Sons and Daughters Read Free Page A

Mrs K., they’re everywhere.’
    ‘No, no, I cannot believe you,’ said Mrs Kloytski, and laughed.
    ‘Oh, they’re not easy to spot,’ said Cassie, ‘especially when they’re wearing a smile.’
    ‘Oh, come on, Mum,’ said nine-year-old Lewis. Except for his happy mum and his playful dad, grown-ups didn’t count much with Lewis. Well, they were old and a bit bossy, like the teachers at St John’s Church School. Crumbs, he said to his dad once, them teachers are more old and bossy than anyone.
    ‘Got to go, Mrs K.,’ said Cassie, ‘I promised Muffin and Lewis I’d take them to the park to fly their new kites now that we’ve had our lunch. Goodbye.’
    ‘Goodbye, Cassie,’ said Mrs Kloytski, and walked on to her home. When she reached it, Mr Kloytski greeted her with a matter-of-fact statement.
    ‘He has joined us.’
    ‘Yes, I saw him,’ said Mrs Kloytski. They spoke in their own language. ‘He was very abusive. I’m afraid he no longer likes me.’
    ‘Natural, yes, in a man who has just seen photographs of himself on a bed with you,’ said Kloytski. ‘But as I pointed out to him, it was his reluctance to be recruited that compelled us to use the camera. Our friends will be pleased he’s now one of us.’
    ‘Our friends, yes. Good,’ said Mrs Kloytski. They were referring to people who had helped them during the immediate post-war upheaval in conflict-torn Europe, when Germany’s liberated slave labourers of many different nationalities were crowding the roads in all directions, and so were refugees and Jewish survivors of concentration camps. Murder could happen over possession of ashabby coat, and summary executions could take place when Russians or the Allies shot suspected war criminals out of hand.
    ‘He’ll accept his role with grace soon enough,’ said Kloytski. ‘It fits his sympathies.’
    ‘Yes, but let me speak of something else,’ said Mrs Kloytski. ‘I saw someone in the market I think we both know.’ She went into details about the man who had three girls and a boy in tow, and she spoke of where and how they had originally encountered him.
    ‘God Almighty, that swine?’ said Kloytski. ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ said Mrs Kloytski. ‘He said something to the children, and they all turned to look at me.’
    ‘You think he recognized you?’
    ‘If he didn’t, why would he have said something to the children that made them look at me?’
    ‘No, no, he’d have done more than mention you to his children,’ said Kloytski, ‘he’d have confronted you. Perhaps he only thought he’d met you somewhere, perhaps that was all he said to the children.’
    ‘Yes, and perhaps he’ll begin to think of exactly where,’ said Mrs Kloytski, ‘and if he remembers, he’ll try to trace me, and if he succeeds in that, he’ll find you as well. Then the confrontation will happen, a serious confrontation.’
    ‘It’s a possibility, I suppose,’ murmured Kloytski. ‘But where, I wonder, would he begin his search for you?’
    ‘He’ll return to that market stall and ask Mrs Earnshaw about me,’ said Mrs Kloytski.
    ‘That peasant? Our supplier of fine cabbages?’
    ‘Yes, and because she’s a chatterer, she’ll tell him about both of us as a Polish couple,’ said Mrs Kloytski. ‘Listen, when I asked her who he was, she said his name was Adams, and that he’d been a high-ranking officer in the British Army.’
    ‘So? Adams, you say?’ Kloytski mused on the name. ‘Adams, yes. Well, if he does ask questions about you, we’ll have to consider how to deal with his curiosity and his memory.’
    ‘Meaning how to silence him?’
    ‘If he really is the swine in question, and any confrontation becomes as serious as you suspect, it’ll be a pleasure to silence him permanently,’ said Kloytski.
    ‘You and I will share that pleasure,’ said Mrs Kloytski, the reincarnation of Jezebel in the eyes of the man called Victor.
    Sammy arrived home at his house on