It was the sense that she was not alone – perhaps a sigh, a word, or just the smell of expensive perfume – that woke Kasia. She knew she was somewhere she should not be. The light made her blink at first. She concentrated on getting her bearings. When her surroundings finally came into focus, she knew where she was. She was in hospital. The place smelled of disinfectant and unpalatable dinners. She had a room to herself, a faded room, with walls that needed repainting and windows grimy with weather. The women sitting opposite her were watching her with keen eyes, and although neither of them spoke, she knew they were Irish, well-off and did not want to be here. She did not have the energy to wonder why they were.
‘Where am I?’ Kasia said through dry lips.
‘You’re going to be fine; you’re in hospital,’ the younger woman, in her forties, volunteered. Her voice was softer than the Dublin accents Kasia was accustomed to. ‘You were in a car with Paul… there was an accident.’ She let her head drop sideways, as though Kasia might supply some sort of explanation.
‘I was in an accident?’ Kasia whispered, confirmed she’d heard properly. She had no memory of an accident. ‘And Paul? Where is he?’
‘I suppose we should call a nurse, or a doctor; tell someone that she’s come round,’ the older woman spoke. She was a steely grey-blonde whose emerald ring caught the light as she moved, each rounded vowel more disdainful than sympathetic.
‘Yes, of course.’ The younger woman leaned forward to press the button behind Kasia’s head. ‘How are you feeling? You must be sore. Tired?’ Genuine concern filled her eyes, large and weary too. ‘They’ve said that you’re not to worry. You are fine. There’s nothing broken, not even a scratch on you, and of course… the baby…’
‘The baby?’ The words slipped from Kasia like silk from her sandy lips. ‘The baby?’ She watched as the two women exchanged glances again. ‘My baby?’ That shared glance, it said much more than they could put into words. She was having a baby. Minutes passed in silence that was not uncomfortable for Kasia at least. She didn’t notice the women watching her; instead, she closed her eyes gently. The idea began to settle upon her. She placed her hand upon her flat stomach. Could she really be pregnant? She had no idea how she’d ended up here, but she knew they were telling the truth and she wanted to jump for joy.
A baby.
She couldn’t stay with Vasile, although they’d been together since they were kids. This was not his baby; it was hers. He rang her every day at work, anything up to ten times a day. Checking that she was okay, checking where she was. Checking. Since they came to Dublin, somewhere between Romania and Ireland, a coin had flipped and, with it, Vasile had changed. He made her feel as if she was under the watchful eye of her owner, not her equal. Did she want that for her child too? He could make a good father. If it were a boy, he’d play football with him and teach him how to play cards. Teach him how to drink vodka too some day. That wasn’t what she wanted for her son. And if it was a girl? She would love a girl. Vasile would want to protect her too. Make her feel as if she could not breathe, couldn’t make a mistake, couldn’t let him down. No, she didn’t want that for her daughter.
The door behind the older woman opened quickly, startling Kasia.
‘Who the hell is she?’ screamed the tall, blonde woman, a dishevelled arrangement of expensive hair and teeth and skin topped off a gym-toned body, clad in trendy designer gear. She stood at the end of Kasia’s bed with an expression filled as much with terror as it was with loathing.
‘Please,’ the two women stood as though to attention, shocked as much as Kasia was by the dramatic entrance.
‘I’m Kasia, Kasia Petrescu.’ She didn’t have the strength to ask the seething blonde for her name in return.
‘Kasia?’ the woman repeated, trying to see if she had heard it before, trying it on for any level of familiarity. ‘I don’t…’ She seemed to fall backwards, dazed, and glared across at the younger woman. ‘Grace? Grace Kennedy?’ she whispered. It seemed to Kasia that the other woman – Grace? – was about as popular with the blonde-haired woman as Kasia herself was. ‘They thought it was me.’ She moved backwards, almost stumbled into a faux leather chair. Kasia thought absurdly for a moment, it might be a commode, but it was draped in spare linen, so it was hard to tell. ‘On the radio, they assumed I was in the car with him.’ She shook her head slowly, as though trying to make sense of something that was so far beyond her grasp, she might as well be reaching for Jupiter. ‘I should have been,’ she breathed in a defeated murmur.
‘You’re in shock, Annalise. We all are. We rang for a nurse, perhaps she’ll bring you coffee…’ The older woman lost some of her reserve.
‘And coffee will bring back my husband, will it?’ She screamed the words angrily before covering her face with her hands and bawling like a helpless baby. At the door, a large nurse arrived, briefly inspected Kasia, and then hastily backed out of the doorway.
‘Nothing will bring Paul back, Evie,’ the dark-haired woman said and suddenly things began to make sense to Kasia. Paul Starr had told her about these women, little bits about them. Enough for her to guess that the one who seemed concerned for everyone was, indeed, Grace. Enough to know that his marriage with Annalise was over.
‘Paul is gone? He has died?’ Kasia stared at her. Shock, that’s what they called it when you could not find the words that needed to be said. Kasia knew this was terrible.
‘Oh, God.’ Annalise wailed at the foot of the bed. ‘What was she doing in Paul’s car?’
‘Someone’s going to have to get her something to calm her down,’ Evie said, although she made no move to get any help.
‘I’m going for the nurse again. We’re probably all in shock.’ Grace fired the words at Annalise, her expression stern for her china doll appearance. ‘Don’t you dare upset Kasia. She’s just been in an accident, she’s just heard about Paul; and she’s pregnant.’
‘Oh God. Please no. I don’t believe it.’ Annalise sounded as if she might gag on her words. Instead, she dropped her impossibly perfect head between her knees to stop from either fainting, or getting sick. Kasia couldn’t be sure which one.
‘Paul is dead?’ Kasia turned her attention on the older woman. The words had tumbled across the room at some point. She wasn’t sure who said them, or if she had managed to put the truth together herself, but it was all making sense to Kasia now. Paul dead? There had to be a mistake. Kasia considered the women, all so different and yet so connected. Evie was frosty white, straight and stern. Grace had a slight body and delicate face, long silken dark hair and large eyes sunken so deep, despair lingered enduringly behind them. She returned quickly, a doctor after her and a matron by her side. She explained to him that Annalise was Paul’s wife and that she’d only just heard the news of Paul’s death on the radio within the hour. There was, of course, the added complication of the girl in the bed, on whom all eyes rested once the doctor ordered a sedative for Annalise.
‘I can’t take that,’ Annalise protested. Her beautiful empty eyes told them she’d totally blocked them out. It was all too much to take in. ‘I have to collect my children, I have… a funeral to organize…’ She began to cry again and it seemed as if Evie was about to correct her for a minute.
‘You have nothing to do for the next few hours. You can’t drive in the state you’re in and anyway, the funeral, well…’ Grace nodded at Evie, her eyes passing a hardly visible warning to her. ‘It will fall into place, when you’re feeling a little better.’ They admitted Annalise for a few hours. Her family were on their way, as blindly panicked about her as she’d been about Paul Starr, no doubt.
The doctor was finishing off Kasia’s notes, signing with a flourish. ‘You need to stay, just for obs, for twenty-four hours?’ He checked his watch. ‘Yes, twenty-four hours, not that we expect anything. Better to be safe than sorry.’ He was talking to himself, the opposite of the way Kasia would imagine Paul dealing with a patient. Poor Paul. It was the worst news about Paul and the best news about the baby, all in one roll. Kasia had a feeling none of it would make sense to her fuggy brain for some time.
‘The baby?’ she finally managed to say. ‘Can you tell me about the baby?’
‘Everything seems to be perfect. The baby…’
‘No, I don’t want to hear more. In Romania, it is enough to know a baby is there and it is well. It is not lucky to learn if you are expecting the boy or the girl.’ Kasia smiled, a small twitch that carried with it, on this darkest of days, the biggest glimmer of optimism she’d felt in a long time.
*
The remainder of the day passed in a blur of sleep and unrest. Annalise Connolly was taken to another room, no doubt surrounded by her family. Evie Considine wished her well through an unsmiling mouth and eyes the light had deserted years ago. Grace Kennedy stayed the longest, making sure Kasia had everything she needed, leaving her mobile number in case there was anything she could do for her.
Kasia found sleep even more unsettling than being awake. Sleep brought nightmares of the accident; the dark hours brought flashbacks. By morning, she could remember every detail; the easy conversation between them in the car, stretching her aching legs in the footwell, looking across at Paul. His expression alerted her to the danger. A small dark dog scarpered past the car. Paul swerved to the opposite lane. Too late, they saw that the truck coming towards them was driving unlit, and too fast. In the darkness, she imagined that she could see the driver’s face, but then it felt as though the whole world went into slow motion. The impact threw Paul back and then forwards. The crack when it came was loud and terrifying. Her memory replayed the truck scraping off across the road, she felt herself still hurled about by the impact. They bounced more than tumbled, across lane after lane. In the distance, the traffic lights changed, she could remember instant dread of oncoming traffic. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the car came to a harrumphing stop. She reached across to Paul. He was moaning. Behind them, she heard the ambulance race from a nearby hospital. There was a flashing of blue lights, voices trying to resurrect her. She wanted to shout at them, ‘Look after Paul,’ but she couldn’t find her voice.
Then she woke.
*
They gave Kasia Petrescu a private ward. While the light was harsh here, she would have looked pathetic and wan even in good light. Although she was completely unaware of it, she was a striking figure, thin to the point of delicacy, with long angular features, and large espresso eyes; strong and dark. They would hold you in their spell if you did not look away. Grace thought it was how she spoke that was most captivating. It was not so much her accent, but rather the animation held back, trapped within her voice. It resounded a lyrical sadness that mirrored those expressive eyes. Her clothes were cheap, plain and chosen to cloak her in invisibility rather than accentuate her fragile prettiness.
‘He was my friend. He was a good friend to me.’ She sniffed through tears and ran her fingers over her thick brown hair. ‘I suppose you could say he was one of the few good things that happened to me in the last few years.’ She smiled, ‘Apart from the baby, of course.’
‘He was a good man, a kind man. Did you know each other long?’ Grace sat back in the chair, uncomfortable as it was; she would have to make the best of it.
‘It is hard to believe, but I know him nearly three years.’ Kasia smiled. ‘He came to the hospital.’
‘In Romania? You met him there? When he was doing voluntary?’
‘He always came to the orphanage; it is part of the hospital. He brought presents for the smaller children. I was older, of course; I went there when my mother died, so I helped with the younger children. They loved him. He always brought bags of toys and clothes and treats – like Santa Claus. He saved many lives in Romania when our own doctors could not.’
‘He loved going out there.’ Grace smiled. ‘Loved the people; he felt he was making a difference.’
Kasia Petrescu didn’t look as if she had any visitors, nor did it look as though any would be arriving. She told Grace that Paul had helped her come to Ireland. She told her about her job in the café, her life in Dublin and how she loved the city. Grace listened to every word. This girl was on her own. She could see a great echoing emptiness there, far greater than the emotional crater she managed to gloss over in her own life. Kasia was different, though, in many ways. Already, Kasia spoke of her baby as though she held it in her arms. As though she knew it well, his every cry and murmur, every need and want – and she loved that baby. When Grace was six months pregnant, she resented the child growing inside her. It made her sick, it made her tired, slowed her down, and made her feel as if she was sharing herself unwillingly. It made her question whether this was the only reason why Paul Starr had married her. When Delilah arrived, those feelings of umbrage had remained. They might still be there today, had it not been for that terrible afternoon. It changed everything, thankfully. Even today, she could feel the guilt resurrect itself inside her when she remembered that time. She loved Delilah, although the feeling that Paul married her only because she was his chance at having a family had never left her. As if to confirm it, he left her for Annalise Connolly, another pregnant woman. Was Kasia pregnant with Paul’s baby too? She didn’t dare ask. There was no mention of a father.
‘I’ll call to see you again,’ she promised Kasia.
‘Thank you.’ The words were simple, but behind Kasia’s eyes, her gratitude was palpable. ‘I can see why he married you.’
‘Oh?’ Grace almost lost her balance as she stood by the door.
‘Oh yes. I can see it. You seem aloof at first, but you are kind and good. That is why he married you; not because you are beautiful or talented, although he was very proud of you also. He valued kindness above beauty.’
‘Did he speak about me?’
‘He spoke about Delilah mostly.’ Kasia’s words were low; she must have seen the hurt that seared through Grace. ‘He did not say too much about his personal relationships.’ That was true, thought Grace. He had uttered hardly a word, either good or bad about Evie Considine in all the years she knew him, and yet, it seemed that part of his life clearly wasn’t over.
‘Having Delilah gave him the greatest joy,’ added Kasia.
‘It was why he married me, I think.’ There. She’d said it.
‘No.’ The word was vehement, almost too strong. ‘No, you mustn’t think that.’
‘You said he never spoke of me.’ Grace did not need pity.
‘He never talked about you in that way, but I am sure of this. He married you because he loved you. What is the word? Fiercely. Yes. It is a strong word. It is his word.’ She nodded to herself, satisfied that she had remembered the word. ‘He did not say good things or bad things about you, but he must have loved you very much to leave his first wife. He did not expect you to have his child. That was the greatest gift you could have given him, but it was… what do the game show people call it? The bonus prize?’
‘So…’
‘He married you because he loved you, whatever you have thought; he loved you very much. I think, if you hadn’t pushed him away, he would never have left you.’
*
The doctor discharged Kasia the following day. She left just after breakfast, told the matron that she had a lift organized at reception. As it happened, Grace Kennedy rang the ward as she was leaving. ‘Hang on; I’ll be there in a few minutes, and I’ll drop you home.’
Kasia peered up and down the street outside the hospital and then idly walked towards the shop window next door. She stood there for a moment, next to a middle-aged woman who seemed to be in a daze looking at vulgarly large rings. There would be no rings for Kasia. Her hands told the story of her past; they were small and ragged and wizened from hard work and neglect. The last thing she wanted was shiny reminders. Anyway, she didn’t have the money for rings.
Rain was beginning to fall. It seemed to Kasia that rain was never as wet as it was in Dublin. Back home in Bucharest, the rain was softer, gentler. Here it even sounded angry, as though you owed it something. Still, she was glad to be here. Not standing on a wet street at the poor man’s exit of the hospital where Paul Starr lay cold and lifeless. But here, in Dublin, this empty-full city that brushed you along as if you meant nothing more than a falling feather from some anonymous bird. This city evened things out, or so it seemed to Kasia. She loved that the old life was pushed aside.
She started to the sound of a car horn. Grace Kennedy parked beside her, hovering on a double yellow line.
‘Get in, quick; you’ll get pneumonia.’ She flicked the central locking. Grace’s car was a small two-door BMW, the kind of car Kasia dreamed of owning, when she dared to dream.
‘Thank you for coming. It’s not far. I didn’t expect you to think about me.’
‘Kasia, you were the last person with Paul. You’re probably more traumatized than any of us. And you’re pregnant; with… Of course I wasn’t going to let you leave the hospital without making sure you were okay.’ She drove onto the North Circular Road, a once affluent length of Georgian housing that had long been cut up into flats and bedsits for people like Kasia, who couldn’t afford to live anywhere else. The houses here were tall and bricked, original doors and windows remained, but time and neglect had scuffed them so they reeked of pessimism. It was a place where old people shuffled and youngsters walked with vacant expressions and watchful eyes.
‘You are a good person, Grace Kennedy. Paul said a kind heart is worth more than…’ Kasia said breaking the comfortable silence they’d driven in for most of the journey. They were nearing the flat, but something was wrong; she couldn’t say exactly what.
‘Than what?’ Grace turned off the ignition after parking.
‘Oh, he said that you had a kind heart that you couldn’t hide, even if you tried, because it still showed up in your paintings. But then, for a while, he’d lost sight of it…’ Kasia smiled, fearing she’d said too much, ‘I’m not sure what he meant, but that was how he described you when I asked.’
‘Oh.’ Grace’s eyes grew sad.
‘Please,’ Kasia reached out a hand, keeping her eye on the apartment window just above her, ‘please don’t doubt that he loved you.’ It was true, Kasia was sure of it and she was certain that Grace Kennedy needed to hear it. She had seen the way the three women were together, each of them clinging onto something they believed was real, but now they’d never know. It seemed to Kasia that Grace was struggling most and she had been the kindest to Kasia, when she really didn’t have to be.
‘Thank you Kasia.’ Grace wiped away a small tear that had begun to fall from her kohl-framed eyes.
‘I must go in; it is the time to go. Thank you for taking me. It was a lot of trouble for such a short journey.’ Kasia shook her head, smiling.
‘Oh no, I have to go in with you, make sure that you’re settled, that you have milk and bread and chocolate. You’ll need lots of chocolate.’ Grace gave a small smile and began to unfasten her seat belt.
‘You can’t.’ Even Kasia could hear the panic that cracked across her own voice. ‘I live up there, on the third floor? You see it?’ Grace craned her neck to get a look at the grotty windows, covered in faded yellow nets. ‘You see the heavy curtains are drawn behind them?’
‘Yes, I see,’ Grace said gently.
‘I think Vasile must be back.’
‘Vasile?’
‘Yes, Vasile, he is my… how you say it here?’
‘Brother?’
‘No, he is my… boyfriend, my partner, I suppose. He has been away for almost a week. His father died, in Romania. He travelled back for the funeral. His father was a very…’ Kasia thought for a moment of how to describe Vasile’s father. ‘His funeral would have been very well attended. Lots of drinking, lots of vodka and beer.’
‘A bit like an Irish funeral, so?’
‘This would be the same as one of your…’ she inclined her head for a moment, lowered her voice, ‘the same as one of your traveller funerals. Lots of drink, lots of fights, and it can go on for a couple of weeks.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I didn’t expect him back so soon, better if he doesn’t hear about the accident or…’ The doctors said she was lucky. Paul had died in the driver’s seat beside her, and apart from some aches and pains, she had walked away from the car accident without a scar. Or, at least she thought to herself, none that you could see. It would take a long time to get over Paul’s death, but that wasn’t something Vasile needed to know.
‘Or the baby?’
‘Yes, or the baby. He is very… he can be a very angry man and he’s very – what is that word? Possessive? I will need to talk to him alone. I’m not sure how he will react.’ Kasia tried to smile, but looking up at the flat, knowing he was there, just brought back that familiar heaviness to her whole being.
‘Okay, whatever you think.’ Grace wore a worried expression on her face. ‘Hang on,’ she grabbed her mobile from the top of her expensive-looking bag. ‘Give me your number. At least I can ring you, make sure you’re okay?’
‘Are you sure?’ Kasia didn’t make friends easily.
‘Of course I’m sure. We are all linked together through this. Give me your number. I’ll ring you tonight?’
‘No. I will ring you, to tell you that I am fine and that all is well.’ Kasia smiled. Within the space of a day, she’d learned she was going to have a baby and she might even have a friend too. All she had to figure out was what to do about Vasile.
He’d come with her from Romania. He found the flat for them and, so far, he wanted her around. Kasia knew he was a knucklehead but also a dangerous man when he was angry. Whatever love there was between them died the first time he hit her. Now, she wasn’t sure which would be worse: his rage at her leaving or his resentment at her staying. She calmed herself. She didn’t have to make any decisions just yet. She had a while before she had to make up her mind about whether to tell him or not. All she knew was she loved this baby already. It was hers and she knew, if she had to, she would die for it.
*
Funny sometimes how things turn out. The following evening, as Kasia was making her way back to the flat after work, she spotted a tall blonde-haired girl coming from her building. She was a little early. Vasile told her he planned on going to the gym, so she thought she’d get home, have a lie-down, and maybe take a bath. When she arrived at the flat, she knew something was different. To say that Vasile was shifty was an understatement. He ploughed past her, red-faced, towards the shower; there was aura of tidiness about the place. Someone had tried to straighten it out in her absence; gone were the takeaway cartons, used lottery tickets and empty beer cans, which were her welcoming committee most days. In the sink were two glasses, one half-filled with vodka.
‘Who was here?’ she called into the bathroom.
‘Ah, Dacian.’ He bellowed back in what seemed almost an absent-minded shout.
‘Oh?’ Liar. Neither Dacian, nor Vasile would leave a half-drunk glass of vodka behind them, and Vasile would never have tidied the place in honour of Dacian. If anything, they would have headed off, down to the nearby park, drunk their drinks down there while aiming stones at the ducks when no one was looking. He brought one back once. A scraggy, bony duck, with glassy eyes, still warm, but dead maybe an hour or two. She had to pluck it and cook it and, after all that, there was hardly enough meat on the bird for a sandwich. She sat at the kitchen table for a moment, small things from the last couple of weeks clicking into place. Vasile had not instigated sex in almost a month, not since before his father died. In all the time they’d been together, even when he’d taken steroids and needed Viagra to help, he’d always wanted – she assumed needed – sex at least three times a week. It was a sign of his virility. When you were as dense as Vasile, it was an easy way to measure who you were. He’d taken on more shifts too, went out of here cocky as a turkey who’d survived until January. She never heard him come back, but then she just assumed that was because she was so dead tired. What if…? No, she would not be that lucky, would she? Eventually he emerged from the haze of steam. A few glistening beads ran leisurely down over the vein that was almost ready to pop on the side of his head.
‘My mother would be very upset, you understand this?’ she said quietly as he flicked on the kettle. ‘I said, my mother would be…’ Kasia had a feeling that if her mother had lived, she wouldn’t want Vasile for Kasia. She would not mind this little lie to make him feel as if he was discarding something desperate, something not worth coming back for.
‘I heard you.’ He dropped a spoon of cheap coffee into a mug that was far too delicate-looking for his mutton hands.
‘So, what are you going to do? You can’t send me back. It’ll look very bad, in front of all your friends. I wasn’t even sixteen when we...’
‘I…’ He obviously hadn’t had time to think this one through at all. Maybe the blonde-haired girl was just a bit on the side.
‘I’ve seen her. She’s very beautiful; I don’t blame you.’ She shook her head; honestly, she should have gone to drama school.
‘You’ve seen her? I do not know what you are saying. You are crazy; I always knew it. Never make the senses of what’s going on in that quiet brain of yours.’ He pointed to his own meaty head, his words still jumbled up when he tried to argue in English.
‘We were too young. You are an attractive man, and you will have many women who will want you.’ He pushed his chest out. He was actually enjoying this. ‘I can’t share you, you know that?’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to.’ He dropped down beside her, knelt as though in front of a child, but there was relief in his eyes. After all this, perhaps he wanted out too, only he didn’t realize it?
‘I suppose,’ she surveyed the little flat; she’d made it as homely as she could. It was still a dump, still a dosshouse, nowhere to bring up a small one. ‘I should probably go. You’ll want to bring her here.’
‘Am, well… no, you can stay here. She has her own place, with another girl. They’re looking for someone to share.’
‘But, Vasile, I can’t afford this place on my own and there’s only one room.’ Her voice sounded weak, even to her. What he didn’t realize was that she’d signed on for rent allowance just a few hours earlier. It had taken all her courage to get the forms and, even still, she wasn’t sure if she could go through with it. The woman in the social welfare office said it would take five, maybe six months to go through. She’d have to find a nice flat, then she’d be a single mum, with a place of her own.
‘Okay, okay, stop whinging will you, it is not as if you don’t have a job.’
‘Of course, but I don’t earn even a third of what you’re making. By the time I take the bus fares out, there’s hardly enough to buy groceries.’ Actually, that wasn’t strictly true; she’d had two raises since she started at the hospital. She’d started out on the cleaning staff and moved across into catering. Of course, she wouldn’t be paid a lot on maternity leave and she had no idea how she’d manage with a baby and a job. ‘What’s her name?’ She dabbed her eyes gently, but enough to make sure that they reddened; enough to look like tears of sadness not overwhelming joy.
He sighed, long, deep and guiltily. ‘She is Adelajda, okay. She works at the club, she’s a…’
‘A waitress?’
‘Yes, a waitress.’ He reddened slightly; he had met his match.
‘Well, she’s very beautiful; you’ll both make a striking couple.’ She managed to sound wistful.
‘Okay, o-fucking-kay, I’ll pay the rent on this place, just for a month or two, until you can get sorted, maybe get into a houseshare with a couple of girls like yourself.’ If she’d been bothered, she might have wondered what kind of girls would ever be really like her.
‘You are a good man; you have always been an honourable man. And, Adelajda, that means noble, I think; I’m sure she will make you a good partner.’ She could not wait for him to be gone. ‘I have to be honest with you, Vasile.’ She reached across, held his hand and managed to keep her face poker straight. ‘This is very upsetting for me. Better if you go quickly, better if we do not see each other for some time. I wish you both well, I really do, but even seeing you will make me sad. How about…’ she breathed deep, ‘how about if I just slip into the bath, and you take anything you want.’ He began to interrupt her, obviously overcome by her kindness. Oh, if only he knew.
‘You are very precious.’ Vasile said the words softly, but he almost tripped over himself to get to the bathroom and empty out his stock of foul-smelling body lotions and potions.
While she soaked away her swollen ankles and tired body, it was hard not to break into cheerful song. She allowed herself to smile as he packed up his bags and pulled the front door fast behind him. Later, she found his keys left on the kitchen table, anchoring down twelve hundred euros in balled up fifty-euro notes. Guilt money? It was three months’ rent and, best of all; she was free.
*
Kasia told Grace about Vasile when she called round the following day to check that she was okay. He had been nice once, kind and gentle, but then something had changed. She still wasn’t sure why. Since they had arrived in Dublin, it was as though he felt he owned her. She was afraid of him. Maybe getting out of Romania was the only reason he wanted to be with her at all. After all, he could have had any girl in Bucharest. Why he picked her, she would never know.
‘Really, have you checked in the mirror lately?’
‘No, girls like me are ten a penny in Bucharest. Everyone is skinny, everyone has white teeth, we have more toothpaste than chocolate and our coffee is like the dirty water.’ Kasia shrugged her shoulders. ‘I thought we were happy in Romania. We had nothing, of course, but then that made us no different to anyone else. Paul said I should come here and maybe I would have come, eventually, but Vasile really wanted to get out of Romania. Only when we got here, it felt as if he was threatened by everything that we did not have before. He did not trust Paul and he did not trust me. There were no limits to what he could have, or what he could do, and that included how he treated me.’
‘A bully?’ Grace closed her eyes for a second.
‘Yes, even still, although he left his keys behind, I am afraid.’
‘Will he try to come back?’
‘No. I do not know. He has never left before. Hopefully he is besotted with Adelajda.’
‘So,’ Grace tapped her fingers against the table, ‘you’re a million miles away.’
‘No, it is just this place, it is home…’ She considered the little flat. Most of the furniture belonged to the landlord, apart from an old dressing table she’d salvaged from a skip and a few throws and cushions picked up at the Sunday markets. ‘But I will have to leave. I have given my notice to the agent this morning. I need to get the deposit back. It won’t be safe here, if Vasile comes back and thinks I have been hiding the baby from him…’ She closed her eyes, shivered in spite of the fact that the flat was cosy.
‘What about the girls you work with? Is there no Romanian community here you could get a little support from?’
‘Vasile did not want me talking to people, and now I would prefer if he didn’t hear about the baby. It is better for me if I keep away from anyone who might tell him.’ Kasia had a feeling it was the only way she’d ever feel safe. She wasn’t yet two months pregnant; with her age and shape, she could get to six months without it being apparent, if she chose her clothes wisely. ‘I don’t think it would be safe for anyone to be near me. Whatever chance I have, I think it is best for him to think that I am as mad as a bag of crabs or…’ She paused; she was afraid of Vasile. ‘Or have him think that I’ve disappeared.’
‘You don’t think that’s a bit drastic?’
‘You don’t know Vasile. I am afraid if he realizes I am pregnant he will want to come back, to be a man about it. He will not falter in his duties. It would look bad for him, among the other men. He would not like that. He could still have his women on the side. That would be okay. That would be different as far as Vasile would be concerned, but he’d have to stand by the pregnant girlfriend, wouldn’t he?’
‘I… I suppose.’
Perhaps Grace Kennedy thought she was mad, but then, Grace hadn’t met Vasile.