‘This is my father, Dr Marian Wilinski.’ Jozefa introduced Sarah to an elderly man, who immediately pushed himself out of his armchair by the fire. ‘Father, this is the young woman I was telling you about – the one who is interested in the Polish Hospital.’
After talking to Sarah, Jozefa had arranged for her to meet her father, but not until today. In between visiting her mother, and hoping to appease her boss, Sarah had spent the last three days catching up on work.
‘Forgive me, my dear, but these days it takes me longer than I care to admit to get to my feet. Old age with a hefty dash of arthritis, I’m afraid.’
His voice was still heavily accented. Although he stooped slightly he must have been tall as a young man as he still topped Sarah by several inches. He held out a gnarled hand with over-long fingernails. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Davidson. My daughter has told me you’re interested in the Paderewski Hospital.’
‘Yes. Please, don’t let me keep you standing.’
However, he waited until she was seated opposite him before he sank back in his chair. The room was filled with books and Sarah cocked her head to one side to read the spine of the one on the table next to her. The title was in Polish.
‘Tea? Coffee?’ Jozefa asked.
‘Tea would be lovely.’
Dr Wilinski waited until his daughter had left the room. ‘Jozefa tells me you’re trying to find someone who may have been at the medical school in the Second World War. Is that correct?’
‘Yes. Two women, actually. A Magdalena Drobnik and an Irena. I’m afraid I don’t have Irena’s last name. Apparently it sounded like crash.’
He smiled, his cheeks sinking a little in his already gaunt face. ‘Kraszewska?’
‘I don’t know. Could be.’
‘Irena Kraszewska.’ He rolled the words around his mouth. ‘The name sounds familiar. Yes, I believe she was one of the students.’
A tingle ran up Sarah’s spine. ‘Can you tell me anything about her?’
‘What do you know about the Paderewski Hospital?’
‘Very little. I gather there were medical students – refugees – from Poland who studied there.’
‘Then you know more than most.’ He looked pleased. ‘After Poland was invaded many hundreds of Polish doctors and medical students ended up in Britain, particularly Scotland. I was one of them. I was in the Polish army – I escaped…’ He was silent for a few moments. ‘Professor Jurasz was the driving force behind the hospital. He thought it was important that we continued our studies so he persuaded some influential Scottish professors to lend their support to a Polish medical school. We were given part of the Western General – a block that used to house the children’s wards – to use as a Polish hospital. It was well equipped, thanks to financial aid from the Paderewski fund in New York. We were also given access to the teaching at the Royal Infirmary.’
‘Was it only Polish troops that studied there? What about women?’
‘You’re quite right. It wasn’t just troops. Although most of the doctors and medical students were in the army, Polish civilians who’d been medical students were welcome too. It opened in March nineteen forty-one and there were two women in the first year and, if I’m remembering correctly, Irena was one of them.’
‘Do you remember the other woman’s name?’
He shook his head. ‘No, but I don’t think it was Magdalena.’
Jozefa came in with a tray and set it down on the coffee table. ‘You should keep the rug on your knees, Father,’ she scolded, reaching down for the blanket that had fallen to the floor and replacing it across her father’s lap.
‘Never think we’d survived a war,’ Dr Wilinski muttered, but behind his daughter’s back, he winked. ‘Do you know there were thousands of us – Poles, I mean – fighting in Britain during the war?’ he continued.
‘Now, Papa, don’t start —’ Jozefa began but her father cut her off.
‘If Sarah wants to find out about two Polish women I’m sure she’ll be interested in our history.’ He looked to Sarah and when she nodded encouragingly, he continued. ‘Our boys flew with the RAF during the Battle of Britain. They had more kills than any squadron. They were fearless. Their fellow pilots knew that, of course…’ He took a noisy gulp of tea. ‘They were also paratroopers, commandos, in the Royal Navy – everywhere. They even took Monte Cassino for the British.’ He paused. ‘No, not for the British, for Poland. Because that’s what we all wanted – an end to the Nazi regime and to return to our country. We couldn’t fight in Poland, although many of us did with the resistance, so we fought alongside the British in order that Poland could be free. Of course, we didn’t know that the British would betray us again by signing over Poland to the Russians.’ He leaned forward. ‘Do you know not a single Pole was invited to take part in the victory parade in London in ’forty-six? Czechs marched, Chinese, Indians – every nationality that fought alongside Britain except us. All because the British government didn’t want to offend Stalin. After all we’d done.’
‘It wasn’t as simple as that, Papa,’ his daughter remonstrated gently. ‘The British government has apologised, and there is that lovely memorial to the Polish Air Force near Northolt.’
‘Too little, too late.’ He shook his head as if to chase the images away. ‘But you’re right, my dear, there is no point in raking up old grievances, especially as Poland is free again. Took fifty years, but she’s free.’
‘I’m not sure that’s what Sarah has come to learn,’ his daughter said. ‘Why don’t I leave you two to talk?’
He waited until they were alone again, before he continued. ‘I’m sorry. Your being here does rather bring it all back. Let’s return to what you want to know. I’m pretty certain about Irena Kraszewska, although the name Magdalena doesn’t ring a bell. Doesn’t mean to say she wasn’t there – my memory for names isn’t as good as it once was.’ He pushed the blanket aside and heaved himself out of the chair again. ‘But I do have something that might help. I’ve been collecting as much as I can from those days. One of my colleagues is writing an account of the Polish Hospital and he’s asked for my help in compiling memorabilia from that time. I think I have a book in my study upstairs that lists all the graduates. If you’d excuse me for a few minutes?’
While she waited for him to return, Sarah studied the books on the shelf. Apart from the medical books and several in Polish, they were mostly non-fiction – history and autobiographies. She also discovered a couple of contemporary romances she was pretty sure didn’t belong to the older Dr Wilinski. She liked the thought that the erudite woman who’d invited her here might be a secret reader of romances.
She’d finished her tea by the time he returned. ‘It was under a pile of papers in a corner,’ he said. ‘Took me a bit of time to find it. Knew it was there, though.’ He laid an ordinary hardback notebook on the table, changed his glasses and started flicking through it. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘Here she is. Irena Kraszewska – graduated in nineteen forty-three.’ Sarah held her breath as he continued flicking. ‘No, no mention of a Magdalena.’ He turned to Sarah. ‘I remember Irena quite well. She was a good student, excellent actually. Kept herself to herself. All she really wanted to do was work.’
‘Do you know where she went – what she did when she graduated?’
He shook his head. ‘She left pretty soon after she qualified. Many of our students stayed and worked as doctors here or in other parts of Britain, but Irena,’ he shrugged again, ‘she simply disappeared.’
Sarah chewed the inside of her lip unable to think of anything else she could ask that might help. She’d been so sure that he’d be able to tell her more about Magdalena or Irena, but it seemed she was no closer to finding either.