knows and will spend the money on some potatoes for supper. Mrs D. is looking forward to that “treat” and begins wiping the dishes faster.
From all her cleaning duties, Mrs D. likes taking down the trash best. It is like a real quest for the Golden Fleece. Many a time she found in it something to fill her empty stomach. She never empties the bin right away. Instead, she carefully examines its contents, separating the “real trash” from still edible leftovers: pieces of cooked beetroot, carrot, chives. Whenever [103] she finds a bone she sinks her teeth in it and sucks at it passionately.
“Madam” can see all this from her kitchen window.
Mrs D. returns and begins to scrub the table. She stands bent over the table, her thin arms rhythmically moving across the shining varnished top. She is deep in thought as if talking to herself, ending every sentence with a heavy sigh for a full stop. She suddenly straightens up and turns to “Madam,” who is standing on the doorstep. “We used to have an identical table in our kitchen. Exactly the same. Oh, we were so happy then! I used to have a maid myself.” After Mrs D. had given full reign to her memories, there was no stopping her. And her sad tale about the last couple of years of her life was a shocking confession of our times.
Mrs D. is 29 years old. Before the war she worked as a pay collector in an office, where her husband was a bookkeeper’s assistant. They had a small apartment (a room with a kitchen) and made enough money to live a “decent” life.
Mrs D. was dismissed as early as the day after the outbreak of the war (2 September 1939). So was her husband. As they had some savings and things to sell if need be, Mrs D. did not worry much about her dismissal. Like many other people she believed that the war would not last long—“maximum six months.”
Initially, she had doubts about whether Poland could compete with the German military potential. She carefully followed the course of events, [104] greedily listening to the announcements of the General Staff. On the third day, the radio announced that England and France had joined Poland in solidarity. The general enthusiasm that ensued made her feel optimistic too. “Well, now war surely won’t last long. It will end in spring.” She believed that and convinced others that it would be so.
The horror of bombings did not frighten her. When she was at home she would not descend into the shelter even though she lived on the top,
