William Brodrick - The Day of the Lie

The relevant offices were situated in a bleak concrete edifice at the end of an alley in a southern district of the city After being shunted from one room to another, describing to various administrators along the way the man with the ragged briefcase, she ended up in the antechamber of Mr P R. Bondel, the Temporary Fourth Assistant to the Second Deputy Director. The room was small, the walls naked of any decoration. Two wooden chairs faced a reception desk, behind which sat a woman with scraped back hair typing feverishly Over her shoulder, Roza saw a door of frosted glass. Looking at the shadowy figure on the other side, she explained to the secretary that she wanted to find her child. There’d been a terrible mistake. The papers had been filled in a short while back and surely- ‘Sorry.’ The woman hit a full stop and looked up, her pointed face frank and uncompromising. ‘Once the forms are signed it’s just not possible… didn’t anyone tell you?’

‘Yes,’ replied Roza, ‘but my situation is different. I didn’t sign. It’s complicated. It’s-’

‘Name?’ Simple, unfortunately the woman’s expression implied.

‘Mojeska, Roza.’

‘Take a seat.’

The woman barely opened the frosted door, and only managed to slip through the gap because she was so thin. After a few minutes, she eased herself back into the antechamber and said, with that same practised finality, ‘Sorry, there really are no exceptions. Mr Bondel is most sympathetic, but once the forms are completed, signed or not, there’s no-’

‘I want to see him.’

‘You can’t.’

‘Why?’

‘He’s busy.’

‘I’ll wait.’

‘You’ll be here all day’

‘I’ll stay all week.’

Persuaded that Roza meant business, the woman quickly nipped inside once more. After some heated back and forth, the door swung wide open. Behind an enormous desk, like a man hiding from a Panzer, or maybe his wife, sat the spectacled official who’d come with his briefcase to Mokotow prison.

‘Do take a seat, Madam,’ he said, rising, one hand brushing the crumbs off his waistcoat. ‘How very nice to see you again. Can’t say I thought you’d see the light of day so soon, but there we are. Glad to know you’ve made your peace with the forces of law and order. Everyone should get a second chance, that’s what I say…

Roza saw the sweat on his top lip. He took out a wrinkled handkerchief and dabbed his mouth.

‘It’s not too late,’ said Roza, firmly taking a seat.

‘For what?’

‘Getting back my child.’

‘Ah… that’s exactly what my secretary said you’d said. I presumed she’d misunderstood your meaning. I’m afraid it’s quite out of the question, quite impossible… altogether — ’ he paused, looking for another word, something official or technical — ‘unfeasible. That’s what it is. Totally unfeasible.’

‘Why?’

With a heavy sigh, he shoved the handkerchief into his trouser pocket, settling his beetle brows into a kindly smile for the criminally obtuse. He was used to explaining things official. And not everyone appreciated the work of the Department. Unsung, it was.

‘Madam… sorry, what was the name?’

‘Mojeska, Roza.’

‘Quite right, Madam Mojeska, you have to understand how these things work. You see, there’s a great demand for an infant, you know, when they’re young. Free of attachment. Wouldn’t know their mother from a spring chicken. Makes life easier for everyone. The older they get, they don’t hook on that easily And that makes them hard to place. It takes time and folk don’t always want to wait. They want a simple life. Sad, but true. A child’s a child, that’s what I say but not everyone agrees with me. And you see Madam… Majewsky… the facts are your child would have been placed within days. Even before I got back to the office. The queue for infants reaches from here to Krakow That’s just an expression, mind you, we have a national remit, of course.’ but-’

‘The papers were only filled in seven months ago,’ objected Roza. ‘I was tricked and misled. You have to help me.’ I beg you. Tell me who has my child. If they knew what had happened, they’d understand, I’m sure of it… and they can stay at the front of the queue, there are other children out there. But we have to find my child. I’m free now… I’m here’

Mr Bondel nodded a painful recognition of the fact but then began to shake his head as if reverting to the thrust of his previous expostulations. He waited and waited, expecting Roza to rise and leave, but she only stared back, resolute, uncomprehending… obtuse, criminally incapable of falling into line. Mr Bondel thought for a moment and then a sort of light brightened his official regret. ‘Perhaps, this once, I can do something.’ Pondering, a finger flicked his lips. ‘What was the name?’

‘I’ve already told you.’

‘Not yours, the child’s. What was written down on the forms?’

‘None. I didn’t choose one.’

‘All right, no grave problem — ’ he spoke as if it most certainly was — ‘that’s what we might call a hiccup. But we have the surname.’ of course, so we can-’

‘No.” said Roza, paling. ‘The space was left empty…’

‘Ali.’ His hairy fingers tapped the desk. ‘Now that causes me some difficulty Considerable, I’d say The name’s the key without the key I can’t open the lock:

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Filing systems, Madam Majewsky Formalities,’ He lowered his head as if to duck the attention of his secretary ‘Frankly I’ll be honest. I’ll break a rule to show my goodwill. I remember placing your child. Nice woman, expensive shoes. Handmade, I’d say Classy all round. But I wouldn’t know her from Adam… or Eve, for that matter. I’ve no idea where she came from or where she went. I never do. From our end, once everyone’s happy, we send off the forms to Section Three and they put them in a red binder, but without a name, well.’ what’s to be done? There’s nothing to ask for. I can’t ask them to find something if there’s no label. Can’t use the index. Can’t look up “None”. God knows where they’d put “None”. Never thought of that one.’

‘But that’s not possible,’ protested Roza. ‘All it takes is a little-’

‘Now don’t you start blaming yourself.’ Madam.” said Mr Bondel.’ freeing the bottom button of his waistcoat. ‘There’s nothing we can do. None is none. I shouldn’t have raised your hopes, that was my fault and I ask your pardon. But you can rest assured that all the children who pass across this desk go to the best of homes — ’ he tapped his fingers as if they were tiny feet — ‘and the lady I met was altogether captivating. A cut above your usual-’

‘But I was tricked,’ whispered Roza.’ Harshly.

‘Madam Majewsky you got out of prison.” he whispered back, kindly ‘Your child did, too. Be grateful. It doesn’t always end that well, as you should know’

‘I was tricked.’

Mr Bondel’s tone dropped even lower. ‘Madam, allow me to give you some sound advice of a general character. Always fill in the forms. Tick the boxes. Sign the bottom. It’s what makes the world go round.’

‘I want my child back,’ persisted Roza.

‘Unfeasible.’

‘You have to listen to me, forms or no forms-’

‘No, you listen.’ Mr Bondel’s patience with the criminal classes abruptly snapped. Disgust and disapproval, previously suppressed.’ boiled to the surface, making scum of his certified courtesies. ‘I shouldn’t have seen you, and I did. I’m a family man, and 1 felt sorry for you. But no one can help you find nothing. Your bird has flown. You let it go.’ not me.’ He stood up, short and ridiculously imperious, crumbs trapped in a fold of his waistcoat. ‘Olga,’ he bawled. ‘Madam Majewsky is leaving.’