‘Britain and France have declared war on Germany!’ Januz, one of Irena’s fellow medical students, rushed into the ward with a huge grin on his face. ‘We’re saved!’
‘Not soon enough to help him,’ Irena said softly. She closed the eyes of her patient, a middle-aged man with terrible burns, who had been admitted yesterday to the hopeless ward. She’d given him as much morphine as she’d dared, but he’d moaned in pain almost right to the last. At least his suffering was at an end now.
‘Aren’t you happy?’ Januz said when she didn’t reply.
She was relieved, of course, but happy? She doubted she’d ever be able to get the images of what she’d seen these last days out of her head. ‘I’m pleased if it means that this war will be over soon.’ Especially if it meant that Piotr and Aleksy would be coming back to her.
Through the opened window they heard the sound of cheering and went across to look.
The street in front of the hospital was filled with people – more than Irena had seen in one place since the Germans had first attacked. Some were attempting to sing ‘God Save the King’, even though it was clear they didn’t know the words, others ‘La Marseillaise’. As people danced in the street, cars trundled by, joyously tooting their horns. In the hospital forecourt, nurses and doctors paused to hug each other.
Irena closed her eyes and murmured a prayer: ‘Mother Mary, let it be over. Please send Piotr and Aleksy home.’
But three days after Britain and France declared war on Germany, there was still no sign of them coming to their aid. Krakow had been occupied and, if anything, the sound of gunfire had intensified. Irena was at home and getting ready for bed when her father called up to her.
‘Renia, come quickly.’
She rushed downstairs and her heart almost stopped beating when she saw Piotr standing in the hall. Her prayers had been answered. She ran over to him and flung herself into his arms. ‘You’re alive!’ She was crying and laughing at the same time. ‘Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you?’
‘I’m fine, my love,’ Piotr said, holding her tight. He smelled of smoke and sweat and blood. ‘We’re passing through Warsaw on our way east. We’re moving out at first light but I had to see you.’
‘Come and sit. Are you hungry? Tata, could you ask Krystiana to bring some bread and soup?’ Krystiana came in once a day to see to Irena’s apartment. Although she had boys of her own in the Polish army, and had to be desperately worried about them, she’d told Irena she’d go mad with nothing to do at home but wait for news of her sons.
‘Is it going badly?’ she asked when Piotr was seated.
‘It could be better. We keep waiting for the British or French to attack the Germans but so far they haven’t. Perhaps tomorrow.’
‘Have you seen Aleksy?’
‘No, I’m afraid not, but I’ve heard he’s all right.’
‘Thank God,’ Irena whispered. ‘We’ve been so worried.’
He leaned across and took her hand. ‘Sweetheart, it doesn’t look good. Our regiments don’t seem to know what the others are doing. We’ve lost almost three-quarters of our planes and we are running out of petrol to fly the ones we have left. What little remains of the Pursuit Brigade is being sent to Lublin in case what’s left of our air force is destroyed by the Luftwaffe. If help doesn’t come soon then we’ll be in real trouble. Our pilots may have to get out – most likely to France where they can regroup.’ His voice was dull. ‘Try not to worry too much if you don’t hear from Aleksy for a while.’
‘Do we have a chance?’ Irena whispered.
He squeezed her hand. ‘Of course. We’re not ready to give up.’
It was difficult to absorb what he was telling her. He sounded defeated.
Piotr rubbed a hand across his face. His usually immaculate fingernails were encrusted with dirt. ‘I used to think there was glory in war. I was wrong. And it’s not just the Germans who are doing the killing. A mob of Poles set upon a village of ethnic Germans and massacred them. These people were their neighbours, their friends. It’s madness.’
‘My God, Piotr! What is happening to us?’ Only a week ago she would have found it impossible to believe.
At that moment Irena’s father came in carrying a tray, Krystiana following close on his heels. ‘You should let me carry that, Doctor,’ she scolded. When she saw Piotr a smile spread across her wrinkled cheeks and she went to hug him.
‘Krystiana, you’ve no idea how I’ve longed for a bowl of your soup,’ Piotr said, taking the tray from Irena’s father. As she watched him eat, Irena noticed how thin he looked. Wasn’t the army able to feed its soldiers?
When he’d finished, Krystiana took the tray from him and headed back out of the room. At the door she turned. ‘Come back when you can. In the meantime, I shall pray for you and all our young men.’
‘I have to get back to the hospital, so I’ll leave you two alone,’ Tata said. He held out his hand. ‘May God bless and protect you, son.’
Irena wanted to hold back time. She had a sick feeling that this might well be the last time she saw Piotr. She wanted to beg him not to rejoin his regiment, to stay here with her, but Piotr would hate that. So she would behave with the dignity and courage expected of her.
‘Don’t cry, sweetheart,’ the man she’d hoped to spend the rest of her life with said, rubbing the pad of his thumb gently across her cheek. She hadn’t even realised she was crying.
‘We should have married when we could,’ she whispered. ‘We should have been together as man and wife. I should have lain in your arms and let you make love to me.’
‘Irena!’ Piotr pretended to be scandalised. ‘Ladies don’t talk of such things.’
‘This lady does. I only wish we had time now.’
He pulled her into his arms and held her so tightly she could barely breathe. ‘I don’t have to be back until dawn,’ he murmured.
She could feel his heart beating against hers. She knew what he was asking and how could she refuse? Tata had left and Krystiana would be returning to her small flat once she’d finished tidying the kitchen. Even if she hadn’t been, Irena wouldn’t have cared.
She took Piotr by the hand and led him to her bedroom. Her heart was pumping so hard she thought it might burst.
She closed the door and turned to face him.
‘Are you sure, my love?’ he asked.
She was. These could be the last hours they had together and she wanted to spend every moment as close to him as she could get. She wanted to feel his hands on her body, his naked skin against hers. She wanted to know what it was to be loved by him, something she had imagined several times but always thought they would have years and years to experience.
Her fingers were trembling as she started to undo the buttons of his tunic. ‘I have never been so sure of anything. But you will have to show me what to do. I don’t want to make a mistake.’ She dipped her head as colour rushed to her cheeks.
‘And you a doctor?’ he teased. He lifted her chin until she was looking him in the eyes. ‘This is not how I imagined it. I wanted it to be perfect.’
She had come to the last button and opened his shirt, feeling for his skin under the vest he wore. He sucked in a breath as her fingers skimmed over his stomach. She stepped away from him and his eyes glittered in the light from the moon as she slipped her dress over her head. Next she undid her bra and unclipped her stockings from her suspenders, acutely aware of him watching her every movement. When at last she stood naked in front of him she raised her chin. Although she was tempted to cover her nakedness with her hands she wanted no shame or embarrassment to spoil this first time.
‘My beautiful love,’ he murmured. He moved towards her and picked her up in his arms, holding her against him for a moment before lowering her gently onto the bed. He undressed quickly; his trousers and vest joining his shirt in an untidy heap on the floor. All the time he kept his eyes fixed on hers. The bed sagged under his weight as he lay down beside her. He placed his hand on her hip and turned her towards him, running his hand along her side, and hot flames shot through her body. He cupped her face and when he kissed her she let the feel of his mouth and hands wipe away the terror of the last few days.
Later, as he slept, she raised herself on her elbow and looked down at him. So that was what all the fuss was about? No wonder. It had hurt a little but he had been so gentle, almost too much, so that she had wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him close. She hadn’t wanted gentleness, that would come later, she had wanted to be possessed, she had wanted to obliterate the past and future, and making love with him had done that.
The clock on her mantelpiece ticked away the minutes. She would have given anything to stop time. All she wanted was here in this room. If only they could stay here for ever, wrapped in each other’s arms. If only they could sleep knowing that they had a thousand tomorrows – knowing that there would be children, that they would grow old together.
And she supposed there might still be children. They hadn’t used protection. Even if the church allowed it, Irena had never thought of acquiring it. Why would she? She hadn’t expected to make love with Piotr until they were married. But if she did have his child, she wouldn’t regret it.
She traced his face with her fingertips, trying to imprint every line and contour into her memory. He looked more vulnerable asleep, almost like a young boy. She kissed the small furrow between his brows. Then his hands were on her waist and she felt herself lifted until she was lying on top of him.
‘I dreamed you were in my bed,’ he moaned. ‘And I woke to find you here. Is it true?’
She smiled. ‘You need to rest.’
‘You think I want to sleep when I can look at you?’
‘It will be dawn in less than three hours.’ Her throat was tight, but she wouldn’t allow herself to cry.
His hands travelled up her back, sending heat rushing to her pelvis. ‘In that case we mustn’t waste a minute.’
An hour before dawn she filled a bath with water from the stove for him. When he was in, she soaped her hands and rubbed them across his back and chest.
‘You are practising to be a good wife,’ he said with a grin.
‘Will I do?’
His hands reached out and suddenly she was in his lap, the water splashing onto the floor. ‘You are perfect. All a man could ever want.’ He traced the curve of her mouth with his thumb. ‘I love you. When this war is over, when we have defeated the Germans, we will marry straight away. If I could find a priest, I would marry you now.’ His eyes filled with shadows. ‘If I don’t return —’ She made to protest but he stopped her words with a finger to her lips. ‘If I don’t return, you mustn’t mourn me too long. You must live your life.’
‘I will never love anyone else. If I can’t marry you, I will marry no one.’
‘You were meant to be a mother. You were meant to be loved. You have a great heart, Irena.’
‘And it is all yours. Please, Piotr, don’t speak to me of a life without you in it. It is not a life I would want to live.’
‘You must. It is what will make this all this worthwhile. Never give up, Irena. I can do anything – survive anything – as long as I know I am fighting for the life you will yet have.’
Now was not the time to argue. Instead, she raised her face to his and let her lips give him her promise.
A short while later he stood in front of her. He had shaved while she’d done her best to remove the dust and bloodstains from his uniform. Her heart hurt so much she thought it might shatter into a thousand pieces.
‘Come home to me, my love,’ she whispered.
He threaded his hands into her hair, pulling at the pins so that it tumbled around her shoulders. He buried his face in her neck and breathed deeply. ‘You smell so good. You feel so good. No matter what happens this is how I will always remember you.’
‘Don’t. Don’t say that… It sounds as if you think we will never be together again.’
He tipped her face so that she was staring into his eyes. ‘I will come back, I promise. You must take care of yourself for me. Get out if you can. If we don’t stop the Germans, do whatever you need to survive. Whatever it takes, whatever you have to do, stay alive. Live the life God meant you to lead. Now it’s your turn to promise me.’
‘I promise.’ She forced a smile, blinking away the tears that burned her eyes. ‘Now, aren’t you going to kiss me, dearest one?’