Charlotte Hobson - The Vanishing Futurist

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The Vanishing Futurist: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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When twenty-two-year-old Gerty Freely travels to Russia to work as a governess in early 1914, she has no idea of the vast political upheavals ahead, nor how completely her fate will be shaped by them. Yet as her intimacy with the charismatic inventor, Nikita Slavkin, deepens, she’s inspired by his belief in a future free of bourgeois clutter, alight with creativity and sleek as a machine.
In 1917, revolution sweeps away the Moscow Gerty knew. The middle classes – and their governesses – are fleeing the country, but she stays, throwing herself into an experiment in communal living led by Slavkin. In the white-washed modernist rooms of the commune the members may be cold and hungry, but their overwhelming feeling is of exhilaration. They abolish private property and hand over everything, even their clothes, to the collective; they swear celibacy for the cause.
Yet the chaos and violence of the outside world cannot be withstood for ever. Nikita Slavkin’s sudden disappearance inspires the Soviet cult of the Vanishing Futurist, the scientist who sacrificed himself for the Communist ideal. Gerty, alone and vulnerable, must now discover where that ideal will ultimately lead.
Strikingly vivid, this debut novel by award-winning writer Charlotte Hobson pierces the heart with a story of fleeting, but infinite possibility.

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‘And what about you?’

‘I’ll carry on. I’ll work for the Revolution. I suppose I’ll –’ he gave me a twisted smile – ‘I’ll find someone else to love.’

‘What?’

I was aware suddenly that he was trembling. We stopped in the cart-tracks and the warm, wet snow fell on us both. It highlighted every fold in Pasha’s coat, his hat, his eyebrows.

‘What… what do you mean?’

Milaya moya , don’t tell me you didn’t know… I love you. I’ve always loved you. I fell in love with you from the moment you arrived in our house – you gave me a look, a sort of considering look, and you laughed, and I’d never heard a woman laugh like that before. I’ve been trying to make you laugh ever since.’

I felt rather than heard him say it – a physical jolt, as though all the cells in my body were realigning themselves. I opened my mouth and only a stammer emerged.

‘I know what you feel for Slavkin,’ he went on. ‘I’m not a fool. When we returned from the south and I saw how you glanced at him, I could have slit my throat. How many times have I wished I didn’t go with my parents? I’ve seen you suffer from his treatment of you. I’ve suffered with you. When I heard about the child, I felt so angry – so furious with him. Then I tried to put my ego aside and think only of you and the child. I’ve done my best to look after you both – but now I beg you, go back to England. There’s been so much unnecessary death already. You’re a foreigner here, and these people hate foreigners. Please, Gerty, do it for me.’

‘Pasha—’ I reached forward, unthinking, and touched his cheek. He caught my hand and suddenly we were kissing in the middle of the street, and I was crying, and so was he. All alone in the darkness, with a curtain of huge dirty snowflakes to shield us, we kissed each other. And it was as though a great river had overflowed inside me and I was carried along on the surge and suddenly all the struggle, all the hard, dry slog of life dissolved and it was easy, and warm, and irresistible.

19

I woke in the night, as though someone had tapped me on the shoulder. Pasha lay on his pallet beside me. A sentence was running through my mind. ‘He’s not being held by the Cheka.’ I knew what to do. I thought it through again, trying to fix it in my mind. Then I slept.

At six in the morning I got up and packed a small bundle. I took the last few coins from underneath the floorboard in the corner – the remains of the valuables that in the summer of 1918 Sonya and I had sewn into the hem of her coat. I removed a stone from the back of the fireplace and took out the Mauser that Monsieur Kobelev had left in my care. Dubiously, I blew the dust off it. I had no idea how to fire it, or even if it was loaded, but it hardly mattered.

‘Busy?’

I jumped. ‘Lord, Pasha, don’t frighten me like that! Not when I’m holding this thing!’

‘Yes, what the hell are you doing with it, may I ask?’

‘I’ve thought of something. I mean, I’ve remembered something that I think might help Nikita. Meet me in a couple of hours in front of the National—’

But Pasha grabbed my arm. ‘No. I’m coming with you now.’ He was already pulling on his coat and boots. ‘How dare you try to leave me here, you bloody… Galliffet.’

Despite myself I laughed and he smiled slightly. ‘What is your plan then?’

‘You don’t have to come in the building with me – there’s no need for both of us to be implicated. Wait outside, I’ll need you when I get out. I’m going to see Pelyagin. Just show me how to use this thing, would you?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! What good will a gun do you? If you fire it, they’ll arrest you immediately. And even if you don’t, you’ll be searched at the door of the National and that’s the end of you as well as any chance of saving Nikita.’

I grimaced at him and put it back. ‘I suppose you’re right. It was just to give me courage. I’ll tell you the plan as we walk, shall I? On one condition – you promise not to try to stop me.’

I explained as we trudged through the deep snow towards the centre. Every few moments I had to stop and catch my breath. The moment I stopped, the baby began to turn inside me. Be calm, I willed it. This is for you.

The first pinkish tinge of dawn was in the sky by the time we reached the National. Pasha took both my hands and gave me a serious look. I knew what it meant. We could still turn around and go on with our lives. ‘Are you sure?’ he whispered.

I leant my forehead against his for a long moment. ‘I’m sure.’

‘So – I’ll wait for you here. I’ll do what I can about transport. If you don’t appear within an hour, I’m coming in to find you.’

Sweat was running down the back of my neck as I approached the main entrance. I had no pass to get me into the building. The baby kicked me sharply, so hard I saw the bulge through my coat.

‘Pass,’ said the guard. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

I smiled at him. ‘Yes, just me – here to see Pelyagin as usual. I brought you something to thank you for clearing up after me that other time.’ I pushed a lump of barley sugar that I had miraculously discovered at the back of the cupboard into his hands. The boy’s eyes lit up.

‘Wait.’ He stopped me suddenly. ‘He told me you weren’t giving him lessons any more.’

‘Oh – er, yes. But unfortunately he still has to pay me. These high-ups, you know, they forget we all have to live.’ I took a step past him.

He grinned. ‘Too right.’

I was across the hall before he could change his mind. Out of his sight, I climbed the stairs slowly to the third floor. What if my supposition was wrong, and Pelyagin simply didn’t know? There was no turning back now. I stopped for a moment to regain my breath, and slipped into his office. Rosa Gershtein, just arrived at work, was unwinding her scarf.

‘Rosa,’ I said hurriedly and in an undertone. ‘Please forgive me, but you must leave us alone now. Go, and do not come back until this afternoon. I don’t want to put you in any danger. And I must warn you, if you alert the guards I shall have to tell Pelyagin your real identity.’

‘Wha—’ She looked at me in horror.

‘Go now, don’t make a sound. I’ll tell Pelyagin you’ll be back at four o’clock. Not before, do you understand?’

She nodded, then took her hat and left. I glimpsed Pelyagin’s black shiny head bent over his desk in the next room.

‘Rosa!’ he called without looking up.

‘Rosa has been called away,’ I said as I entered. ‘Good morning, Comrade Pelyagin.’

He half rose from his chair as if to bar me from the room. ‘I’ve nothing to say to you.’

‘But if you don’t mind, I have something to say to you.’ I took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. ‘You should know that I am a spy for the British government and you have been passing information to me about the activities of the Bolsheviks for six months.’

His expression was almost comical. ‘You’re a spy?’

‘Am I or not? I know what I would believe if I was the guard in the entrance hall downstairs. Please sit down.’

He fell into his chair, staring fixedly at me. ‘What do you want?’

‘Where is Nikita Slavkin?’

Pelyagin’s face worked. ‘I don’t know, I swear to you – I don’t know.’

‘But you did know where he was taken, didn’t you? Last time I saw you, you told me as much. “The Cheka aren’t holding him,” you said. It took me all this time to realise you meant “They aren’t holding him now .”’

He said nothing, looking at me coldly. Was I right? Or was he weighing up what I might do, what his best option was? Backing away from him, I opened the door into the corridor and called, ‘Comrade?’

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