Andrey Kurkov - The Gardener from Ochakov

Igor held the champagne in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. What’s so special about her? Her voice repeated itself in his head, as though he’d rewound it and played it again.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Valya frowned at him, suddenly serious.

‘Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?’ teased Igor.

‘Then let’s drink a toast to our friendship,’ said Valya, laughing.

They drank. Igor stuck the bottle into the sand. He took his boots and socks off and rolled his breeches up as best he could, then he walked down to the water’s edge and went in up to his ankles.

‘It’s not cold!’ he said, surprised.

‘Of course not!’ said Valya. ‘The boys will be bathing for another two months.’

‘What about the girls?’ joked Igor.

‘The brave ones will join them.’

‘Are you one of the brave ones? Or one of the others?’

‘Those who leave school early are always braver than those who graduate from university.’

‘I take it that’s based on your personal experience?’

‘Just pour the champagne,’ replied Valya.

Igor returned and filled both their glasses again.

‘So, what are we drinking to?’ he asked.

‘To my husband, Petya, making a full recovery!’

Igor returned and managed to hide his surprise. Even if he hadn’t, the darkness would have hidden it for him.

‘Do you love him?’

‘I did. Now I feel sorry for him.’

‘Doesn’t he mind you feeling sorry for him?’

‘Why should he?’ Valya shrugged and sipped her champagne. ‘Pity is stronger than love! You can fall out of love with anyone, but there isn’t even an expression for “falling out of pity”. You pity someone for as long as they live – the feeling doesn’t die until they do. So it’s better for my husband if I feel sorry for him with all my heart.’

‘I wouldn’t like you to feel sorry for me,’ reflected Igor. He reached for the chocolate, took a square and put it in his mouth. The chocolate was hard and bitter.

‘That’s probably because no woman has ever really felt sorry for you before.’

‘No woman has ever really loved me before,’ said Igor, suddenly sensing considerably more life experience in Valya’s words than his own.

‘You’re still so young!’ Valya slipped her arm around Igor’s shoulder. She moved closer to him, and he felt the warmth of her body pass through the tunic to his skin.

‘Take your holster off, it’s pressing into me,’ said Valya, pretending to be annoyed.

Igor obediently removed his belt and holster and put them on the sand.

‘Shall we go for a swim?’ she suggested.

‘I didn’t bring anything with me,’ said Igor, flustered.

‘Oh, but you did!’ Valya let out a peal of laughter so loud and resonant that Igor looked around in alarm. ‘You brought champagne, you brought chocolate, you brought me! Come on, take your clothes off, let’s go skinny-dipping! We’ll dry off easily enough, as long as it doesn’t rain.’

Igor unbuttoned his tunic and watched out of the corner of his eye as Valya took her dress off. Her patent shoes showed up white on the sand. When she was completely naked she turned to look at Igor, but he was still sitting on the sand in his tunic.

‘Have you gone all shy on me?’ she smiled.

Igor wished the ground would just open up and swallow him. Besides, if he took off the uniform he might really disappear, leaving this beautiful woman alone on the beach. He could just imagine how frightened she would be.

‘Not really,’ said Igor, standing up. He managed to put the packet of roubles into the cloth bag without her noticing and strode into the water.

‘You’re so funny!’ She burst out laughing and began to walk into the water with him.

Her body was worthy of the five-pointed star that they used to place on the very best goods: the State Quality Mark of the USSR. Everything about her was perfect – her face, her breasts, her waist and her thighs. Yet she had nothing in common with the naked beauties on the covers of Playboy and other men’s magazines. In those images, and in the minds of millions of men, beauty had been replaced by sex appeal. Whereas here, in the dark water of the Black Sea, Igor could reach out his hand and touch real, living beauty. He touched Valya’s shoulder. She turned round, and her smile seemed to say, There’s nothing to be afraid of. Igor put his arms around her, brushing her breasts with his hand in a way that wasn’t entirely accidental.

Valya pretended to push him away.

‘You’ll scratch me with your tunic!’

Igor took a step back, without taking his eyes off her.

She lowered herself up to her shoulders, holding her hair above the water. In the distance, little lights were pulsating in the darkness.

‘Is that the town?’ asked Igor, pointing at the lights.

‘No, the port,’ said Valya.

They came out of the water. Igor’s clothes clung to his wet body. He stood and listened to his own skin, to the seawater running from his body. It wasn’t a very pleasant feeling. He looked at Valya. She was wiping her neck with something.

‘What’s that?’ asked Igor, surprised.

‘A handkerchief,’ she said, showing him.

Valya twisted the handkerchief in her hands and started wiping herself with it again. Carefully, apprehensively, Igor took his tunic off and squeezed it out. Water streamed onto the wet sand. He took his wet T-shirt off too, wrung it out and immediately put it back on. He put his tunic back on too, although he didn’t button it up. Valya was standing motionless, in profile, and her beautiful breasts reminded him of a statue, as though they’d been carved from stone or sculpted from clay. He walked over to Valya and put his arms around her, pressing her to him so that the warmth of her breasts was conducted straight into his heart.

‘I haven’t started taking the medicine yet,’ she said softly, her hands reaching up to Igor’s shoulders.

They stood there with their arms around each other, sharing the warmth of their bodies. After what seemed like no time at all, Igor realised that Valya’s smooth back was completely dry.

The warmth of Valya’s whisper caressed his left ear.

‘When I get better, I’ll take pity on you – I promise!’

Igor poured the last of the champagne into their glasses and picked up the chocolate.

‘Shall I show you a trick?’ he asked, handing Valya her glass.

‘Yes, please!’

Igor dropped a square of chocolate into both glasses.

‘Watch the chocolate,’ he said.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed in delight. ‘Look, it’s rising to the surface!’

‘It’ll keep sinking and rising until you eat it. Best to drink it all in one go, just make sure you catch the chocolate in your mouth.’

Concentrating hard, Valya drank her champagne in one go. She immediately began snorting, coughing and laughing, all at the same time.

‘So, how did you get on?’ asked Igor, bringing his lips close to her nose.

She nodded, gently pushing his face away with her hand. Then she parted her lips and showed him the piece of chocolate between her white teeth. Her eyes were laughing.

‘Well done!’ exclaimed Igor, leaning towards her face again as though he wanted to bite off a piece of the chocolate. Their lips brushed, and his tongue was enveloped by the taste of bitter-sweet chocolate.

Suddenly they heard a noise above them and fragments of dry clay began to fall from the overhanging cliff. Igor grabbed Valya’s hand and pulled her aside. They peered upwards, into the leaden darkness. Everything between them and the sky had merged together.

‘Someone’s up there,’ Valya whispered.

Igor shook his head. Silence had descended again, but the feeling of unease remained. Igor buttoned up his tunic and fastened the belt and holster around his waist. He was about to take the bundle of roubles out of the cloth bag and put it back in his pocket but stopped himself just in time. The insides of his pockets were still wet. He sat down on the sand to put on his dry socks and boots then stood up, ready to leave. Valya stood nearby, fully dressed, already wearing her scarf and her white shoes and clutching her white bag.