Andrey Kurkov - The Gardener from Ochakov

He finished his brandy, returned to his bedroom and got under the blanket. His thoughts returned to Red Valya. He was really worried about her.

‘May God keep her safe,’ Igor whispered with his eyes closed. ‘If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive Him!’

As he spoke, the anger and determination in his own voice seemed unfamiliar. He sounded more like an actor in a gangster film.

The following morning, the house was unusually noisy. Igor could hear the sound of clattering dishes and of doors being slammed. His mother burst into his bedroom with a bucket of water and started mopping the floor. Igor watched her from the bed for several minutes. She didn’t once look in his direction, let alone speak to him.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked her eventually.

‘The house needs a good clean,’ said Elena Andreevna. ‘We’ve got guests coming today!’

‘Who?’

‘Stepan’s daughter from Lviv. He’s already gone to meet her at the station.’

Igor got up and put on his tracksuit bottoms. He touched the dressing over his wound. It hardly hurt at all, which surprised him.

‘You can get your own breakfast,’ said his mother, looking up from her mop.

The kitchen floor was still wet. Igor fried himself an egg and sat down at the little table. His eyes were immediately drawn to the window, whose transparency had been thoroughly restored. It was dry outside, and the clouds seemed thinner. It looked like it was going to be a lovely day.

Is Stepan’s daughter going to be staying in the house with us? Igor thought suddenly. While her father sleeps in our shed? That’ll be an interesting arrangement.

Igor’s mother suddenly appeared in the doorway. ‘You’ve got a woman, haven’t you?’ she asked.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘An older woman,’ said Elena Andreevna.

If Igor had still been eating his egg at this point, he would almost certainly have choked on it.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ He started laughing. ‘You’ve been watching too many soap operas.’

By way of a response, his mother walked over to the table and put a pair of Igor’s socks down next to his dirty plate.

‘Do you think I can’t recognise the signs?’ she asked indignantly, prodding the darned heel of one of the socks. ‘You ought to find yourself a young girl and get married. Maybe then you’ll start behaving sensibly and people will stop attacking you with knives!’

‘I just –’ began Igor, and then he broke off and looked at his socks. ‘She’s just a friend. She noticed that they had holes in.’

Elena Andreevna gave a sarcastic smile. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, visiting a woman with holes in your socks!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s disgraceful!’

The door closed behind her as she left the kitchen. Stunned, Igor stared at the socks for a moment, then brushed them to the floor and kicked them under the radiator.

‘Whatver,’ he muttered irritably. Then he went back to his bedroom.

‘And wear something smart!’ said Elena Andreevna, appearing at the door.

‘Where’s she going to sleep?’ Igor stared at his mother.

‘I thought we could put her in here,’ she replied, looking at her son’s neatly made bed.

‘Right, so you want me to sleep in the shed with Stepan? So he can teach me how to be a tramp?’

‘Stepan’s not a tramp,’ said Elena Andreevna, leaping to the gardener’s defence. ‘He’s buying a house! You can sleep on the folding bed in my room for a couple of nights.’

‘A house?’ Igor was having trouble processing all of the morning’s news, as though he’d only just woken up from a deep sleep. ‘What kind of house?’

He remembered the conversation he’d had with Stepan recently, when the gardener had asked him to find out whether there were two neighbouring houses for sale in Irpen.

‘A big house. Olga and I have already been to see it. Actually it’s one big house, and another smaller one.’

Igor suddenly noticed that his mother, who had been mopping the floors in a purple flannel robe just a little while ago, was now wearing her best dress. Not only that, but she had accessorised it with an amber necklace.

‘Are you feeling better?’ she asked solicitously.

Igor touched the dressing over his wound, as he had already several times that morning. It still hurt a bit, but it was more of a dull ache than a shooting pain.

‘I guess so,’ he said with a shrug.

‘In that case, please wear something smart,’ she said again. ‘Your graduation suit is still in that wardrobe. You’ve hardly worn it.’

‘Why do I have to get dressed up?’ cried Igor. ‘I already feel like a man, I don’t need a suit and tie to prove it!’

Something suddenly stopped him mid-rant. It could have been the way his mother lowered her eyes, hurt by his insinuation, or because he knew in his heart that he’d gone too far. He looked back at the wardrobe.

‘Just tell me why it’s so important that I wear a suit. I met her in Lviv, and she’s perfectly normal. She wears jumpers and jeans! She won’t care what I’m wearing.’

‘It’s not about her!’ Elena Andreevna waved her hand airily. ‘Today is a very important day for both of them. Oh, you’re too young to understand. They’re going to buy two houses, and they want us to go with them… Olga’s coming too.’

Igor marvelled at his mother. She’d become so provincial since they’d moved from Kiev. They’ve got so much in common, her and Stepan. Who’d have thought it?

‘And don’t forget to shave,’ she added.

The door closed behind her as she went out. Igor opened the wardrobe and took out his suit, which he must have worn on no more than three previous occasions. He laid it on the bed, then returned to the wardrobe and rummaged around until he found the old police uniform. His hands sought out the bundles of money and the gun in the holster. He found the gold watch and chain too, which were wrapped up in an old scarf of his mother’s.

This is ridiculous, thought Igor. What if I put the police uniform on instead of the suit? He smiled. She’d take me straight to a psychiatrist! The same way she dragged me round to all those doctors after the incident with the carousel.

His thoughts jumped to Ochakov. A vision of Valya’s frightened face swam before his eyes.

‘Everything’s ridiculous,’ sighed Igor, closing the wardrobe door.

Half an hour later, the sun emerged from behind the clouds. Almost at the same time an old brown Mercedes pulled up outside the gate. Igor recognised it from the bus station, where it usually stood waiting for passengers.

Igor was already wearing his suit and a white shirt and tie, which, like Stepan, he’d been unable to tie without his mother’s help. It was like a noose around his neck. He felt constrained by his breathing, his body and his thoughts.

Stepan and his daughter got out of the car. Stepan handed some money through the driver’s window. His daughter was holding a small sports bag, which looked like it was quite full.

She’s here for a couple of days then, Igor thought.

As she entered the house, Alyona Sadovnikova shyly introduced herself and shook Elena Andreevna’s hand. Still holding her bag, she followed Igor’s mother to his bedroom.

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ said Elena Andreevna.

Igor smiled at her and went out into the hallway, where Stepan was waiting in his suit. His neck was also constrained by a tie, although it didn’t seem to be bothering him in the slightest. He glanced at his watch, then looked at Igor.

‘Oh,’ he said, pleasantly surprised. ‘Very smart! You look like a banker. Are you coming with us?’

‘Are we going shopping?’ Igor asked with a smile.