Andrey Kurkov - The Gardener from Ochakov

‘Aleksandra Marinovna.’

Igor left the kitchen and went into living room, where he put the parcel of fish on the floor next to the bed and began to undress. He folded the uniform neatly and put it on the stool, placed the belt with the holster and the peaked cap on top of it, and lay down under the quilted blanket. He still had the trace of a sour taste in his mouth from the local wine. He saw an image of Red Valya, her green eyes ablaze. Her voice rang in his ears. Unable to find a way out, the warmth of Igor’s body began to accumulate under the heavy blanket. Once his energies were restored he would emerge like a butterfly, full of life, ready to make the most of the new day.

‘WHY ARE YOU still in bed?’ cried Elena Andreevna, standing over her son. ‘You’ll suffocate in your sleep one of these days!’ She pulled back the blanket that was covering Igor’s head. ‘It’s nearly half past twelve!’

Igor raised his head and looked at his mother.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ she asked in surprise. ‘Were you drinking yesterday?’

He could feel the sour taste of the Ochakov wine in his mouth and there was a rocking, swaying sensation inside his head, which was preventing him from thinking clearly. Igor lay back down on the pillow. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the newspaper parcel on the floor by his bed.

‘Take that,’ he mumbled, pointing at the parcel. ‘We can have it for lunch.’

‘I’m cooking buckwheat for lunch,’ said Elena Andreevna, but she picked up the parcel and sniffed it.

‘Why didn’t you put it in the fridge? It’s fish, isn’t it?’

Igor nodded. ‘I was too tired,’ he admitted in a slightly hoarse voice.

‘All right, you stay in bed,’ his mother said graciously. ‘I’ll call you when it’s ready. What’s that doing there?’ Elena Andreevna’s eyes had come to rest on the peaked cap and the neatly folded police uniform. ‘Have you got a job as a security guard?’

‘No, I just wore it for a laugh.’ Igor waved his hand dismissively. ‘Kolyan had a retro birthday party.’

This explanation seemed to satisfy Elena Andreevna’s curiosity. She left the room, taking the parcel of fish with her.

As soon as he was alone again, Igor got out of bed. First he hid the police uniform in his wardrobe, then he put on a tracksuit and a pair of fur-lined leather slippers. They were soft and comfortable, and this pleasant sensation spread from the soles of his feet throughout his entire body; even his head started to feel better. Everything was back to normal. Apart from the taste in his mouth.

Igor spent a full five minutes cleaning his teeth. He brushed them with a hard toothbrush and thought about the tooth powder he’d used at Vanya Samokhin’s house.

Should I tell Stepan about everything? wondered Igor, glancing at himself in the mirror above the sink as he listened to the flow of water. He decided Stepan would never believe him. Unless he could prove it…

His face broke into a smile. He felt rather pleased with himself.

‘Lunch is ready,’ his mother called from the kitchen.

As soon as Elena Andreevna tasted the fried fish, her face softened.

‘Oh my goodness, that’s incredible! Just a minute, I’ll be right back,’ she cried, jumping up from the table.

‘Where are you going?’ asked Igor in surprise.

‘I’m just going next door to fetch Olga. It’s so delicious! Just like it used to taste when I was a little girl!’ Muttering to herself, she hurried out into the hallway. Igor shrugged as he heard the front door slam. He put some butter on his buckwheat, then wrapped a crispy piece of fish skin around his fork and put it into his mouth.

She’s right, he thought. It is pretty good. But it’s hardly worth running off like that!

His mother returned with their neighbour Olga about three minutes later and immediately started bustling about, placing another plate and fork on the table. She spooned some buckwheat onto Olga’s plate and placed a fried flounder next to it.

Olga tried the fish first, and her face froze in an expression of deep concentration. Or rather, most of her face froze. Her lips were moving slowly, indicating the focus of her attention. Olga swallowed her mouthful and nodded.

‘Where did you buy this fish? At the market?’ she asked. ‘Was it still alive?’

‘No, but it was freshly caught,’ explained Igor.

‘How can it have been freshly caught? It’s a sea fish, it would need to be transported.’ Olga beamed at him. ‘They must have seen you coming! It’s obviously been frozen.’

‘What about the flavour?’ asked Elena Andreevna, mildly disgruntled. ‘What do you think of the flavour?

Olga shrugged. ‘They’ve probably added something to it. They put all sorts in food these days. Chemicals, MSG… They can make it taste like something else altogether!’

Elena Andreevna sighed heavily and put her fork down on the table. Igor glared at their neighbour.

‘Please forgive Mama for bothering you. I’m sure you were busy before she came round and interrupted you, and for something so trivial too… Why don’t you go back to what you were doing?’

‘Don’t worry about it. I’m here now, aren’t I?’ Olga waved Igor’s concerns away, oblivious to the sarcasm in his voice. Unable to hide her enthusiasm, she turned her attention back to the food.

Igor finished his fish and helped himself to another from the frying pan in the centre of the kitchen table.

His mother picked up her fork, but she seemed to have lost her appetite.

Igor glanced at their neighbour. He noticed that she was eyeing the last remaining flounder. Igor stood up and took the frying pan from the table, covered it with a lid and placed it on the hob.

As Igor sat down, he and Olga looked at one another.

‘Sorry,’ he shrugged. ‘Mama thought you’d like it.’

‘But I do!’ said Olga, pursing her lips. ‘I love plaice!’

‘It’s not plaice, it’s Black Sea flounder,’ Igor corrected her irritably.

Olga looked down at the unfinished buckwheat on her plate.

‘How are things working out with the gardener?’ She asked suddenly, hoping to steer the conversation in a more favourable direction by alluding to her own part in the arrangement.

‘He disappeared a couple of days ago and we haven’t seen him since,’ Igor replied on his mother’s behalf. ‘He’s probably found a drinking buddy somewhere.’

‘But he doesn’t drink!’ exclaimed Olga.

‘He’s been a great help,’ said Elena Andreevna, turning to her friend. ‘Thank you for introducing him to us.’

Olga smiled, mollified, and on that positive note she decided that it was time for her to leave. Igor and his mother drank their tea together.

‘It’s a shame you didn’t buy more,’ said Elena Andreevna.

Igor stood up. He took the lid off the frying pan, put the last fish onto a clean plate and placed it near his mother.

She smiled, put her cup of tea to one side and began eating again.

‘It wasn’t too expensive, was it?’ she asked.

Igor shook his head. ‘I’ll buy more next time,’ he promised.

In the afternoon, Elena Andreevna went round to Olga’s house to make sure there were no hard feelings after their lunchtime disagreement over the fish.

Igor went out to the shed and contemplated the padlock on the door with irritation. He thought about breaking it, but he couldn’t justify actually doing so. There wasn’t anything in the shed that he specifically needed. Besides, the fact that Stepan had padlocked the door seemed to suggest that he was planning to come back at some point. The treasure – or at least part of it – must still be inside.