the same purpose.’
The fiery liquid burned her throat but she didn’t care. She didn’t think she would care about anything ever again.
Isabel sat silently across from her, her dark eyes filled with concern and pity.
‘Maybe Piotr managed to escape somehow,’ Irena whispered, hoping Isabel would agree with her.
‘My dear, I phoned Lord Glendale. He has a list of names – given to the War Office by the Germans. I’m so very sorry, but your Piotr’s name is on it.’
‘I want to see it.’
‘Of course. But I have to tell you, Irena, there is no hope. No hope at all.’
Chapter 37
Lord Glendale rarely came to Edinburgh; he’d only been twice in the last year, so Irena decided to go to see him in London. Before she accepted that Piotr was dead, she needed to see his name on the list, to extinguish the last, lingering hope. She also desperately wanted to see Aleksy whose unit had been transferred back to Northolt a couple of months ago. He, of all people, would understand how she felt.
Reluctantly, Isabel arranged travel warrants for her to go to London. Irena wrote to Aleksy and told him about Piotr, asking if they could meet.
But when she got to the house in Grosvenor Street and saw Lord Glendale he confirmed that Piotr’s name was indeed on the list. He even showed it to her.
There it was: in black and white and amongst a list of thousands of other names. Captain Piotr Kopiewski. Isabel had been correct. There was no more hope.
The next morning she met Aleksy in a park near Selfridges department store where they were to have tea.
He looked more relaxed than the last time she’d seen him and if she didn’t know better she would have said he was happy.
‘It’s good to see you, sister,’ he said in Polish, eyeing her warily.
‘It’s all right. I’m not going to cry.’
‘I was sorry to hear about Piotr. Every time I’m in the sky and have one of the Huns in my sights I think of him.’
‘You’re the only one who can understand how I feel – we’ve both lost our loves.’ She stopped to hug him. ‘At least I still have you. And Tata.’ She prayed she did. She hadn’t heard anything from her father, although she didn’t really expect to. Not until the war was over.
Aleksy gently disentangled himself from her embrace and stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘Renia, life goes on. It has to. You’ll find someone else to love. Just as I have…’
She looked at him in disbelief. ‘Surely you can’t have forgotten Magdalena already!’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll never forget Magdalena, but I can’t spend the rest of my life mourning her either.’
The calm, matter-of-fact way he said it shocked and infuriated her.
‘Is that it? Pff,’ she snapped her fingers, ‘Magdalena’s dead, time to move on to the next woman? Dear God! What’s happened to you, Aleksy?’ She backed away from him. ‘It’s this bloody war, isn’t it? It changes everybody and everything and nothing, nothing is as it should be!’
‘Irena, calm down.’
‘You were going to marry her. She was the love of your life.’ All the fury, despair and anguish that had been churning inside since she’d heard about Piotr came spewing out and she hit his chest with her bunched-up fists, again and again. ‘How can you forget her?’
Aleksy grabbed her hands. ‘Irena, for God’s sake. Not here. Not in front of everyone.’ People were steering a path around them, eyeing them surreptitiously, before looking away quickly. ‘I loved her. You know I did. But she’s dead. So is Piotr. But we are still alive.’
They glared at each other, much the same way they had done as children. He took her arm. ‘Come on, let’s go and get that cup of tea.’
He led her into the tea room and she studied him while they waited for the waitress to bring their order. Now she looked at him, really looked at him, she saw the terrible sadness in his eyes. All the anger leaked away from her like a tide on the ebb.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said when they had their tea in front of them.
‘It’s all right. You must know I would give anything for Magdalena not to have died, but I’m no longer the man she fell in love with, just as you are no longer the woman Piotr knew. We can’t mourn them for ever. We’re alive and they are dead. I know I might not see the end of the war, and I want to make the most of the life I have left. I want to love and be loved. I want to make love, as often as I can, eat good food, drink good vodka, I want to feel the sun on my face, and you should too. We should live the lives Piotr and Magdalena and all the ot
hers who are dead would have lived if they could. Anything else is a disservice to them. We will always remember them but the best way to honour their memory is to live the life they couldn’t.’
It was the longest speech she’d ever heard him make. But it made sense, even if didn’t altogether sound like Aleksy.
‘So tell me about this woman you’ve met,’ she said
Aleksy stirred sugar into his mug. The waitress must have kept some aside for him.
‘She’s a QA and very pretty. Do you know that they get sent to Peebles to train in what used to be the Hydro?’