Sign of the Times (41 page)

“Are you OK?”

“Yes, but it hurts.
 
He said we Poles were dirty and dishonest,” Wojciech finished.

Czeslawa snaked her hands around his neck, trying not to touch the red welts.

“Have you gone to the police?”

“They came to the site. My team tied him up, after he tried to throttle me.”

“So what happens now?”
 

“I’m pressing charges.
 
What if he had really injured me?
 
I have a family to support.”

“Do we have anything to be afraid of?
 
Does he know where we live?”

“No. I made sure of that.
 
Thankfully, he lives in the east end of Glasgow.”

Czeslawa felt relieved, but couldn’t bring herself to break free of her husband’s embrace.
 
“Is he getting fired?”

“Yes, there were lots of witnesses.”

“Thank goodness,” she finally extricated herself,

“Have you eaten?”

“I thought I’d wait for you.”

“Pasta?”

“Sounds good.”

Over dinner, Czeslawa gave him the more positive news of the day, her job offer from Maria.
 
Wojciech was happy for his wife.
 
He knew how tough it was to get a good job and not be treated like an immigrant.
 
She told him she had invited David over on Tuesday to play.
 
He agreed it was good for Angelika to have friends outside school.
 
It was all very well her spending time with George, but George was in his eighties.

Chapter Fifty Nine

Saturday was glorious.
 
Unlike what everyone said, it didn’t always rain in Scotland.
  
The changeable weather was anathema to her, so she was delighted to see it being predictable for a change. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. She’d been up early, had already hung out her washing and chatted with George, before he’d gone into Kilburn, to the bookmakers.
 
She was sunbathing, when she heard a voice calling, “Hello?” She went round the side of the house, “Hello,” she said to the postman.

“Hi. I have a package for Mr Kelso.”

“He’s not in. Can I take it?”

“Can you sign here?”

Czeslawa signed it and handed him the clipboard back.

She noticed the package was from Canada, from his daughter.
 
Czeslawa grabbed a pen and paper and writing down the name and address, put it inside her diary.

*

Wojciech had been given Saturday off to compensate for his attack.
 
His boss was paying him for it, which was generous.
  
After a long lie, he was up, yawning and hungry.

“Do we have any bacon?
 
I fancy a Scottish breakfast,” he announced.

“Go and have your shower and I’ll make it.
 
I thought we could go to the llama farm today.”

“Llamas are indigenous to Scotland?” he asked cheekily.

“Ha ha!
 
Angelika’s been banging on about it all week and it’s such a nice day.”

“OK then. Right, I’m off to get washed.”

“Good, cos you smell,” his wife said.

“That said, I’m not in that much of a hurry. How about we revisit the bedroom first.”

“Now that’s not a bad idea,” Czeslawa said.

The llama farm was a great success, as was the rest of the country park. The picnic of cold meats and cheeses, crusty bread and strawberries was scoffed in next to no time.
 
Czeslawa and Angelika played tennis on the lawn whilst Wojciech took the opportunity to listen to the football on his MP3 player.
 
Then he and Angelika played tag whilst Czeslawa read.
 
It was an idyllic day.
 
When it grew late, they packed up their things and headed home.

George’s light was on and Czeslawa remembered his parcel.
 
She went next door and knocked. George opened the door, looking surprised to see her.
 

“Come in,” he ushered her through to the living room.

“This parcel came when you were out.”
 
His face lit up.

“Thanks.”

“Did your horse win?”

“No, it was second, but it was enough. I had it each way.”

It meant nothing to Czeslawa, but he seemed happy, so he must have won.

“So what did you do today?” he asked.

“We took Angelika to see the llamas.”

“Ah, you went to Castletop Country Park.”

“That’s right.”
 

“It’s nice there. I used to go, long before there were llamas.”

“Well, see you tomorrow.”
 

“Yes, goodnight.”

With a feeling of pity, she opened the door and stepped back into her own house.

Czeslawa woke up with a start. What was that? Paranoid, she thought of the man who had attacked her husband.
 
Then she heard a low moan, coming from next door.

“Wojciech, wake up!” she urged her husband.

The moaning continued as Wojciech rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“I think something’s wrong with George. Can you hear that?”

Wojciech listened and after a few moments, said, “I think you’re right. Let’s go.”
  
They threw on their clothes and ran downstairs. The hall clock showed five twenty six.

They peeked through George’s letter box, but couldn’t see anything.

“George,” Wojciech called.

Again, that moaning sound met their ears.
 
Czeslawa tried the door.
 
Locked. She ran round and tried the back door, also locked.
 
She sprinted back round and as Wojciech looked at her, she shook her head.

“Go inside and get something I can break the glass with,” he said.
 
She ran into the house and returned with a hammer.
 
Meanwhile, she could hear Wojciech, no longer caring how loud he was, despite the early hour.

“George, are you all right?” No answer.
 
Wojciech looked questioningly at Czeslawa.
 
She agreed they had to do this, even if they were wrong.
 
Wojciech swung the hammer. It smacked through the front door panel and the glass fell out inside. Smashing the glass enough so he could get his hand through, he reached in and turned the lock.

“George,” he shouted.
 
He turned on the lights and with Czeslawa right behind him, he moved from room to room. He found George prostrate on the landing, his breathing laboured.

“George, can you hear me?” No reply.

“Czeslawa, call 999.”
 
Czeslawa looked around for the phone.

She dialled 999, whilst Wojciech talked to George.
 
When it started ringing and she was asked which service, she said Ambulance. She then managed in her very broken English, as she was pretty distressed at seeing George like this, to tell them the specifics.
 
She explained he was in his eighties, but they didn’t know what had happened and asked them to hurry.

Kneeling beside George she said, “George, the ambulance is coming. You’re going to be OK.”

They talked to him until the ambulance appeared fifteen minutes later.
 
He was still unconscious, as the paramedics loaded him onto a stretcher.
 
The commotion and the lights had woken Angelika, who stared out of the window, wide-eyed.
 
Czeslawa went up to her, as Wojciech called out, “I’m going in the ambulance.”

They waited two hours before Wojciech called to tell her George had had a stroke.
 
He was going to be in hospital for a while, but after that he didn’t know.
 
He would fill her in when he got home.

The news travelled round the village fast.
 
Everyone was shocked. Sure he was old, but imagine what would have happened if that new Polish family hadn’t heard him. He might not have made it.
 
Everyone was praising them for their quick actions.
 
A glazier had already repaired George’s door, no charge.
 
Czeslawa asked Maria if she could watch Angelika for a couple of hours, so they could visit George. To placate Angelika, they told her the most helpful thing she could do was look after Goldie, so they put some more straw down, cleaned out his cage and gave him some carrots and water, before they set off for the hospital.

George looked very thin, Czeslawa thought. Older, much older than yesterday. She hoped nothing in the parcel from his daughter had caused the stroke.
 
His family! His family should know.
 
She wondered if she could find a phone number.
 
Maybe the police could help. All of these thoughts coursed through her mind, as she sat by his bed, George staring unseeing into the distance.

“He wasn’t even aware we were there,” she said to Wojciech, when they left the hospital.

“Not yet, but these things take time. I don’t know who else can visit him but us. Does he have any friends?”
 

“None that he’s mentioned to me, but he knows everyone in the village.”

“Maybe it’s worth seeing if people will extend their community spirit. He needs us, he needs our help.” Czeslawa couldn’t agree more.

The next day, Czeslawa started work.
 
Maria opened the door and ushered her in, just as the team pounced on her.
 
Isla, Wendy, Maria’s sister; Sandra, and Amelia introduced themselves, although she had to repeat their names a few times, before remembering who was who.
 
She was nervous, but glad Maria had placed her trust in her. She wouldn’t regret it. After her initiation, which consisted of tea and cake, Maria gave her some tasks to do from home.
 
Czeslawa filled Maria in on George’s condition and mentioned her idea about asking other villagers to visit
.
 
 
Maria thought it an excellent idea and that probably the best way to go about it, was to discuss it with Ian. He’d know best. He knew everyone and would likely know who had time to devote to visiting the old man.

Czeslawa had planned to visit George that afternoon, so Maria said she would pick Angelika up from school.
 
Once Czeslawa got back, she fully intended to go over to Kilburn to enrol in the evening class, which started the following week.
 
She could take Angelika with her. Hopefully by next week George would be a bit better and a visiting plan would be in place. She expected Social Services would get involved.
 
She could have kicked herself. She meant to speak to Maria about contacting George’s family. She’d check on the internet and discuss it with Maria later.
 
She headed home to try and get her head round some of the work Maria had given her.

*

“The course is for those who have a basic understanding of English, but who need practise speaking and writing English. Are there any questions?”

Czeslawa’s only question was ‘how long before she was fluent?’ but she daren’t voice that. It was down to her.
  
As the tutor outlined the costs and options, Czeslawa thought it made more sense to do the intensive course.
 
Two hundred and fifty pounds was a lot of money, but she really needed to improve her English quickly.
 
Maybe if Maria could give her a small advance on her wages.
 
She could feel the excitement bubbling up within her.
 
She was going to do it.
 
She was going to learn English properly and she was going to have a great job which she would be good at.
 
She just hoped George would be OK.

When Czeslawa heard the car door slam, she ran to the door.
 
It was Wojciech.
 
His face was pale and he looked exhausted.
 

“How is he?” she asked.

“Not great. Still doesn’t recognise me. Can’t move his left side at all. Social Services were there.”

“And?”

“They’re planning for when he gets out, since he has no family here.”

“What did they suggest?” Czeslawa asked anxiously.
 
They couldn’t take George away.

“It’s too soon to say, but I did overhear them talking about him needing round the clock care and they mentioned Rosebank.”

Rosebank was a residential care home on the other side of Kilburn from Kings River.

“Oh no! That’s awful,” gasped Czeslawa. “There was a story in the newspaper the other day. They treat their patients like prisoners.”
 

“I know, but what can we do?”

“I don’t know, but we have to do something.”

Czeslawa apologised to Maria for calling so late and then filled her in.

“No problem,” Maria said, “Now, before we start on what to do about George, tell me how you got on with your language course.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that …”

Maria told Czeslawa she would pay for the course.
 
She listened as Czeslawa clued her up on George’s family predicament, frowning, wondering how they’d find out where his family lived.
 
She was astonished and relieved when Czeslawa told her about the package and that she therefore knew his daughter’s address.
  
She quickly Googled the details as Czeslawa waited on the other end. They were in luck. The phone number was listed.
 
Now they could contact George’s daughter.
 
Surely no-one could be so heartless as to leave their father here to rot.

“I am happy to phone, but I afraid she not understand my English. Could you phone?”

Maria agreed.
 
She’d phone now and hopefully get someone in.
 
It was about five hours behind in Quebec.
 
It was just after eight here.
 
Maybe they’d be at work.
 
If no-one answered, she’d try later.
  
Maria told Czeslawa she’d call her right back.
 

Czeslawa waited by the phone, trying not to bite her nails.
 
Finally, the phone rang again.

“She was in,” said Maria.

“What did she say?”

“She was very upset.
 
I told her about her father and how you found him and called an ambulance, and how Social Services are discussing putting him in a home.
 
She was in bits, said she had to speak to her husband and then make flight arrangements.
 
She said she’d let her brother know too.”