Irena was sitting in the doctors’ lounge, taking a break before going back on the wards, when several of the doctors entered, talking and gesticulating. When they saw her they became quiet and she noticed none of them would look her in the eye.
She jumped to her feet. ‘What is it? Has something happened?’
There was an uneasy silence. One of the doctors she knew well came and took her by the hands. ‘There has been an announcement on Berlin radio. We know that everything they say isn’t true, of course, but we have reason to think on this occasion it might be.’
‘What did they say?’
‘Tell me, my dear, was your fiancé with the Uhlan?’
‘Yes.’ Everyone knew that. She’d asked about him often enough.
He ran his tongue over his lips. ‘They say they have discovered a mass grave near Katyn forest. They say it contains the bodies of thousands of Polish officers murdered by the Russians.’
Irena sank into the chair behind her. Katyn forest was to the east – the direction Piotr’s unit had been heading on their way out of Warsaw.
‘They could be lying. It could be propaganda.’ Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak.
‘That might be so, but another of the medical students has a brother who’s just come from Russia and he tells the same story. He was there when they were captured by the Russians. He had a bad feeling about it so he removed everything from his uniform that identified him as an officer. There was a Captain Kopiewski in his unit. That was your fiancé’s name, wasn’t it?’
Kopiewski wasn’t an uncommon name.
‘He suggested to him, to all the officers, that they do the same. But they wouldn’t. You know how proud our officers are.’
‘But that doesn’t mean anything,’ she whispered, queasiness catching at her throat.
Dr Bratek sighed. ‘This man, the brother, was there when the Russians separated the officers from the non-commissioned men. They were led away into the forest. He heard shots. Then the Russians came back. There were no prisoners with them. I am so sorry, my dear, but I think what the Germans are saying is probably true.’
‘Perhaps they escaped? I can’t imagine Polish officers going meekly to their deaths. Piotr would have fought with his bare hands rather than do that.’
‘The Germans say the grave they uncovered contains the bodies of as many as four thousand Polish officers, still wearing their uniforms. It wouldn’t have occurred to the men that the Russians were going to shoot them in cold blood. They would have assumed they were being taken to a camp under guard. By the time they realised what was happening it would have been too late.’
Her whole body was shaking. She knew they wouldn’t have told her unless they were absolutely sure. But she still wasn’t ready to give up on Piotr. Not until she had evidence. She stumbled to her feet. ‘I must go. I’m due in theatre.’
Dr Bratek pressed her back down. ‘You’re in no state to work. Go home. Take compassionate leave.’
She couldn’t bear to be alone with her thoughts. ‘I’d rather stay here.’
Dr Bratek shook his head. ‘No. I forbid it. I’ve arranged for someone to take you home.’ He looked over his shoulder and one of female medical students stepped forward.
She took Irena gently by the elbow. ‘Come. Come with me.’
Irena unlocked the door of Charlotte Square and stumbled inside. She felt strange – detached – as if the world no longer existed.
Dr Maxwell was waiting for her. ‘Oh my dear, they telephoned me at the hospital. I’m so sorry.’
She took Irena’s hands in hers. ‘Come and sit by the fire.’ She rang the bell in the hall before taking Irena by the arm and leading her into the smaller sitting room on the ground floor.
Despite the warmth of the fire, Irena’s teeth were chattering.
Isabel crossed over to the side table where the drinks tray sat and poured a large measure of whisky into a glass before handing it to Irena. ‘I’m sorry we don’t have vodka. However, this will serve the same purpose.’
The fiery liquid burned her throat but she didn’t care. She didn’t think she would care about anything ever again.
Isabel sat silently across from her, her dark eyes filled with concern and pity.
‘Maybe Piotr managed to escape somehow,’ Irena whispered, hoping Isabel would agree with her.
‘My dear, I phoned Lord Glendale. He has a list of names – given to the War Office by the Germans. I’m so very sorry, but your Piotr’s name is on it.’
‘I want to see it.’
‘Of course. But I have to tell you, Irena, there is no hope. No hope at all.’