‘It doesn’t touch me, though. In that respect I am just a passer-by.’
‘No? I wonder. But I’ll tell you about me, a bit, anyway, because we won’t have much longer together before the girls bring Marisia on our heels.’
‘She won’t leave Ariadne till I come.’ I spoke with certainty.
‘Yes, I’ve heard about the illness,’ he said with a serious face. ‘How is she?’
‘I’m not sure. Bad, I think.’
‘The Vyksa disease, eh?’
‘That I can’t say for sure. I don’t know what the Vyksa disease is, if indeed it exists.’
‘Oh, it’s real enough. In the short time I have been here I have seen enough to believe in it.’
‘And why are you here, Patrick? You were going to tell me, remember?’
He took my arm. ‘Let’s walk. Come this way.’ He led me across the dusty cobbles to where a narrow path ran between stunted lines of lime trees. The path bordered a field, or what would have been a field in any more normal world, protected from us by a slatted wooden fence. The field was dotted with small regular mounds.
‘What is this place?’ I asked, turning to him with a swift fear.
He took his time in answering, and then I think he would have given me any other answer if he could. ‘It is a graveyard.’
‘It’s quite small. Too small.’
‘They bury deep. And they bury again on top,’ he said briefly. ‘Not many names recorded. A few. Here and there.’
‘Are you going to stay in this terrible place all your life, Patrick? And what, in God’s name, brought you here?’
‘Yes, we have come to that,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘The group I played cards with in London were a cosmopolitan lot – worldly and European, I liked to call them in my innocence. A deal more sophisticated than I was, anyway. True, hard gamblers they were, and they had amongst them a group that attracted me because of their ideas. I suppose to you I seemed a conventional young officer with a conventional young officer’s ideas; so I am, in a way; but life in a twentieth-century army, even His Majesty’s most loyal army, teaches you things, opens your eyes, you see how the ranks live, and you don’t altogether like it.’
‘I, too, in Edinburgh, saw conditions that appalled me,’ I began – but he was not really listening.
‘These people I met talked of remedying social ills, of spreading wealth equally, clearing away what was bad and creating a new good – a kind of Utopia of equal man. Oh, they were such talkers, Rose, one or two of them.’
‘Russian, I suppose?’ I said, having met one or two such good talkers in St Petersburg already.
‘Yes. Dangerous, really. I didn’t grasp, then, how dangerous. It’s hard to accept that people can be both good and bad at the same time, but in the end you have to. I believe the men I gambled with had an idea of recruiting an officer in His Majesty’s army amongst them. Anyway, I was in their debt, and I suddenly saw that they might try to make me one of them. I had been working among the most advanced weapons in Woolwich. I told my Colonel. He cleared my debts and saw me off to India. But I had to go alone. I wanted to, though, Rose. There, now I’ve told you everything. Or nearly everything.’
‘But not why you are here.’ Even in the shade it was exceedingly hot, I could see long shadows printed large and clear in the dust. A strange meeting place for two lovers who had parted for ever. As I looked, our shadows joined. Patrick had moved closer to me, had he? No, I realized that it was I who had taken a step towards him. But he wasn’t looking at me, he wasn’t seeing Vyksa, nor even Scotland, nor even me, he was far away in some distant place in the mind. Not a pleasant place either, I thought, from his expression.
‘No.’ He brooded for a moment, I suppose that’s what I meant by good and bad being equally distributed. I found there was still a price to pay. India was only a resting place on my tour.’
‘I heard you were in trouble there. I heard in a letter from Jordansjoy.’
‘That was the story that was invented. Really I was over the Russian border, through Afghanistan, by then. I was not to break with my friends of the revolution. I was to go back among them and report what they were up to.’
‘You mean spy on them?’ The question would hardly even have come into my mind at home, but here, in Russia, it was no sooner thought than uttered.
‘Yes. And in particular to find an Englishman who had worked with them, a man called Sydney, and bring him back. If I could. He was thought to be imprisoned in Vyksa.’
‘Ah, I see.’
Do you see? I wonder. I was particularly commended to Marisia, who was known to be a friend to all “lost” souls. And who was known to be what my Russians called “a sympathiser”.’
I nodded, but I could not speak. When you absorb a lot of shocking information quickly, it keeps you quiet.
‘You don’t seem surprised?’
‘About Marisia? No, I had guessed.’ I added: ‘And I have learnt a lot about life since I came to Russia. But now you are spying on her. Do you mind?’
‘I have long since told her everything. One can’t lie to Marisia.’
‘But surely she will tell her friends?’
‘Perhaps. In time. But perhaps not. In the meantime she is “testing” them.’ He laughed. ‘That’s very Russian, you know.’
And Dolly – the Denisovs – are they part of your Russian circle?’ I suppose you could say that I was ‘testing’ Patrick now, evaluating his information, because of course I had my own ideas about the Denisovs, and a closer view of them than he. Or so I thought.
‘I know nothing of Madame Denisov,’ he said formally. ‘But her brother could be.’
‘And the Englishman?’
He sighed. I haven’t found him yet. He could be one of those nameless creatures in there.’ And he nodded towards the mine. ‘Or he could be dead already.’
I frowned. I still find our being here altogether strange.’ It seemed to me that in the distance I could hear the tinkle of the piano, as if the little girls had started their lessons again.
As if he was trying to clear his own mind, he said: I told you. The forces that moved me, moved you. Dolly heard of you, though her brother was also interested.’
‘Now you are being innocent,’ I thought. How much I was beginning to learn about Russia. Dolly knew about me already, whatever, if anything, Peter had told her. Perhaps he had been moved because of me. It was a frightening thought and poured in over me like cold water.
I stared through the wooden fence to the rows of tumuli; if I died here, would I be buried here? Would Ariadne? I turned the thought over in my mind, handling it like a strange coin. But then I suddenly realized that among all the new currency that had come my way on this trip to Russia, I had lighted upon one thing of inestimable value: a secret sense of strength, a belief in my own indestructibility of spirit. I was going to survive.
‘How long have you been here at Vyksa?’ I asked.
‘Since the snow melted.’
‘And you have seen me? Or been close to me,’ I questioned.
‘I dared not talk to you then, because you were not alone, but my God, I willed you to feel me here,’ he said fiercely.
Feel was the explosive word. The moment it was out we were in each other’s arms in an uprising of passion that I had never known before.
Darling, darling Rose, how I have ached for you. What a fool I have been.’
‘No, it was my fault.’ Lovers after parting and quarrelling always talk so, I suppose, but we meant it, I swear. ‘But what was lacking in me before is there now. Now. Now. Tell me you know it.’
‘I know it.’
My whole world had been turned round by Patrick’s appearance. For the moment that we clung together everything else diminished out of sight. Vyksa, the Denisovs, Russia itself – what were these beside Patrick? Are there many moments like this in a lifetime? There was never another like it for me.
When I could talk at all, I said: ‘We can go away
together. We need not stay in Russia.’
‘Rose – it’s not so easy. For a while I must stay. I – ‘
Before he could go on we were interrupted by the arrival of Marisia. Immediately I was back in the terrible world of Vyksa.
The look that passed between Marisia and Patrick was the look exchanged between friends and equals, and I was surprised at the pang with which I saw it. So I was jealous? That way lay danger. But it was me Marisia spoke to.
‘You must come, Rose.’
‘Is Ariadne worse?’
‘She’s still asleep. But come quick. There is something you must see.’
‘I’ll come at once.’ I hesitated. ‘No need, I suppose, to ask what I have been doing?’
Marisia said without emotion: ‘It was inevitable you two should meet. I never thought otherwise.’
‘Shall I come with you?’ asked Patrick.
Marisia turned to him, giving the orders. ‘No. Go to the girls. I have left them playing the piano, which they won’t do for long, left on their own.’
‘They are playing, I can hear,’ he said, striding off.
‘But badly,’ she called after him. Yes, they had got on terms, those two.
Marisia and I went back to the house. ‘Now you know the circles you are moving in,’ said Marisia. ‘How do you feel about it?’
‘Frightened.’ I thought about it. ‘I’m not sure I like what the appearance of Patrick here portends, and I’m not sure because I don’t fully understand all the implications. And that frightens me. I like to understand, but I am in a strange world where I suspect nothing is quite what it seems.’
‘Things in Russia are hard to understand and perhaps never what they seem, but you can trust that I am your friend,’ said Marisia.
‘I do trust that,’ I said simply. ‘Thank you.’
It was very hot inside the Lazarev home, hot and stuffy with all the smells of their years of living there. Their past came crowding in on me, smelling of tea and cabbage and little girls. I had a terrible feeling that I was trapped and should never escape with Patrick. Panic rose in my throat, drying it.
‘Can I have a glass of water before I go to see Ariadne.’
‘Not tea?’
‘No. Not tea,’ I said wearily. ‘Above all, not tea.’
Marisia fetched me a glass of tepid water and watched me while I drank it. She showed signs of impatience. I should like you to see Ariadne.’
‘Coming now.’ I stood the glass on the table. ‘Let me look at her.’
She followed me. ‘You’ve suddenly gone all professional.’
‘I am professional.’ I looked down at Ariadne, curled up in her bed, hair tousled, eyes closed. I put my hand on her forehead. ‘Cooler. Pulse better also.’ I pulled open her nightgown and looked at her chest and belly. Both were covered with delicately rose-coloured spots. ‘So that’s what you wanted me to see.’ I re-buttoned the nightdress. The girl stirred slightly, opened her eyes, then closed them again. I turned away. I don’t know what relation Ariadne’s disease has to your Vyksa fever, whether it is the same disease or not, but those spots tell me what she has.’
‘Sometimes those spots appear,’ said Marisia nervously. ‘The workers in the mine call them the roses of God.’
‘Because they mean death, and are their badge of release, I suppose? Well, Ariadne has typhoid.’
‘Will she die?’
‘Ariadne die? No, I believe she’s recovering already. She’s no worse, at least. With careful nursing she’s going to be all right. But what about you and your sisters? You have been exposed to the infection.’
Marisia shook her head. ‘Every so often an infection bursts out – this or another – but we always seem all right. We have lived through so many, I think we have protection in our blood.’ She led the way back to the family living-room. ‘What about you?’
‘I too have met with plenty of infection in my time,’ I said. ‘And like you I seem immune. Not that one ought to be complacent or anything,’ I said seriously. ‘Can you send the girls away?’
‘No. Not easily.’
‘Then we must be extra careful about hygiene and so on. And keep the little girls out in the open air as much as possible.
‘That will kill them if anything will,’ said their loving sister. ‘They are indoor birds, and hate the outside. Especially here.’
‘And the water must be boiled.’
‘You think the infection arrives by water? Well, we hardly drink anything but tea, and the water for that boils all the time.’ She indicated the bubbling samovar. I hope you are right about Ariadne. I shall blame myself terribly if she dies. As it is I do feel guilty.’
‘We may have brought the infection with us,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure about the child in the village at Shereshevo. I don’t really know what he died from or if it is connected with Ariadne’s illness. I only suspect so. And if the infection came originally from here, then it is Ariadne who carried typhoid to him in all probability and I who should feel guilty.’
Thoughtfully, Marisia said: I have sent my father to live in the apartment over the offices. We send his food across. I don’t think I should like him to be ill, and men are more vulnerable than women, don’t you find?’
I laughed. Her little deceits were becoming obvious to me. ‘I had wondered why I saw so little of him. And I suppose the less he knows about me, and my relationship with Patrick, the better.’
‘He only knows Patrick as the poor dancing master I have befriended,’ she said. ‘And we must keep up the fiction. There are a lot of things I don’t tell my father. And most of them he is very anxious not to find out,’ she added shrewdly.
‘Do you manage everything as you want, Marisia?’ I asked, still amused.
‘More or less,’ she said smoothly. ‘This side of the mine, at all events. I have no power beyond.’
‘Who has? Your father then?’
Marisia was silent. ‘It is hardly overseen at all. That is part of the evil of the place. My father knows the work he must extract; he has an old soldier as over-looker – the prisoners call him the “straw-boss”. I don’t excuse my father anything,’ she said abruptly. ‘And as for him, he closed his mind years ago.’
‘Rose? Rose?’ I heard a voice calling meekly. ‘Will you come to see me? I’m very thirsty. Can I have a drink?’
‘Coming,’ I called back. ‘Marisia, what about some of that tea now. For me and Ariadne?’
I was glad to end our conversation, glad to have a chance of occupying myself with the affairs that would take my mind off Patrick. Off myself too, for that matter. I had come to Vyksa to rid myself of Patrick, and now I was closer to him than ever before.
The next few days were quiet. Marisia and I took turns in caring for Ariadne; she was a difficult patient, making sure that we worked hard for her, and was by turns cheerful and depressed. But moodiness is a symptom of convalescence, and between us we coped. Marisia could manage her best when she was tearful, but I could get her to take her medicines better. There were no more confidences between me and Marisia, but every day I got to like her better.
I did not see Patrick; but I supposed he was keeping out of my way. Good manners, I thought. But the knowledge that he was there and that we could be reunited had made a great difference to me.
There came a night when all of us slept soundly and woke up refreshed. ‘That crisis is over,’ I thought with relief. ‘I can go back to Shereshevo.’ Leaving Ariadne to be looked after by her friend, I took my writing book and went out on the verandah to make my usual daily report to Dolly. We’d be with her soon. She could drive in Peter’s smart motor-car and fetch us. ‘And after Shereshevo, I can leave Russia with Patrick.’
Then I saw Patrick sitting on the steps which led to the courtyard; he had his back to me and was working away at something he held on his lap. ‘Chink. Chink.’ I could hear the sound of metal striking something hard. As Patrick heard me and scrambled to his feet, I could see he was working a
way at a bit of stone with a chisel.
‘What are you doing?’ I looked, curiously, as I advanced.
‘Oh, nothing.’ He put the stone and chisel aside. ‘Nothing important.’
‘I never thought of you as a stonemason,’ I said lightly.
‘I’m not much of one.’ He brushed the dust from his hands. ‘I’m glad the girl Ariadne is better.’
‘I suppose I ought to have known Marisia would tell you everything,’ I said, half exasperated and half amused. ‘You obviously keep in close touch with her, but I have seen nothing of you.’
‘I kept away on purpose.’
‘So I supposed.’
‘Well, did you want to see much of me? Aren’t I just an embarrassment now to you, Rose?’ He was dressed as I had seen him before, in the blue shirt with a loose tie. The shirt was fresh and clean but it was of poor stuff, not the sort of linen the old Patrick, a dandy in his way, would have worn. But it suited him, and so did the way the sun had tanned his skin and bleached the tips of his hair. How he had changed; his appearance, and his questions, marked him off from the Patrick of London. That Patrick would never have asked me if I was embarrassed by his presence; the idea would never have come into his mind.
But then I was changed too; the old Rose would never have said lightly, but affectionately, as I did now: ‘Not an embarrassment ever, but a worry often.’ I did not know quite what I meant by it, other than perhaps that I wanted to get him away, back to where he belonged. I didn’t want to leave him behind me while I went back to Shereshevo and then on to St Petersburg.
‘I can look after myself,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about me.’
We started to walk up and down. Patrick seemed to be considering what to say. ‘Would you do something for me, Rose?’
‘Swiftly,’ I said. ‘If I can.’
‘It means going over the wall, as they say.’ He nodded towards the great hulk of the mine. ‘Over there.’
‘Can one?’ I was surprised.
‘I know a way,’ he said slowly, studying my face. ‘It means going through the pest-house.’ To my startled look he said: ‘You may call it the hospital.’ He smiled grimly. ‘It is necessary to have a door through the hospital to the burying place.’
The Red Staircase Page 26
