Heart and Soul (16 page)

Eventually he introduced himself.

“I'm Marek,” he said. “And you are very beautiful.” Nobody had ever said anything remotely like this before to Ania. She felt a lovely thrill of excitement. This man really thought she was beautiful— little Ania, Mamusia's little kitchen helper.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“What a pity they don't have a jukebox here. We could dance,” he said.

“I'm not a good dancer.” Ania looked at the ground.

“I could teach you,” Marek said. “I love to dance.”

“I might see you again …” Ania looked at him innocently.

“Yes, you might, but not in a dull, dead place like this. In the next town there is a good café called Motlawa. I go there most afternoons.”

And little Ania, who had never told her mother an untruth in her life, wove a long story about a friend at school whose mother had died and the funeral was in the next town. Her mother gave her the money for the bus fare and Ania set out alone for the Café Motlawa. She had washed her hair and put the juice of half a lemon in the rinsing water, as Lidia had told her this made it shiny.

As she left the house her mother had pressed a coin into her hand, to light a candle in the church for the poor soul who had died. Ania had never felt so guilty in her whole life. She spent the extra
money on a lipstick and hoped against hope that this would be an afternoon that Marek was dropping in at the café.

She saw him immediately, and there was music playing. He came straight over and stretched out both his arms. Soon they were dancing. It seemed as natural as anything to lean against him and feel his arms around her. They didn't talk much. They didn't need to. And then when she said she had to go to catch her bus, he walked her to the bus station.

“You look so beautiful in your green jacket,” he said. “Like something from a forest, a nymph maybe.”

“It's my only good coat,” she admitted. “You may get tired of looking at it.” Then she realized how forward she had been. “I mean, that is, if we were to see each other again …” She was full of confusion now.

He lifted her chin and gave her a gentle kiss. She could feel it on her lips all the way back on the bus, while she tried to make up some story about the funeral she was meant to have attended and to think up an excuse to go to the Café Motlawa again.

Love always finds a way.

Ania had read that and it was true. The local schoolteacher was having several outfits made, but she needed smart buttons, much better than the local shop provided. Ania said that she remembered she had passed a shop that day when she had gone to her friend's mother's funeral. Perhaps she could go and spend a day in that town and see what she could find. Again, she felt overcome with guilt at her mother's gratitude.

“What a good daughter you are, Ania. I was truly blessed with you,” her mother said. “When my Pawel was killed, when my Józef went away to Gdansk, I knew I could rely on you. Thank you, my daughter, thank you again.”

In minutes Ania found a shop that sold the right buttons. The old man told her to help herself from the box. He was shortsighted and couldn't see properly.

Ania had pocketed half a dozen tiny pearl buttons before she
realized what she was doing. It would mean that she would have spending money. She thanked the old man, told him she couldn't find what she wanted and left the store with the buttons in her pocket. She was wearing her old navy blue jacket, which was very shabby but could easily be dressed up, so she spent the money on a pink-and-white enamel brooch to pin on her jacket.

Marek said that she looked beautiful, and they danced together all afternoon. She saw people looking at her admiringly. None of them knew that she would spend the evening ironing the alterations her mother had been doing all day and then sewing on the little pearl buttons that she had stolen.

“What do you do for a living, Ania?” he whispered in her ear.

So he didn't know she was a schoolgirl. “I help in my mother's dress-designing and tailoring business,” she said.

“And do you make much money doing that, little Ania?”

“No, very little.”

“You'd like money to buy beautiful things?”

“Oh, yes—but wouldn't we all?”

“I love good clothes too, so I work to make money to buy them.” He was so handsome with his white teeth, his snowy white shirt, his black leather jacket and his dark gray, fine wool trousers. Just to look at him you would think he was a very wealthy man. And yet if he was, why was he able to hang around cafés and dance for the afternoon instead of going to work?

It was a mystery.

So she asked him.

“I am waiting until I can afford a place of my own, Ania, a really good place. I don't like working for other people. It will happen one day. Meanwhile, I look and learn …”

Ania managed to find excuse after excuse to go to town to meet him. After three months had gone by, he suggested that Ania miss the bus back to her village.

“I couldn't do that!” Ania said, shocked.

“You could stay with me for the whole night. We both want it …”

“But, Mamusia?”

“Your mamusia will be told you have missed the bus, you are staying with that friend whose mother died—remember? You will go back on the bus tomorrow morning …”

“No, Marek, I cannot.”

“Right.” He shrugged and already she could see that he was emotionally saying good-bye to her.

“I could do it next week,” she said hastily.

And he smiled his slow, wonderful smile.

One of the reasons she had said no was because she was wearing such shabby underwear—an old gray slip, washed so many times it was shapeless and almost threadbare, a tired bra that had belonged to both of her sisters. If this were to happen, then she would be prepared.

For a week she sewed in her own room, adding lace here, little rosebuds there. She also worked hard for her mother, in order to lessen her guilt when the time came. It was an endless week. She missed a lot of classes at school and brought her sewing to the school bicycle shed to make sure that she finished the garments for her mother.

On Saturday, dressed from the skin out in her best, Ania got on the bus trembling. She was going to have sex for the very first time tonight. She was going to spend the whole night in Mareks arms. Her heart was beating so fast it made her dizzy.

“Be careful, little Ania,” her mother called.

For one moment, Ania wanted to run back and weep on her mother's shoulder, tell her everything. But the moment passed and she was on the bus.

By now, she knew some of the people in the Café Motlawa. They nodded at her and welcomed her as a regular.

Marek was waiting, leaning on the counter.

“Dzie'n dobry,
Ania,” he greeted her formally.

“Dzie'n dobry,
Marek,” she responded shyly.

Then she was in his arms, dancing to the music. Like always. Except that this time she was not going home to her mother.

Please,
please,
may it all be all right…

She had never stayed late like this before, so she saw them putting candles in bottles and watched the great romantic shadows flickering on the walls. Then she went to the telephone and called Mrs. Zak who ran the corner shop back home.

Mrs. Zak was horrified that Ania had missed the bus. “Where will I tell your mother that you will stay, Ania?”

“With my school friend, Lidia, Mrs. Zak. I will be home tomor-row.” Eventually, after what seemed an age, Mrs. Zak hung up.

As Ania turned around she saw Marek was looking at her.

“You are beautiful, Ania, and I love you,” he said.

“I have never done this before. I might not be very good at it,” she began.

“You will be wonderful and we will be very happy,” he said, putting his arms around her. They went to a room upstairs from the café, where there was a mattress and a rug on the floor. There was a jug with flowers in it, placed there by Marek. It wasn't wonderful, but she felt very happy as she fell asleep in his arms. The next morning he went and got her a breakfast of coffee and rolls.

Nothing had ever seemed so magical.

Then, smiling at the whole world around her, she got the bus home.

Her mother suspected nothing when Ania got back. Her two sisters called that day and there was talk that one of them might be pregnant and a lot of excitement about the news. Ania was miles away in her mind, back in the Café Motlawa. There had to be a way that she could go back to Mareks town again, but it had been such a performance missing the bus once, she could never try that again.

She sewed and mended and ironed, her heart heavy at all
that was nearly within her grasp but could so easily be snatched away.

The following day when she went to Mrs. Zak's shop to buy bread and vegetables, she heard that the café on the bridge was for sale. The long thin miserable man who owned it had decided there was no future in selling coffee and cakes that were too expensive for the older people while the younger ones traveled on the bus to the next town for cafés that had music. So he was selling it as soon as he could.

“Let's hope nobody buys it who is going to make it a noisy place,” Mrs. Zak said.

“Oh, heavens,” Ania said.

“Because whoever does buy it may well want to have it as a bar.”

“That is true. Mrs. Zak, can I also buy a stamp?” Ania asked.

The very next day he arrived. He brought his brother and another friend, and they talked for hours to the man with the long, sepulchral face who ran the café. They explained they wanted a quiet family business and that he would not find it easy to get buyers in such an out-of-the-way spot. There was a day of talking and small cups of coffee, and by late afternoon a deal had been agreed. Marek, his brother and their friend would buy and refurbish the Bridge Café.

Marek and his partners had acted quickly and got a good price. By the time any other buyers had heard of the sale and shown some
interest, it was over and done with. The next step was to apply for the liquor license.

He knew better than to go to Ania's house when the business was concluded. Her mamusia sounded like a force to be reckoned with. So instead he waited. He knew she would find him, and she did.

Her eyes lit up as she saw him sitting on the bridge.

“Marek! You got my letter!” she cried.

“What letter?” he asked.

“I wrote to tell you about this café. It's for sale.”

“Not any longer. We bought it. Three hours ago!”

“Oh, Marek, how wonderful! This is what I prayed and prayed would happen …”

“And your prayers were answered, little Ania.”

“But how did you hear about it?”

“I heard,” he said.

She was disappointed for a moment. She had wanted to be the one who had steered him in the right direction. But she was so happy that he would be here, it didn't matter.

“Imagine—we both had the same idea.”

“You had the same idea?”

“Yes, yes, I thought it would be wonderful, I wanted you to hear before anyone else. My letter will arrive tomorrow, and now it's already decided!” She clasped her hands with excitement about it all.

“You had the same idea? That you should come and work for us at our new café?” He sounded disbelieving.

Ania bit her lip. She hadn't thought of this—but why not? It would mean she could see Marek every day. But there was another hurdle to be overcome. Mamusia wouldn't hear of it. She would say Ania was too young to leave school. She wouldn't like her being associated with a café that sold alcohol to young people.

But she would think about all that later.

“I didn't put that bit about working for you in my letter,” she began.

“But you will? You will, Ania?”

“Yes, of course I will.”

•   •   •   

He could never have known how hard it was for her, but Ania knew that Marek thought life was simple. You wanted do something, you did it. He didn't have people like Mamusia, Mrs. Zak, her sisters, her teachers. But better not to list the problems now. She would wait until the time was right.

The time became right sooner than she might have thought.

Marek had endeared himself to the formidable Mrs. Zak, throwing himself on her mercy and saying he wanted a nice young girl from a good, honorable family who lived with her parents but who could work in the new café and attract a nice wholesome type of clientele.

Mrs. Zak immediately told Ania's mamusia.

“What a pity you are still at school,” Mamusia said. “It would have been a wonderful job for you so near to home.”

“About school,” Ania began slowly. This was the most important moment of her life; she must not handle it badly. “About school, Mamusia, the teacher was telling me only last week that she didn't see much purpose in my studying anymore …”

“She said this!” Mamusia was stricken.

“Yes, and at first I was upset because I could not see a way that I could earn a living and still help you, Mamusia. But now, possibly …who knows?”

“Do you think he might give you a job?” Mamusia's eyes were full of hope.

“We can only see,” Ania said, and ran down the road to the café.

For the first few days Ania wore a blue-and-white-checked blouse and a dark blue skirt. She served coffee and cakes to people like Mrs. Zak, her own mamusia, two of the priests in the parish, the local doctor and some of the older neighbors. It was a deliberate attempt to win support and fight back any criticism. Ania's sisters said she was lucky to have found work so near home. Her sixteenth birthday
came and went and she made no fuss of it, mainly because she didn't want Marek to know that she was still so young.

There was a small apartment above the café and Marek and his brother, Roman, and their partner, Lev, each had a room there. Ania secretly made curtains, cushions and a quilt for Mareks room. She bought a picture of flowers in a field for him at a local auction, she found an old chest of drawers out back and sanded it and polished it for him. Soon she had Mareks room looking like a little palace.