Andrea Bennett - Two Cousins of Azov

He’d always known she was different. He knew her emotions governed her actions, and her emotions could be very strong. Take her plans for Papasyan, for example. But this was different. She had not understood his disquiet, in fact she’d ripped through his objections with frightening determination. She had been so emphatic the old man must stay at the Vim, he had felt threatened. Ridiculous, maybe, to feel threatened by a girl who claimed to love him. But hadn’t she threatened blackmail? Was that the word? And for what? The idea of them bedding down amongst the old man’s things sent a chill along Vlad’s spine. How could they make love on his sofa with the whispering trees of Chernovolets, the wood spirits and the stories flying all around them? The whole idea was… monstrous.

And then there was the fire.

ping-ping-ping

So here he was, spending Friday night sitting in the Northern Star ice-cream parlour, waiting for her, to talk it through. Waiting for her, watching the pretty blonde serving girl at the counter, and wondering; maybe he really just wanted something, someone… a little softer?

Maybe he could change her back into the person she’d been before, at some point in her past. He was convinced, once upon a time, she’d been a good girl, a princess – before life had made her hard. He could see it in her face, and sometimes when she spoke: she hadn’t been the type to nail birds’ wings to the fence post. Had she?

The door opened and he looked up: not her, again.

His stomach growled. The blonde smiled his way as she chewed her nail polish. He swallowed the lump in his throat, smiled back, and returned his eyes to the menu.

‘Can I get you anything?’ she called over.

‘Do you do anything savoury?’

‘We’re an ice-cream parlour,’ she replied with a smile, tucking a lock of stray hair behind her ear.

‘No then.’

‘We do a lovely hazelnut?’

‘Uh-huh.’ He unfolded a bigger smile, but she’d turned to walk to the other end of the counter and the old lady who stood at it, counting out piles of change.

As Vlad pushed back his chair, to leave or to talk to the girl at the counter, he hadn’t decided which, the door opened and in jumped Polly, shopping bags flicking around her ankles like small dogs. The smell of rain and leaves and clouds came with her through the door.

‘Akh, there you are! Have you been here long? I’m sorry!’

She sat down in a flurry of energy, the bags bouncing and rustling. Her cheeks were almost russet from the cold, and her mouth was working hard, chewing something very minty and white.

‘I’ve been in Rostov, just got back. It’s really changing! Have you been recently? I bought some gum,’ she added unnecessarily. ‘Want some?’

Vlad shook his head, eyeing the bags at her feet. ‘And not just gum. Had fun?’

‘Business,’ she replied, peering solicitously into one of the bags as if checking on a sleeping baby. ‘Good business.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’ve had a lovely day: very busy, and very productive.’ She smiled and, to his surprise, leant forward to run her fingers from his cheekbone to his jaw. ‘And you? How was work?’

‘Work?’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t recall: I’ve spent most of the day waiting here, for you. Would you like a drink?’

She pulled a sorry face, grinned, flipped over the menu without reading it, and popped a bubble in the gum.

‘No, I’m not thirsty. Was there something specific you wanted to see me about? It’s just that I’ve got a lot on.’

‘What do you mean?’

She stopped chewing.

‘Why am I here? Was it something—’

‘It’s a date, Polly!’ he almost shouted, before recovering his calm. He took her hand from the sticky table and rubbed her cold fingers. ‘A date: I wanted to see you… to chat to you, and see how you are. Because I… I care about you.’

‘Ah?’ She raised her eyebrows, smiling open-mouthed. ‘You’re sweet. I’ve been busy.’

‘And I wanted to talk to you.’

She waited.

The blonde at the counter looked across. Vlad cleared his throat. ‘What have you been up to?’

She looked past his shoulder to the street beyond. ‘This and that. I told you – taking care of business.’ She winked. Vlad closed his eyes. ‘Apart from that, I’ve been at the pharmacy working like a slave, trying to placate that fat bitch Maria—’

‘Ah. Everything OK there?’

She chewed fiercely for a moment, and stopped. ‘Actually, no. They want to get rid of me. She’s threatened me with sanctions; wants to take it to a university board.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She hates me! Just like everyone else! I’ve missed a few shifts: I’ve been so busy with Papasyan and doing up old crinkle-cheeks’ flat—’

‘Don’t call him that!’

She stopped chewing. Shock flitted over her face. Their eyes locked as silence pressed on the booth, the tinkling of cutlery fading away. ‘You’re sensitive today, Vlad. What’s the matter? Something you want to tell me about?’ She smiled, but her tone was poisonous.

He shrugged. ‘He’s my patient. I don’t feel it’s right to… to mock him.’

Her brow puckered as dark clouds filled her eyes. He could almost feel the storm whipping up inside her. An A-board outside the window tipped over in the breeze and went flipping down the pavement.

‘I’ll get some drinks. Tea, was it?’

She stared out of the window and didn’t answer.

He returned two minutes later with tea and a dish of ice-cream. Polly had not moved.

‘Please eat it. For me?’

She stared at the ice-cream. He tried to catch her gaze.

‘Do you like me, Polly?’

‘Like you?’ She tore a corner off a serviette and folded her gum into it. ‘Yes,’ she said eventually, biting out the word.

‘I don’t feel very… liked. You don’t kiss me, or hold my hand when we walk down the road.’

‘We don’t walk down roads.’

‘You’re right. We meet in borrowed bedrooms, or office cupboards, or on park benches.’

‘I thought you liked that?’ She frowned.

‘Well—’ the spoon clattered in his glass as he stirred. ‘Maybe… but I think I want something more… more like other people have. Talking to Anatoly Borisovich, getting to know him, and then… and then you telling me you’d taken his key, so that we could use his flat. It’s not right, is it? And all this with Papasyan. I don’t like what we’ve been doing. It made me think.’

She stared, open-mouthed. ‘Think? Think what?’

He looked into her beautiful face, the swirling darkness of her irises. ‘I think I want some… normal.’

‘Normal?’ She sneered. ‘What’s so good about this “normal”?’ Her face was hard.

‘I don’t know! We need to have conversations; talk about things that aren’t money or business or patients; go on dates – do things that aren’t work, or—’

‘Ha! Now he wants to talk! Before, all he could do was shag!’

‘I want to be your friend, Polly! We can’t carry on like this! Look, I think… I think Papasyan has been scared enough, don’t you? I think we should stop now. If revenge is what you wanted, you’ve certainly had it. Did you see his face at the séance? And he looked terrible when he turned up at the Vim today.’

‘Ah? Really?’ She was smiling, but her tone was dangerous. ‘You’ve been thinking a lot, haven’t you, Vlad? I didn’t know you had it in you. You didn’t say anything?’

He shook his head.

‘I can’t believe you’ve had enough already.’ She leant forward. ‘He’s miserable, and that’s what I want. But he’s still not as miserable as my father was, when we had no food for a week, thanks to him.’ Her eyes bore into his. ‘He ruined my family, don’t forget, turned us out on the street—’