Carol Birch - Orphans of the Carnival

Trettenbacher looked at the fire. ‘Well…’ he said, and Polina came in with a tray. ‘Cocoa was all ready,’ she said, smiling and bustling through the room. ‘Any for you, sir?’

‘No.’ Theo glared at her. ‘I am trying to speak to the doctor.’

‘Oh, sorry, sir.’

Stupid woman.

‘Let me,’ said the doctor, opening the bedroom door for her, ushering her in and closing it sharply behind her. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘where were we?’

‘Danger,’ said Theo sharply.

‘Of course. Birth is, of course, always dangerous. She’s probably a little more at risk than the average woman but not as much as many.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Exactly what it says.’ Trettenbacher walked to the door. ‘There’s always danger. She’ll be fine. Make sure she gets plenty of rest. She’s not still dancing, is she?’

She was, not as much, a little, slower. Three more stops on the tour. ‘Of course not,’ Theo said.

‘Mr Lent,’ said Trettenbacher, ‘I must stress that your wife will have the finest available medical care, the absolute best of modern obstetrics.’ He buttoned his overcoat. ‘I can assure you I have no shortage of extremely talented volunteers to assist me.’ He smiled. ‘Scientifically,’ he said, putting on his hat, ‘this is a fascinating case. A tremendous opportunity.’

Theo imagined them all craning to see what came out. She could die, he thought, as the doctor’s footsteps faded away in the stairwell.

‘I’m off now, Mr Lent,’ said Polina, coming out of the bedroom. ‘I’ve taken her some cocoa and she’s having a nice lie-down.’

‘Thank you, Polina.’

‘Are you all right, Mr Lent?’

Theo blinked. ‘Of course I am, why do you ask?’

‘I don’t know, I thought you looked a little — upset.’

‘No, no, I was just thinking,’ he said, then realised he was standing gaping at the girl in a vacuous sort of way. ‘Good, good,’ he said, reviving, ‘we’ll expect you on Christmas Eve then as arranged. Very good. Thank you, Polina.’

By Christmas Eve, Julia’s cold had settled in, and she had an awful headache and was beginning to wheeze. There was no question of her attending the party at Volkov’s, but Theo went anyway. She didn’t mind. They’d be together all day tomorrow. Polina came to make hot drinks and see to the fire. She’d brought a cake and some nuts, and after she’d pottered about at the stove for half an hour they sat down and ate the cake while Julia drank some awful milky buttery thing that Polina said would do her good. The slippery texture made her gag but she sipped away obediently.

‘You get that down,’ Polina said, ‘and you’ll be better before you know it. I dare say this must be the coldest winter you’ve ever seen.’

‘I wanted to go to Vienna,’ Julia said, ‘but the schedule won’t allow. Not yet.’

‘It’s a shame you can’t go where you please.’

‘Who can?’ said Julia.

‘Some can.’

‘Can you?’

‘I’m going to my father’s tomorrow,’ Polina said, as if that answered the question. ‘My sisters and brother will be there.’

‘Oh, well you mustn’t stay up late, you know. You’ll be wanting to make an early start tomorrow.’

‘Not that early.’ Polina took the empty cup from Julia. ‘They don’t live far. Shall I make you some more of that before I go?’

‘No, I’m fine. Thank you.’

‘How’s your head?’

‘Better, I think.’

‘You should have a sleep,’ Polina said. ‘There’s nothing a good sleep doesn’t improve.’ She stood up.

‘This creature’s kicking me,’ Julia said. ‘He doesn’t want me to sleep.’

‘Calm down, you bad baby.’ Polina leaned over and patted Julia’s huge drum of a belly. ‘Let your poor little mother sleep. Now. I’ll just tidy up a bit in there and then I’ll be off.’

But after she’d gone there was no chance of sleep. A boy. Big boy. Elbowing, kneeing, sticking his feet everywhere. Kicking right where all the milky slop lay and making her feel sick. She put her hands over him. Theo Junior. Don’t let him be like me. Make him normal. It would not be so bad, she thought, to live in Moscow. A house here, instead of Vienna. It was quiet, no sound but the snow, placidly falling, kissing the window. ‘Look at your crib, little man,’ she whispered. A baby’s smooth head, her dark hairy hand, an indrawn breath. Elisio. Solana holding her hand. Come away. ‘I’m your mother,’ she said. ‘Now go to sleep.’ But he was restless under her ribs.

Theo came back drunk at midnight, face glowing with cold. ‘Merry Christmas!’ he cried. ‘It’s Christmas Day!’ striding to the window and flinging the shutters wide. ‘Listen to the bells.’

‘Theo! Don’t open the window, we’ll freeze.’

‘Sorry.’ He knocked against the chiffonier, yanked at his collar. ‘Did I wake you?’

‘I wasn’t asleep,’ she said. ‘How was it?’

‘Oh, wonderful. You know Volkov. Only the best when he puts his mind to it. Everyone dressed up. You know. Games and all that jolly stuff. Plenty to eat. We all sang Christmas carols. Liliya Whatsername was there, and she asked after you. Sends her love. How’s your cold?’

‘The same.’

He sat on the side of the bed, grinning at the floor and chuckling to himself. He had danced with Liliya Grigorievna Levkova, this smooth fragrant creature, her slender waist a thing of beauty. She’d smiled in his face the whole time, chatting brightly. He hadn’t got the foggiest idea what she was talking about, her words were floating somewhere in the air above his head. One dance.

‘Want anything?’ he asked. ‘Shame you weren’t there. A drink?’

She shook her head.

‘Poor old Julia,’ he said, patting her knee, ‘never mind, it’ll pass. You should have gone to sleep.’

‘Every time I start dropping off, he kicks me.’

‘Oh he does, does he? You’re that sure it’s a boy?’

She smiled, taking his hand. ‘I have a feeling.’

‘Give the little bastard some vodka,’ Theo said, ‘knock him out.’

She settled back on the pillow. ‘I think he’s quietening down a bit now. He doesn’t like it when I cough.’

‘Cough no better?’

‘On and off. I’m afraid I’ll be tossing and turning.’

‘I’ll sleep in there,’ he said, ‘give you some peace.’

‘You should. You don’t want to catch it.’

‘It’s nice in there by the fire,’ he said, ‘I’ll take this other pillow.’

‘Look at you,’ she said fondly, ‘you’re reeling.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Get yourself another blanket from the chest,’ she said. ‘Now you’re back, I think I can sleep.’

By the time he’d made the Chesterfield comfortable and got ready for bed, she’d fallen asleep. He poured himself one more drink, lit a cigar and stood in his dressing gown looking out of the window. It had stopped snowing. Everything was still, and the moon made the snow-covered street blue. His heart raced. ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ he told himself aloud, swaying slightly, ‘nothing at all to worry about.’ He drank some more and didn’t remember going to bed and falling asleep till the bells woke him. Julia was up making tea, padding about in her nightie, unaware that he was watching her. Her strangeness could still strike him breathless.

Three more months, give or take. Lyublino, Pushkino, Mytisci. Three more months, my little trouper.

It was a Tuesday in March, a very cold morning, and she’d just got up. She’d woken early, Polina wasn’t here yet, and she was stirring the still glowing embers of last night’s fire back into life. Suddenly she was soaking wet. Everything was soaking wet. She took the candle from the mantel, went back in and touched Theo’s shoulder. He was frowning in his sleep, mouth open, a faint snore back in his nose.