Andrea Bennett - Two Cousins of Azov

‘Albina!’ Gor protested as she burst into a fit of giggles.

‘No, wait! It’ll be a nice story. Let me think. The witch was angry, because the banker had turned her down for a loan on a new, imported broomstick, with a turbo-charger. A BMW broomstick! One day, our poor earthworm spied a huge, magic apple, hanging in the tallest tree…’

Gor’s eyes crinkled and he shook his head. ‘This had better be a good story, Albina, with a happy ending. Don’t forget – this earthworm will feed you tonight!’ He was both offended and flattered, a strange mixture of emotion that made his voice creak with joy and indignation.

Two hours later, many stories had been told, and all the jobs were done. The bonfire had puffed half-heartedly in the brazier, they’d put their tools away, and the potatoes and apples had been collected from the dark store inside the dacha . Albina had got into her stride, recounting tales that wove together ancient folklore with modern-day advertisements: Baba Yaga had been defeated by way of Danish yoghurt and a magic sword. Kashei the Immortal had been trapped by the worm-banker and locked up in the local jail.

Gor emptied the samovar and cleared it of ash, replacing it in the little crooked cupboard along with the teapot and cups. Finally, they swept the floor, Albina demonstrating a range of karate moves and pleading with Gor to join in.

‘We won’t be back for, well, many weeks, so we need to make sure everything is correct, and as it should be.’

‘You don’t come in winter?’

‘There’s no point: nothing that can be done. We leave the earth until just before spring.’

‘It all hibernates?’ Albina patted the side of the dacha as if it were a horse.

‘Yes, you could say that.’

Gor put the plastic covers over the seats of the little Lada and they loaded themselves, aching and muddy, back in for the bumpy ride home.

‘Do you know about Mama’s misfortune?’ asked Albina as they drew towards the lights of the town.

‘Yes, well,’ Gor paused. ‘She told me about your father, and the fact that they could not be together.’

Silence filled the car, and Gor wondered if he had spoken out of turn. Then Albina laughed, the sound pattering the windows like rain.

‘Nooo! That’s not misfortune, silly! We don’t need an acrobat Papa. He sends postcards from all over, and promised to buy us a car when he is rich. Mama says it’s nonsense. No, the sad thing is about her parents.’

‘Oh, really?’ said Gor, briefly relieved. ‘And what—?’

‘She’s an orphan,’ the girl said simply. ‘They were killed – in a fire.’

Gor bit his lip as the car rattled over a pot-hole.

‘So,’ cried Valya, settling her bottom into the seat beneath her and drawing her tea closer to her elbow, ‘happy Sunday to you!’ She grabbed her friend and playfully gouged a chunk of skin in her upper arm. ‘Are you real? You’re so pale! I might be talking to you through Madame Zoya this time next week if you don’t pick up. Now don’t grumble at me! What’s new this bright morning?’

‘You haven’t heard?’ asked Alla, thin and shaggy as an upturned mop, but unusually smug with it as she stirred honey through her hot water.

‘Heard what?’ Valya squinted, bobbing low over her cup.

‘About last night? About Polly?’

‘Okh, this sounds good! How should you know something I don’t? Spill the beans!’ She rubbed her hands.

‘Polly and Vlad, I should say?’

Valya’s brow descended as her mouth fell open. ‘But they split up! On Friday. He told me! I was cock-a-hoop. It happened at the Frozen North over a sundae – hell of a place if you ask me!’

‘Ah, well!’ Alla licked her cracked lips, triumphant. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. They made it up yesterday… with catastrophic results!’

‘Cata-whati?… How? Why? When?’ Valya jiggled in her chair, her colour rising to a glowing cerise.

‘I’m not sure I should tell you. It’s quite shocking really, and highly personal. Maria Trushkina told me in confidence. As Polly’s, you know, guardian. Sort of.’ Alla looked around the empty tables and chewed the inside of her cheek.

‘In confidence, eh, direct from the fat pharmacist?’ Valya crouched lower to the table and pushed her bulldog head up below Alla’s chin, eyes twinkling. ‘So now you have to tell me, eh, All- inka ? What’s the scandal?’

‘You’ll never guess.’

‘I won’t. So tell me.’ Valya slurped her tea.

‘It’s like this: Maria was rushed off her feet all day: elderly customers, questions, niggles, prescriptions. You know how it is: sometimes nothing is right.’

‘Yes, we have that at the bank also.’

‘Yes, but at the bank you don’t have people wanting to show you their boils, do you?’

Valya considered. ‘Not often!’

‘So, Maria was dealing with this old girl. She wouldn’t give up. “Really, Citizen, I cannot view your boil. You must take the ointment home and apply it. Just a pea-sized blob. No more.” “But I can’t reach! Believe me, I’ve tried! What can I do – ask the man next door?”

‘You can imagine the scene, yes? It’s the end of the day, everyone has had enough, and you get faced with a boil. Anyway, Maria is doing her best, and she sees Polly just standing around at the other counter, gazing at the clock, looking stroppy, picking her nails – the way girls do.’

‘Tell me about it! At the bank, we had one who used to read magazines—’

‘Don’t interrupt! So, a boy comes in, a note in his hands, and starts asking Polly a long question about mustard plasters for his mama. You know what she does?’

‘No?’

‘She says “No, brat! Just piss off!” – just like that! The boy stammers, but he doesn’t give up. No! He sniffs and starts again. Now, Maria can see Polly’s lid is about to blow – she’s boiling with it. So what does she do? Bares her teeth and snarls at him like a rabid dog! Snarls! He drops the paper and runs away!’

‘She needs training!’ laughed Valya. ‘Woof! Woof!’

‘It’s not funny! Maria had to have words, obviously, and Polly says it was just a joke and the boy misunderstood. But Maria knows : Polly is always rude, distracted, late or off sick. She’s already facing a disciplinary. So Maria decides to keep an eye on her for the rest of the evening. She tells Polly she’s going to get off early, and asks her to lock up. She’s done it before. But this time she doesn’t go home: she pretends to, but instead she hides in the back, where she takes her breaks. She’s doing surveillance.’

‘Ah? Sneaky pharmacist!’ Valya bit into her pastry.

‘So, it’s five to eight, nearly time to shut up shop, and the little bell on the door tinkles. Polly starts shouting “Get out, we’re shut!”, but stops. Maria pokes her head around the corner. Guess who is there?’

‘Well, I don’t know who is there. Brezhnev?’

‘It’s only your Vlad, with a big bunch of roses, walking on his knees to the counter!’

Valya’s jaw hit the table. ‘Oh no! That stupid boy!’

‘So they have some conversation, I don’t know, something to do with an argument—’

‘Yes, yes. He came home Friday very late and all sullen. I had to make him eat, he didn’t want to. Wouldn’t tell me what it was about.’

‘Ah? Well, there it is. So, they were making up, and Polly starts being… well, being friendly—’

‘Ha! I know her “friendly”!’

‘The last customer slinks away, and Polly tells Vlad to go lock the door.’

‘I knew it!’

‘And he comes back and says, “We can start again, Polly, if you love me. Do you love me?” And she says, “Why don’t you come around here, behind the counter, and I’ll show you?” She raises the hatch to let him through.’