by Emma Fraser
‘Home. To my flat.’
‘Is it suitable for someone who’s had a stroke? Are there stairs?’
‘Yes. Damn. I’ll take her home, then – to St Abbs. We’ll manage.’
‘Why don’t you bring her here? We could make up a bed for her in the drawing room. I could help you take care of her.’
‘Mum’s not your problem.’
‘My dear, don’t you think I owe something to her too? I should have gone with her – I knew how terrified she’d be without me. And if you do take her home, you’re going to need help.’
‘Let’s go get her, then.’
Sarah’s insides churned with anxiety and excitement as she led Irena towards her mother’s bed. What if the shock was too much for her?
Her mother was sitting up in her chair, hair neatly brushed, staring out of the window. Irena stopped a short distance away and signalled Sarah with her hand to go forward.
‘Mum,’ Sarah said softly, and when she turned round she bent down and kissed her cheek. ‘You’re looking great today.’ She sat down on the bed and took her hand in hers. ‘Mum, I’m taking you home. At least, I will. Firstly, though, we’re going to stay in the house in Charlotte Square.’
Her mother’s eyes lit up.
‘I should have got you out of here ages ago. But I’m going to take care of you now. Oh, Mum I know what happened to your birth family. I’m so very, very sorry.’ She wrapped her arms around her mother’s thin shoulders and held her close. To begin with her mother resisted but then she relaxed into Sarah’s embrace. It was the first time in her adult life that Sarah had held her like this. Her mother’s thin shoulder’s started to shake. ‘Oh, Mum. It’s all right. I’m never going to let anything happen to you again. Not ever.’
She waited until her mother had stopped crying. ‘Mum, there’s more. I’ve brought someone to see you.’
She looked over at Irena and smiled. ‘Mum,’ she breathed, ‘Magdalena is here.’
Irena stepped forward and Sarah jumped up, pulling a chair over for her. Her mother looked up at Irena, then back at Sarah, frowning.
‘Leah,’ Irena said softly, ‘It’s me, Magdalena.’ She added something in Polish.
Sarah watched her mother’s face closely, seeing puzzlement turn to realisation then joy. She stretched out her good hand and Irena clasped it, bringing it up to her own cheek. ‘Oh Leah, it is so good to see you again.’
Tears were streaming down her mother’s face as she gazed at Irena and then at Sarah. It was only then that Sarah realised she was crying too.
She heard the sound of a throat being cleared and looked up to find Sister Haggerty glaring down at her. ‘What’s going on here? I’m afraid you’ll have to leave. It’s not time for evening visiting yet.’
‘Could you give me a few minutes with my mother, please?’
When Sister Haggerty hesitated, Sarah stood. ‘Alone.’
She turned to her mother. ‘You trust me to look after you, don’t you?’
Her mother frowned. ‘Ob?’
‘Bugger work. I’ll go freelance if I have to.’ They were probably going to fire her anyway.
Her mother smiled. It was lopsided but it was a smile.
‘Magdalena will stay with you, while I tell the doctors you’re coming home,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’
She marched along the corridor and up to the nurses’ station. Sister Haggerty was giving the report to the other nurses who were sitting around her in a semicircle, pens at the ready to take notes. She frowned when Sarah rapped on the desk.
‘You really do have to leave,’ Sister Haggerty said.
‘I’d like to see my mother’s doctor. I plan to take her home with me.’
The nurses looked aghast. Sister sighed and said a few words to her staff who scuttled off in different directions.
‘Your mother isn’t ready to go home.’
‘Is she getting better?’
‘There has been some improvement.’
‘Yes, there has. And I’m grateful.’ She noticed the small appeasing note that had crept into her voice and took a breath. Chicken Licken was gone for good. ‘Is there anything you’re doing for her that I couldn’t do at home?’
Sister pursed her lips. Linda had come to stand by her side. ‘No,’ the staff nurse said quietly. ‘And in my opinion your mother will benefit from being at home – as long as someone comes in to put her through her passive movements and give her her speech therapy.’
‘I’ll do her physio myself. I’ve seen them do her exercises with her often enough. And as for her speech therapy, I believe my mother’s speech – if it’s ever going to improve – will do so more quickly if I spend more time with her.’
‘You can’t just take your mother out of hospital,’ Sister said. ‘There are procedures.’
‘So tell me what they are and I’ll do them, but trust me, I’m not leaving here without my mother.’
It took several hours. The doctor had to be called. Forms had to be signed and medication ordered from the pharmacy but at last, Mum was in the front seat of Sarah’s car, her stick held between her legs and her lopsided smile wider than ever. Irena was in the back.
‘Okay, Mum?’ Sarah asked, turning the key in the ignition.
She nodded. ‘Hap-py… ’ank you, Sa-rah.’
Together she and Irena looked after Lily. They made her a bed on the downstairs sitting-room sofa. Then Irena and Lily talked long into the night. At least, Irena did the talking while Sarah’s mother responded with taps of her stick, nods, smiles and tears. Many, many tears.
The next morning they packed their bags and left for Lily’s house in the Borders.
Chapter 52
Three weeks after she’d taken her mother from the hospital, Sarah was sitting outside the house in St Abbs, her notepad in her lap, watching the sun slant across the hills. Overhead a nesting seagull’s cry was like fingernails raked across tin. As expected, as soon as she’d told work she was taking more time off, they’d fired her. A few weeks ago she had a job and a boyfriend, now she had neither and yet she felt blissfully unconcerned.
She’d done the right thing by taking Mum home. She only regretted that she hadn’t done it sooner. Her mother’s speech was improving every day; now she managed a phrase or two, sometimes a whole sentence and even a little faltering Polish. She was able to dress and undress herself, even if it took a long time, and she could walk with just the aid of her stick. But it wasn’t just the physical difference to Mum’s health that made Sarah’s heart sing, it was the way her dark moods and the sadness in her eyes appeared to have all but disappeared. Of course, this all might have happened anyway, Irena had told her that, but Sarah didn’t think so. She was sure that being surrounded by love was what had made the difference.
The crunch of footsteps on gravel drew her from her reverie. Neil was loping towards her, a small rucksack draped over one shoulder. Her heart swelled until if felt as if it would burst through her ribcage. She’d known that eventually he’d come to find her.
He’d replied to her note of apology, and since then they’d exchanged letters and postcards. His made her laugh or cry, depending on where in the world he was and what he was covering.
‘You took your time,’ she said with a lift of her eyebrow.
‘Been busy. Covering the fall of the Berlin Wall, amongst other things.’ He crouched down beside her and lifted the notebook from her lap.
‘Hey, that’s private.’ She tried to snatch it back but he held it out of her reach. ‘Give it back.’
‘Tell me what’s in it, then.’
‘It’s just some scribblings.’
‘You’ve started a book, haven’t you?’
How did this man who knew her so little know her so well?
‘No, not a book. Okay then, part of a book. But it’s not going great.’
He sat down on the gravel and stretched his legs in front of him. ‘What’s it about?’
Sarah sig
hed. ‘That’s half the problem,’ she admitted. ‘It started off as a love story, but it’s kind of dwindled into nothing.’
‘Do you want a second opinion?’
‘Not really.’ The thought of him reading her work made her toes curl.
She studied him for a moment. Either he hadn’t shaved or he was growing a beard. Whatever, the stubble suited him.
‘Do you want to come in and say hello to Mum? You can stay the night if you like?’
‘Thought you’d never ask.’
After dinner, Irena and Sarah’s mother had their tea in the sitting room, while Neil and Sarah took their drinks outside.
She told him everything she’d learned and Neil listened in silence, interrupting only to ask the odd question.
‘It’s an amazing story,’ he said when she’d come to the end. ‘Why don’t you write it?’
‘Me?’
‘Why not? You want to be a writer. It’s a story that should be told.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t. I’d never do it justice.’
‘Tell me something,’ he said softly, ‘could you write it from the heart?’
She thought a while. ‘Yes.’
‘Then you’ll do it justice.’
Later, they rejoined the two women inside. Neil quizzed Irena gently and in return told her about his work and his childhood on Skye. ‘I’m flying up there in a couple of days’ time,’ he said, ‘once I’ve filed my story.’
‘I would like to go back to Skye,’ Irena said. ‘It’s where Richard and I were the happiest. When I die, I want be laid to rest next to him.’
‘I hope that won’t be for a very long time.’ Sarah said. Over the last few weeks she’d come to love Irena and she wasn’t ready to be parted from her – and she was sure her mother wasn’t either. ‘But of course you must go to Skye. It is your house, after all.’
‘Oh, my dear, I have no intention of accepting either of the houses. I’m too old to leave Poland permanently now. How can I leave it after everything and just when it is becoming a democracy again? It is an exciting time and I want to be part of it. No, it is right that you and your children have them. So much was taken from your mother and her family, it would make me happy to know that her child at least was given something back.’
‘You don’t need to decide now,’ Sarah protested. ‘Anyway, it’s us that owe you. If you hadn’t rescued Mum, I wouldn’t even be here. I owe my life to you.’ And if it hadn’t been for Irena she wouldn’t have been able to wrap her arms around her mother and tell her that she understood. That she loved her and was proud of her.
‘Now, can you tell me if there is still a train to Skye?’ Irena asked.
‘I want to go,’ her mother said. Although her words were slightly slurred, most of what she said now was understandable.
‘No need for trains.’ Sarah glanced at Neil who gave her a thumbs-up. ‘We could all go. Would you mind, Irena?’
Irena’s mouth curved in a smile. ‘There is nothing I would like better. I have been too much on my own over the years. It will be good to have company.’
‘That’s decided, then. We’ll take my car. We can go whenever you want.’
‘Soon,’ Irena said, softly. ‘Let’s go soon.’
Neil grinned. ‘Gran is going to love this.’
They set off on their trip less than a week later. Edinburgh was dark with rain but as they drove north the clouds cleared. It was promising to be a perfect day for the drive. Neil had left a couple of days before them and would be waiting for them in Skye. Sarah had packed the car with everything she could think of for Irena and her mother’s comfort: hot-water bottles, wellington boots, two sets of waterproofs and some extra blankets. She’d also visited the supermarket and bought more vodka and some wine.
They made good progress until Glencoe when heavy traffic slowed their pace. ‘We’re not far from the Commando Monument,’ Sarah said to Irena. ‘In fact, we’ll pass right by it. Shall we stop there and stretch our legs?’
‘I would like to see it.’
Sarah glanced behind her. Mum was sleeping peacefully in the back seat.
‘Is this the way you came when you came with Richard?’
‘I think so. I remember taking a train, I think to a place called Kyle of Lochalsh and then a small passenger ferry. Richard wanted me to cycle the rest of the way, but I had to admit I didn’t know how to ride a bicycle. So he taught me.’
‘Did you know he was in love with you when you agreed to come here with him? I mean, wasn’t it rather risqué coming away on your own?’
Irena’s smile dimpled her cheeks. ‘Are you scandalised?’ she asked.
‘Not at all.’
‘The war changed everything a great deal. No one knew how much time they might have. People married without really knowing one another. Unless you’ve lived through it you can’t really imagine the intensity of those days. Everything was multicoloured. Every emotion magnified a hundred times. People wanted to grasp happiness while they could.’
‘Do you think that’s why Richard’s mother left his father? It must have taken courage in those days.’
‘I expect so.’ Irena’s eyes darted left and right as she spoke, as if she couldn’t bear to miss a moment of the journey. ‘I saw a photograph once. It was of a young man. He was wearing a leather jacket but he was clearly in a service of some kind. I knew Isabel must have been in love with him. Just because there was a war on didn’t mean that people’s domestic lives – their secret heartaches, their lives, their dramas – didn’t continue, it just brought them into sharp relief.’
‘Photographs,’ Sarah murmured, thinking of the photos Neil had taken – the ones he’d shown her and the ones she’d seen in the magazines. She thought of the photograph of her mother as a child and the one of Irena and Richard that had started her on her quest. Photographs were the record of people’s lives – their testament to their past and their present. And, as Neil had said, a way of bearing witness.
‘Do you know they wouldn’t let the Polish soldiers who had flown and fought alongside the British take part in the victory parades?’ Irena said. ‘So many people gave their lives, won so many victories, but somehow we were never considered a part of the victorious allies. I only learned the full role they played myself after the war, from Richard.’
Sarah almost swerved. ‘From Richard! You mean you saw him again – after the war?’
A smile lit Irena’s face. ‘Oh yes. It took him ten years, but eventually he found me. I think I always knew he would.’
‘He found you.’ Sarah was delighted. She’d assumed that they’d never seen each other again.
‘We would have met sooner if it hadn’t been for Communism.’ Irena’s smile dimmed. ‘If we thought we could get on with our lives after the Russians entered Poland we were mistaken. Warsaw was in ruins, but within days people started returning to the place they’d once lived. There was nothing left of their homes but they started rebuilding. I didn’t know this at the time. After they liberated us from the concentration camp I was in hospital.’
‘You were in a concentration camp!’ Sarah said, horrified. Irena hadn’t spoken about her time in Poland after she’d rescued Sarah’s mother and Sarah hadn’t liked to ask, sensing it was a no go area.
‘Yes. For almost three months. They didn’t know whether I would live. Like most of the survivors I was suffering from severe malnutrition. By the time I was fit to leave hospital, the Russians had imposed their rule. They were arresting all the Poles who had Western connections – particularly those who’d lived in the West and returned to work in the underground. I knew if I took back the name Irena Kraszewska they would arrest me too. So I didn’t.’
‘I had no job, nowhere to live, and the communists were hunting down anyone who had Western connections.’ She looked out of the window. ‘But I hadn’t gone through everything that happened.’
‘What about your father? And Aleksy?’
‘Tata was still alive, but v
ery frail. Aleksy…’ Her voice trembled. ‘My darling brother was shot down in the last days of the war.’
‘I’m so sorry, Irena,’ She gave Irena a few moments to collect herself. ‘Couldn’t you have come back to Scotland? To Richard?’
‘I wanted nothing more. But it was impossible. Even though I was going under a different name, I couldn’t attract attention to myself. I didn’t know if someone would give my real identity to the Russians. Eventually I made my way to people who’d been in the resistance and who hated the Communists. They kept me hidden until they could be sure the Russians weren’t looking for me. They created documents showing that I had a medical degree, obtained in Poland. Only then could I go to Tata, not as his daughter of course, and look for a job.’