‘It simply won’t do,’ grumbled the woman with the plaits. ‘I can’t go around chasing people like this. I ought to report it to the police,’ she said, looking pointedly at Igor. ‘They’ll put his name on the board of shame, then the whole town will laugh at him.’
The woman turned round and walked off.
‘Problems?’ grinned Igor.
‘My husband lost a library book. Unfortunately, it appears that this particular book has been requested by the Party organiser at the jam factory.’
‘Have you got any Black Sea flounder?’ asked Igor, keen to change the subject.
Valya shook her head. ‘Just gobies, and I’ve only got a few small ones left. My husband’s got a bad back. He can barely walk. He went out in the estuary yesterday and was only gone for two hours. I’ve got hardly anything to sell.’
Igor noticed that Valya’s usual zest for life was missing.
‘You should find a cure,’ he said.
‘Well, there’s a woman on Kamenka Street, but she charges a hundred roubles.’
Igor took a hundred-rouble note from the bundle in his right-hand pocket, rolled it up and held it out to Valya.
‘I’ll have ten gobies, please,’ he declared loudly. ‘And keep the change,’ he added in a whisper.
Valya wrapped the gobies in newspaper.
‘Oh yes, I nearly forgot!’ Igor put the carrier bag on the counter. ‘Here are all your medicines, and there’s a note that tells you what to take and when.’
‘My medicines?’ repeated Valya, perplexed.
‘Yes, for your disease.’
‘How do you know what I’ve got?’ she whispered.
‘You told me yourself,’ Igor whispered back. ‘The bench in the park, this evening?’
‘Six o’clock,’ she said.
‘Shall I bring some champagne?’
‘How could any woman refuse?’ she replied, with warmth in her eyes but confusion written all over her face.
22
AFTER WANDERING ROUND the town for a while, Igor came across a workers’ canteen. He went in, ordered borshch and a breaded cutlet with a side order of buckwheat, washed it down with fruit juice and paid seven roubles for the lot.
The sea breeze teased his nostrils. The morning sun had taken refuge behind the clouds that filled the sky above Ochakov, chasing and bumping into one another.
It began to grow cooler as the evening approached. Igor went into a grocery shop and bought a bottle of Soviet champagne and a large bar of Leningrad chocolate. Then he went into a hardware shop and bought two glasses and a cloth bag emblazoned with the slogan ‘A Holiday Souvenir’. He put everything into the bag and walked back to the park near the market. He sat on the bench. There was a rustle behind him, and suddenly a pair of warm, strong hands covered his eyes. Igor froze in alarm. If the hands had been soft and gentle he would have played along, but they had such a firm grip!
‘Valya, is that you?’ he asked guardedly.
He felt a warm exhalation on the back of his neck. Then he heard a familiar laugh. Igor relaxed.
‘You made me jump!’ he exclaimed.
The hands released his eyes, leaving their warmth on his eyelids. Igor turned round. There, behind him, stood Valya. She was wearing a pale green scarf over her red hair, a green dress and white patent shoes, and she held a white bag. She walked round the bench and sat down next to him.
‘Shall we go to the sea?’ suggested Igor.
Valya looked up at the sky. ‘It might rain,’ she protested. Then she waved her hand dismissively and added, ‘So what if it does? We’re not made of sugar – we won’t dissolve! And it’ll be more private.’
She got up decisively from the bench and looked down at Igor. He stood up quickly and the glasses clinked in his bag.
Valya led Igor along a narrow, overgrown path, which seemed to have been trodden down specifically for secret lovers amid the adjacent islets of bushes and gullies that were bordered by private allotments and abandoned factory fences. Several times the path joined the main road, which was equally deserted. Then after twenty or so metres it would veer off to the side again. Twice they had to climb through holes in fences.
Finally their path came out at the bottom of a steep slope, and they found themselves standing beneath a sombre, overhanging cliff. Ahead of them the dark sea gently lapped the shore. Unusually, there were no lights in the distance, no trembling moon or stars on the surface of the water. There was nothing to reflect in the water that night.
They sat down on the sand. Igor took out the glasses and the bottle of sparkling wine, then opened the chocolate and broke it into squares.
‘Won’t your husband miss you?’ he asked suddenly.
‘No,’ sighed Valya. ‘He’s confined to his bed, poor thing. His back is really troubling him. I’m taking him to that woman on Kamenka Street tomorrow. Hopefully she’ll be able to fix it. If he can’t go fishing, then I’m out of work too.’
‘You’ll find another job,’ said Igor. He picked up the champagne and held the cork down as he started untwisting the wire.
‘What kind of job?’ Valya laughed softly. ‘I left school at fourteen! Once I fell in love, I lost all interest in studying. Such passion! It’s a good thing my father lost both hands in the war, otherwise he’d have beaten me to within an inch of my life. He smashed my mother’s elbow with his army belt before he went off to fight.’
‘Do your parents live in Ochakov too?’ asked Igor.
‘They’re buried here, in the cemetery.’
Igor removed the wire and shook the bottle, causing the cork to explode into the sky. He filled both glasses with bubbles, then quickly covered the neck of the bottle with his thumb. With his free hand he gave one glass to Valya and then picked up the other.
‘To you.’ Igor leaned towards Valya, looking into her eyes.
‘What’s so special about me?’ She gave a playful shrug, then raised the glass to her lips and took a sip.
Igor held the champagne in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. What’s so special about her? Her voice repeated itself in his head, as though he’d rewound it and played it again.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Valya frowned at him, suddenly serious.
‘Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?’ teased Igor.
‘Then let’s drink a toast to our friendship,’ said Valya, laughing.
They drank. Igor stuck the bottle into the sand. He took his boots and socks off and rolled his breeches up as best he could, then he walked down to the water’s edge and went in up to his ankles.
‘It’s not cold!’ he said, surprised.
‘Of course not!’ said Valya. ‘The boys will be bathing for another two months.’
‘What about the girls?’ joked Igor.
‘The brave ones will join them.’
‘Are you one of the brave ones? Or one of the others?’
‘Those who leave school early are always braver than those who graduate from university.’
‘I take it that’s based on your personal experience?’
‘Just pour the champagne,’ replied Valya.
Igor returned and filled both their glasses again.
‘So, what are we drinking to?’ he asked.
‘To my husband, Petya, making a full recovery!’
Igor returned and managed to hide his surprise. Even if he hadn’t, the darkness would have hidden it for him.
‘Do you love him?’
‘I did. Now I feel sorry for him.’
‘Doesn’t he mind you feeling sorry for him?’
‘Why should he?’ Valya shrugged and sipped her champagne. ‘Pity is stronger than love! You can fall out of love with anyone, but there isn’t even an expression for “falling out of pity”. You pity someone for as long as they live – the feeling doesn’t die until they do. So it’s better for my husband if I feel sorry for him with all my heart.’
‘I wouldn’t like you to feel sorry for me,’ refl
ected Igor. He reached for the chocolate, took a square and put it in his mouth. The chocolate was hard and bitter.
‘That’s probably because no woman has ever really felt sorry for you before.’
‘No woman has ever really loved me before,’ said Igor, suddenly sensing considerably more life experience in Valya’s words than his own.
‘You’re still so young!’ Valya slipped her arm around Igor’s shoulder. She moved closer to him, and he felt the warmth of her body pass through the tunic to his skin.
‘Take your holster off, it’s pressing into me,’ said Valya, pretending to be annoyed.
Igor obediently removed his belt and holster and put them on the sand.
‘Shall we go for a swim?’ she suggested.
‘I didn’t bring anything with me,’ said Igor, flustered.
‘Oh, but you did!’ Valya let out a peal of laughter so loud and resonant that Igor looked around in alarm. ‘You brought champagne, you brought chocolate, you brought me! Come on, take your clothes off, let’s go skinny-dipping! We’ll dry off easily enough, as long as it doesn’t rain.’
Igor unbuttoned his tunic and watched out of the corner of his eye as Valya took her dress off. Her patent shoes showed up white on the sand. When she was completely naked she turned to look at Igor, but he was still sitting on the sand in his tunic.
‘Have you gone all shy on me?’ she smiled.
Igor wished the ground would just open up and swallow him. Besides, if he took off the uniform he might really disappear, leaving this beautiful woman alone on the beach. He could just imagine how frightened she would be.
‘Not really,’ said Igor, standing up. He managed to put the packet of roubles into the cloth bag without her noticing and strode into the water.
‘You’re so funny!’ She burst out laughing and began to walk into the water with him.
Her body was worthy of the five-pointed star that they used to place on the very best goods: the State Quality Mark of the USSR. Everything about her was perfect – her face, her breasts, her waist and her thighs. Yet she had nothing in common with the naked beauties on the covers of Playboy and other men’s magazines. In those images, and in the minds of millions of men, beauty had been replaced by sex appeal. Whereas here, in the dark water of the Black Sea, Igor could reach out his hand and touch real, living beauty. He touched Valya’s shoulder. She turned round, and her smile seemed to say, There’s nothing to be afraid of. Igor put his arms around her, brushing her breasts with his hand in a way that wasn’t entirely accidental.
Valya pretended to push him away.
‘You’ll scratch me with your tunic!’
Igor took a step back, without taking his eyes off her.
She lowered herself up to her shoulders, holding her hair above the water. In the distance, little lights were pulsating in the darkness.
‘Is that the town?’ asked Igor, pointing at the lights.
‘No, the port,’ said Valya.
They came out of the water. Igor’s clothes clung to his wet body. He stood and listened to his own skin, to the seawater running from his body. It wasn’t a very pleasant feeling. He looked at Valya. She was wiping her neck with something.
‘What’s that?’ asked Igor, surprised.
‘A handkerchief,’ she said, showing him.
Valya twisted the handkerchief in her hands and started wiping herself with it again. Carefully, apprehensively, Igor took his tunic off and squeezed it out. Water streamed onto the wet sand. He took his wet T-shirt off too, wrung it out and immediately put it back on. He put his tunic back on too, although he didn’t button it up. Valya was standing motionless, in profile, and her beautiful breasts reminded him of a statue, as though they’d been carved from stone or sculpted from clay. He walked over to Valya and put his arms around her, pressing her to him so that the warmth of her breasts was conducted straight into his heart.
‘I haven’t started taking the medicine yet,’ she said softly, her hands reaching up to Igor’s shoulders.
They stood there with their arms around each other, sharing the warmth of their bodies. After what seemed like no time at all, Igor realised that Valya’s smooth back was completely dry.
The warmth of Valya’s whisper caressed his left ear.
‘When I get better, I’ll take pity on you – I promise!’
Igor poured the last of the champagne into their glasses and picked up the chocolate.
‘Shall I show you a trick?’ he asked, handing Valya her glass.
‘Yes, please!’
Igor dropped a square of chocolate into both glasses.
‘Watch the chocolate,’ he said.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed in delight. ‘Look, it’s rising to the surface!’
‘It’ll keep sinking and rising until you eat it. Best to drink it all in one go, just make sure you catch the chocolate in your mouth.’
Concentrating hard, Valya drank her champagne in one go. She immediately began snorting, coughing and laughing, all at the same time.
‘So, how did you get on?’ asked Igor, bringing his lips close to her nose.
She nodded, gently pushing his face away with her hand. Then she parted her lips and showed him the piece of chocolate between her white teeth. Her eyes were laughing.
‘Well done!’ exclaimed Igor, leaning towards her face again as though he wanted to bite off a piece of the chocolate. Their lips brushed, and his tongue was enveloped by the taste of bitter-sweet chocolate.
Suddenly they heard a noise above them and fragments of dry clay began to fall from the overhanging cliff. Igor grabbed Valya’s hand and pulled her aside. They peered upwards, into the leaden darkness. Everything between them and the sky had merged together.
‘Someone’s up there,’ Valya whispered.
Igor shook his head. Silence had descended again, but the feeling of unease remained. Igor buttoned up his tunic and fastened the belt and holster around his waist. He was about to take the bundle of roubles out of the cloth bag and put it back in his pocket but stopped himself just in time. The insides of his pockets were still wet. He sat down on the sand to put on his dry socks and boots then stood up, ready to leave. Valya stood nearby, fully dressed, already wearing her scarf and her white shoes and clutching her white bag.
When she saw that Igor was ready, she led him to the path and they scrambled awkwardly up the slippery crevice to the top of the cliff. The path ran along the cliff towards the bushes. When they reached the bushes Valya suddenly stopped, as though she were rooted to the ground.
‘Someone’s there,’ she whispered.
Igor looked around her and saw two figures silhouetted in a narrow gap between the bushes.
‘So, bitch, drinking champagne with coppers now, are you?’ The voice was coarse. ‘Well, let’s see if it’s their lucky night . . . Go on, Sanka, launch your blade!’
One of the figures made a sudden sharp gesture with his hand and a knife whistled past with a dull, sinister gleam, barely missing Igor’s face.
‘I’ll shoot!’ cried Igor, instantly embarrassed by the fear in his voice.
‘Good shot, are you?’
Igor took the gun out of the holster and looked at it. Suddenly he wasn’t just scared, but petrified. He imagined the men hearing the gun misfire. What would they do to them then? No, he had to scare them without actually pulling the trigger.
Igor held the gun out in front of him, stepped around Valya and pretended to take aim.
‘Look, he’s got his gun out!’ hissed a second voice.
The silhouettes disappeared. They had stepped back into the bushes.
‘Hey, Valya,’ called the first voice, ‘I’m going to drop by later, to see whether you’re sharing your bed with a copper or a fisherman. We’ll have a little chat then!’
Igor could sense Valya’s fear.
‘One more word and I’ll finish you off!’ he exclaimed in a fit of rage, feeling his own fear ebb away.
‘Coppers don’t talk lik
e that,’ hissed the second voice. ‘Did you hear, Fima?’
‘Yeah, I heard,’ the first voice cut him off. ‘I think this calls for my special blade!’
Valya put her arms around Igor from behind. She was trembling, and he felt his fear creeping back. Igor thought he could see the two men again, and they seemed to be approaching. Quietly, heads bowed and shoulders hunched, they looked like they were getting ready to pounce.
‘Stop, you bastards!’ cried Igor, but they just ignored him.
Igor held the gun out in front of him and lowered his head. His finger pressed the trigger, and a shot rang out. One of the men wheezed and fell to the ground. The other man froze for a second before jumping into the bushes, and the ensuing rustling and snapping of twigs, receding into the distance, told them that he’d decided not to hang around.
Valya crouched down and began sobbing. Igor stood over her, not knowing what do to next. His eyes involuntarily returned to the motionless figure on the path ahead.
He went up and leaned over the body to get a closer look. The man’s face was covered in blood. The bullet had obviously hit him right between the eyes. He went back to Valya and touched her shoulder.
‘Come on, I’ll take you home.’
‘They’ll find me,’ she whispered through her tears. ‘Oh, why did I go with you? I asked you not to wear your uniform!’
‘It’s all right, don’t worry.’ Igor squatted down beside her and started stroking her wet hair and her shoulders. ‘Come on, let’s go. We’ll think of something. Do you know who it was that ran off?’
‘Fima,’ she sighed. ‘Fima Chagin . . . He wanted me, but I said no . . . I told him that I love my husband . . . What now? What’s going to happen now?’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Igor, more confidently. ‘I’ll definitely think of something.’
He took her home, but she wouldn’t let him past the gate. She’d stopped crying by the time they reached her house; only her eyes betrayed her fear. Igor put his arms round her.
‘I forgot to tell you something important,’ she whispered into his ear.
‘What?’ whispered Igor.
‘You left your gobies on the counter. I’ll give you some next time, if I have any.’
The Gardener from Ochakov Page 18
