The Bronski House by Philip Marsden

Author:Philip Marsden
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780007397099
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 1995-05-26T12:00:00+00:00

At the end of the school term, Helena took the Red Cross train up to Wilno for Christmas. Reassured by the Polish administration, her mother had returned there in October, with her brother, sister and Panna Konstancja. Their own house on Mała Pohulanka was still closed up. They lodged again with Madame Jelenska, the Pope of Wilno, and Helena was given a room overlooking an abandoned garden. A lime tree scratched at the outer window with its branches. Inside the window Helena set up a desk, and made two piles of books, one of English history, the other of French.

There was to be a ball that Christmas, a charity ball. Helena’s Aunt Marynia was head of the Red Cross and, in the second week of December, she kept them all occupied making red and white paper-chains. She named the ball simply ‘Ach!’ and asked Helena to tell fortunes.

For this she wore Cracow national costume – a black velvet waistcoat and a white shirt, a red floral skirt and black lace-up boots. With eye shadow and cerise lipstick, she hardly recognized herself. She practised a Carpathian accent and learnt a repertoire of Romany expressions.

The night of the ball was 18 December. Thick snow fell for the first time that winter. It blew noiselessly against the winter windows. The streets were soft and silent. There were no sledges and no carriages; the war had taken all the horses. In the portico of Aunt Marynia’s home, a great puddle spread out around the rows of felt boots.

Across the ceiling of the ballroom were strung the red and white paper-chains, arranged in a cross. It was very cold to begin with, and you could see people’s breath as they talked. Nurses stood at one end behind the chairs of crippled soldiers. Aunt Marynia, wearing a red-crossed bib over her ball gown, stood on a bench and clapped her hands for silence.

‘Ach!’ she said, and a murmuring laugh swelled up from the room. ‘You may wonder why this evening has been named “Ach!” Perhaps you think it is because I could think of no other name. Or that it is a reminder, after all these years of uncertainty, that we have lost our capacity for surprise. Well yes, those are reasons. But really it was just that whenever I mentioned the ball to people, they were lost for words. They looked at me as if I were mad and said, “Ach!”

‘So with God’s blessing, enjoy yourselves! Soda is served in the hall and there will be a prize draw at ten o’clock – first prize, a Jack-in-the-box from Vienna!’

The murmuring rose again and a quartet started to play. A line formed at Helena’s table. One of the first in it was Touring Józef.

‘So, gypsy girl, tell me my fate!’

She laid out his cards and looked at them a long time. ‘You have led a lucky life. You have had many joys, and known many fine people.’

‘You speak only the truth, gypsy!’

‘But here, I see your heart is tired of wandering…’

He laughed.

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