The Widow's Choice by Nancy Revell

The Widow's Choice by Nancy Revell

Author:Nancy Revell [Nancy Revell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781804945087
Publisher: Cornerstone
Published: 2024-01-04T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Thirty-Two

They were both hit by the warmth of the pub, their attention immediately going to the open fire to the right of the bar. The lounge was empty save for a few miners from one of the local pits who were enjoying an end-of-shift pint before heading home.

‘Go and sit down,’ Stanislaw said. ‘I’ll get us a drink.’

The lure of the flickering coal fire naturally drew Angie towards it. Sitting on a cushioned wooden chair to the side of the flagstone hearth, she let her gaze fix on the glowing red coals and quivering amber flames. She had no idea how long she had been lost in her own world when she sensed movement to her side and reluctantly drew her gaze away.

‘The barmaid made you a nice cup of tea,’ Stanislaw said. ‘And there’s a brandy to go in it if you want.’ He put down two mugs of tea and a bulbous glass of cognac.

‘Thank you,’ Angie said, taking a sip of the brandy and then pouring it into her tea. They were quiet for a moment before she turned her attention to Stanislaw. It was as though she was looking at him for the first time. She could see a scar partly camouflaged by his short light brown hair; his skin was tanned but weathered, making him look older than she knew him to be. But it was his hazel eyes that drew her attention. There was a kindness there, yet also a deep sadness.

‘Do you mind me asking how your wife died?’ She kept her focus on his face, needing to know if she was overstepping the mark.

‘I don’t mind,’ Stanislaw said, before taking a deep breath. ‘It was in the September of 1939, when the Russians invaded Poland. My wife, Adrianna, and I lived in a village called Grabowiec, in the south-east of Poland. She was six months pregnant. She was sure it would be a boy. I was sure it was a girl.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘We were very happy. But then the Germans invaded the west and sixteen days later the Russians the east. They had decided they would take our country, halve it and share the spoils.’

Angie could hear bitterness and anger and a sense of injustice in his voice.

‘I had joined the army, of course, and Adrianna, who was a nurse, was tending the injured in the military hospital in our village.’ Stanislaw paused. He was clearly trying hard to keep his emotions under control. ‘One week after the Soviet invasion – on the twenty-fourth of September – Russian soldiers came to our village, stormed the hospital and shot dead forty-two nurses, doctors and patients.’

Angie did not take her eyes off Stanislaw.

‘I came back and found Adrianna. Her arms were wrapped around her belly, as though still trying to save our child, even in death. She had been shot twice. Once in the head. The other in her stomach.’

Angie gasped, her hand automatically going to her mouth.

‘You see, I understand what it is to lose someone you love, so suddenly, and so unjustly.



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