Andrea Bennett - Two Cousins of Azov

‘What have I said?’ he murmured. ‘Does he really have it right?’

A sweet scent of dill and doughnuts threaded the air at the Golden Sickle cafeteria, not far from the centre of town. A squat middle-aged woman with frizzy orange hair, a square flat face of a similar colour and tiny, apple-pip eyes was enjoying a pastry stuffed with boiled condensed milk and chewy chopped nuts. Her companion sat opposite sighing into a plate of shredded grey cabbage – and dill.

‘Honestly, Valya, this vegetarian diet will kill me.’

‘No, Alla, it will save you. Listen to what your doctor said. Blood pressure is a killer. Meat is a killer. Dairy is a killer.’ Valya smacked her lips and set about removing nut chunks from her back teeth. ‘You’ve spent your life eating poison and now it’s time to put it right. Get that cabbage down you and you’ll feel better.’ Teeth picked clean, she padded her finger around her plate, collecting up the last crumbs and sucking at them with noisy gusto. ‘I could eat that again. Not as good as what I make, though. I did a torte Napoleon Saturday night – for Vlad. It was magnificent.’ She smacked her lips.

‘He was?’ Alla’s grey head bobbed up.

‘ It was. He was as well, but then… you know that.’ Her eyes disappeared as she grinned, leaning back in her chair, and stretched out her arms. ‘Akh, my aching limbs. Six hours straight at the dacha I did on Sunday! But it’s all done now: all ready for winter. You want to see another winter, don’t you?’

Alla’s eyes dropped to her cabbage salad and she turned over the pallid, speckled leaves with a bent fork. ‘Of course I do,’ she muttered, ‘it’s just—’

‘Then eat your salad, and stop complaining. Do you want tea?’

Every feature of Alla’s face drooped downwards, as if mouth, nose, eyes and brows might melt into a grey, watery puddle on the plate below. A sob rose in her throat. ‘I can’t have it!’ She almost choked on the words. ‘I can have compote, or birch cordial. No stimulants.’

‘He-he!’ Valya laughed gruffly and slapped her on the back. ‘Look on it as “you-time”: it’s a treat for yourself. A real treat. I’ll be back in a minute.’ She bustled over to the counter to get the drinks.

Alla wished she had never started visiting the doctor. But once you start, and they find something wrong, it is difficult to kick the habit. One thing leads to another, you feel beholden to them, and before you know it, it’s part of your weekly routine. It was bearable when there were just pills to be swallowed but now her whole life revolved around keeping herself alive. She skewered a piece of cabbage and placed it on her tongue. At the next table, a small girl was eating a sausage in pastry. Alla could smell it, every grease-laden, fat-drenched molecule. Her stomach howled.

Valya returned with a glass of steaming tea for herself, and a glass of hot water for her friend.

‘ Na zdarovie! ’ she laughed, chinking the glasses together as she pushed her ample backside into the small wooden chair. She took a slurp and screwed up her face, gold teeth flashing. ‘Ah! That’s better. Sorry, no birch or compote, so…’ She leant forward. ‘Are you going on Friday?’

‘Going where?’

‘Madame Zoya’s?’

‘The tea leaves? Nobody told me!’

‘Not leaves: a séance,’ Valya hissed. ‘I just heard today.’

‘Ooh! I wonder…’ Alla pulled a dog-eared diary from her bag and ruffled its pages. ‘Yes, that should be fine, I’m on earlies. I wonder if I could invite Polly?’

‘Akh, Polly? Why would you want to do that?’ Valya flexed her shoulders under her mountainous green jumper and clucked her tongue. ‘It’s not like she’s your friend , is it?’

‘No… but her mother is, and I said I’d keep an eye on her. And…’ Alla sniffed, and inspected a piece of cabbage. ‘… I only managed to get to the pharmacy once last week, and she wasn’t there. I need to speak to her about my stomach, you see. Say what you like, but she can always supply the medicaments, even when they’re, you know…’ She squinted over either shoulder in a conspiratorial manner. ‘… officially out of stock. When I had that trouble with my you-know-what last month, she was right on the button, came up trumps. Best in the pharmacy—’

‘I wouldn’t know. You wouldn’t catch me in that place.’

‘No, well, you’re healthy. Look at you: such colour in those cheeks.’

Valya’s cheeks glowed with a hue bordering on crimson.

‘That’s what everyone says. I get to work on a Monday morning, and they’re all sitting behind the counter like a crate of anaemic lemons. I walk in, and the place lights up.’

‘Well, it is a bank, Valya. It’s not difficult to light up a bank.’

‘Says she, who works in the world’s darkest department store! It’s like a cave! When are they going to buy some light-bulbs, eh? It’s not 1991 any more, you know! Tell them, tell them to give you light! Anyway: Friday, eight p.m.’

‘Who is the guest, do we know?’

‘You’ll never guess.’

‘No, I won’t.’ Alla stabbed a piece of bendy cabbage with her fork and looked away from her friend’s annoyingly healthy face.

‘Well, have a go!’ Valya bellowed after a brief pause.

‘I don’t know!’

‘It’s only Papasyan!’

‘Who’s he?’

‘Oh, you know—’ Valya’s brow descended, nearly meeting her lips as she tutted and added more sugar to her tea. ‘The bank boss.’

‘I don’t think I—’

‘I used to work for him, up in Rostov. I’ve told you about him a thousand, million times. Everyone knows about him: snobby; miser; magician; tall; dark; ugly.’

‘Oh, wait a minute! They say he’s got gold…’

‘Hidden in the toilet! That’s the one. Always miserable.’

‘Well, if he’s had a death in the family—’

‘He hasn’t. He hasn’t got any family; no excuse to be miserable. Just always is.’

‘Well, that’s interesting, I wonder why he wants a séance then? I remember when—’

‘It’s all nonsense, anyway, of course,’ Valya cut in, slapping her hand on the table.

‘What is?’

‘The séances: they never helped me.’

‘No, well, your husband was always very quiet. He—’

‘All nonsense!’ Valya slapped her hand on the table again and slurped her tea decisively.

Alla sipped her hot water and eyed her friend. ‘You were scared last time.’

‘I was not!’

‘You seemed scared to me. You were shaking.’

‘I was coming down with something. I felt awful. Sweating all over.’

‘But you’re never ill!’

‘I was then! Anyway, it’ll be interesting to see the old goat, and find out what’s his trouble. I always thought he was a sceptic, like me.’

‘I’ll give Polly a ring. She came once before, didn’t she? And it’s my… duty, really, isn’t it, to invite her out occasionally? It’ll give me an excellent opportunity for a chat about my—’

‘You’ll be lucky. She’s been very busy lately…’ Valya pronounced the word with heavy emphasis, ‘with my Vlad.’

Alla wrinkled her nose. ‘Do you think she’s avoiding me? I mean, she used to come into the store on Fridays to say hello, on her way to the folk-art souvenirs counter—’

‘Folk art!’

‘Each to their own, Valya.’

‘Pah! If you’re going to invest, do it in something proper: diamonds, gold, or oil – like me! I’ve bought four barrels, got them stored at the dacha ! Ha! What’s the point investing in those trinkets? All those lacquered Palekh boxes.’ Valya waggled her plump fingers across the table. ‘Miniature art? Silly!’