Irena wiped the sweat from her brow. It was hot inside the hospital and she’d been on her feet for almost fifteen hours. Yesterday, as soon she’d regained control of herself, she’d fled to the bathroom. She’d hardly recognised the woman in the mirror. Her dress was ripped and covered in blood; her face, hands and arms equally bloodstained. Pulling off her dress, she’d stood in her underwear and scrubbed her skin until it burned. She’d found a hospital gown and, thankful it covered her from neck to shin, redressed. Then she’d gone in search of Sister Radwanska who’d immediately put her to work.
Throughout the day rumours had circulated: the Germans had entered Warsaw; the Germans had been beaten back. Krakow was obliterated; Krakow was fighting back.
It was impossible to know what was true and what wasn’t. Whenever she thought about Aleksy and Piotr, her chest tightened.
Were they still alive? As the vice-grip around her chest increased she pushed the thoughts away. She mustn’t think of anything except what she had to do here. Sister Radwanska had allocated her to the surgical ward and instructed her to keep an eye on the post-operative patients. All the doctors and most of the nurses were in theatre or in the reception area dealing with the casualties that had flooded in.
During a lull she’d grabbed an opportunity to slip away to check up on the child she’d brought in yesterday. Luckily the bullet had gone all the way through the leg, narrowly missing the femoral artery, and the doctors had successfully stopped the bleeding in theatre. But she wasn’t out of danger yet: she’d lost a great deal of blood and sepsis was a real possibility. No one knew her name and, as yet, no relative had come to claim her. Hopefully someone would soon.
Irena reached for the little girl’s hand. Her fingers were soft and limp, the nails bitten to the quick. She had the same blond hair as her dead brother, still streaked with blood, and although she was as pale as the cream hospital walls, she was pretty.
If she and Piotr ever had a daughter, she might look like this.
She closed her eyes as the image of the last time she’d seen Piotr played in her head. They’d been spending the weekend with other guests at his parents’ house in the country. After a day spent picnicking, they’d changed into evening dress and danced to a five-piece band. Piotr, in his officer’s uniform, his sword at his waist, looked noble and handsome and she’d ached with love for him.
‘You are so beautiful, my love,’ he whispered in her ear as he twirled her around. ‘When we are married I’m going to keep you all to myself for at least a month. Preferably permanently in my bed.’
She’d smiled up at him. ‘Only a month? Shame on me for not making you want me more.’
‘Let’s not wait,’ he said, no longer smiling. ‘We could get married tomorrow. I’ll find a priest and persuade him to marry us. With the tip of my sabre if I have to.’
‘But we agreed to wait until I’ve finished my studies.’
‘Two years, Irena. I’m not sure I can wait that long. It’s different now. I think there will be a war and we’re not as well prepared as everyone says we are. We should get married now. We don’t have to tell anyone except my parents and your father. I can support you. And when I’m away you can live with Mama and Tata. They love you almost as much as I do.’
Why hadn’t she said yes? If she’d known that less than a month later she could be facing a life without him, she would have.
A hand fell on her shoulder, rousing her from her reverie.
‘My dear, I’ve been looking for you.’ It was her father, his face slack with fatigue. She’d known he’d eventually find his way to the hospital – and to her. Seeing him brought the tears perilously close. She took a deep breath and blinked them away. Even in these circumstances, Tata wouldn’t like it if she became emotional in front of patients. He squeezed her shoulder. ‘Why are you still here?’
‘The nurses told me you were in theatre. I couldn’t leave. Not until I had seen you.’
‘They let me know you were here but we’ve been so busy I couldn’t come before now.’ His face tightened. ‘So many terrible injuries. How can they do this to children?’
Irena used her free hand to cover his. When they’d spoken about the possibility of war in the past, her father had been calm. ‘I was in Warsaw during the last occupation,’ he’d said. ‘If they come again – if they occupy us again, God forbid – they will be arrogant and aggressive. There will be killing and they will take everything we have, but they are Europeans. They will act like an occupying army but they will behave with restraint.’
No one could believe it now. The German pilot who had killed the girl’s family must have known they were civilians. Yet he had shot them anyway. And throughout the hours there had been similar reports. Other trains had been targeted and many more civilians killed as they tried to flee from the wreckage. There were whispers of mounds of bodies piled high by the side of the roads. She wished she could tell her father what she’d witnessed but she knew she would break down if she did.
‘Any word of Aleksy or Piotr?’ she asked instead.
‘No. And we mustn’t expect to hear anything for a while. It will take time for news to get through to us. Don’t give up hope.’ He pulled up a chair and sat down next to her, taking his glasses off to rub the lenses. ‘Now, Irena, I want you to listen to me. You must leave Poland.’
‘Leave?’
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. ‘I have an address. The Baron, your godfather, gave it to me last year when we met in Austria. Remember the medical convention I attended?’
Irena nodded. She’d only met her godfather once, when he’d come to visit them in Krakow. She’d been a child then, no more than ten, but she remembered a tall man with blond hair and blue eyes who’d treated her as if she were a young lady instead of a little girl still in short dresses.
‘It’s the address of someone he knows well – a man of importance who lives in England and who will help you. Maximilian must have suspected something might happen to Poland. Perhaps he knew more than he let on?’ He shrugged. ‘Who knows? Things have been tense between our two countries for so long I think we Poles have been guilty of ignoring what was inevitable. We should have taken it as a warning when the Reich invaded Czechoslovakia and no one raised even a whisper of protest.’ He shook his head. ‘But that is in the past. We must look to the future now. I have no doubt that the Nazis will enter Warsaw. Perhaps not this month, or the next, but they will come. Our army is too small, too poor and too ill-equipped to hold them back for ever.’
‘But the British and the French! They will come to our aid. They promised and once they come, the Germans will be beaten back.’
Although her father smiled, his eyes stayed bleak. ‘I hope you’re right. In which case, as soon as the Germans are no longer a threat, you could return.’
‘My place is here, Tata – with you and Piotr and Aleksy and everyone else! I can’t – I won’t – run away.’
‘It is what your mother would have wanted. It is what I want.’
She looked around the ward. The beds, most of which had two patients in them arranged head to toe, had been pushed together to make room for more. Even the space in the centre of the ward had been utilised. Still there weren’t enough beds for everyone and many patients had to make do with a mattress on the floor. It was worse in the corridors outside. There the injured lay, in pain, confused, bloodied and unwashed, waiting for the doctors to operate or for a bed to become vacant.
A nurse, grey with fatigue and shock, moved between the beds, stepping over patients, checking bandages and taking temperatures and pulses. Some of nurses had been about to go off night duty when the attack had started, but they were still here.
‘I can’t go, Tata. I’m needed here. There aren’t enough doctors and nurses to care for the injured as it is.’ She held up her hand as he started to protest. ‘I know I’m only a student but I can be useful.’ She made herself smile. ‘Besides, who will make sure you rest if I am not around to keep an eye on you?’
Her father rose to his feet, stifling a groan as his stiff legs complained. ‘You take after your mother. She was stubborn too.’ He held out an envelope. ‘Here’s the address. Hide it but never lose it. I have also written the details of my bank account in case you ever need money. Perhaps you are right and the English and French will help us put an end to this. But I still think you should go now. If the Germans occupy our country you will not find it so easy to leave then. Now go home and get some rest and we will talk again tomorrow.’
The little orphan girl’s eyes fluttered and she moaned softly. Irena squeezed her hand. ‘You go, Tata. I’ll stay a little longer.’