by Mary Wood
‘Janine, please – it is you who is not behaving as you should. Have you no feeling for what Edith has been through? Or what her other daughter, our niece, may be going through in Poland at this very minute?’
‘That isn’t the point.’
‘Janine, it is as I said,’ Edith broke in. ‘You either accept things as they are and treat my daughters as part of the family, or the whole family will break down, as I won’t tolerate any disdain towards my children. None of this is their fault – it’s mine. I won’t have my happiness marred by petty conventions that you imagine have been violated. I am quite sure my own and Laurent’s friends will accept everything; and that society, though surprised at first, will come to accept the situation, too.’
‘It will be in all the papers, you know.’
‘Yes, I do know, thank you, Janine. But it is best that we show a united front – even supply a picture of us all together, and make an announcement that we are ecstatic about it – than give even a hint that we are divided, or ashamed of it all.’
‘Very well. Yes, I can see that. Let that be an end to it. When is Elka coming?’
‘Next week. Then she and Jhona will be married as soon as everything can be arranged – the papers and that sort of thing. Our solicitor is looking into all of that for us.’
‘Well, in that case, I will throw a party for them; just a family party, but it will be nice for us to all get to know them, before everybody else.’
‘That is very magnanimous of you, Janine, thank you.’
Douglas put his arm around his wife and told her, ‘I knew you would come round, darling. It is a big relief to me. Thank you.’
Janine looked suitably smug, but Edith wasn’t convinced. However, it was enough for now, and it warmed her heart that her family was prepared to stand by her and her girls. Her happiness would be complete, if only she could hear that Ania was safe.
The train belched smoke and steam, blocking Edith’s view of those who were alighting. Was this really happening? In just a few moments would she be holding her beloved child?
She had come alone. Laurent had agreed that it was best Elka met her mother first and was introduced to him later on. Her glimpse of herself, as she’d passed the many windows of St Pancras Chambers on her way into the station, had told her that she looked chic, in her long mink coat and matching bowler-type hat, which sported a long feather to give it a feminine touch.
Inside herself, she felt like the young girl who had given birth to the twins, but the image in the mirror had shown signs of age: the deep smile-lines around her lips, and the crow’s feet that now adorned her eyes. Although those eyes, she knew, shone with the renewed life she felt, from Laurent’s recent love-making. Sometimes she thought he wanted to make up for all the lost time, as he loved her most nights when they went to their bed – and even sometimes in the afternoon, if she was home. Not that she was complaining; it was all so wonderful and at last she felt fulfilled as a woman.
Why these thoughts should visit her now, she had no idea. But they soon vanished as she caught sight of Marianne, looking quite sprightly, considering that she had cried off visiting for a long time, blaming her frailty. And then she saw them. The couple stood, looking hesitant, but smiling so that Edith had a chance to greet Marianne, before they came forward.
She could no longer blame her marred view on the smoke and steam, and knew it was tears that distorted her vision. This moment held a surge of love, a gripping fear and an uncertainty, which made her vacillate between running and standing still.
Elka felt no such compunction. She dropped her valise and rushed at Edith. ‘Mama, Mama!’
Feathers from her scarf tickled Edith’s nose, and the sweet scent of her daughter and the feel of her soft skin gave Edith the comfort of knowing this was really happening; it wasn’t a dream. Their tears mingled and their arms held on to each other as if they would never let go, but Edith still couldn’t speak. Her throat had tightened and would not let her do so.
The hug went on and on. Emotion drained from them both. At last Edith was able to release herself a little and hold her sobbing Elka. ‘It’s all right. It’s over. And now it is a beginning. My darling, my baby.’
Something told her Elka’s rasping sobs were twofold: they were joyful and yet full of sadness, too. Edith understood. It wasn’t just sadness for the lost time, but sadness for her sister, and for the woman Elka had thought of as her mama for so long. Edith had prepared herself for this.
‘I have something for you. It is a thank-you to your mama, for bringing you up and loving you and caring for you.’ From her purse she took out the locket. ‘There. It is empty, but I am hoping that you have some photos of your papa and mama that we can have made to fit. Look, there is an inscription on the back.’
Turning it over, she waited while Elka read, ‘In memory and with thanks. Marcelina and Feodor.’
Through her tears, Elka said, ‘Oh, Mama, you understand?’
‘I do, my darling. I don’t want to replace your mama and papa – may God rest their souls – and I don’t want you to feel that you have to stop loving them, or forget them. They are very special to you. And we two finding each other must not alter that. Let me look at you. Yes, you are like me. You have your father’s hair and complexion, but you are like me, as Marianne has said.’
‘Yes, I can see that I am. I want you to know that I love you, Mama, and I understand that none of what happened was your fault. I want to hear about my father one day. But I am also longing to meet Laurent, who I will call – and think of as – Papa.’
‘My darling girl, thank you for that. But there is just one thing. And this is for you to hear, too, Marianne. I can’t answer your questions now – I will explain it all in full later on – but I must just tell you, because it could have consequences for me: I have told no one except Laurent about the death of Albert, your father. As far as everyone else is concerned, I don’t know where he is or what happened to him. Is it possible that you can all keep the secret of his death for me?’
All of them nodded. Her request had subdued them and Edith was sorry about this, but her admission was driven by fear of anyone finding out the truth. She knew Elka had been told what had really happened by Petra, and would have related it to Jhona and Marianne. And although it seemed so inappropriate to mention Albert’s death now, she’d had to.
With an effort to lighten the moment, she put on her widest smile. ‘Now come on. Forget all that for a moment, and introduce me to your lovely young man.’
Elka’s expression lifted from one of wary confusion to happiness. ‘This is Jhona, my fiancé.’ Simply that, but the tone in which it was said held such love that it warmed Edith and gave her the feeling that everything was going to be all right with her daughter.
The fire blazed up the chimney, giving them a warm welcome, when they reached Edith’s home in Holland Park. On the way they had talked and talked, but now they relaxed and, to Edith’s delight, Jhona and Laurent chatted away as if they had known each other forever. Yes, their conversation was about war, which was disconcerting, but any common ground at a first meeting was good.
She, Marianne and Elka found plenty to talk about as they sipped their pre-dinner sherry; and, but for her worry about Ania, Edith felt that she had never been happier.
As if Elka had picked up on this thought, she said, ‘Mama, I have had a letter from Ania. It arrived just before we left. She is working for the Germans and that is why she was able to get a letter out. She slipped it in with their post. It isn’t good news.’
‘Oh, my dear, I had hoped you would say anything but that. But in my heart, I knew it could be no other.’
‘I know, and that is why I haven’t wanted to show you the letter. It is written in Polish, so I will translate it for you.’
Shocked and upset more than she thought she would be to hear of Petra’s passing, Edith took a moment to compose herself after hearing the contents of the letter. At least Ania was all right. T
hough God knew for how long. The Resistance work she was doing was so dangerous. Oh, how can I bear it? But then she knew she must, and just minutes later she knew she would have much more to bear, as Elka told her, ‘Jhona and I have decided to be active, one way or another, to help in the war effort. We don’t know how yet, as it is difficult to know where we will be needed.’
Swallowing hard, Edith said, ‘I would expect no less from my daughter. I am proud of you both. Afraid and upset, but very proud.’
‘You do know that I want to be a doctor, like you, Mama? But this war will of course interrupt that. Tell me about your war, Mama, in the hospital tent and . . . and why my father’s death must remain a secret.’
Talking about her lie concerning Albert’s death wasn’t a comfortable feeling, but they all understood. Edith was reluctant to talk about the part she’d played in her war, but she knew she must. Her war was the beginning of this beautiful young woman’s life; it was important to Elka, and she needed to know. But how I wish I did not have such memories to impart. And I wish with all my heart that the Germans are defeated quickly, and that Ania will be freed, and Elka and Jhona do not have to be involved.
13
Elka
London, January 1940 – The Honeymoon is Over
It was the day after their wedding. The car chugged along, slowly manoeuvring in the snow-logged country lanes. All the waving goodbye was over, and Elka and Jhona were on their way to London. It was going to be heaven to have a few days there on their own, leaving her mother, Laurent and Marianne and her uncle and aunt and cousins, and all those members of their Polish family who hadn’t yet left for America and had attended the wedding, back in Leicestershire.
‘Oh, Jhona darling, the wedding was wonderful, wasn’t it? Despite everything, it was wonderful.’
‘It was, my darling. And I am proud of how you coped with the sadness that is always in you, where Ania is concerned.’
‘I did make a concerted effort not to let my fears – and the pain of not being with Ania on my special day – mar things. There was a moment though, with Edith. We walked in the garden together and were admiring how beautiful it all looked, with its coating of snow. It reminded me of Poland and brought Ania starkly to my mind, as if she was standing with us. Mama and I both cried.’
‘Yes, I could see when you came back that you were a little down. But then the band struck up Bach’s Polonaise, my mama was whisked onto the dance floor by Dziadek Gos, and Babcia Miriam and my father lined up behind them. And then you and I . . .’
‘Yes, and it was so funny. Isaac stopped the music and organized all the guests into couples, taking Edith’s hand, and we all led them in the Polonaise dance.’
‘It was the most ungainly rendition of our beautiful, graceful dance that I have ever seen!’
They both collapsed in a fit of giggles at the memory.
‘Did you see the way Isaac looked at Ginny? He couldn’t take his eyes off her all evening, and when her step-grandfather led her onto the floor, it wasn’t long before Isaac excused them and whirled Ginny around in a waltz.’
‘I did. And do you know what that cheeky brother of mine did? He only asked me if I could think of a reason why he might leave with us. When I questioned this, he said he wanted to get back to London, to spend some time with Ginny, as she and her grandparents had left by train straight after the wedding. They had to get back to Jimmy’s Hope House.’
‘Oh dear – Isaac has got it bad. I hope he doesn’t change his mind about going to America. I want him safe.’
Their mood became solemn again. Jhona broke the silence. ‘Are you all right, darling? Have I tired you?’
‘Oh no. And I have missed lying with you so much. Last night was the bringing together of all my dreams. It has been such a long time to have to control ourselves.’
‘I know. But never again . . .’
His words trailed off into silence. ‘There will be an “again”, won’t there, Jhona?’
‘Yes, it is possible. Elka, we have to be realistic. The war . . .’
‘But nothing is happening. All the papers are calling it the “Phoney War”, so we may yet escape it all.’
‘Elka, won’t you change your mind about us leaving for America with our family next week?’
‘Absolutely not! I have made my mind up to enter medical school. I am going to talk to mother about it. As her daughter, I will have automatic entry into Charing Cross teaching hospital and will only have to qualify for a place at London University – and that should be easy to do.’
‘Oh? I’m glad you are so confident. And just when did you think you would discuss this with your husband?’
‘Right now. You have only been my husband for twenty-four hours – I couldn’t possibly do so before.’
‘Ha! You little minx. But I am not objecting, I think it is a wonderful idea, darling. I know you will be safe, and doing just what you want to do.’
‘And . . . ?’
‘And what?’
‘Just when are you going to discuss with your wife the plans you have?’
‘I cannot get used to that term. Wife – my wife. Ha! It is wonderful.’
‘What are you doing? No, don’t stop the car, or we will get stuck in the snow, Jhona . . . Oh, Jhona.’
He had stopped the car, got out and was now on her side and opening the door. Lifting her out of her seat, he held her to him. ‘My wife . . . my wife – MY WIFE!’
The white world of trees and fields spun around her as Jhona twirled her round in his arms. All the joy she had ever felt in her life surged through her, and her heart felt as though it would burst with the love she had for him. Playfully she shouted at him, ‘Stop it, put me down. Jhona, put me down!’ But before he could, he slipped.
The soft mound of snow cushioned their fall. Their screams turned to laughter that echoed around them. Elka wanted to capture the moment and keep it near her forever.
Jhona’s lips enclosed her shivering ones. The warmth of them took away the cold and encased her in a glow that reached the very heart of her. She trembled from the yearning she felt to be one with him.
He lifted her up once more, but this time he held her close to him and walked away from the car, his steps unsteady as his feet sank into the deep snow. ‘Where are you taking me? You’re mad, Jhona. We have to make the main road before dark . . . Jhona!’
But her protests fell on deaf ears. Close by was a barn. Realizing his intentions increased the anticipation within her and tensed the muscles in her groin. She snuggled her head into his neck and kissed and sucked in his skin.
Jhona’s breathing deepened. His voice was gravelly as he spoke her name between kisses. Reaching the barn, he kicked open the door and took her into the semi-darkness. Here they were sheltered from the bitterly cold wind. Expectation helped to warm her through.
The bales of hay smelt musty, as if they were rotting inside, but they also gave off a heat that encased her body as Jhona placed her down on them. ‘I’m sorry to use you, my precious Elka, but I am driven by my love for you.’
‘Don’t be sorry. I need you as much as you need me. These are the times that we will treasure when—’
His kiss stopped her putting into words what they both knew: that soon they might be parted from each other. His gentle caresses turned to a passionate exploration of her body, arousing feelings that made her cry out with joy and beg him to enter her.
Clothes were removed somehow, during the frenzy that followed, and she felt it was an exquisite moment when Jhona filled her with himself and made her part of him.
Everything else now forgotten, she gave herself to the moment. She responded with an abandonment that took her to a place she never wanted to come down from, as a crescendo of sensations swept through her, leaving her limp with exhaustion and her face awash with tears of ecstasy.
Reaching his own climax soon afterwards, Jhona joined his cries to hers. Together they rode the path of love, then clung to each other a
s if they would never let go. Their tears of joy mingled as their bodies heaved and let go of all the pain inside them.
They cried for the plight of Ania and because they missed her so much; and for the family they were soon to say goodbye to: Jhona’s grandparents and parents and brother – whom she had looked upon as relations all her life – already had a passage to America. They cried for Marcelina, Elka’s beautiful adoptive mama and Jhona’s aunt; and for Petra, as they came to forgive her. And they cried for their beloved Poland: a sometimes harsh country, with a history of strife and depression, but with hard-working and good people who were accepting of all, until others divided them. But then, deep at the heart of their sorrow, lay concern over the fate of their own people. The Jews were being oppressed once again, and no one was coming to their aid. Their plight was not being made into a major issue, for only the odd incident was being reported, but they knew from Ania’s letter that terrible suffering was being imposed on the Jews.
Drained of emotion and shivering with cold, they helped each other to dress. Elka felt cleansed of the knotted pain that she had held inside her, and lightened by sharing it. ‘My darling, what just happened didn’t mar the joy of what went before – it only enhanced it, as we share so much and understand each other. We are now bound together and can face whatever may come, as we know that each of us has courage, and that our courage gives us strength.’
Jhona looked deep into Elka’s eyes, penetrating her very soul. ‘Our love will bring us through,’ he said. ‘And we will not be parted. I had been thinking that I would join the British forces, as they are taking refugees, but now I will try to do war work that doesn’t take me from your side.’
‘Oh, Jhona, that is wonderful news. You have skills in design and working with precious metals, and you have language skills, too. All of these will transfer to any work you choose and will help the war effort, just as much as if you were brandishing a gun in combat.’
They reached Edith’s and Laurent’s home the next day, after spending a night in Buckinghamshire. They were surprised to be met by Brendan getting out of his car. His full officer’s uniform gave him an official air, and he looked as though he had been waiting for some time. Looking at him, Elka was struck by the reality of the wartime state they were now in. Brendan’s attire as well as his demeanour were a stark reminder of it. There was a stiffness about him, and he was far removed from his usual relaxed, funny and likeable self.