Dan Smith - The Child Thief

Josif Abramovich had been the first man to come to our door when I arrived in Vyriv after the war. He had welcomed me before any other, bringing bread and Ukrainian vodka – horilka . Natalia had laid the rushnyk on the table and we’d drunk the whole bottle together. Josif drank himself into a good mood and told me he had been disheartened when Natalia’s parents died, but was glad for her and our children now our family was together again.

It’s not a good thing to see,’ I told him. ‘Are you sure you want to look?’

‘I’ve seen bad things before.’

‘Maybe not like this.’

‘You’d be surprised.’

‘All right.’ I nodded to Viktor and my son pulled back the tarpaulin to expose the bodies once more.

Josif studied them for a few moments, his breath audible as he crunched around the sled, his boots crushing the snow. He beckoned the other two men, who came over and looked. They seemed immune to the death right before them. As if they saw not the bodies of children, but an object to confirm or otherwise the theory of an irate man.

Ivan and Leonid shook their heads almost in unison.

‘You see?’ Dimitri said. ‘The man’s a killer.’

‘Or perhaps it was the cold?’ Josif suggested.

Ivan looked closer. ‘These marks here.’ He pointed close to the girl’s face. ‘You see these around her nose and mouth? Maybe she was suffocated.’

‘What does it matter how he did it?’ Dimitri said. ‘The man’s a killer.’

‘We don’t know that,’ I said. ‘Not for sure.’

‘We should do something about it,’ Dimitri went on.

‘Like what?’ I asked. ‘Think about what you’re saying, Dimitri.’

‘I am thinking.’ He looked round at each of us. ‘I’m the only one thinking. That man is too much of a risk to our own children.’

‘He’s dying,’ I said. ‘He’s not a risk to anyone.’

‘Then let him die,’ Dimitri said.

‘What?’

‘Let him die. Leave him out in the cold and let him die.’

‘Hold your tongue, Dimitri Petrovich,’ Josif snapped at him. ‘And calm yourself.’ He put a hand on my arm and took me to one side, walking away from the others, speaking quietly so they wouldn’t hear.

‘What are you hiding?’ he asked as we walked.

‘Hm?’

‘Come on, Luka. We’ve known each other long enough to be honest with one another. You may think you’re a closed book, but some of us have learned to read you better than you think. There’s something you’re not telling me.’

We stopped at the place where the wall formed a corner. There was a large oak there, its roots bulging beneath the bricks, pushing them up and out.

‘You have always been honest with me,’ Josif said. ‘Please don’t stop now.’

‘There’s a wound on the girl’s leg,’ I sighed. ‘I didn’t want anybody to see it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it looks like she’s been cut and I thought people would react exactly the way Dimitri is reacting now. They’d want to murder the man before they even knew what’s happened. People are scared, they’re afraid of outsiders.’

‘With good reason.’

‘The man in my house is a soldier, Josif. The things he has with him tell me that. And I mean an imperial soldier, not a communist soldier. I don’t think he means any harm.’

Josif stared at me, his eyes dark beneath the brim of his fur hat, and I knew what he was thinking. To Josif there was no difference. The tsarists or the communists – they had all tried to crush him and his kind. The pogroms against the Jews were no different from the drive to wipe out the kulaks.

‘He could have stolen them,’ Josif said.

‘Maybe. But… I don’t know; I have a feeling. He’s a veteran, I’m sure of it. A brother.’

‘A brother? And what if you’re wrong? What if he’s red and a whole unit follows behind him?’

‘That’s not very likely, Josif, and you know it. That man was alone.’

‘Did he say anything?’

‘He said, “Thank God.”’

‘That’s all?’

‘That’s all. Look, this is why I wanted to keep it quiet. To avoid people like Dimitri getting riled up and doing something stupid.’

‘Dimitri’s an idiot,’ Josif said. ‘But you could have come to me.’

‘What for? What would that have done? I thought it best to cover her up and bury them.’

‘And leave us not knowing? You’re not our protector, Luka.’ Josif looked me in the eye. ‘Perhaps we should see the child for ourselves.’

‘Can’t you just take my word for it? She has a wound on her leg, right down to the bone. It looks as if she’s been carved.’

‘Carved?’

‘As if she were an animal. It looks as if someone has taken some of her flesh.’

Josif made a fist and put it to his mouth. He tapped it against his chin as he thought, then he nodded. ‘Perhaps you’re right, my friend. I have no desire to see the child’s mutilation, and Dimitri doesn’t need to see any more than he already has. As you say, we don’t want to get people excited. They’re frightened enough already. I—’

But he stopped when we sensed movement and heard Viktor’s protest. Josif and I both turned together to see what was happening over by the sled, and we could only stare at what we saw.

Dimitri was standing back, knife in one hand, the other held to his mouth in horror. The girl’s trouser leg was cut from cuff to waistband.

The sun was weak, but it gave enough warmth to melt the crust of the snow and the smallest icicles just as it could thaw blood. And so it had done. The blood at the outer edges of the girl’s wound had softened as we talked and, once liquid again, had soaked into the trousers and blossomed in a butterfly pattern across the well-worn material.

Josif and I had been too busy to see it, but Dimitri had spotted it, watched its ethereal resurrection blooming on the material. He had pushed Viktor aside to put his blade into the cuff and split the trousers lengthways, and now he gaped, looking around at the others until his eyes settled on me and narrowed.

‘You,’ he said. ‘ You .’ The accusation was thick in that single word. ‘You brought this man into our lives. And you give him shelter in your home. This man who does… this … to children.’ Dimitri shook his head. ‘You have children of your own.’

‘It doesn’t change anything. We don’t know he did this,’ I said, beginning to doubt my reasons for protecting the man lying by the fire in my home. I wanted to do what was right, but perhaps Dimitri spoke the truth. Perhaps I was a fool.

‘Of course he did this,’ Dimitri said, spitting on the ground. ‘Who else? You ?’

‘That’s enough.’ Josif pointed at Dimitri. ‘That’s enough from you. I don’t want to hear any more.’

‘So he told you?’ Dimitri asked. ‘He told you about this, did he?’

‘Not until just now.’

‘Then he kept it from us all.’

I glanced at Viktor standing silent by the sled. He was watching Dimitri, and I could see the distaste on his face. His hands were clenching and unclenching, fists that turned his knuckles white. Dimitri had pushed past him, forced him aside to get to the girl, and it had angered him. He didn’t like to be beaten in anything, and he didn’t like to be treated as an inferior. Viktor was seventeen and considered himself to be a man. He expected Dimitri to treat him with the same respect he would have given to any of the others, but instead he had pushed him aside as if he were a child.

Petro, on the other hand, had taken a step back. He had removed himself from the potential flashpoint and was watching as if he were a spectator at this event.