Free Polychrome by Joanna Jodelka

so tiny you need glasses to see it? They’re young lads.’
‘Everybody’s got their own problems but solve them in
different ways, you do realise?’
‘I realise perfectly well!’ She nearly got up from the table
but quickly sat down again, as if she’d suddenly remembered
about the plaster-cast, that she had a guest and couldn’t start
scrubbing the floor right away to stop herself from thinking.
‘You know how easily influenced they are? Remember they’ve
been brought up without a father.’ He’d heard enough on the
subject of children; besides, he was afraid she’d start crying.
Fortunately, she calmed down. ‘That’s exactly why anyone you
ask will tell you I cleaned in the Nowy Teatr. I knew that neither
my boys nor those girls would go there. What was I supposed to
say, that I was practically alone in some office where there was
nothing but cables and computers? To work from morning till
night to pay for lawyers? I’m no fool. Maybe my boys will come
to their senses one day. You’ll see what it’s like.’
He didn’t want to see anything or even think about it.
‘Can you tell me anything else about the Mikulskis? What
they were like? Did they have any visitors, family perhaps?’
‘They were different to the people here or on Wspólna
Street. As if unreal, from another world. And they also talked
to each other in a strange way. They didn’t even talk about the
son who’d left. They probably didn’t have any grandchildren.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I know old people. If they’ve got grandchildren they go on
and on about them until you’ve had it up to here. Your mother’s
lucky.’
Slowly, this was becoming unbearable.
‘Would you be able to state whether anything’s gone missing
from the apartment?’
‘No, I don’t think so, I only washed the windows, you know.
When I do things I do them quick. I don’t have coffee, smoke
cigarettes, take breaks. And there were a lot of things there. If
would be different if I’d done the cleaning. But see if there are
any traces on the carpets. If somebody took anything you’d see.
The same as on the walls. That much I can tell you. Nobody
ever moved anything there. Apart from the furniture, books and
junk, there was only an old television set, probably like mine. I
remember Mrs Mikulska saying she’d gone to the post office to
change the radio and television licence to a radio one, saying she
didn’t intend to watch television anymore. We laughed because
the clerk had said it was impossible, if she had a television she
had to pay because she could watch it. To which Mrs Mikulska
replied that she was the one who’d bought the television set
and it was hers, but she hadn’t bought television so it wasn’t
hers, and she wasn’t going to pay or watch anymore but she
might look at the television set from time to time. I don’t know
whether the clerk believed her, but I noticed afterwards that
she’d covered the television set with a tablecloth which she
never removed. Nor did Mr Mikulski. That’s the sort of people
they were, you see. Here, people steal electricity because it’s
there. It’s a different world. Nobody’s probably even heard of a
radio and television licence.’
‘Did they have any visitors? Can you remember anyone?’
he asked, wondering at the same time whether by paying for
cable television he was actually paying for the licence or not.
‘The postman, maybe. I don’t think they liked guests. I think
Mr Mikulski did the cleaning himself – not because he liked it,
but to avoid anyone bustling around in his apartment as long
as he possibly could. Except for the windows. He was getting a
bit weird but he coped, I’ll give him that.’
‘How long do you still have to be in plaster?’
‘Two weeks, they say.’
‘We might visit you again,’ he said, rising.
‘Should I be pleased, or not?’
‘You don’t have to give it any thought. It doesn’t mean
anything. We have