‘It is luck.’ Gabrielle smiled shyly. ‘And a little bit of practice. I used to help my mother take care of my twin brothers when they were babies.’
‘Twins, that must have been nice.’ Gina did a quick count in her head and began lifting cups down from the dresser. ‘Are they in Germany?’
‘They were killed in the war.’
‘A lot of people were killed in the war.’ Mrs Ronconi stood in the doorway. ‘You must be Gabrielle.’
‘Yes, Mrs Ronconi. I realise it must be very hard for you to have me in your house. I am sorry to be so much trouble.’
‘Well, that can’t be helped. Now you’re here you’d better stay,’ she sniffed. ‘I don’t need Angelo to tell me that this is all Tony’s fault. He has always been a hothead. Nothing but trouble ever since he persuaded his Papa that he didn’t want to be the priest everyone in the family wanted him to be. Not that he would have been a good priest. He would have been a terrible one. Giving people punches instead of the holy sacrament and confession. If his Papa was alive he would thrash him; as it is,’ she shrugged her shoulders, ‘Tony carries on punching people. You were a fool to get engaged to him. A nice-looking girl like you could have done better for herself. Angelo, what are you doing standing around here with your mouth open? I thought you were going to see Ronnie about getting Tony out of jail.’
Masha spoke rapidly to Peter in Russian. Charlie looked at Liza and translated.
‘My wife would like to know if she can give you something else. Another cup of tea or a second piece of cake perhaps?’
‘No thank you,’ Liza replied, almost choking as Charlie said ‘my wife’. It was extremely odd to be sitting in this kitchen with him and Peter’s mother, who seemed so much older than the youthful and beautiful Alma Raschenko. Also, she wasn’t quite sure what to call him, so she left off his name altogether. ‘Uncle Charlie’ didn’t sound right in Peter and Masha’s presence, and plain ‘Charlie’ positively disrespectful, but she couldn’t remember hearing anyone in Pontypridd ever calling him anything else.
‘Thank your mother for the tea and cake, and tell her this is a lovely house, Peter.’
Peter obediently translated, triggering another torrent of words from Masha. ‘My mother says you are a nice girl.’
‘So where are you two going?’ Charlie asked.
‘I’ve persuaded Peter to take me to see Frenchman’s Creek. There’s a special showing in the Park Cinema. I’ve seen it before but it’s a lovely film and it’s in colour.’
‘My wife … I’ve seen it,’ he said quickly, looking at Masha although he knew she couldn’t understand a word of English. ‘It’s a good film. Enjoy yourselves.’
Peter left the table. ‘I have something to do, Liza. I will be back soon.’
She sipped her tea and smiled at Peter’s mother as Charlie made his excuses and followed his son up the stairs to the boxroom.
‘Why are you watching me?’ Peter questioned angrily, palming the pound notes Ronnie had given him that he’d been pushing under his mattress.
‘I came up to ask if you had enough money but I see you have some.’
‘Two pounds.’ Peter held them up. ‘Mr Ronconi gave me an advance on my wages to buy overalls and good strong waterproof boots. Will it be enough?’
‘If it isn’t I’ll lend you some until your first pay day,’ Charlie said, recognising his son’s need to pay his own way. ‘What about tonight?’
‘I have the money you gave me yesterday.’
‘You didn’t spend any?’
‘The coffee I bought was on the house.’
‘Five shillings should be enough to buy two tickets to the pictures and a couple of coffees afterwards. Get the ninepenny not the sixpenny tickets. That way you can sit upstairs in the balcony, you’ll get better seats and a clearer view of the screen. Oh, and you do know that men pay for women when they take them out?’
‘Why?’ Peter frowned.
‘Because they do.’ Charlie was unable to think of a single reason that sounded even remotely sensible.
‘But Liza is a nurse. She earns money, she told me. Why does she need mine?’
‘Because it’s what’s done in this country. A gentleman asks a lady out, the lady does him the favour by going with him, so the gentleman pays for the evening.’
‘Then gentlemen are stupid in this country.’
‘They probably are,’ Charlie agreed, unable to combat Peter’s basic logic. ‘But you should still pay for her ticket, ice cream and anything else she wants, and at the end of the evening walk her home to make sure she gets there safely.’
‘Ah, I understand, then she sleeps with you.’ Peter’s smile broadened as he thought of the woman he had bought in the camp with apples. Liza would be so much better. She was younger and prettier. ‘Now that makes sense. Men have to pay for everything and then the women –’
‘That is not the way it works at all,’ Charlie stressed, struggling to keep his exasperation in check. ‘Try to sleep with a girl the first time you go out with her and you will end up in prison.’
‘It’s a crime to sleep with a woman here?’
‘If the lady complains it’s called rape.’
‘I would never force any woman to sleep with me.’
‘That’s reassuring to hear. Now listen, no lady sleeps with a man after he’s taken her out just once. I explained that last night. Most people wait until they’re married before sleeping together.’
‘You didn’t with my mother.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I heard her talking to some other women about wedding nights when I was young. They thought I didn’t understand but I did. Mother said her wedding night happened before she was married to you and it was the most wonderful night of her life – then all the women laughed.’
‘Can we get back to tonight,’ Charlie asked, infuriated by Peter’s twisted understanding and obsession with sex. ‘A man walks a lady home after they have been out together to make sure that she gets there safely and for no other reason. Liza lives a long way out of town but if you’re lucky you might catch a bus. In fact, given your ideas about women it might be better if you do catch a bus so the driver can keep an eye on you.’
‘I’ll walk her home.’ Conveniently forgetting Bethan’s instruction to Liza to telephone her for a lift, Peter pulled a comb from his pocket and ran it through his hair.
‘And if she allows it, you may kiss her. One small kiss on the cheek not on the lips and absolutely no more. No touching – no fondling – no sleeping – nothing! That is the way things are done in this country. Liza is a lady, not a camp trollop. She is also Mrs John’s daughter.’
‘Adopted daughter.’
‘Same thing. I don’t want any complaints. Here,’ he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out another two half-crowns. ‘Just in case. Bus fares, coffee, ice creams – they can all add up.’
‘You will look after Mama?’
‘You don’t have to ask. And Peter, remember, no touching Liza.’
‘What if she touches me?’
‘She won’t, she has a boyfriend.’
‘A new one,’ Peter muttered darkly, jingling the coins in his pocket as he ran down the stairs.
‘So what do you want to do, Ronnie?’
‘I want to do nothing. I’d like nothing better than to see that runt of a brother of ours rot in jail for the next fifty years but I suppose you had better go down to Spickett’s first thing tomorrow to see if they can arrange bail for him. I dread to think what it’s going to cost. After all the warnings you and I have given him, I thought he’d have had the sense to keep his fists to himself.’
‘Me go to Spickett’s, not you?’
‘It’s quite simple, just ask for Mr Spickett, explain the situation and he will deal with everything.’
‘And the café?’
‘You’d better keep Tony out of there for the time being. In fact if you can’t find him a job in either of the kitc
hens away from the public, tell him to lie low until this is cleared up one way or another.’
‘You don’t want to see him?’
‘If I saw him, I’d hit his head off his shoulders.’
‘That leaves only two of us running the restaurant and café.’
‘I’m aware of that.’
‘You did say I could come to you for advice.’
‘All right,’ Ronnie softened his tone as he realised he was taking his anger out on Angelo, who was entirely innocent. ‘In my opinion you should run the restaurant because it takes a bit of panache to serve the crache with their meat-and-two-veg lunches, and morning and afternoon teas. Let Alfredo handle the café. And before you say another word, I know both of you are going to be working flat out, but short of pulling Roberto from school, which you’ll do over my dead body, I can’t think of any other solution. In the meantime, look around the staff, pick out the ones you think you can trust and watch them closely. Maybe – just maybe – you’ll strike lucky and find one up to managing the café one or two nights a week to give you and Alfredo a break.’
‘You and Will still intent on giving Luke a job when he comes out of the pit? Because if you aren’t, perhaps he and Gina can help out.’
‘Ask him what he wants to do. Now he’s a family man I can’t see him eager to work evenings.’
‘I’ll do that, Ronnie.’
‘Is that it?’ Ronnie pulled a packet of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and offered Angelo one.
‘Apart from Mama. When are you going to call up and see her? She talks about you and Billy and Catrina all the time. She thinks about Diana and she wants to help …’
‘And she comes to see us here twice a week. I meant it when I said I didn’t want to see Tony again, Angelo. I’ll never forgive him for what he did to Diana. And while he’s still living with Mama I won’t visit Danycoedcae Road.’
Angelo gripped his brother’s shoulder as he left the table. ‘Do you want me to let you know what’s happening with Spickett’s and Tony.’
‘You can telephone the garage. I’ll be there all day tomorrow.’
‘How’s it going?’
‘Better than the café business, by the look of things.’ Ronnie left his chair. ‘Do me a favour, go in the kitchen and say hello to Dino and Megan so Megan can give you a slice of the cake she’s been hoarding for visitors.’
‘Pleased to, then I’ll relieve Alfredo in the café.’
‘Life’s all go, isn’t it?’
‘Especially when you don’t want it to be,’ Angelo agreed thinking of Liza and their ruined afternoon.
‘You’re sure you’ll be all right?’
‘Feo, I have eaten more than any person has a right to in the last two days. I am tucked up in a comfortable, clean bed, I have a fire and a book and you have told me three times that you will be back soon. What more can I want?’
‘I love you.’ Taking Masha’s hand, he looked into her eyes, stooped and kissed her forehead.
‘You are going to see your other wife.’
‘She is not my wife any more and I only need to see her for a few minutes. I have some papers for her.’
‘I understand.’
‘It is only business, Masha. She knows that now you are here, there can be no going back for either of us but I can’t simply walk away from my responsibilities. She has my son to bring up and it is my place to make sure they have enough money to live on.’
‘Your other son, how old is he?’
‘Four.’
‘Would this other wife of yours think it strange if I wanted to meet him?’
‘No. She told me before you came that I could bring Theo here, but she wouldn’t come herself. She’s too afraid that she’ll like you. And as she said it would be strange for you to be friends.’
‘Theo – it is English for Feodor?’
‘It’s short for Theodore, almost the same. We haven’t talked much about my life here, Masha, but I own some shops as well as this house. That’s how I made my money.’
‘Peter said when he saw this house that you were rich.’
‘Not rich, but I have enough to keep both my families,’ he murmured wryly, ‘and I have made a will dividing everything I own between you and Peter and my other son. Should anything happen to me this house is in your and Peter’s name and there will be enough money for you to live on.’
‘What will we do with a house here when we go back to Russia?’ She saw him hesitate. ‘We are going back – you promised …’
‘I promised that we would talk about going back to Russia, Masha, and we will.’
‘You will come back with me? You must, I gave my word to the politruk …’
‘I won’t lie to you, Masha. I don’t want to go back because I am sure they would put me in a camp. You and Peter too if you came with me.’
‘You wouldn’t think that if you’d met the politruk. He spoke so well of you, Feodor. He knew everything you had done in the war, how brave you’d been, all about the medals you won …’
‘I’m sure he did, but I have a lot to do at the moment, Masha, with the business and the house. Your idea of returning to Russia needs more thought and discussion than I can give it at the moment but I will promise you one thing. By all that is holy to me, I swear, Masha, I will never allow us to be separated again.’
Contented, she lay back on the pillows. He picked up her book from the bedside table and smiled as he handed it to her. ‘You and your fairytales. I might have known. Stepan Timofeyevich Razin and the Peasant Revolt. And how many witches, hobgoblins, giants and monsters is he going to meet in these stories?’
‘I don’t know because I am only halfway through the first and he has only met evil boyars and corrupt henchmen of the Tsar.’
‘I will return very soon.’ Looking back at her, he closed the door softly, walked down the stairs and picked up his keys from the chest of drawers. Looking around, he decided to check the kitchen. The guard was in front of the stove and the back door was locked. He pushed aside the curtains in every downstairs room and rattled the window catches. They were all fast. There was nothing wrong. Everything was neat, clean, tidy and in its allotted place, yet he still felt uneasy. As if something was about to happen – something bad. But what?
‘Masha,’ he climbed halfway up the stairs and called to her. ‘I could ask Mrs Lane to sit with you.’
‘You think I’m a baby that can’t stay alone for a moment? When you come back, please bring me tea.’
‘Would you like a cup now?’
‘No, but it would be nice in an hour or two.’
Running back down the stairs he stood in the hall. He couldn’t control his feelings; they were frightening – and oddly familiar. Then he remembered. He had felt this way once before. When Masha had told him she was pregnant. He had confided in his mother who had always taken such feelings as portents of disaster. Both of them had been concerned that something would happen to Masha when she was giving birth. That either she or the baby, or both, would die. But instead of the tragic scenarios they’d envisaged, the entire village had been razed and he and Masha had been separated. An event totally beyond the realms of anything he or his mother had been able to conceive.
Trembling, he steadied himself on the newel of the stair post. It was only a feeling and probably the result of coming to terms with Masha and Peter’s reappearance in his life. He wasn’t used to good fortune – or happiness – that was all. Checking that he had his keys he left the house and locked the door securely.
Five minutes later he stood outside his shop at the foot of Penuel Lane and looked up. A light was burning in the living room of the flat. He pictured Alma there, reading a book or listening to the radio, the slow soft smile he loved playing at the corners of her mouth.
He looked down at his key ring, singling out the key to the front door, but he couldn’t bring himself to use it. Lifting his hand he closed it into a fist and knocked hard. Moments later he heard a door openin
g and a familiar light step run down the stairs.
‘Charlie?’ Alma smiled as she brushed her thick red curls away from her face with her fingers, her green eyes glowing with surprise – and love – at the sight of him on the doorstep. ‘Have you forgotten your key?’
‘I couldn’t bring myself to use it.’
She ran up to the flat ahead of him. ‘Mary, Mr Raschenko’s here, would you mind sitting in the kitchen for a while?’
‘Of course not, Mrs Raschenko.’
‘If you’d like some tea, I could ask Mary to make it,’ Alma suggested as the girl left them. She couldn’t believe how much progress Charlie had made in such a short time. He looked well and strong, almost the man she had married before the war.
‘No, no tea thank you.’
She opened the sideboard and pulled out a bottle of vodka.
‘You kept it?’
‘For visitors.’ She turned and looked at him as if she hadn’t seen him in years rather than days. ‘Bethan told me about your wife, and I have seen your son.’
‘You’ve met Pasha?’
‘Not met, seen, and only from a distance. I was driving back from the Treforest shop in the van with the driver. He almost collided with the car in front of us when he saw him. Charlie, you must be so proud. Such a fine tall boy and he looks so much like you.’
‘Yes, he does, but he doesn’t think like me.’ There was a hint of warning in the throwaway remark. ‘How is Theo?’
‘Well, happy, busy, looking forward to seeing you whenever you can spare the time, and that isn’t a complaint.’
He sat as he had done once before, on the edge of the chair that had been his, formal and upright, like a guest.
‘You’ve come to tell me that you can’t leave Masha.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I knew before she came, Charlie. It’s like I said, she has no one except you and you would never leave her, not now you’ve found her again after so many years.’
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