Juliet Butler - The Less You Know the Sounder You Sleep

What I want.

Is help.

‘Did you hear her? Did you?’ say Masha. We’re walking back from Vera Stepanovna’s office. Vera Stepanovna’s called Aunty Nadya, to tell her to fly down and take us away as soon as possible. She doesn’t want suicides on her books. ‘If you try anything like that again we’ll be put in a Madhouse. That’s even worse than the Home here in Novocherkassk. And you’ll be sure to muck it up again…’

‘I don’t care. Maybe we’ll both want to kill ourselves if we get put in a Madhouse…’

‘I’ll never want to kill myself. I love life.’

‘Even this life?’

‘What’s wrong with it? Life is what you make it. We’ve just got to keep trying until we find the right place and the right people. To never give up trying. Never. D’you understand? Do you?’

I nod, but I’m thinking that the only place with the right people is somewhere together with Slava.

The next morning at midday, we’re sitting in the shade of the pear tree waiting for Aunty Nadya to come. The other kids are lounging around, but I can’t see Slava. He probably asked his mother to take him back to the village. I can’t blame him. What’s the point of saying goodbye?

It’s almost as if my sadness has seeped right through to Masha for once, so we’re both sitting there, not talking, and not doing anything. Not even thinking.

‘Girls!’ We look up as Aunty Nadya walks through the gates. She holds out her arms, but neither of us jump up to run to her like we normally do. We both just sort of sit and stare at her with this dull, dead look. She’s come to take us away. But to what? She walks up to us then, quite slowly, with her head on one side and then leans down to kiss us. Masha first.

‘ Nooka? Look at the state of you. Miserable as two damp socks. I won’t ask why you did it, Dashinka. Let’s just go and get you packed. The car will be here to take us away soon.’

All we’ve got to pack is our toothbrushes, our comb, our thermos flask, our spare nappy, one spare pair of socks and our spare shirts. I fold them all into our string bag. I put our red Pioneer scarves and passports in too, but I leave our school uniform behind.

‘Where’s our envelope with the photos in? The photos of all of us?’ Masha asks, rummaging around. I look in the side cabinet, but it’s not there. And under the pillow. I can’t see it anywhere. Masha loves looking at photos of us. I hate it.

‘That yobinny Valya has taken them. I know it! Just like her.’

‘Well, come along, girls. I’m sure they’ll be found and sent on to us,’ says Aunty Nadya, fussing around us. ‘The car will be waiting, come along.’

When we get outside, the Director is waiting at the bottom of the steps. He shakes our hands. This must be about the second time we’ve seen him in four years.

‘Goodbye, girls, goodbye. I’m sorry you didn’t stay to finish your schooling and get your diploma, but if you change your mind, we’re always here.’ He smiles this big smile at us, but I know he’s lying. He doesn’t want potential suicides in his school either. Besides, Masha will never come back. ‘You’re always welcome. If not, I wish you the very best in life. Yes. The very, very best.’ Masha’s sulking because of the photos, and I couldn’t smile if my life depended on it, so he just nods a bit, then turns to Aunty Nadya. ‘Look after them, Nadezhda Fyodorovna. Keep in touch.’

Icy Valya and her gang are leaning up against the school wall, giggling and doing this stupid slow handclap. The Director doesn’t seem to hear or understand; he stands aside and my heart jumps right into my mouth as I see Slava waiting behind him near the car. Just waiting. We’ve got to pass him to get to it.

‘Slavochka!’ says Aunty Nadya, seeing him and getting all excited. ‘There you are, girls! At least someone’s come to see you off. Say goodbye to Slavochka and we’ll be gone.’ She doesn’t know anything about him and me. None of the grown-ups do.

We walk towards him. Why’s he here? Is he going to say anything? Shall I just walk past and not look at him? We’re getting closer. Can’t breathe. Can’t look at him.

‘Wait,’ he says as we come up to him. Masha sticks her nose in the air and makes to walk right on by, but I stop. I can’t just walk past. I don’t lift my foot, so she can’t move. She’s rooted there by me. I look at him. ‘Don’t go, Dasha,’ he says quietly. His eyes look big and he’s sort of rubbing one hand over the other, which is balled into a fist as if he’s holding something precious, and he suddenly looks thinner and paler. I just stare at him with Masha tugging angrily at me. He doesn’t want me to go after all? He wants to be with me, not Anyootka? After all that’s happened? He still loves me and only me? Aunty Nadya’s the other side of the car, tapping her fingernails on the roof.

‘I… I… we’ve got our flight booked…’ I say.

‘Well, come back after summer. Come back to school. I’m sorry. Masha,’ he looks right at her then, but she’s got her head turned away. ‘Masha, I’m sorry for what I said.’ Masha keeps ignoring him, so he looks back at me. ‘Come back after summer.’ The clapping from the girls is getting louder and we can hear them chanting Get lost, Masha, get lost, Dasha…

‘I’ll come back to this hellhole when I hear a crawfish whistling on a mountain,’ Masha sniffs. ‘Have a nice life.’ She never forgives an insult.

I still don’t move though. ‘Dashinka?’ He looks straight into my eyes. ‘Dashinka. Be strong. Be strong for me and come back.’ He’s telling me to stand up to her. All I want to do right then is grab his hand and run away with him, just run and run and run, him and me and no one else in the world.

‘I’ll write,’ is all I can say, even more quietly than him.

Masha snorts. ‘Just you fucking try it!’

‘Come along then, girls,’ says Aunty Nadya. ‘Come along.’ And so we do.

‘ Nooka? Got everything, girls? Yes, I’m sure you have.’ Aunty Nadya’s bustling around her flat, looking in every corner as if we’ve left something vital behind, but we’re sitting on the sofa looking at the blank TV. We’re holding one plastic bag each. That’s all we have to take with us to the Twentieth. All our worldly possessions for our new life.

It’s been three months since we left Novocherkassk. Masha wouldn’t let me write to Slava. I tried to because I don’t care how much she hits me – let her kill me, if she wants – but you can’t write a letter when someone’s pulling the pen and paper out of your hand. And I couldn’t ask Aunty Nadya to write it because Masha’s always sitting there listening. Valentina Alexandrovna sent us a postcard, addressed to Aunty Nadya at SNIP, but Slava hasn’t sent anything.

When we first got back to Moscow, Aunty Nadya took us straight to SNIP from the airport. She said we’d talk to Lydia Mikhailovna about getting us admitted to an adult ward, but the guard on the entrance gates wouldn’t even let us in. It was the Director, he said, who left instructions that we shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the hospital. Aunty Nadya was a bit shocked, but she couldn’t very well leave us under a bridge, so she had to take us back to her flat. That’s when she told us Uncle Vasya had died two years ago. We always used to ask after him, and she always told us he sent all his love. She said she didn’t want to upset us. She wanted to protect us. She must have been so sad, and she didn’t even show it. Or share it.