by John Boyne
‘I’m sure that everything that can be done for them is being done, Sunny,’ he said finally.
‘But that’s just it,’ she replied, leaning forward, her face flushed with excitement. ‘There’s always more that can be done. And I thought that I might be the one to do it. I thought I could help out as a nurse.’
For the first time that I could remember there was absolute silence in the Imperial dining room. Every member of the family sat as if they had been turned to stone, their knives and forks suspended in mid-air, staring at the Tsaritsa as if they could not quite believe what she had just said.
‘Well, why are you all looking at me so?’ she asked, turning from one face to another. ‘Is it really so extraordinary that I would want to help these suffering boys?’
‘No, of course not, my darling,’ said the Tsar, recovering his voice. ‘It’s just … well, you have no training as a nurse, that’s all. Perhaps you would be more of a hindrance to the good work which is being done there.’
‘But that’s just it, Nicky,’ she insisted. ‘I spoke to one of the doctors and he told me that it would take only a few days to train a lay person such as myself to assist in the basic tasks of nursing. Oh, it’s not as if we would be performing operations or anything like that. We’d just be there to help out. To tend to wounds, to change dressings, even to clean up a little. I feel … you see, this country has been very kind to me since you brought me here all those years ago. And for every disrespectful cur who slanders my name, there are a thousand loyal Russians who love their Empress and would lay down their lives for her. This is my way of proving myself to them. Say I can do it, Nicky, please do.’
The Tsar tapped his fingers on the tablecloth for a moment as he considered her request, no doubt as surprised by his wife’s sudden rush of philanthropy as the rest of us were. However, she appeared to be sincere, and finally he shrugged and offered a nervous smile, before nodding his head.
‘I think it’s a wonderful idea, Sunny,’ he said. ‘And of course you have my permission. Just be careful, that’s all I ask. There are security arrangements that will have to be put in place, but if it’s what you want, then who am I to stand in your way? The people will see how devoted we both are to their welfare and to the success of the war effort. Only I must ask, you said “we,” not “I”. What did you mean by that?’
‘Well, I shouldn’t like to be there alone,’ she said, turning towards the rest of the family now. ‘I thought that Olga and Tatiana might join me too. They are of age, after all. And they can be of use.’
I turned to look at the Empress’s two eldest daughters, who had both grown a little pale at the mention of their names. They said nothing at first, looking instead from their mother to their father, and then towards each other in dismay.
‘Father?’ began Tatiana, but he was already nodding his head furiously and appeared to have determined on his response.
‘It’s a magnificent idea, Sunny,’ he said. ‘And, my daughters, I cannot tell you how proud I am of you both that you would want to help out in this way.’
‘But Father,’ said Olga, who looked appalled at the idea, ‘this is the first that either of us has heard of—’
‘You make me very proud of you, my darling,’ said the Tsar quietly, reaching across and taking his wife’s hand. ‘You all do. What a family I have! And if this doesn’t stop the moujiks from debasing our names, then I don’t know what will. It is actions like these that win wars, not fighting. Never fighting. You realize that, children, don’t you?’
‘What about me, Father?’ asked Anastasia suddenly. ‘Can I help too?’
‘No, no, Shvipsik,’ he said, laughing and shaking his head. ‘I think you’re a little too young yet to see such things.’
‘I’m fifteen!’
‘And when you are eighteen, like Tatiana, we can reconsider. If, God forbid, the war has not been won by then. But don’t worry, we can find other ways for you and Marie to be of use. We will all help out. The entire family.’
I breathed a sigh of relief that Anastasia was not to be permitted to join her mother and sisters, for the entire thing struck me as a foolish if generous idea. A group of untrained nurses gathered in one hospital, surrounded by bodyguards, sounded like a method for disturbing the work that was being done there rather than assisting. Perhaps my sigh was too loud, however, for the Tsaritsa turned and stared at me – as she was generally loath to do – and her eyes widened in irritation.
‘And you, Georgy Daniilovich,’ she said, ‘you have something to say on the matter?’
‘I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,’ I replied, blushing furiously. ‘A throat tickle, that was all.’
She raised an eyebrow in distaste before turning back to her meal, and I caught Anastasia’s eye, who was watching me and smiling as ever.
‘It’s all so horrible,’ said the Grand Duchess Tatiana several weeks later, as she sat with Marie, Anastasia and Alexei in their private drawing room at the end of a particularly trying day. She looked pale and had lost weight since her nursing duties had begun; the dark bags beneath her eyes testified to early mornings and late evenings, while her discomfort in her chair suggested that her back was beginning to ache from spending long hours leaning over the beds of the injured soldiers. As the Tsarevich was present with his sisters, so was I, while Sergei Stasyovich completed our party, not standing to formal attention as was proper, but resting on the arm of one of the sofas close to the Grand Duchess Marie, rolling a cigarette casually as if he was not a servant of the Imperial Family at all, but an intimate. ‘The hospitals are filled to capacity,’ continued Tatiana, ‘and the men are horribly injured, some with missing limbs or eyes. There’s blood everywhere. Constant moaning and wailing. The doctors run about and shout their orders with no regard for rank whatsoever and their language borders on the profane. There are mornings when I wake up and wish that I might fall ill myself in order not to have to be there.’
‘Tatiana,’ cried Marie, outraged, for she had her father’s sense of duty towards the soldiers and envied her older sisters their new responsibilities. She had pleaded with her mother to be allowed to join them as a nurse, but, as with Anastasia, her request had been denied. ‘You shouldn’t say such things. Think of the agonies our soldiers endure.’
‘Marie Nicolaevna is right,’ said Sergei, joining the conversation for the first time and staring at Tatiana with a look of pure distaste, an expression she had probably never seen on anyone’s face before. ‘Your disgust at the sight of blood is nothing compared to the suffering these men endure. And what’s a little blood, after all? We’re all filled with it, no matter what the colour.’ I turned to look at him in surprise. It was one thing for us to be present at conversations such as this and even to offer a supportive comment from time to time, but to criticize one of the Grand Duchesses openly was an impertinence that could not go unanswered.
‘I’m not saying that I suffer more than they do, Sergei Stasyovich,’ replied Tatiana, her cheeks reddening noticeably as her anger rose. ‘I would never suggest such a thing. I simply meant that it is not a sight that anyone should have to witness, that’s all.’
‘Of course not, Tatiana,’ said Marie. ‘That much is obvious. But don’t you see? It’s all very well for us to discuss these matters, wrapped up safely together in the Winter Palace, but think of the young men who are dying to ensure the continuance of our way of life. Think of them and tell me that you do not ache for them.’
‘But sister, of course I ache for them,’ she protested, raising her voice now in frustration. ‘And I tend to their wounds and read to them and whisper in their ears and do all that I can to make them comfortable. Oh, it doesn’t matter! You have misunderstood me entirely. And as for you, Sergei Stasyovich,’ she added, turning to glare at him furiously, ‘you might not speak with such arrogance if you found yourself at the Front rather than here.’
‘Tatiana!’ cried Marie, appalled.
‘Well it’s true,’ she sa
id, throwing her head back in a manner reminiscent of her mother. ‘Who is he to speak to me in such a fashion, anyway? What does he know of the war, after all, when he spends his days following all of us around and practising his cross-steps and flèche attacks?’
‘I know a little of it,’ replied Sergei, narrowing his eyes as he glared at her. ‘After all, I have six brothers fighting for your family’s continuance. Or had, anyway. Three have been killed, one is missing in action, and the other two I have heard no news of in more than seven weeks.’
To her credit, Tatiana blushed a little at this remark and perhaps felt a little ashamed of herself. I noticed that when Sergei mentioned his dead brothers, the Grand Duchess Marie sat forward in her seat, as if she wanted to go to him and offer comfort. There were tears resting gently in her eyes – she looked very beautiful at that moment, the shadows cast by the fire flickering across her pale skin. Sergei noticed them too and the corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly in an appreciative smile. I was surprised to observe such intimacy between the two, and was moved by it.
‘I don’t mean that I would try to find a way not to go,’ insisted Tatiana, looking across at each of us in turn, in order to ensure that we understood how seriously she meant this. ‘I just wish that the war would end soon, that’s all. Surely we all wish for that. Then we could go back to the way things used to be.’
‘But things will never be as they were,’ I heard myself say, and now it was my turn to be the recipient of her icy stare.
‘And why do you say that, Georgy Daniilovich?’
‘I only mean, Your Highness, that there are days and styles of living which are lost for ever. When the war is over, when peace has been restored, the people are going to demand more of their leaders than they did in the past. It’s obvious. There will scarcely be a family in the land who has not lost a son in the fighting. Don’t you think they will seek some recompense for their losses?’
‘Recompense from whom?’ she asked coldly.
‘Why, from your father, of course,’ I said.
She opened her mouth to reply, but it seemed that she was too shocked by the impertinence of what I had said to find the words to argue with me. The silence lasted for only a moment, however, before she turned away from me and threw her hands in the air in frustration.
‘My sister just wants everything to go back to how it once was,’ said Marie then, playing the role of peacemaker. ‘And that’s not such a terrible thing to wish for, after all. This was a wonderful country to grow up in. There were balls at the palace every night and wonderful parties. We all wish that things could have stayed like that for ever.’
I said nothing, but shot Sergei an amused glance, intended to mock her innocence and naivety. To my surprise, however, he did not return my smile, but glared at me instead as if he was insulted that I would dare to include him in some private joke against the Grand Duchess Marie.
‘You should feel fortunate, Tatiana,’ said Anastasia, speaking up now for the first time. ‘It is a great honour for you to help the troops in this way. You are saving lives.’
‘Oh, but I’m terrible at it,’ she sighed, shaking her head. ‘And the sight of all those lost limbs! You can’t understand it, Shvipsik, unless you’ve seen it. Do you know that yesterday our mother assisted at an operation where a boy of seventeen had both his legs amputated? She stood there and witnessed it, helping out in whatever way she could. But the screams of the boy … I swear I will hear that screaming again at my dying moment.’
‘I only wish that I were a year or two older so that I could help out too,’ said Anastasia wistfully, standing up and walking towards the window, staring down into the courtyard below; I could hear the rush of the fountain as its water rose and fell and imagined that she was looking towards the nearby colonnades, where she had fallen into my arms for the first time and we had kissed. I longed for her to turn around and catch my eye, but she remained silent and strong, looking out beyond the walls of the palace itself.
‘Well, you can take my place any time you want,’ said Tatiana, standing up and brushing down the front of her skirts. ‘I feel utterly miserable and intend to take a long bath. Goodnight,’ she said, sweeping out of the room as if she had been the victim of a great insult, followed by Marie, who looked back as if she had one final comment to make, but thought better of it and left the room without another word.
A moment later Sergei left too, citing a forgotten task, and the night drew to a close. As Anastasia took Alexei to his room, I remained in the parlour for a few more minutes, turning off some of the lights, leaving only a few candles illuminated, anticipating the moment when she would return, when she would close the doors quietly behind her and find her way back into my open arms.
I had never experienced the White Nights and it was Anastasia’s idea that I should see them for the first time with her. In truth, I had never heard of the phenomenon before and thought I was going mad when, restless and waking in the middle of the night, I opened my eyes to see bright daylight shining into my room. Thinking that I had slept through my usual early-morning awakening, I washed and dressed quickly and ran down the corridor towards the playroom, where Alexei could usually be found at that time, reading one of his military books or playing with some new toy.
The room was deserted, however, and as I made my way through the state rooms and the reception areas, finding each one as empty as the next, I started to panic and wondered whether I had slept through some great calamity that had occurred in the night. I was not far from the Tsarevich’s own chamber, however, and when I ran inside, I was relieved to find the boy fast asleep in his bed, stretched across the covers, one bare leg extended over the side.
‘Alexei,’ I said, sitting down beside him and rousing him gently by the shoulder. ‘Alexei, my friend. Come along, you should be up by now.’
He grunted and mumbled something indecipherable before rolling over; I could only guess what his mother would say if she arrived to kiss him goodbye before leaving for the hospital and found him still asleep so I shook him again, unwilling to allow him to return to his dreams. ‘Alexei, wake up,’ I insisted. ‘You should be at your lessons.’
He opened his eyes slowly and stared at me as if he did not know who or where he was, before glancing over towards the window, where the light was streaming through the curtains.
‘It’s the middle of the night, Georgy,’ he groaned, smacking his lips together and emitting an exaggerated yawn, stretching his arms out in exhaustion. ‘I don’t have to get up yet.’
‘But it’s not,’ I said. ‘Look how bright it is. Why, it must be …’ I glanced towards the clock which hung on his bedroom wall and was surprised to see that it was just past four o’clock. There was no possibility that we had all slept until the middle of the afternoon, however, so the only explanation could be that it was still early morning.
‘Go back to bed, Georgy,’ he muttered, turning over and falling immediately back to sleep with the ease of one whose conscience is clear.
Disoriented, I walked back towards my own room and returned to bed, although it was impossible to sleep in my confusion.
The following morning, however, I found myself alone with Anastasia as she finished her breakfast and she explained the phenomenon to me.
‘We call it the White Nights,’ she said. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of it?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘I think it must be peculiar to St Petersburg. It has something to do with the fact that the city is situated so far to the north. Monsieur Gilliard explained it to us recently. The sun doesn’t descend below the horizon at this time of the year for a few days, so the sky doesn’t get dark. It gives the impression that it is daytime constantly, although I suppose there is more of a dusk-like feeling in the early hours of the morning.’
‘How extraordinary,’ I remarked. ‘I was sure that I had overslept.’
‘Oh, you wouldn’t be allowed to oversleep,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘Someone
would be sure to come and find you.’
I nodded, feeling slightly irritated by this remark, a sensation which was only alleviated when she stepped closer to me and, ensuring that there was no one in sight to observe us, kissed me lightly on the lips.
‘You know, it’s traditional for young lovers to walk along the banks of the Neva together during the White Nights,’ she said, smiling flirtatiously at me.
‘Is it indeed?’ I asked, a grin beginning to spread across my face.
‘It is. Some are even known to make plans for marriage then. It’s just as curious a phenomenon as the White Nights themselves.’
‘Well,’ I said, extricating myself from her grip playfully, as if the idea of such a commitment was anathema to me, ‘then I should be leaving.’
‘Georgy!’ she cried, laughing at me.
‘I’m only teasing,’ I said, taking her in my arms once again, although I did so nervously. Of the two of us, I was always the one more scared of getting caught; perhaps because I knew that my punishment for discovery would be far more severe than hers. ‘But I think it’s a little early for an engagement, don’t you? I can only imagine what your father would say.’
‘Or my mother.’
‘Or her,’ I agreed, grimacing, for while the concept of my ever being allowed to marry a daughter of the Tsar was a foolish one, there was a small part of me that believed that the Tsar himself would look more favourably on a love-match than the Tsaritsa would. It was neither here nor there, of course. Such an inappropriate match could never be made. A fact which neither Anastasia nor I liked to dwell upon.
‘Still,’ she said, skirting quickly past the awkwardness of the moment, ‘you cannot be in St Petersburg and not experience them. We should go out tonight.’
‘We?’ I asked. ‘You don’t mean we should go together?’
‘Well, why not? After all, it might be bright out, but it will still be night-time. The household will be asleep. We could slip out, well disguised, and no one would ever know.’
