City of Fate

by Nicola Pierce

  Leo shrugged in moody agreement while Anton was unsure. ‘But if the Germans are asleep, shouldn’t we go out now and find the others?’

  Leo’s reaction was instant, ‘Typical!’

  Vlad knew that his friend was only annoyed because Anton was absolutely right. Vlad quietly took charge of the three of them, so quietly that he didn’t realise it himself. ‘Okay, Anton, that makes more sense. So, we’d better work out where we’re going now, because once we get outside it’s probably best to do as little talking as possible since we have no idea where the Germans are.’

  Leo was staring at the wall behind him, and Vlad turned to see what he was looking at, and found himself face to face with a huge, white wolf – a painting, that is, that someone had taken great care with.

  ‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’ said Vlad, forgetting for a blissful moment where they were and what they had to do.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ nodded Leo, smiling for the first time in a long time.

  Vlad laughed. ‘Imagine having him for a pet or a guardian. Some people believe that wolves are the same as guardian angels, but then there are others who say they are demons in disguise.’

  Leo smiled awkwardly. ‘Well … my grandmother believes that our family has a spirit wolf, called Sheba, who watches over all of us.’ He made a face. ‘I’m not too sure about it, to be honest.’

  Vlad was prepared to be open-minded. ‘What makes her say that? Has she actually seen the wolf?’

  This interesting discussion might have gone on for much longer, except for one thing: Anton, an impatient boy who neither read books – unless he was forced to, for school – nor believed in magic or anything he could not touch with his bare hands. He longed to get out of the house and join up with the other soldiers, their comrades, because he had had a taste that day of what it was to be respected for his ideas, and he liked it.

  Gathering together every drop of sarcasm he could manage, he mowed through the boys’ conversation, ‘So sorry to interrupt this lovely chat about angels but perhaps – just perhaps – we should be concentrating on how we’re going to get out of here. Sorry to be so boring and all!’

  Vlad couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing, being careful not to be too loud, while Leo rolled his eyes.

  It was not the reaction he had expected, but Anton glowed with pleasure all the same.

  ‘Poor Misha,’ said Leo, as carefully as he could. ‘Although I don’t think he would have been able for this.’

  The other two neither agreed nor disagreed but Vlad said, ‘When we get settled I’ll write to his parents.’ He paused to give Anton a defiant look. ‘And I’ll tell them he died a hero’s death.’

  Slightly shocked that he would be doubted about agreeing to this, Anton put up his hands and exclaimed, ‘Yes, yes!’ Then he thought of something. ‘We’re all heroes, aren’t we? The others took off, but we stayed behind Mr Belov – Misha and us. We came to Stalingrad, and nobody can take that away from us.’

  For the first time ever Leo and Vlad were in complete agreement with him. It was a little miracle in itself, and one that would have pleased Mr Belov.

  Vlad took a deep breath and asked his classmates, ‘Are we ready, then?’

  ‘For what?’ Leo couldn’t help saying.

  ‘Keep an eye out for Germans,’ muttered Anton.

  Leo snorted, ‘Thanks for pointing out the obvious!’

  Undeterred, Anton gave the breadknife to Leo, who allowed Vlad to hold the gun that he had taken from the body outside. So, the three of them were now armed, although none of them were too sure about actually harming or killing a person.

  Vlad led the way back out on to the street. Someone shouted out in the distance, and they could hear the sound of racing footsteps. Vlad felt he had walked out onto a stage, where the audience could watch his every move, while he couldn’t see them at all. It was certainly spooky, especially when Vlad could not decide what was more frightening: bumping into Nazis or getting utterly lost. What if we end up on the wrong side, completely surrounded by enemy soldiers?

  It seemed sensible to move away from the Volga and go deeper into the city. This much was expected of them, at the very least. Keeping as close as possible to the charred walls, they inched their way forward, all hoping and praying that they were doing the right thing. The moon lit the way for them. Vlad was mightily grateful to be able to see where he was putting his feet; there was just so much rubble to stumble over, and, apart from the embarrassment of stupidly ending up on his backside, there was also the threat of making noise that would alert lurking Nazis to their whereabouts.

  He thought of Misha again, wondering was his ghost somewhere in the sky looking down upon them. To his horror, his eyes suddenly filled with tears. This was no time to start crying. Quickly, he decided to pretend that Misha was still alive, somewhere in Stalingrad, probably doing the very same thing, making his way down a strange street, with new friends he had made.

  There was a hiss from behind him. ‘What?’ he whispered. Anton gestured to the air above Vlad’s head. Vlad dutifully gazed upwards but had no idea what he was meant to be looking at. Hundreds of stars sparkled in the navy sky, twinkling away as calmly as they always did at home. It was soothing to see such a familiar sight. Vlad assumed that Anton must have meant him to be comforted by this fact, that this desperate city had the same stars as home; even if it wasn’t the sort of thing that he’d expect Anton to think. In fact, he was just about to smile his thanks when he saw that the other two were not looking at anything at all; instead they appeared to be listening.

  ‘What?’ he asked again, but, then, before either of his friends could be bothered to answer him, he heard it – music on the night air. The three boys listened for several minutes, in complete silence.

  ‘It’s a piano, isn’t it?’ whispered Anton.

  Leo said quietly, ‘Yep, Beethoven. It must be a German playing it. I heard that Russian musicians are no longer allowed to play German composers.’

  It was strange to be standing on a ruined street, in a ruined city, listening to the desolate strains of a beautiful melody that certainly deserved a finer location than this. A sudden burst of gunfire rang out, making the boys jolt in unison. The music stopped, as if taking fright too. Vlad was struck by how sad he felt at the resulting silence. The three of them waited, and waited, and were rewarded for their patience when the distant concert resumed once more. Leo breathed a sigh of relief, and whispered, ‘As long as there’s music …’

  That was all he said, but Vlad felt that he understood. He was about to reluctantly suggest that they’d better get moving again, although he couldn’t help thinking that it was plain ridiculous to have absolutely no idea about where they were going to.

  Anton’s head swung away from the music, just as there was a clicking sound from only a couple of feet away, followed by a voice that whispered as loud as it dared, ‘Identify yourselves!’

  Vlad, in his confusion, could not think of a single word to say. Was he to give his name, but who would know him here? Or was he to give a military number? But none of them had been given any number, or maybe they had and he had just forgotten it.

  Feeling utterly panicked, Vlad wanted to hug Leo when his friend stated quite calmly and proudly, ‘We’re new recruits, just arrived a few hours ago.’

  Yes, thought Vlad, that’s the answer. Of course it is.

  Anton, on the other hand, was shocked at Leo’s decision to immediately cooperate with the voice. ‘It could be Germans,’ he said, louder than he’d intended.

  ‘Huh!’ a second voice pouted. ‘Aren’t your mamas lucky that we’re not. You’d all be lying dead on the ground otherwise. What do you fools think you’re doing, standing around like this?’

  To the boys’ amazement, yet another voice joined in, at their expense, ‘They must think that they’ve time to do a bit of sight-seeing. You know, tourists first, soldiers second?’

  ‘Okay, okay. That’s enough!’ The first voice sounded
impatient. ‘Where are you boys headed?’

  Embarrassed for the three of them, Vlad answered truthfully, ‘Er … we don’t actually know.’ Before the shadows could start making fun of them again, he quickly added, ‘We’ve just crossed the Volga, under fire, and when we reached here we were still under fire so we hid in the first place we came across, to wait until things quietened down.’

  No one laughed, the two jokers obviously obeying their boss, who appeared to welcome the recruits’ lack of direction. ‘Right then, you can come with us. Isn’t it lucky we bumped into you? You’re exactly what I need.’

  Anton brightened up considerably, glad to be part of something again, whatever it was, and muttered to his friends, ‘Thank goodness for that!’

  Vlad felt Leo’s reluctance to leave the music behind but reckoned he had to agree with Anton. Following these strangers up a street was so much better than nothing at all, which was all they’d done so far.

  One of their new companions commented, ‘That bloody piano gives me the creeps.’

  His comrade called him a fool. ‘You and your ghost stories!’

  Vlad wanted to ask the men what they meant but felt it would be over-stepping the mark when they had only just met.

  The second man groaned, ‘Seriously, Viktor, why – no, I mean, how on earth could anyone be playing a piano in a place like this?’

  ‘No! You mean, at a time like this,’ scolded their boss, who seemed a most particular man. ‘This city is famous for her orchestras.’

  There was a grudging silence for a few steps, until Leo stated quietly, ‘There is no evil without good.’ It was a well-known Russian proverb. Who knows if he realised that his five assorted companions agreed with him wholeheartedly for not one of them said a single word.

  TANYA HAS A SECRET

  Peter and Yuri were lying side by side in the basement. Mrs Karmanova was snoring a few feet away from them. Tanya wasn’t home yet. The two candles were lit, throwing shadowy waves across the wall. Yuri wondered what time it was; it felt late and there was an unpleasant chill in the air.

  There had been a tug of war with the blankets, Yuri having to drag them back over himself every time Peter moved, which was frequently. Once again, Peter changed position and Yuri was left without cover. Raising himself up on his elbow so that he could peer down at the small figure, he addressed him in a stern whisper, ‘Peter …!’

  ‘Shush, he’s asleep.’

  ‘Tanya!’ Yuri exclaimed out loud, and then reddened with shame when he saw the expression of annoyance on her face. Fortunately, neither Peter nor her mother stirred.

  It would have been far worse if he had woken Mrs Karmanova. These days she never stopped whining to her daughter about every little thing. She was worse than Peter, when she got going, ‘Tanya, I’m so hungry’, ‘Tanya, why is the bread so hard?’ and ‘Tanya, do you not love your mother anymore, you never smile at me.’ It was like the mother had become the child. Yuri had caught Tanya rolling her eyes more than once, when she came home from the factory, tired out, to her mother who immediately wanted to be entertained or minded. Some days Tanya managed to find a little vodka for her mother. This helped her relax and usually sent her happily off to sleep, allowing her daughter some time to herself.

  As young and innocent as he was, it had occurred to Yuri that Tanya was looking if not exactly unhappy, then maybe a little impatient. At least, tonight, he had a present for her. He got up from where he was lying, careful not to knock Peter awake. ‘I brought you bread that was only baked today. We got it from some women who are living underground.’

  Tanya took it from him, broke it in half, pushed a bit into her mouth and chewed where she stood.

  He waited in vain for her to ask about the women. The annoyed expression was still there, so he searched around for something to say. He would have preferred a cheerful topic, but the bread was the only good thing that had happened. Still, he was desperate to talk to her, so he went for the other big event, ‘When Peter and I were with the women three German soldiers arrived. They had smelt the bread, just like us.’

  ‘Oh,’ was all she said.

  He couldn’t understand her lack of interest. They were in a city being invaded and destroyed by Germans, yet none of them, as far as he knew, had actually met one – and certainly not three in one go. ‘Well, yes,’ he said huffily, thinking, maybe she thinks I’m making up stuff to show off. Feeling a little insulted, he continued, ‘They swapped horse meat for bread. One of them could speak Russian.’ He stopped to consider if he should mention the awful story they had heard. Normally he wouldn’t have considered repeating it, but her silence provoked him. ‘Yeah, he told us that they weren’t Nazis; they were only German soldiers. Isabella, one of the women, told me there was a difference.’

  Still, Tanya said nothing.

  So, he jumped to the heart of the story, suddenly blurting out, ‘They killed a load of babies and children. Well, they didn’t actually do it, not those three, but they didn’t stop it from happening.’

  There, she was looking at him now. Panicked at possibly upsetting her, he rushed on, ‘They just wanted the war to end so they can go home. They said there were lots of German soldiers who felt the same.’

  Her eyes filled with tears. He was ashamed at what he had done, but assumed she was crying for the dead babies, and, because of that, was unprepared for her saying, ‘Yes, Yuri. You see, they’re not all bad. They’re just doing a job for someone else, same as us.’

  Having no idea what to say to this, he nodded his head ever so slightly.

  She made an attempt at a smile, but that was all. Her face was pale, with dark shadows like bruises beneath her eyes.

  ‘Are you feeling alright?’ he ventured, unsure of what he was allowed to ask.

  Ignoring his question, she stared straight at him and asked one of her own, ‘Can I trust you, Yuri? I mean, really trust you?’

  There was only one answer he could make to her, and he said it immediately, ‘Yes, of course!’

  Beckoning him to grab the stool beside him, she took one herself and the stub of one of the candles, carrying them both to the far corner, as far away as possible from Peter and her mother. As much as Yuri might have relished this time alone with her, he couldn’t ignore the fluttering anxiety in the pit of his belly.

  As soon as he sat down she bowed her head and mumbled, ‘I have to go out again. Can you tell Mama I had to work a double shift?’

  Petrified, he whispered, ‘Yes.’

  Minutes passed as they both stared at the ground in front of them. He felt her wanting to look at him, but she wouldn’t allow herself to do so. Determined to be a worthy companion, he didn’t intrude on her thoughts. They couldn’t be happy ones; in fact, she seemed worried and tired. ‘What are your hopes for the future?’

  Her question threw him. He had never been asked anything like this before, though it was hardly a difficult question, ‘I want the war to end and my family to come home.’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ She shrugged impatiently. ‘But after that? Everyone wants the war to end.’

  Ashamed to have annoyed her again, when he was doing his best to appear as grown-up as possible, his mind went blank. It was almost unbearable to admit, ‘Um, I don’t really know. I suppose I want to get a job and … maybe get married someday.’ There was silence to this, giving him time to be furious at himself, why can’t I think of something interesting? ‘Wait,’ he added, in relief, ‘I hope to go to university and be a lecturer, like my father. Well, he’s my stepfather really, but he prefers me to call him “father”.’

  Staring straight ahead, she asked, possibly just out of politeness, ‘What does he lecture in?’

  ‘The sciences,’ he replied uncertainly. He realised he didn’t know exactly what his stepfather did. He had always assumed he had plenty of time to find out things like that.

  Overwhelmed with this sudden longing to know exactly what his stepfather worked at, he missed what Tanya had said just
then, and, rather shamefacedly, had to ask her to repeat it.

  ‘Volker is a chemical engineer. I imagine your stepfather would know something about that.’

  He was dumbfounded. Wasn’t that a German name?

  Not noticing Yuri’s shocked reaction, Tanya went on explaining. ‘Well, chemistry is a science, isn’t it? I don’t know much about it but I do know that much.’

  There was a booming noise in Yuri’s head, like bombs going off in the distance, creating a murky fog that was too thick to see through: Volker? Volker?

  He stared and stared at her until she gave in and registered whatever expression was plastered across his face; he felt that expression might be frozen there forever.

  The night was so very, very cold. Wrapping her coat around her, Tanya pressed her chin against the collar.

  He waited, but nothing. Was she going to copy Peter and make him beg for an answer to an obvious question: Who the hell was Volker? It was his turn to get annoyed, and he could hear the resentment in his voice. ‘Yes, it is a science. Volker? Isn’t that a German name?’

  ‘I swear to you, Yuri, keep your voice down or …’ she hissed at him, like a cat hissing at a curious dog who has yet to realise its instinct is to chase.

  ‘Or what? You’ll have your German friend deal with me?’ Yuri sneered, ever so quietly.

  Tanya reached over and took his hand, her touch making him feel incredibly happy, enraged and utterly sad, all at the same time. Is this what being grown-up is, too many feelings all at once?

  ‘I need to talk, Yuri. You’re the only one here. Please!’

  Out of nowhere, he suddenly heard his mother’s voice, calm and sweet as always, ‘Be good now, Yuri. Be good.’ His anger disappeared, leaving him tired and suddenly certain, more certain than he had been in a long, long time. ‘You’re going away!’ he said flatly.

  She started to cry, holding one hand over her mouth to stifle the sound, her other hand still gripping his.

  For the second time in as many months he wished that time would stand still, that he could remain here in this basement, and keep the four of them together. It was such a pity that they needed to eat since it was the only reason left to have to go anywhere. He let this thought slip into words. ‘It would be a lot easier if we didn’t have to go outside again until it’s all over.’