Magda's Daughter (10 page)

The last thing Helena did was look at her watch before picking up the telephone and dialling Alma's number. It was answered on the fourth ring.

‘Hello, Auntie Alma, it's Helena. I've finished emptying and cleaning the flat. Where do you want me to leave the keys?'

‘You can hold on to them until you return from Poland, if you like, darling.'

‘No.' Helena said firmly. ‘It's ready for the next occupant.'

‘In that case, leave the keys next to the telephone. I'll pick them up sometime in the next couple of days. Are you all ready to go?'

‘As I'll ever be.'

‘Good luck, darling. I'll be thinking of you.'

‘Thank you. And thank you for everything you've done to help me since Mama died.'

‘It was nothing, Helena. You'll write to let me know how you're getting on?'

‘If I can.'

‘Let me know the minute you get back so I can come and see you. Love you.'

‘Love you, too, Auntie Alma.' A tear fell from Helena's eye when she replaced the receiver. She took her mother's keys and set them beside the telephone before unclipping her keyring and slipping the keys to the flat and shop from it. She placed them beside the others and looked back at the closed doors on the landing.

‘Time to move on.' She laid her hand on Magda's bedroom door but made no attempt to open it. ‘I'll never, never forget you, or stop loving you, Mama.'

Helena walked down the stairs and out of the flat, slamming the door behind her. She tested the Yale lock to make sure it was secure before crossing the road to Ronconi's restaurant. Ned was sitting in the back room with Peter Raschenko.

‘Hello, sunshine.' Ned left his chair and gave her a chaste peck on her cheek. ‘Peter's been giving me some more tips on how to behave in Poland.'

‘As it's nearly twenty years since I left Europe, all I can tell you is what I've heard from the Russian and Polish sailors I've talked to down in Cardiff Docks.' Peter rose when Helena entered the restaurant, and didn't return to his seat until Helena sat.

‘You go down Tiger Bay?' Helena was shocked. Given its reputation, she assumed that no respectable man or woman would go near the place.

‘My father had friends down there, and I look them up from time to time. It's the only chance I get to practise my native tongue.'

‘Tongues, from what I've heard,' Ned amended. ‘Liza told me you speak dozens of languages. ‘

‘Not quite dozens,' Peter corrected. ‘Only the ones I had to learn in order to survive. Occasionally I like to remind myself that I haven't forgotten them.'

There was an expression in his eyes that Helena hadn't seen before, and she recalled what Alma had said about the ties between a person and the country of his or her birth. ‘Have you any idea what we can expect when we get to Poland?' she asked.

‘Behind the Iron Curtain you'll see poverty, food shortages and queues outside the few shops for the most basic of essentials. You and Ned are wise to travel by train. Aside from the fact that a car would be a target, there are very few petrol stations, and the ones that do exist are tucked away in back streets. A Polish sailor I know bought a car and took it back on a cargo ship. Last time I saw him he said he wished he'd never set eyes on it. He can never buy enough petrol to drive it anywhere worthwhile. No one he knows has enough money to buy it from him, and if he tried to sell it to someone he didn't know, he'd run the risk of the authorities investigating him and asking what else he's smuggled into the country over the years.'

‘Is Poland dangerous? I mean, are we likely to get attacked?' Ned asked.

‘In daylight, probably no more than you are in Taff Street on a Saturday night when the pubs throw out the drunks,' Peter said lightly. ‘But be sensible. Don't wear expensive jewellery, watches or clothes.'

‘As if we have any after finishing university.' Ned waved to the waitress to attract her attention.

 ‘I'm serious, Ned.' Peter tapped the gold watch on Ned's wrist. ‘Isn't that your twenty-first birthday present?'

‘You know it is. From my parents.'

‘Leave it at home and buy the cheapest Timex you can find, one you won't mind losing or swapping if you need a favour. The same goes for you, Helena.' He glanced at the watch that had been last year's Christmas present from Magda. ‘You were given guidelines on how much food and lodging is likely to cost?'

‘We were.' Ned drew the waitress aside. ‘I'll have sausage and mash, please. Helena, what would you like?'

Helena felt that food would choke her, but the last thing she wanted was another argument with Ned, who was concerned about the amount of weight she'd lost in the last few days. ‘The same, please.'

‘Eat with us, Peter?' Ned invited.

‘No, thank you. Liza will have my supper waiting. But I will have another coffee, please,' he said to the waitress. ‘Black –'

‘And strong, and I'll refill the sugar bowl when I come back with the sausage and mash.' She knew Peter's penchant for sugar cubes, which he never dissolved in his coffee but ate separately, the Russian way.

‘Add ten per cent to the embassy guidelines if you want decent food and a clean room; twenty if you want luxury. But I warn you, Polish luxury and ours are poles apart. Forgive the very bad and unintentional pun.'

‘Perhaps we should take a few Timex watches with us. We have a couple of hours to kill in London. We could spend it shopping.' Ned glanced at Helena.

‘That's not a bad idea,' Peter said. ‘You could also take a couple of pairs of extra jeans. The Eastern European sailors always stock up on watches, jeans, chocolates, tinned ham, tights, lipsticks, perfumes, face creams: in short, any and all luxury goods you can think of. Oh, and Western music records, especially the Beatles and Elvis Presley.'

‘Can you buy
anything
in Poland?' Ned asked.

‘Wood carvings, embroidered tablecloths items that can be made cheaply at home. I've bought the girls a few wooden toys and hand-made dresses from the sailors over the years, but the locals will want foreign currency, preferably dollars not zlotys. Are you taking travellers' cheques?'

‘Of course,' Ned confirmed. ‘They are the safest way of taking money abroad. If they are lost or stolen, we'll get the money back.'

‘They may be the safest, but you run the risk of not being able to cash them. Do yourself a favour, buy some dollars, marks – West German of course – or francs on the boat tomorrow. Keep the cash on you at all times. And a couple more tips: try not to draw attention to yourselves, treat everyone who approaches you in a friendly manner, as if they are secret police – they will be – and never, ever give a beggar money or goods, no matter how pathetic or persuasive they are. Give to one and you'll be bludgeoned by ten others for whatever's left in your pockets. And invest in a money belt big enough to carry your spare cash and passports around your waist.'

‘I already have.' Not for the first time, Ned wished he'd succeeded in talking Helena out of making the trip.

‘Any suggestions on presents for my mother's family?' Helena asked.

‘You still haven't heard from them?' Peter started emptying the sugar bowl of cubes and heaping them on to the saucer of his empty cup in anticipation of the fresh one.

‘No.'

‘Then take the standard universal presents of food, chocolate, wine, whisky, brandy, tea, coffee and perfume. If you find Magda's family and they don't use what you give them, they can barter the gifts for other goods. And take extra if you can. If the customs officials realise that you are carrying luxuries they will want a share. Don't try to argue with them. If you do, they'll take the lot and you won't be able to do a thing about it. Cheer up, Ned.' Peter dug him in the ribs, as the waitress brought their food and Peter's sugar. ‘It will be a new experience and, like all new experiences, a mixed bag – some good, some not. Just be careful, very careful,' he added seriously, ‘and trust no one.'

‘Not even my family?' Helena asked.

‘Especially your family. You have to ask yourself: if they are such great people, how come Magda didn't tell you more about them?'

‘You've been talking to Ned's father?' Helena eyed him keenly.

‘No,' Peter answered, ‘but he's a sensible man who can see the wood for the trees. And one good thing will come out of this trip.'

‘Reuniting my parents, if only in death,' Helena said.

‘No.' Peter took the fresh coffee the waitress handed him. ‘A better appreciation of Pontypridd when you return. I guarantee that after Poland, you'll look at this place in a new light. It may not be paradise, but compared to Russia and Poland, it's almost Utopia.'

Andrew helped Ned carry the suitcases up the steps of Pontypridd railway station and on to the platform. He glanced behind him to check that Bethan and Helen were out of earshot before clasping Ned on the shoulder and drawing him aside.

‘I have many misgivings about this trip, but what worries me most is that if anything goes wrong, you may not be able to get in touch with us – or anyone who can help you. Helena's experience suggests the mail is unreliable. Peter told me that the telephone system is not too hot in the towns and virtually non-existent in the villages. You might not even be able to contact the British embassy in Warsaw –'

Uneasy because his father was voicing his own fears, Ned cut in. ‘We'll be fine, Dad, stop worrying.'

‘But Father O'Brien said there isn't even an official priest in that village that you can go to –'

Ned caught sight of his mother and Helena approaching. ‘Everything will work out perfectly,' he insisted loudly, for Helena and Bethan's benefit. ‘I promise we'll write, and telephone, if and when we can.'

‘Look after one another, take care and good luck.' Tight-lipped, Bethan hugged them fiercely. ‘No heroics. We want you both back in Pontypridd safe and sound as soon as possible.'

Ned raised his hand as if he were taking an oath. ‘I promise not to argue with any secret policemen and, if they arrest us, to sit quietly in my cell until rescued by embassy staff.'

‘Not funny, Ned,' Andrew reproached.

‘Sorry.' Ned slipped his arm around Helena's shoulders. ‘We'll be all right. We've had enough good advice to fill an encyclopaedia.'

‘Never drop your guard for an instant, and remember that money and things, including passports, can be replaced. You two can't.' Andrew paused, looking awkward. ‘I never thought I'd be saying this to a son of mine before he married, but if Magda hadn't died you'd be man and wife by now, so to hell with reputations. I know you've made separate bookings on the overnight ferry, because it would have been the talk of the town if you hadn't, but don't leave Helena alone for longer than you can help it once you're in Poland, especially at night.' He saw the signal fall and waved to a porter. ‘I wish you'd let me drive you to Cardiff station.'

‘No point, Dad. We have so many changes to make; one more or less is neither here nor there.'

‘All our love and good wishes go with you.' Bethan embraced Helena as the train roared deafeningly towards the platform.

Ned showed the porter their tickets and reservations, and he took their cases. Glad there wasn't time for more than a quick handshake with his father, Ned followed the porter on to the train and watched him stow the cases on the rack in their carriage. Then he joined Helena in the corridor. The guard slammed the doors, blew his whistle, and the train began to move. Ned pulled down the window to wave. ‘We'll he back before you know it.'

‘Take care, darlings,' his mother shouted. ‘Come back safely.' ‘We will.' Ned wrapped his arm around Helena's shoulders again, and held her until the train rounded the corner and his parents were no longer in sight. ‘Well,' he looked at her, ‘we're on our way.'

‘At last.'

‘Long journeys are exhausting, although I have absolutely no idea why when all you have to do is sit on a train or boat and watch your luggage doesn't go astray.' He led her down the corridor to their carriage.

‘The longest journeys I've ever made were to Devon and London with my mother, and they only took half a day.'

‘My father insisted that all of us went on as many student exchanges as we could fit in. He said it broadened the mind. After about a dozen of them, I came to the conclusion that all I'd learned was how to drink dubious European brews and swear in half a dozen languages.'

‘Perhaps it's just as well that my mother could never afford to send me.'

‘I remember the first time I went to France when I was thirteen. After a day on a train and a night on a boat, followed by another half-day on a train, all I wanted to do for the first three days in my host home was sleep.' He sat next to her and opened his duffle bag. ‘Presents for you.' He handed her the latest copies of
Studio
and
Scene
.

‘How thoughtful. I'm sorry, I have nothing for you.'

‘You're forgiven. I packed a few James Bond books for myself.' He pulled out a copy of
Thunderball
. ‘Thinking about what Peter said – perhaps we should make a list of things to buy in London. On the other hand, we could always buy them on the boat. How much room do you have in your suitcase?'

‘Not much. But I have packed a few things for my relatives.'

‘A few things?' He lifted his eyebrows.

‘Chocolates, tights, cosmetics, tinned ham, salmon … I didn't need Peter to tell me what to pack. My mother has been sending parcels to Poland for years.'

‘So that's why your case weighs a ton.'

‘I didn't buy perfume, wine or spirits, because I knew they would be cheaper on the boat. ‘