living room, played cards and drank Bulgarian wine. But the scene I had witnessed between the two of you had pierced my role, made it harder to play. I was distracted, nervous. At the end of the evening, egged on by the rest of us, Agata got up and sang. She sang with real sorrow, a song by Maryla Rodowicz, that quiet, sad song about the old fairgrounds and the tin toys and the balloons. We were all still. Her voice commanded our minds in an unexpectedly sorrowful way.
Not long after, Agata and Maksio went to bed, and then it was only the three of us. Two couches opposite one another, with armchairs on the sides, a low table in the middle. You sat on the couch opposite her, me on one of the armchairs in-between. We talked about what we would do the next day. I wanted to go to sleep, and yet I didn’t want to leave you two alone. Then you announced you were going to bed and looked at me meaningfully, as if to say this was my chance. I didn’t move. We bid you goodnight, Hania and I. She smiled, and looked out into the dark garden, or maybe at her reflection in the glass. Then she glanced at me. There was tension around her lips.
‘I’m so glad you’ve come,’ she said. She seemed nervous, and this surprised me.
‘Thank you for having me,’ I said. ‘It’s wonderful here.’
‘Of course.’ She nodded and looked towards the garden again, as if deciding something.
‘I hope I’m not being indiscreet, but –’ She stopped, looked at her lap, then at me again. ‘Allow me to ask you something personal.’
I said nothing, trying to stave off internal vertigo.
‘I don’t mean to pry.’ She shifted, visibly uncomfortable, vulnerable even, but not nearly as much as me. ‘Tell me honestly – does Janusz have another girl?’
A part of me wanted to laugh out loud, hysterically, until my throat, vocal cords and stomach muscles hurt. The other part didn’t, was just plain exhausted. I kept my face neutral, shook my head truthfully.
‘No. You don’t need to worry about that.’
‘Really?’ Her face changed, lightened. ‘It’s just … he’s so distant sometimes. And I don’t understand why he’s not really responding to me. You see what I mean …?’ Her eyes asked for reassurance.
I looked at my fingers, and nodded.
‘Does he ever mention me?’ she probed.
‘Yes,’ I said, ungenerously, wishing I could help her. ‘Yes, he does.’
She seemed hopeful, but unconvinced, her widened eyes revealing her need for more.
‘Does he like me? Has he said anything to you?’
I swallowed. Vertigo, this time lucid, took hold of me.
‘I don’t know,’ I said, aware that it was the truth. ‘He hasn’t told me. You’ll have to ask him.’
The next morning I awoke with a headache, bothered by the sunlight that came into the room. Your bed was made and you were gone. I took a shower and went downstairs, where all of you were sitting at the long table in the dining room. Hania and Agata both had wet hair, combed back, and the air smelled of coffee. You were eating a roll with two slices of ham. ‘There he is!’ said Maksio when I entered, and everyone looked up and greeted me sleepily. Hania was sitting beside you.
After breakfast we all went for a walk through the forest. It was damp – it had rained during the night – and smelled of freshness and decomposition. We walked on layers and layers of fallen leaves and the last of the autumn’s mushrooms. I tried to talk to Hania then, but we were never alone. And somehow I was glad about that. The day was too bright, and I knew I’d need alcohol to do it.
That afternoon Hania said she was preparing a surprise for us; after lunch she and Agata went out with two empty baskets. The three of us stayed behind in the house. You and Maksio played billiards downstairs and I went up to our room. Upstairs it was completely quiet. Before I reached our room my eyes fell on the double door at the end of the corridor, and a dark curiosity overcame me. I listened out for a sound – there was nothing. I moved towards the door and pushed down the handle. It wasn’t locked. My heart beating hard, I slipped in. It was a large room with a fantastic view over the park. There was a four-poster bed, perfectly made, the