‘My first dog was older than me,’ said Maxim. ‘I always felt like he was looking down on me. Like he was smarter than me. I remember taking him to dog school with my papa and training him to do tricks. He could fetch anything – keys, newspapers, glasses. Papa was happy he didn’t have to get out of his chair to get his daily news. Mishka was the smartest dog in all of Kiev.’
‘My dog’s name was Mishka too!’ cried Lisa, stunned by the coincidence. ‘He wasn’t smart like your dog though. Once he put his head in an empty tin of tuna and ran around the house, knocking into walls because he couldn’t see where he was going.’
Maxim laughed so hard, it warmed her heart. She couldn’t help it: she laughed too. It felt like it was just the two of them in the woods, with not another living soul for miles. Her neck was killing her after the gruelling hours in the kitchen and she walked slowly, her rifle behind her back, her shoulders slumped. Once or twice she slowed down and placed the rifle on the ground to rest.
‘Are you all right with that? Do you want me to carry it?’ asked Maxim.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, wincing as she picked up the rifle.
‘Here, let me help you.’ He carried two rifles like they were matchsticks. Lisa wished she could be strong like him. More than that, she wished she could place her hands on his arms and shoulders and feel the muscles with her fingertips.
‘Why aren’t you in the Red Army?’ As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. What if he thought she was criticising him? ‘Not that you aren’t doing enough.’
‘I did join the Red Army when the war started. But then they retreated east and I stayed. Abandoning Kiev to the enemy seemed wrong. I’ve known Azamat since I was a child. When I heard he was recruiting people for the partisan battalion, I decided to join.’
‘Did they look for you, in the army?’
‘By that point, the army was in such confusion, I doubt that they did. I suppose I’m a deserter in a way. But I feel I can do more good here, on the soil where I was born. This is my home. I could never leave.’
‘I remember waking up one day and learning that the Red Army had left Kiev. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. It felt like they had forsaken us, running for their lives. Like no one was fighting for us anymore.’
‘I didn’t run. I’m still here, fighting.’
‘Had I known it back then, I’d have felt much safer.’ When Lisa thought of those terrible weeks after the first bombs had fallen on Kiev and Molotov’s voice had come on the radio, announcing the country was at war with the most formidable enemy the world had ever known, all she remembered was her stomach dropping in dread, and a desperate hope that Stalin and the Red Army would protect them from the hated Nazis at any cost. But little by little this hope had dwindled and only the relentless, never-ending fear remained.
Lisa and Maxim arrived at their clearing, and once again she was stunned by the beauty around her. Not a branch swayed in the wind, not a leaf. The azure of the skies and the white of the snow were overwhelming. Being alone with him was overwhelming. This wonderful feeling was worth two upset stomachs. ‘The woods are beautiful, don’t you think?’ she asked.
‘Very. Sometimes I look at it all and my breath catches. Then I remember it’s no longer ours, that it belongs to the Nazis, and it breaks my heart.’
‘Where did you learn how to shoot?’
‘I followed my cousin Dmitry to a competitive shooting school when we were kids. He soon got bored and stopped. But I became obsessed.’
‘And very good at it.’
‘I suppose. I started competing and showing good results. First in Kiev, then in all of Ukraine. When I started working as an engineer, designing bridges and roads, I didn’t have much time and stopped practising for a while. Then the war started and it took on a whole new meaning. It was no longer a hobby. It was something that could make a real difference.’
‘I never had an interest like that. At school, I flitted from one thing to another. Chess, sewing, dancing. But I was never serious about any of them.’
‘That’s because you haven’t found your passion yet.’
She nodded but looked at him and thought, perhaps I have. Perhaps in these woods I have found my passion.
Maxim was a good teacher, patient and kind. And Lisa was a good pupil, eager and attentive, hanging on his every word. This time around, she did much better. She reloaded her rifle in half the time and hit twice as many targets. When they were walking back, Maxim told her she was a natural. ‘Better than Sergei and Alex?’ she wondered aloud.
‘Much better.’
A small part of her wished they were there to hear it.
Outside the cafeteria, he handed the rifle back to her. ‘Why don’t you keep it, now that you know what to do with it?’
Trembling, Lisa took the rifle, amazed at herself. Before the war, she would never have dreamt of handling a dangerous weapon. Her father had guns when she was growing up, but he kept them safely locked away, forbidding anyone from touching them. She still remembered his horror stories of accidents and shooting lessons gone wrong. Although not the most obedient child, she never approached the gun cabinet, her fear keeping her away. And here she was, with a rifle of her own!
She watched him walk away, a little light-headed, as if instead of learning how to shoot they had been drinking cheap wine and playing a guitar in the woods. When Maxim was finally out of sight, she went back to the kitchen and sleepwalked through the rest of her day, thinking of him.
That night, she took the rifle to bed with her, telling the girls it made her feel safe. But the truth was, it was the first present Maxim had ever given her and she was never going to part with it. It meant more to her than all the jewellery and pretty dresses in the world. If she could, she would wear it around her finger like a wedding ring, so it would always be with her.
Chapter 10
The little apartment on Kazanskaya Street was always filled with visitors, even more so since the war had started. Irina never understood how her disagreeable mother-in-law could have so many friends. From Podol to Leonovka, there were farmers who owed her a favour and seamstresses who couldn’t say no to her. Zina was a retired administrator who missed her job terribly, and so she had made it her business to collect food and clothes for the partisans. Once a month a grouchy woman named Yulya arrived with empty bags and Zina ushered her into the kitchen, where the two of them drank endless cups of tea and gossiped in hushed voices for an hour or so. Irina thought Zina and Yulya had a lot in common. Neither of them seemed to have a kind word to say about anyone.
Today, nothing but a bag of wilted carrots waited for Yulya in a wooden crate under the table. When Zina’s back was turned, Irina took half a carrot for Sonya, who loved them. Then she cooked some oats and melted snow in a kettle for their tea. With the little girl balanced on her knee, a spoon in one hand and a bowl of porridge in the other, she listened to Zina and Yulya as they talked about the war.
‘I have hardly anything to give to you today. I’m so sorry, my dear. Even the farmers don’t have much left,’ said Zina, looking embarrassed, as if the hunger in Kiev was her fault.
‘I don’t know how much longer we can last. How can we do our job when all we think about is food?’
‘That’s exactly what the Nazis want. To starve us until we admit defeat.’
‘At this rate they might soon succeed. We still have some supplies hidden away in the woods for a rainy day. Other units aren’t so lucky. The Nazis have raided their hiding places. The state of those people.’ Yulya shook her large grey head. ‘They can barely walk, let alone fight.’
‘Don’t worry, winter’s almost over. Once the summer is here, it will be easier.’
‘If we survive until summer,’ grumbled Yulya.
‘I do have some new uniforms for you today.’
Yulya perked up. ‘That will cheer the men right up. After a year and a half in the woods, we are wearing rags. How we got through the fierce
st months, I will never know. And what a freezing winter it’s been.’
Zina nodded. ‘Unheard of. It’s as if nature itself is resisting the Germans.’
‘Nonsense. Have you seen how well they are dressed? It’s us who are suffering the most, sleeping in the snow, starved and frozen. You know how many men lost their fingers to frostbite? Fortunately, we have a new nurse who soon put a stop to that. A bright girl, Masha. What would we do without her?’
Irina remembered Maxim mentioning the nurse the last time she saw him. The thought of their brief meeting in the church warmed her heart. Sonya finished her porridge and Irina lifted her in her arms, to wipe her face and give her some lukewarm water from the kettle. She was looking forward to snuggling in bed with her little one. After a long day at work, confronted with horrors of war until she felt like screaming, she could barely keep her eyes open.
While Zina was in the living room fetching the uniforms, Yulya smiled at Sonya and poked her tongue out. The little girl giggled.
‘What a lovely child. And she looks just like her father,’ Yulya said.
‘Thank you.’ Irina smiled politely, wondering how quickly she could slip away without offending their guest.
‘Does he come to see you often?’
‘Not as often as I’d like.’
‘I’d be careful if I were you. There’s a young little thing who recently joined us, crazy about your husband. Watches him like a bear watches honey.’
As she looked at the woman’s insinuating face for clues, Irina forgot all about sleep. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘They’ve been spending a lot of time together. He’s teaching her to shoot, or so they say.’ Yulya lowered her voice. ‘Personally, I think they are up to something. Every couple of days they go off into the woods together, just the two of them. Afterwards she comes back with the biggest smile on her face, like a cat that got all the butter.’
Irina shook her head in confusion. ‘Who goes off into the woods together?’ Was this woman saying Maxim was having an affair? All of a sudden, Irina found it difficult to breathe.
‘Maxim and a girl called Lisa.’
Irina’s heart thudded painfully inside her chest but she forced her fists to unclench, forced her face into a carefree smile. ‘I have nothing to worry about. I trust Maxim.’
‘I wouldn’t trust any man, especially around someone like Lisa. Selfish and lazy and too pretty for her own good, with her red hair and green eyes. And that’s all men care about. A pretty face.’
Fighting tears, Irina excused herself, and on shaking legs carried Sonya to the bedroom. As she rocked her little girl to sleep, all she could think of was the young and attractive rival Yulya had described. Ever since Maxim had left for the partisan battalion, she worried about so many things. She worried about the enemy bullets, the evil tongues and the ill-wishing neighbours who would be more than happy to betray a partisan to the Nazis for a piece of bread. She worried about the hunger and the cold. But it had never occurred to her to worry about another woman.
As she lay awake in the dark, she thought of her husband and a beautiful red-haired girl, alone in the woods together. In her overactive imagination, she saw arms that weren’t hers around her husband’s back, lips that weren’t hers on his lips, a body that wasn’t hers intertwined with his. She saw her husband kissing another woman, whispering sweet nothings in her ear in that hoarse voice Irina loved so much. She saw his beloved eyes admiring another woman and felt physically ill.
This is wrong, she told herself. She shouldn’t doubt Maxim because of a careless word from someone who loved to gossip and stir up trouble. Why should she believe Yulya, who knew nothing about their relationship, over her husband, the man she shared her life with? Irina chased the horrible images away, trying to think of the look on his face as he held her in his arms, his voice as he told her he loved her and only her. She tried to fill her head with images of the two of them together, of the day they met, the day they got married, so young and in love, of the day Sonya was born, turning Irina’s life upside down and filling her heart with happiness. Why would Maxim throw it all away?
But the happy images faded quickly and the annoying little voice inside her head remained: if her own father, whom she had loved and trusted unconditionally, could leave them for someone else, turning his back on their little family for a pretty stranger, why not Maxim, too?
Irina’s father had been the love of her life. Not that she saw much of him when she was a child. He was a talented young architect who designed buildings all over the Soviet Union. On the rare occasions when he did come home, he filled their tiny apartment with joy and laughter. Every day around him was a celebration and his bags were always filled with presents. Dolls in bright dresses from Moldova, sweets from Kazakhstan, oil paints and brushes from Moscow.
When she had found him downstairs one day with his bags packed, she didn’t think twice about it. ‘Daddy, what will you bring me this time?’ He hadn’t replied but hugged her close, telling her to look after her mother. A week later she had found out he had met another woman and had no intention of ever coming back. Irina didn’t understand. Did the love they shared mean nothing to him? Did his daughter mean nothing to him? She’d longed to ask her father these questions for most of her adult life but never got a chance because she had never seen him again. He died from a heart attack a year later.
The young Irina didn’t know how to live without her father. She didn’t know how to fill the void in her heart where her father had once been. And neither did her mother. This void consumed her, until she withdrew inside herself, her vacant eyes staring through Irina and not seeing past her grief. Within a few weeks her mother seemed to disappear altogether. And then two months later her body was found in a nearby lake and Irina’s world collapsed.
She had lived with heartbreak since she was twelve years old, until she met Maxim and he mended her heart. But after she fell in love with him, her insecurities got worse, not better. Day after day, night after sleepless night they whispered to her in grating, unpleasant voices until she could no longer bear it. Did he really love her? Why did he choose her over so many other, more attractive women? And the scariest thought of all: what if he met someone else, someone younger, prettier and smarter? Little by little, the voices in her head threatened to rob her of her happiness with the man she loved. But gradually, as she saw his eyes light up with love for her, she believed in herself a little bit more. She believed in him.
And now here was Yulya giving Irina’s insecurities a name: Lisa.
The next day, a Sunday, Irina was home alone with her daughter. The two of them sat side by side by the window, hoping to catch a few rays of late winter sunshine. Downstairs, the German soldiers were going through their exercises. In February 1943, they were no longer the young blond warriors in shiny green helmets who had marched through the streets of Kiev at the start of the occupation. Most of them were bald and middle-aged, some of them wounded. It seemed Hitler was fast running out of men to throw in the meat grinder of the Eastern Front.
Shouting and the sound of marching feet scared Sonya, who clung to her mother and whined softly. Irina covered Sonya’s face with kisses, tickling her and throwing her up in the air until tears turned into giggles. Giggling herself, Irina wrapped her little one in her arms. She tried to put Yulya’s revelations of the previous day out of her mind. Sunday mornings were her precious time with her daughter. She couldn’t let anything ruin it, not the marching feet outside, nor the old woman with her insinuations.
A knock outside sent a familiar shiver of dread through Irina. When she opened the door, she was overjoyed to see her friend Tamara outside.
They huddled around the kitchen table. Sonya was balanced on her favourite Auntie Tata’s lap, while Irina filled her friend in on the details of Yulya’s visit and what she had said about her husband.
‘Maxim? Never!’ exclaimed Tamara. ‘That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about. That man adores
you.’
‘You think?’
‘I know! The two of you are my dream couple. I always wanted to find someone who would love me as much as Maxim loves you.’
‘And now you have. How is Dmitry?’
‘He still wants to marry me, after three months together.’ Tamara said it as if she couldn’t believe it. ‘But honestly, you and Maxim have a fairy-tale romance. Why would he throw that away?’
‘He’s a man, isn’t he? Besides, we hardly see each other.’
‘You know what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’
‘What if he wants more? What if he likes this girl? What do I do? Do I confront him?’
Tamara placed her hand on Irina’s and shook her head. ‘There is nothing to confront him about. He’s not doing anything wrong.’
‘Do I say anything?’
‘Of course not. You don’t want him to think you are doubting him.’
But I am doubting him, Irina wanted to say. I am doubting my loving, wonderful husband who has never given me a reason not to trust him. She felt like the most despicable human being for allowing her past to affect her present. But she couldn’t help it. ‘If I don’t ask, I won’t know the truth. And even if I ask, he might not tell me.’
‘You already know the truth. You know what the two of you have together.’
‘Yulya said this Lisa was too pretty for her own good. She said no man could resist someone like her.’
‘Why are you listening to this stupid Yulya? What does she know? Maxim loves you. He married you. He wants to spend his life with you. You have nothing to worry about.’
More than anything Irina wanted to believe her friend. If only she could ignore the little voice inside her head whispering that she wasn’t good enough.
March 1943
Chapter 11
Lisa lived every day in fear. Sometimes rumours reached her about a partisan from another battalion who had been caught and tortured by the Nazis. She would grit her teeth and turn away, pretending she hadn’t heard, because she didn’t want to know. Sometimes she wished she could stay inside her dugout all day to avoid the horror stories, but it was impossible. Masha tended to the wounded and told Lisa all about it. Anna went to Kiev, witnessing unspeakable atrocities by the Nazis, and told Lisa all about it. At breakfast, lunch and dinner, the conversation often centred around the deaths, the tortures and the executions, as if the only way the partisans could deal with their fears was by talking through them.
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