Lord Glendale rarely came to Edinburgh; he’d only been twice in the last year, so Irena decided to go to see him in London. Before she accepted that Piotr was dead, she needed to see his name on the list, to extinguish the last, lingering hope. She also desperately wanted to see Aleksy whose unit had been transferred back to Northolt a couple of months ago. He, of all people, would understand how she felt.
Reluctantly, Isabel arranged travel warrants for her to go to London. Irena wrote to Aleksy and told him about Piotr, asking if they could meet.
But when she got to the house in Grosvenor Street and saw Lord Glendale he confirmed that Piotr’s name was indeed on the list. He even showed it to her.
There it was: in black and white and amongst a list of thousands of other names. Captain Piotr Kopiewski. Isabel had been correct. There was no more hope.
The next morning she met Aleksy in a park near Selfridges department store where they were to have tea.
He looked more relaxed than the last time she’d seen him and if she didn’t know better she would have said he was happy.
‘It’s good to see you, sister,’ he said in Polish, eyeing her warily.
‘It’s all right. I’m not going to cry.’
‘I was sorry to hear about Piotr. Every time I’m in the sky and have one of the Huns in my sights I think of him.’
‘You’re the only one who can understand how I feel – we’ve both lost our loves.’ She stopped to hug him. ‘At least I still have you. And Tata.’ She prayed she did. She hadn’t heard anything from her father, although she didn’t really expect to. Not until the war was over.
Aleksy gently disentangled himself from her embrace and stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘Renia, life goes on. It has to. You’ll find someone else to love. Just as I have…’
She looked at him in disbelief. ‘Surely you can’t have forgotten Magdalena already!’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll never forget Magdalena, but I can’t spend the rest of my life mourning her either.’
The calm, matter-of-fact way he said it shocked and infuriated her.
‘Is that it? Pff,’ she snapped her fingers, ‘Magdalena’s dead, time to move on to the next woman? Dear God! What’s happened to you, Aleksy?’ She backed away from him. ‘It’s this bloody war, isn’t it? It changes everybody and everything and nothing, nothing is as it should be!’
‘Irena, calm down.’
‘You were going to marry her. She was the love of your life.’ All the fury, despair and anguish that had been churning inside since she’d heard about Piotr came spewing out and she hit his chest with her bunched-up fists, again and again. ‘How can you forget her?’
Aleksy grabbed her hands. ‘Irena, for God’s sake. Not here. Not in front of everyone.’ People were steering a path around them, eyeing them surreptitiously, before looking away quickly. ‘I loved her. You know I did. But she’s dead. So is Piotr. But we are still alive.’
They glared at each other, much the same way they had done as children. He took her arm. ‘Come on, let’s go and get that cup of tea.’
He led her into the tea room and she studied him while they waited for the waitress to bring their order. Now she looked at him, really looked at him, she saw the terrible sadness in his eyes. All the anger leaked away from her like a tide on the ebb.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said when they had their tea in front of them.
‘It’s all right. You must know I would give anything for Magdalena not to have died, but I’m no longer the man she fell in love with, just as you are no longer the woman Piotr knew. We can’t mourn them for ever. We’re alive and they are dead. I know I might not see the end of the war, and I want to make the most of the life I have left. I want to love and be loved. I want to make love, as often as I can, eat good food, drink good vodka, I want to feel the sun on my face, and you should too. We should live the lives Piotr and Magdalena and all the others who are dead would have lived if they could. Anything else is a disservice to them. We will always remember them but the best way to honour their memory is to live the life they couldn’t.’
It was the longest speech she’d ever heard him make. But it made sense, even if didn’t altogether sound like Aleksy.
‘So tell me about this woman you’ve met,’ she said
Aleksy stirred sugar into his mug. The waitress must have kept some aside for him.
‘She’s a QA and very pretty. Do you know that they get sent to Peebles to train in what used to be the Hydro?’
Irena nodded, remembering what Katherine had told her about her plans to join the QAs.
‘That’s where I met her. I had the day off from flying and she was in the town with a friend doing some shopping. Meeting her was the best thing that happened while I was in Scotland.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Fiona. She’s from Aberdeen.’ He grinned again.
‘Where’s she now? Still in Peebles?’
A shadow crossed his face. ‘She’s gone with her unit to Africa. I’m not supposed to know but she wrote to me and gave me enough clues for me to work it out. There couldn’t be that many places where the hospital is under canvas and there’s sand everywhere.’
Irena reached across and pressed his fingers. ‘It’s all right. I’m happy for you.’
‘I did love Magdalena, you know.’
She sighed. ‘I know. I think she’d be glad you’re happy.’
‘What about you? Will you be all right?’
‘I’ll have to be. It helps that I love my work in the Paderewski Hospital – Dr Maxwell is very kind to me, she treats me almost like a daughter…’
Aleksy narrowed his eyes and studied her speculatively. ‘Her son is the pilot who brought you to see me, isn’t he?’
‘Richard? Yes, we’ve spent a lot of time together. He’s a good friend.’
Aleksy raised his eyebrow. ‘A good friend? Are you sure that’s all?’
‘What do you mean?’ Blood rushed to her cheeks.
‘Oh come on, dear sister, you can’t be that blind! I saw the way he looked at you when you came to the airfield, and you’ve gone bright red.’
She shifted in her seat and decided it was best to change the subject. Just talking about Richard was making her uncomfortable. It hadn’t been fair to accuse Aleksy of forgetting Magdalena when she’d kissed Richard. Perhaps it was guilt that had made her attack her brother?
‘You know we had a Polish paratrooper admitted to the ward the other day – that’s the third in just over a week. He was a bit cagey when I asked him where he was based. I mean, I know there are Polish forces all over Scotland, I just didn’t know about a parachute regiment nearby.’
‘You don’t know?’
‘Know what?’
‘They’re dropping men – women too, I’ve heard – into Poland – to work with the AK – the Home Army. They have a training centre in Fife.’ He leaned forward. ‘They’re going around the Polish forces asking if anyone wants to take on special operations.’
Her heart started racing.
‘What did you say?’
‘I thought about it. If I wasn’t flying I would go back too.’
Instantly she knew. It was what she had to do.
That evening, unusually, Lord Glendale dined at home. Irena was relieved. Now she had made up her mind she needed his help.
‘Is there any news of what is happening in my country?’ she asked.
Lord Glendale rustled his paper and peered over the top at her. ‘I expect you miss it.’
‘I’d like to go back.’
‘You will, my dear – as soon as we’ve thrown the Germans out of there.’
She ran her tongue over lips, suddenly dry. ‘Perhaps I could have a moment of your time? I have something I would like to speak to you about.’
She waited until the servants had left the room before continuing. ‘You know I speak German? Russian, too, for that matter?’
‘I do.’ He looked puzzled.
‘I’ve heard that the British are training Poles to go back into Poland.’
Something flickered behind his eyes she couldn’t define. He set the paper down carefully, and looked at her keenly. ‘Where did you hear that?’
She thought it better not to tell him Aleksy had told her. ‘It appears to be well known amongst my countrymen. We’ve had a few men admitted with injuries, broken legs, the odd bullet wound. It doesn’t take too long to put it all together – not when you think about it.’
He leaned back in his chair and filled his pipe. ‘You don’t mind, my dear?’ he asked. She shook her head and waited until the pipe was lit to his satisfaction. ‘I think I see where this is going.’
‘I want to go back to Poland. I don’t want to wait until it’s free. I need to go now.’
He puffed on his pipe for a while longer. ‘We do use Poles for a certain type of work, but it’s extremely dangerous, my dear.’
Her skin prickled. ‘It’s what I want to do.’
‘Even if it means risking your life?’
Her heart banged against her ribs. Although she knew she’d be going back to live with constant fear, there was only one answer to that. Piotr was dead. She’d finished her training. All these months she’d been waiting, longing to return to Poland, the guilt at not being there gnawing away at her. It was time for her to help her countrymen and women.
‘Yes.’
When he smiled it changed his face completely. ‘I want you to take time to think about it. It is a risky business – a very risky business. Life-threatening, to be clear. The Nazis are utterly ruthless.’
‘I know.’
‘Very well. I shall talk to my colleagues. It may come to nothing. There will be a selection process – interviews, aptitude tests, and so on. Then there will be intensive training. Not everyone makes it through. Someone will contact you soon. Until then, say nothing. Not to my wife. Not to Richard. Not to your best friend. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Perfectly,’ Irena replied.
He lifted his paper. ‘Oh and Lord Glendale…’
He lowered his paper and peered at her over the top.
‘I’d like to go as soon as possible.’