Family means everything to Pam Aulsebrook. And when she is ripped from her family’s clutches in the midst of war, she’ll do anything to return to where she belongs. Without them by her side, safety means nothing. Risking everything, Pam runs away and makes her way home.
Meeting Paul Konieczny, a Polish soldier, turns Pam’s world upside down. Suddenly, there is a new reason to live, to love, and to stay alive. At his bidding, they return together to war-torn Poland, but on arrival, nothing is as promised. Now, with her life on the line, Pam must try to leave Poland. Can Paul fulfill his most sacred vow: getting Pam home and eventually join her in safety?
Genre: FICTION / Historicalsales have been good in Poland in translation.
the book sold 1-2000 copies on original print run, and this has probbaly since doubled. it has never been well distributed, including a digital release, which i am now keen to remedy.
PROLOGUE
One sister walked either side of me; Monika tall and slim, Kasia shorter but just as lovely. We wandered slowly up the hill, talking, enjoying the fine weather. Few clouds interrupted the clear blue of the sky. A warm wind blew on my face, carrying with it the scent of flowers and joyful shouts of children. It was just after passing the church when Kasia took hold of my arm.
‘That’s it. That’s the one.’
It was the house where Paul and Pam had first lived, after their journey from England.
The tenement was big. The red roof appeared original, the central chimney black with coal dust. The windows were arranged symmetrically, and I remembered that each room would have housed an entire family back then. There was a small garden, a ramshackle green wooden fence, and tiny white satellite dishes budding from the plain grey concrete facade.
‘Can we look around the back?’ I asked.
The communal entrance was situated to the rear of the building. Here, the windows on the left side had been bricked over. The tenement suddenly looked much older.
We stood in the yard, the sisters now silent and me taking photographs. I didn’t notice the old woman appear, and was surprised when she approached. She was tiny, her nicotine white hair cut ragged and short. Her summer dress had seen better days. I was even more surprised when she started talking to me, but I couldn’t understand a single word. It was Monika who translated.
‘I know who you are. You are Pameli’s son, I recognise you. I’ve always lived here and I remember her. A little woman.’
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French
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Already translated.
Translated by Louise Chaumont
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Anna Mis
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Ana Figueiredo
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Patricia Ibarra
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