Andrea Bennett - Two Cousins of Azov

‘Are you sure you will be all right this evening, Gor? Shall we stay with you? I could make up beds?’ She sat opposite him, curled on the sofa.

‘No, no, Sveta. I shall be quite all right.’

‘We can stay as long as you like?’ Her eyes were on his face, determined, probing.

‘No, no, really. Albina needs her own bed, I can see. She too has had an exhausting evening.’

The girl lay next to her mother, a collection of tiny white kittens cradled against her belly. She was already asleep, but every so often snuffled slightly, rubbing her face.

‘Yes, she is a tired baby-kins. But we needed to get you home, safe and sound. You had a nasty shock.’

‘Yes, I did. But now all is well, and you have to get home. Sveta—’ He frowned, and stopped.

‘Yes?’

‘Well. I, er… um, you have no man, around the house, or… Albina’s father, I mean? To look after you?’ He cleared his throat.

‘No, no, Gor. We have never had a daddy.’ Sveta stroked Albina’s foot.

‘Ah. How – never?’

‘Well, now Gor…’ Sveta giggled and reached for a top-up from the brandy bottle. It glugged in her hands. She took a sip, sighed and let her eyes wander along Gor’s neat, book-laden shelves. ‘He was not the marrying type,’ she said eventually, her face stretching out in a broad smile.

‘Why?’

She shrugged. ‘He was an entertainer. Here today, gone tomorrow. I knew that, from the start.’

Gor frowned. ‘But he cared for you?’

‘Oh yes, he cared very much. He would have stayed.’ She took another sip. ‘But I made him go.’

‘You made him?’

She nodded, still smiling. ‘Yes. I wasn’t a young girl, Gor: I was a woman, a teacher already. It was my decision. I knew I’d be all right, and I knew it wouldn’t work with him. He wasn’t designed to live in a flat in Azov. He needed the wind in his hair.’

‘What sort of entertainer was he, if you don’t mind me asking?’

She grinned. ‘Can’t you guess?’

‘Erm…’

‘No?’

Gor felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. ‘Not a magician?’ he ventured, creasing his forehead.

She threw back her head and laughed, the sound brassy like a trumpet in the quiet of the flat. Albina muttered in her sleep as a kitten crawled over her neck for warmth, dabbing at her face with a tiny white paw.

‘Ha! No, Gor! Whatever gave you that idea?’

He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, and felt a flush burn his cheeks.

‘He was an acrobat, of course!’

‘An acrobat?’

‘Yes! Oh, how he flew through the air!’ She gazed up at the murky ceiling, as if she could see her lover flying there. ‘That’s how we met.’

‘How? In the air?’

‘Oh Gor, you’re being silly!’ She giggled and took another sip of brandy. ‘I took a party from the school, for an evening performance. Year 4s, I think they were. He was a visiting artiste – not the usual that we get here, day-in, day-out. He was a special, just for the season. High-wire, trapeze… He had a wonderful Cossack costume, I remember it all: long black boots, military jacket with shiny brass buttons, a tall fur hat – real fur, you know—’

‘On the high wire?’

‘No! Gor, really! Listen: he’d jump into the circus ring – I can see him now – a dark jewel of the Caucasus: the cheekbones, the flashing eyes, that chin, such a nose! Akh! I knew from that first moment… I went to the circus every day after that. Very soon, he picked up on my passion… he could feel it, from where I sat. And he returned it – four-fold! How my heart would leap! He would stride to the bottom of the ladder and disrobe, very slowly. That in itself was a performance, Gor! He would place each item of clothing on his upturned shield. And do you know…’ she leant forward, eyes dancing, ‘he did that in the bedroom for me, also.’

‘Oh no, Sveta, really!’ Gor jerked in his chair, spilling brandy down his front. ‘Now look what’s happened!’

She chuckled, ignoring Gor’s discomfort, her voice a low, sing-song melody. ‘I was under his spell: it was the spell of love. You know how they sing about it? Well, it’s true. He was amazing… not just beautiful to look at, but so tender, and funny, and just…’ She sighed. ‘But I knew it could never last. That was my bargain: supreme happiness, for a few months. And it was worth it. In the end, he had to go. I saw him off at the station. He went back to Leningrad. Of course there were tears, he could barely tear himself away. But it was for the best. And now, I have my Albina: I look at her every day, and I remember the day Bogdan and I met. And I remember how we created her, in that magical cauldron of our love, when—’

‘Quite,’ muttered Gor, and took a gulp of brandy. ‘I’m sure you—’

‘And what about you?’ she cut in, an inquisitive smile lighting her face.

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

‘Have you known love, Gor? Have you a family? I can’t help but notice… You have no photographs on show… is there anyone? Or are your piano and your cats enough for the master magician?’ Sveta reached out a hand towards Pericles, who ignored it and proceeded to lick his fluffy white behind.

‘Well, I… It’s a long story, Sveta.’

‘We have all night,’ she replied in a sing-song voice, putting her head on one side.

‘Well, ah. I—’

The phone rang out in the hallway, its bleeps rattling off the doors and windows. For once, Gor was relieved to hear it.

‘I must get that,’ he said, bracing his arms, hands gripping like crab claws on the chair to lever himself up and out: he felt seized up.

‘No, no, Gor. I will get it. If it’s your phantom caller, I’ll speak with them.’ Her tone was determined and she jumped off the sofa, stockinged feet knotting slightly, and made for the hallway with quick, uneven steps.

He heard her lift the receiver, wait to listen, and then bellow into it. Silence followed, then again the sound of Sveta’s voice, huge and hard, as if in a school hall or a playing field, eating the distance, loud in every ear. The clunk of the handset going down echoed through the flat.

‘No one?’ asked Gor, rolling his eyes across the ceiling.

‘No one. But I gave them what for.’ She winked at him as she came back in.

‘Right. Well, thank you for trying. I should call you a taxi, Sveta. It’s getting late.’

‘I could hear them breathing, you know. That’s the creepy thing. They were listening, breathing, waiting to hear what I would say.’

‘You must have surprised them.’ He smiled slightly. ‘You’re a brave woman. I’ll call that taxi.’

‘If you’re sure,’ she said, her voice soft again, getting sleepy as she curled up on the sofa next to her daughter.

‘I’m sure.’

‘But do you know what?’ she called out. ‘I could hear something else, in the background.’

‘Really? What could you hear?’ Gor flicked through his directory for the taxi number.

‘I don’t know. It was just when I put the phone down. It was something like the wind.’

‘The wind? They were calling from the street, then?’

‘Maybe. But it was a strange sound… as if they were calling from the forest.’

‘The forest?’ Gor laid the directory aside.

‘I could hear it: the wind, rushing through the trees.’

His physical health was returning. He felt in charge of his body, the master of his limbs. However, he still slept poorly. It was as if the weather had slipped inside him: the wind blew on his thoughts, heralding the ice that would eventually solidify his veins, the bog that would form where his heart still beat. His dreams were filled with the roar and rush of forest air, the snap of twigs, and always the smell of wood smoke.