Page 25 of The Storyteller of Krakow

But Hana did not move.

‘She won’t leave my side,’ Kasia quickly whispered to me. ‘Won’t sleep. Will barely eat. And her father…’ She trailed off. ‘Sorry. Sorry.’ She wiped a stray hair off her forehead. ‘Just having a bad day. You go to your room, Lena. I am sorry.’

‘Nothing to be sorry about,’ I told her. Then I looked to Hana. ‘Want to come and sit with me for a while? I never did tell you about meeting Wojtek, did I?’

Hana hesitated for a moment, taking a step towards her mother, the bear Wojtek in her hands, but then looked closely at me. ‘Is it really true?’ she asked. ‘Like really, really real? You actually knew him?’

‘Cross my heart,’ I said.

She looked to Kasia. ‘You can if you want to.’

Hana nodded and came to stand by my side.

‘Thank you, Lena,’ Kasia said. ‘I’ll be finished at one and will come and fetch her.’

‘No thank you needed,’ I replied. ‘Can you carry this for me, please?’ I handed Hana my plate, and together we trekked the last few metres to my door.

As I opened the door, I saw Agnieszka walk past and shoot me and the little girl a look. I knew that by lunchtime, she’d be telling all and sundry that Lena, the loner, now had a child visiting her and I vowed that no matter how tired I became, I would steer clear of the dining room.

I welcomed Hana into my room and nodded towards the wingback armchair at the window, pink with daisies on it, which I hated but it had come with the room. I, stupidly, had rid myself of all my furniture before coming here, thinking it best – a fresh start. But this place was pale pinks and blues, and bedspreads with flowers on them, patterned wallpaper and cheap watercolour pictures on the walls. To me, it was not comforting, I found it all depressing, so that was why the only joy I got in this room were the stacks of books haphazardly piled everywhere.

I sat on an opposing chair – unmatched, simply pale green and PVC. It was less comfortable than the pink monstrosity, but I could cope with its colour.

Hana sat with the bear in her hands. Her legs were still, not swinging like most children, her head bowed a little, eyes focused on her toy.

‘Why do you like Wojtek so much?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she said.

‘He was brave,’ I offered.

She nodded.

‘I wasn’t so brave when I was your age. It was only after I met Wojtek that I truly knew how to be brave.’

She lifted her head. Her eyes peeked out from the curtain of her brown fringe, her freckled nose almost twitching like a bear with the scent of its prey. I had her.

‘Mama says that we can all be like Wojtek. But she says that maybe I shouldn’t take him to school and talk to him so much. She says maybe I should talk to the other children.’

I shrugged. ‘I talked to Wojtek a lot. More than anyone else. He was a good listener.’

She cocked her head to the side. ‘Did you really meet him?’

‘I did.’

‘What was he like?’

‘He was small at first. Then grew and grew!’ I lifted my hands towards the ceiling. ‘Before you knew it, he was twice as big as any man and ten times as strong. He had a wet nose and deep brown eyes. Actually’ – I leaned forward to look at her – ‘similar eyes to you as a matter of fact.’

‘Really?’ She leaned closer so I could get a better look.

‘Exactly like his,’ I said. ‘Exact same eyes.’

She crinkled her nose. ‘But he was in Iraq, I know that. And he went to Egypt, and he went to Italy, all with the soldiers because he was a soldier, a brave bear. You weren’t a soldier.’

I nodded. ‘Not at first, I wasn’t. At first, I drove a truck. But then, later, I became a soldier.’

‘So when did you meet him?’ she asked again.