Magda's Daughter (6 page)

Alma stared at the photograph for a few more seconds. Was it her imagination, or had a chill draught cut through the warm, still air of the living room?

‘It's the craziest idea I've ever heard.' Andrew paced to the window before turning. Alma, Father O'Brien and Bethan were watching him intently, but his attention remained riveted on Ned and Helena. ‘Forgive me for stating the obvious, but Poland is a Communist country!'

‘We know, Dad.' Unlike his father, Ned had spent all morning listening to Helena, and had come to terms with her stubborn resolve to return her mother's remains to Poland so they could be interred in the grave of the father she had never known. He, Alma, his mother, and the priest had already wasted over an hour trying to persuade Helena that it would be foolhardy to attempt the trip, before his father had returned home from morning surgery.

Father O'Brien had concurred with Alma. He had told Helena point-blank that, given the political climate and Arctic state of the Cold War between Eastern and Western Europe, it could take years for her to obtain permission to transport Magdalena Janek's body to Poland; that was if she ultimately succeeded. But she might, just might, with help from him and the Catholic Church, be able to take her mother's ashes to Poland, unless an officious bureaucrat or customs officer took it into his head to search her suitcase or ask questions that would land her in trouble – or jail.

To Ned and Alma's relief, Helena had listened to the priest. But now his father was threatening to destroy what little headway they had made.

Ned searched for something positive he could say in favour of the proposed journey. ‘A couple of friends of mine from university drove across Europe last summer in their old van, Dad. They crossed from West Germany into East, and went on to Poland and Russia. They reached Minsk before they turned back. They said it was comparatively simple. All they had to do was pay for the relevant visas for the countries they intended to visit behind the Iron Curtain, and buy enough local currency to cover the cost of their food and lodging for the length of their stay. The authorities fixed the amount. They did say that the youth hostels and restaurants weren't up to much, but apart from the grim state of the roads and the low quality of the food, they enjoyed the experience. Everyone they met was friendly and very helpful.' Ned realised from the expression on his father's face that Andrew remained unconvinced.

‘Obviously your friends survived because they returned to tell the tale,' Andrew allowed grudgingly. ‘But that doesn't mean Helena should emulate them. No young girl should contemplate travelling alone to police states that are renowned for their hostility to Westerners. And that's without bringing the “friendly” locals into it. You know as well as I do that Western students have been murdered in the Eastern bloc for their jeans.'

‘The papers exaggerate –' Ned began.

‘They'd have a job to exaggerate murder. Either someone is killed or they're not! Helena, I'm sorry, but you'd be an obvious target for every thug looking to make easy money,' Andrew declared.

‘I wouldn't drive there, Doctor John. I'd take the train.' Helena lifted her chin and met Andrew's steady gaze.

‘And when you reach the other end? How far is your mother's home village from the nearest railway station?' he asked.

‘I don't know,' she admitted, ‘but I sent a letter there this morning. Auntie Alma and I couldn't find any family addresses in the flat, so I wrote to them care of the village shop or post office. ‘

Andrew took a deep breath, and Bethan knew he was making an effort to control his irritation. ‘With all due respect to your mother's family, Helena, you've never met them. You don't know the first thing about any of them.' Andrew steeled himself to play a trump card, although he was wary it would be taken the wrong way. ‘Magda must have had sound reasons for not returning to Poland and her family after the war. Did she ever discuss them with you?'

‘Other than to say that she was afraid of the Communists and couldn't bear to return to the village where she had seen my father murdered.' Helena bit her lip to stop it from trembling. Every mention of her mother's name brought a painful reminder of her death and the agonizing realisation that she would never ever see her again.

‘Both sound reasons, Dad,' Ned observed, but Andrew ignored him.

‘Can you imagine what your mother would say if she were here and knew that you were contemplating travelling to Poland alone?' he asked.

‘Helena won't be travelling alone. I'm going with her.'

Andrew turned to his son. ‘You're what?'

‘Ned and Helena won't be able to do anything right away,' Bethan reminded Andrew. ‘Arrangements have to be made for Magda's funeral and, as the formal identification won't take place until tomorrow morning and the post-mortem is to be held after that, we've plenty of time to talk this over.'

‘Helena and Ned won't be able to book tickets until after Helena has heard from her family,' Alma added.

‘And in the meantime we've a lot to do here in Pontypridd.' Bethan looked meaningfully from her husband to the chair he'd vacated.

‘Magda Janek touched so many people's lives,' Father O'Brien murmured. ‘Not just her friends and customers in the shop but fellow worshippers she met at church. She was a warm and loving woman, God rest her soul. I predict a hundred or more will want to pay their respects at the funeral mass. This morning I received delegations from the Union of Catholic Mothers, the Legion of Mary, the Sunday school teachers, and the altar flower ladies' committee. They all want to fund and host Magda's funeral tea in the church hall as their contribution to mark and honour her life.' The priest turned to Helena. ‘I know you would like to hold it in the flat, because it was your and your mother's home, Helena. But it simply won't be big enough to hold all the mourners.'

‘You're welcome to have it here,' Andrew offered as he sat down.

‘Thank you, Doctor John. What did you tell the ladies, Father O'Brien?' Helena asked.

‘That I'd talk to you and give them your decision as soon as possible.'

‘The church hall isn't far from the crematorium in Glyntaff. It will be easy for the mourners to walk there from the church and back down the hill for the tea afterwards,' Alma commented.

‘Yes, it will,' Helena agreed. ‘Please tell the ladies that it is very kind of them to offer to host the funeral tea and that I accept, gratefully and gladly, Father.'

‘Then that's settled.' Father O'Brien rose to his feet. ‘I'll tell the ladies to go ahead with the planning but to hold off buying the food until we are in a position to set a date.'

‘And in the meantime, you don't have to worry about Helena. We'll take good care of her, Father.' Alma reached for Helena's hand.

‘And help her with the practical things, as they arise. Living one day at a time, as the saying goes.' Bethan gave Helena a reassuring smile.

‘While I wait for a letter from Poland,' Helena murmured, more to herself than the others.

‘While you wait for a letter from Poland,' Alma echoed, avoiding Andrew's eye.

‘Have you thought what you'll do if a letter
doesn't
come from Poland?' Andrew asked Ned after Alma, Bethan and Helena left for the florists to choose wreaths and flowers.

Ned set aside the copy of the
Pontypridd Observer
he'd been pretending to read. It was only when he folded it that he realised he hadn't taken in a single word, not even the headlines. Disturbed and preoccupied by Helena's reaction to Magda's death, he was unable to think about anything else. ‘Auntie Alma warned Helena that mail from the West is routinely opened by the Polish authorities, so on that basis it's possible Helena's letter might not even reach her relatives.'

‘As I said, even if it has, she knows nothing about them.'

‘I realise you think it's foolhardy of us to go to Poland, Dad. But you saw Helena when she was talking about reuniting her parents. That's all she can think about right now – doing this one last thing for her mother.'

Andrew clenched his fists impotently. ‘I'm aware of how close Helena was to Magda.'

‘It's not just that they were close,' Ned commented perceptively. ‘Helena also feels that her mother sacrificed a great deal for her.'

‘That's stuff and nonsense. Any parent will do whatever they can for their child. As I hope you two will find out for yourselves one day.'

‘Magda suffered during the war –'

‘As did many others.'

‘She left her country, her family and her friends. She brought Helena here when she didn't know a soul, and risked everything to give her a better life.'

‘She did,' Andrew agreed, ‘but she wasn't the only one who took risks or made sacrifices. You only have to look as far as your namesake, your mother's brother, Eddie. He paid the ultimate price at Dunkirk when he was barely out of his teens.'

‘Do you know something about Helena's mother I don't?' Ned asked.

‘I doubt it,' Andrew answered evasively. ‘I don't know how much Magda told Helena about her background or why she came to Wales, but I am certain that no one here knows anything about Magda's life in Poland before the Germans invaded the country, or what happened to her during the war.'

‘Helena told me that the Nazis used Magda as a slave labourer.'

‘That's what Magda told Alma, and I have no reason to doubt it.' Andrew pulled his cigar case from the inside pocket of his suit and reached for an ashtray.

‘For all the propaganda, my friends – the ones who drove to Minsk – said that the people behind the Iron Curtain are just the same as us,' Ned said defensively.

‘No, they're not,' Andrew contradicted.

‘They may be poorer –'

‘There's no maybe, Ned. They are poorer. They're also cowed by officialdom and terrorized by the State, and that's a dangerous combination. Life is cheap there, a lot cheaper than in Britain, and I would hate to see you or Helena get hurt – or, God forbid, worse.'

‘The papers here are always looking for horror stories to fuel the Cold War. When they can't find any they make them up.'

‘It's not just the papers. You were only a toddler when Alma's husband, Charlie, was deported back to Russia. We never found out what happened to him but it's a fair bet that he was either sent to Siberia or shot.'

Loath to cause his mother or Auntie Alma pain, Ned had never asked questions about ‘Uncle Charlie', whom he could barely remember. ‘Mam told me that you and Uncle Charlie were close.'

‘We were. Feodor Raschenko, or Charlie as everyone in Pontypridd called him, was your grandfather's closest friend and became one of mine after I married your mother. I was privileged to know him,' Andrew said. ‘He rarely spoke of his early life in Russia during and just after the revolution, but what little he said terrified me. I couldn't imagine anyone living through half of the privations and horrors he had, and remaining sane. Like his father, Peter has seldom mentioned what he went through in Russia, especially during his childhood in the camps and never mentions the time he spent in Auschwitz during the war. It's understandable. He makes a good living from the garages, dotes on Liza and their girls, and lives very much in the present.' Liza had married Peter within months of his arrival in Pontypridd just after the war. ‘But he did open up to me once about his early life in Russia shortly after Charlie was forced to return there. And it sent shivers down my spine. So forgive me for trying to prevent you and Helena from travelling to the region. If anything happened to either of you, I would never forgive myself.'

‘Nothing will happen to either of us, Dad,' Ned said forcefully. ‘We're both over age and sensible enough to make and take responsibility for our own decisions. Besides, Poland isn't Russia.'

‘Hard-line Soviet Communists rule both countries. Peter and his father said people are so frightened by the regime that, guilty or innocent, they would report their own family members, friends or neighbours for any crime or misdemeanour if they thought it would keep them out of danger, prison or a camp. They have also been taught to be suspicious and envious of Westerners. The propaganda isn't one-sided, or only in the Western press. Many communists believe what they are told in their newspapers – that we all live like degenerate millionaires. If Helena takes Magda's ashes back to Poland, I suspect she's going to have a great deal of trouble persuading the authorities to open her father's grave. And, if she succeeds, she may well find herself facing even more problems with her relatives.' Andrew finally lit his cigar.

‘In what way?' Ned asked.

‘Either they will want nothing to do with her, or …'

‘Or?' Ned pressed when his father fell silent.

‘Or they will see her and you, if you accompany her, as wealthy benefactors. Given Helena's precarious mental state, that could prove disastrous. Emotionally for her, and financially for you both.'

‘Surely you can see why I have to go with her if she insists on this trip?'

Andrew left his chair and laid his hand on his son's shoulder. ‘I can. But in the meantime, as your mother and Alma keep saying, we must take life one day at a time. First the formal identification of Magda, then the post-mortem, then the funeral.'

‘Followed by Poland,' Ned said.

‘Yes,' Andrew muttered, grim-faced. ‘If Helena is intent on going there.'

Apart from the raised bed in the centre, the room was bare. Painted a bland cream and white, it was no better and no worse than the room set aside for the same purpose in the Bristol hospital where Ned had worked. But Ned had only ever accompanied strangers to visit their recently deceased loved ones. Now it was the girl he loved.