Andrea Bennett - Two Cousins of Azov

‘I know. And I understand why you wanted revenge for that. That’s why I agreed to help you. But he’s just an old man, Polly. Just a miserable old man. What’s the point—’

‘Why should he be rich when I’m poor? Eh? Why should he have that flat, and cats, and friends, when I have nothing?’ Her voice rose as her fingers gripped his. ‘He’s a filthy old miser, and he deserves what we’re giving him!’

Vlad swallowed. Customers were turning their heads to stare.

‘Eat your ice-cream, Polly, and stop shouting. It’s hazelnut: the best, she said.’

Polly placed a tiny spoonful of ice-cream on her tongue and chewed on it, surveying the bags strewn at her feet. She thought about the new tenant for the flat, whom she’d shown around that day as Babkin packed his things, and whose deposit – the whole three months – she had taken and already invested. He’d be moving in within a week or so. She thought about the money that would come in every month, once that happened. She thought about Papasyan’s gold hidden in his flat, nearly within her reach, if she could just keep up the pressure, and get him out of there. He would soon be at the Vim for a spell under Doctor Vlad. She thought about a job at the Vim that she would ask Vlad to get her, which would give her an endless supply of affluent and confused elderly connections. She thought about the pleasing range of opportunities for theft and fraud that this would bring. And she decided she could ease up on Vlad. She had it all under control. He just had to love her.

‘But maybe you’re right. It’s all been pretty stressful.’ She took his broad hand in hers and squeezed the ends of his fingers. ‘You don’t need to worry. Don’t do anything more. Leave Papasyan to me. You’ve done enough; you must be a master of the silent phone call by now.’ She kissed each fingertip and looked into his eyes. He snorted.

‘And the rest.’

‘You’re a good boy. Do you want to see what I bought?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘No, really, have a look! Share my interest! You’ve never seen such good quality. I was really lucky…’

She dipped into three bags before eventually, very carefully, raising a tiny lacquered box wrapped in green tissue paper to the table. She placed it in front of Vlad and slowly peeled back the layers, her eyes intent. ‘This one’s by Manezhnik. You won’t believe how beautiful it is. Such work!’ Her hands shook as the paper fell away and her voice dropped to a squeaky whisper. ‘Look! It’s the Snow Maiden!’

She leant down so her eyes were level with the table and gazed on the tiny black box, shiny as jet in its pool of green paper, her eyes devouring the topaz blues and frosty silvers of the minutely painted portrait.

He reached out to pick up the box. Her hand clamped over his instantly.

‘Don’t touch!’ The glinting in her eyes reminded him of something small and fierce.

‘As you wish. How much was it?’

‘It was well priced.’

‘How much?’ He leant forward and twisted a finger in her long, brown-black hair. ‘Tell me.’

She hesitated, and he wound the lock of hair again around his finger so that it was taut.

‘Eight hundred… thousand.’ She carefully enunciated the words.

Vlad swallowed.

‘It was a good price. For the quality. That’s a solid investment. It will only appreciate.’

He released her hair and she began re-wrapping the box, fingers hurrying, fumbling over the rustling paper, tearing at it.

‘Where did you get the money?’

She smiled, but her mouth remained closed.

‘How many did you buy?’ Vlad took in the bags. ‘These aren’t all Palekh boxes?’

‘Ay-ayayaah! That would be telling!’ She carried on wrapping. When he continued to stare, she added, ‘Of course they’re not all Palekh boxes.’

‘Where is the money coming from, Polly?’

‘Are you fed up because I didn’t get you anything? You’ve already got the watch and the jumper. I’ll get you something next time.’

A cold sweat broke on his forehead.

‘Have you… have you been ripping off Anatoly Borisovich? Selling his things? Is that what’s going on? Is that why you stole his key?’

‘His things? Pah! You wouldn’t get fifty roubles for his things!’ she hissed scornfully. ‘Let a girl have some mystery!’

‘It is, isn’t it?’

‘No, Vlad!’ She was smile-frowning, shaking her head.

He gazed at the watch on his wrist, the smooth progress of the second hand moving across its face. It was an international icon. She followed his gaze.

The watch slipped onto the table with a clunk.

‘You’re crazy. This is all crazy. Take the watch. I don’t want it. I didn’t realise—’

‘What do you mean? I gave it to you. You can’t give it back!’

‘I don’t want it. It… it disgusts me.’

A crack rang out as she dropped the Palekh box to the floor.

‘But… I didn’t sell the old man’s things! I didn’t!’

‘So how did you pay for the watch?’

Her eyes bored into his, searching his soul. A tight smile split her face. ‘I sold pills, OK? Just stuff from the pharmacy, to lonely old cows who knew no better.’

He groaned and shook his head. ‘Oh God, that’s nearly as bad! How could you, Polly?’

‘But I did it for you! I thought you were my friend!’

‘This is madness. I need to think. I’m not sure—’ He sat back from the table.

She grabbed his wrist. ‘You can’t just drop me. You have to help me! I need a job at the Vim.’

His eyes popped. ‘A job? At the Vim? After what you just said?’

‘They always need staff there—’ Her eyes were like Siberia; wide, cold, empty. ‘And I need a job. It’ll be nice—’

‘No way!’ He pushed himself into the corner of the booth. ‘Things are weird enough there. There’s gossip, Polly, about you and me. And reports to Matron… things going missing. Papasyan turned up to question me this morning – at the same time as a fire broke out!’

‘Fire?’ Her face held a strange expression, somewhere between a sneer and wonder. ‘While Papasyan was there? That’s fantastic!’

‘No it’s not! People could have been hurt! Was it another coincidence, Polly?’

‘What? You don’t think I had anything to do with it?’

‘I don’t know what to think, but you can’t work there! It wouldn’t be right!’ He looked away from her. ‘I’m not compromising myself any more.’

‘You pompous pig! I need that work!’

The blonde behind the counter clanged a dish onto a tray and sniggered.

‘I can’t help you! Let’s forget it, forget the whole idea. We don’t need it. I don’t need it.’

She gazed at him, open-mouthed.

‘You mean you don’t need me !’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ He focused on the shiny ceiling tiles. ‘Find something else. Forget revenge on old men, forget thieving keys – forget Palekh boxes! Have fun, do your college work, make dresses and, you know, talk to the other girls. Just be… nice!’

Polly stared at him in silence.

‘You can ask for a placement transfer if you hate the pharmacy so much. Just not to the Vim. It won’t work.’

Her breathing was fast and shallow.

‘Don’t go psychopath, princess. Can’t we start again? Can’t we be… normal?’

She said nothing.

‘Eat your ice-cream?’

She fingered the spoon as her eyes looked through him, face blank.

‘Polly?’ He touched her hand.

‘You’re just like all the rest, aren’t you?’ She snatched her hand away and bent to scrabble up the broken Palekh box from the dirty tiles. ‘You don’t care about me! You don’t care about my future! You’re abandoning me!’