The View from 16 Podwale Street

By Paul Alan Fahey

April 1939. Warsaw, Poland. To the casual observer, the houses on Podwale Street look very much alike. Yet at 16 Podwale, nothing is as it seems. Within, the walls hold many secrets that could destroy the lives of its inhabitants as they witness the city's ever-mounting tide of Nazism.


Wealthy recluse Elwira Malinowska is more an observer than participant in life. In her seclusion at 16 Podwale, she watches the world pass her by. Then Raz Zielinsky comes to work as a housemaid for her father, and Elwira's life is suddenly divisible by two -- the time before Raz and the time after.


Years pass, and the women become lovers. They depend on each other. Elwira is Raz's protector, and Raz is Elwira's conduit to the outside world, where people speak of nothing but the continual threat of war with Germany.


Elwira, a steadfast Catholic, believes Pope Pius XII will intervene to save Poland from the rumblings of a maniac and an imminent invasion. But when the Pope fails to mediate peace and the political situation worsens, Elwira and Raz plan their escape to freedom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781611523263

Paul Alan Fahey

Paul Alan Fahey, author of the writer’s resource, The Short and Long of It, and the Lovers and Liars gay wartime romance series, is also edited the 2013 Rainbow Award-winning nonfiction anthology, The Other Man: 21 Writers Speak Candidly About Sex, Love, Infidelity, & Moving On. For more information, visit paulalanfahey.com.

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The View from 16 Podwale Street

By Paul Alan Fahey

Published by JMS Books LLC

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2012 Paul Alan Fahey

ISBN 9781611523263

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Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author's imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

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The View From 16 Podwale Street

By Paul Alan Fahey

Elwira Malinowska stood at the window of her home, 16 Podwale Street, and watched the sun's rays travel up the façade of the white house across from hers, making the geraniums burn in their window boxes. A horse and cart, laden with fresh produce, slowly clattered below on the cobblestones. She put up a hand to shield her eyes from the glare, and then turned away. How many times had the doctors warned her about exposure to sunlight? Elwira reached up and pulled the drape until it covered the window.

It was 1939, a spring morning in April, and the city was Warsaw. It was peaceful and quiet, five months before the soldiers would invade, then occupy the city. But that assault would not be peaceful or quiet. It would be sudden, full of fire and light and death. A Blitzkrieg, they would call it.

Elwira went back to bed, switched on the lamp, and waited for Raz. She put on her dark glasses with the thick lenses and held the face of the small clock up to her eyes. Six forty-five. Soon she would be with Raz, the woman she loved, and for now, nothing else mattered.

Before Raz came into her life, Elwira felt more of an observer than a participant in life, as if she were cast in a play and present on stage but given no lines. She thought of her childhood, of the endless dinner parties her parents gave for friends and relatives, and how she'd escaped the tedium in her father's study. Elwira would spend hours there, sitting in the dark by the window, watching people pass below on Podwale, never wishing for or wanting companionship. But then Raz came to work for her father, and Elwira's life suddenly became divisible by two: the time before Raz and the time after.

A light tapping, and Raz breezed in with their breakfast tray balanced on her hip. She wore her brown hair shorter now. She told Elwira it made her look younger than her thirty-five years, but Elwira thought the haircut was the result of a silly comment she'd made over a strand of gray she'd discovered while brushing her friend's hair.

Raz put down the tray on the bureau and began smoothing her apron over the plain black skirt. She adjusted her white cap in the mirror. The tea's not as strong as you like, Wira.

Never mind. Elwira patted a spot beside her on the bed. Come sit with me.

The armies are coming, Raz said. The Gazeta's headlines--

Nonsense. They will not come. Elwira, like many Catholics, believed the Pope would intercede on behalf of Poland and stop the German aggression. With Britain and France pledging support, what could possibly go wrong?

You look the part today, Elwira said. Right out of an Agatha Christie.

Isn't that the idea? Raz made a half curtsy. Just a glorified servant in your lovely home, madam. She waved her hand, taking in the expensive paintings, the crystal sconces and chandelier, and family czaczkas.

You can be cruel, Elwira said. Come over here.

Raz took her hand and sat on the edge of the bed.

The clock in the hall struck the hour. There was plenty of time. There was always plenty of time for each other.

We need not play this game when we are alone, Raz.

Raz made a move to rise, but Elwira drew her back and kissed her on the lips. "Nothing is planned