Katie struggled to imagine Agnieska’s journey. ‘Mombasa?’ she had asked. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know where it is.’

‘See on that shelf . . . ?’ Sybil pointed. ‘That’s it, below our Mr Tiger – there’s an old atlas. Your legs are younger than mine, dear.’ Katie fetched the atlas, and Sybil pushed some dishes out of the way to make room. They all gathered round. ‘There . . .’ She pointed with a soil-grimed fingernail to the east coast of Africa. ‘Mombasa.’

Katie, bewildered in her ignorance of all this, became aware of Marek standing over her shoulder, his breath on her ear as he bent down to look.

‘Well, what was she doing in Africa?’ she asked, feeling foolish.

‘She was in another camp for displaced persons,’ Sybil said. ‘Some of the Poles have made journeys that you would hardly believe.’

‘Before – she was in India,’ Marek said. ‘Another camp. And before that . . .’ He pointed north and Sybil turned the pages to another map. ‘Arctic Circle. Soviet camp.’

‘And we, to start with, here . . .’ Piotr got up too, suddenly eager to join in. ‘Soviets come – they take many of our people, from here, in East Poland. Then we go to – where is? – ah yes, here – near to Sverdlovsk, in Russia. They want my father for working in steel works.’

‘Blimey,’ Geoff Jenkins said, looking at the map from the other side of the table. ‘That’s a long way.’

Piotr flashed a glance at him, an angry one, Katie thought. She had had no idea of any of this. Was he angry with them for being so ignorant? Even now she hardly knew what questions to ask, or whether they wanted to be asked anything. They would say a little sometimes, then clam up.

Most of the time the two of them were more concerned about the present. They were also full of questions about Birmingham, and English life. Their preparation in the camp had taught them about general aspects of life in Britain.

‘They tell us,’ Piotr said another night, with a twinkle in his eye, ‘not to kiss the hand of the women. That it is not good – that the women will be, er . . .’

‘Suspicious?’ Sybil chuckled.

‘Er, yes – suspicious!’ They all laughed.

‘Our men are a little more reserved,’ Sybil said, picking up the serving spoon. ‘Now, there’s one more potato – are we going to fight over it? Or cut it into five?’

‘I think give it to the men,’ Katie said.

‘Ah, yes,’ Sybil said. ‘Into three then?’

‘No, no,’ Marek argued courteously. ‘The women must not be hungry. Into five!’

The two Poles were curious about Geoff’s work, and asked Katie about herself, her job. Sometimes their questions were very blunt.

‘So, Katie,’ Piotr said at one of the first mealtimes. ‘Where is your husband? He is dead?’

Katie avoided Sybil’s gaze and looked coolly back at him. She was not used to being asked things in such a way.