Oh, thats a poor omen, said Sveta, I dont think we want technology to do that, do we? She smiled a brave smile, and waved to her daughter as she stomped off stage, sniffing and carrying pieces of mashed dove.
At the interval, Sveta propelled Gor towards the ice-cream queue, where their stoical patience was eventually rewarded with a pair of stubby brown cornets. They were squished, chewy looking, each with a small paper disc stuck atop an ice-cream permafrost, becoming part of it. Sveta sucked hers off quickly and bit into the ice-cream, while Gor hesitated, looking perplexed, then applied long fingers to peel off the disc with a great deal of care. Sveta watched, strangely enthralled, as he took a tiny wooden spatula from his pocket and began to chip away the ice, flicking milk crystals onto the steps where they stood on the edge of the heaving foyer.
My teeth, he explained as he caught her gaze. They are all my own, which I sometimes think is a disadvantage. Cold or hot, it can all be a problem. He curled his top lip to reveal fangs that went on and on, right up towards the base of his nose, almost like those of a rodent. Sveta shuddered and looked away, straight into the dark eyes of the Roman gods girl. She was staring at her, across the room, really looking at her this time with the ghost of a smile on her lips.
This séance Gor began.
The bell clattered for the second half, and Sveta jumped.
Tell me later, she mouthed and turned away, hurrying back up the stairs to the comfort of their seats.
Give me strength! muttered Gor as he wiped his whiskers and trod slowly behind her.
They pushed themselves back along the crowded row like toothpaste in a tube. A copy of the programme, pink and crumpled, lay on Gors seat. He picked it up, sat himself down, and offered it to Sveta. Its not mine, she said, I didnt buy one.
Neither did I.
He opened it, stared for a moment, and then dropped it as if it had burnt his fingers.
Sveta looked from Gor to the paper and back again. His eye was twitching. She bent to retrieve it and flicked open the pages. There, in the middle, scrawled across the fuzzy purple lettering, was a message just for Gor:
Svetas Acrobat
Here we are, now you sit down and have a little brandy. In fact, I think Ill join you. Watching ones daughter perform is always nerve-racking. She fussed around, finding glasses. And what with the dove and everything Yes, a tot of brandy will help us both! What a trying evening! Sveta pulled the cork out of the ancient bottle on Gors sideboard, and poured two large measures. There, a taste of the old country for you! she said with a smile, and handed a glass to him.
Sveta, Im not really Armenian, Im
Not to worry! she said brightly. Down the hatch! She drained her glass in a single gulp without the slightest shiver or cough, although her hands trembled. Oh! Theres nothing like Armenian brandy!
Gor took a tiny sip and coughed as the richness burnt the back of his nose and slid like embers down his throat. It was a welcome sensation, replacing the cold of the street and the bone-rattling of the bus. He was glad to be home, glad to be away from the Palace of Youth and the crowds and the faces and the hidden threat that lurked behind them. Something about that message, and the way it had been left, had chilled him to the core.
Are you sure you will be all right this evening, Gor? Shall we stay with you? I could make up beds? She sat opposite him, curled on the sofa.
No, no, Sveta. I shall be quite all right.
We can stay as long as you like? Her eyes were on his face, determined, probing.
No, no, really. Albina needs her own bed, I can see. She too has had an exhausting evening.
No, no, really. Albina needs her own bed, I can see. She too has had an exhausting evening.
The girl lay next to her mother, a collection of tiny white kittens cradled against her belly. She was already asleep, but every so often snuffled slightly, rubbing her face.
Yes, she is a tired baby-kins. But we needed to get you home, safe and sound. You had a nasty shock.
Yes, I did. But now all is well, and you have to get home. Sveta He frowned, and stopped.
Yes?
Well. I, er um, you have no man, around the house, or Albinas father, I mean? To look after you? He cleared his throat.
No, no, Gor. We have never had a daddy. Sveta stroked Albinas foot.
Ah. How never?
Well, now Gor Sveta giggled and reached for a top-up from the brandy bottle. It glugged in her hands. She took a sip, sighed and let her eyes wander along Gors neat, book-laden shelves. He was not the marrying type, she said eventually, her face stretching out in a broad smile.
Why?
She shrugged. He was an entertainer. Here today, gone tomorrow. I knew that, from the start.
Gor frowned. But he cared for you?
Oh yes, he cared very much. He would have stayed. She took another sip. But I made him go.
You made him?
She nodded, still smiling. Yes. I wasnt a young girl, Gor: I was a woman, a teacher already. It was my decision. I knew Id be all right, and I knew it wouldnt work with him. He wasnt designed to live in a flat in Azov. He needed the wind in his hair.
What sort of entertainer was he, if you dont mind me asking?
She grinned. Cant you guess?
Erm
No?
Gor felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Not a magician? he ventured, creasing his forehead.
She threw back her head and laughed, the sound brassy like a trumpet in the quiet of the flat. Albina muttered in her sleep as a kitten crawled over her neck for warmth, dabbing at her face with a tiny white paw.
Ha! No, Gor! Whatever gave you that idea?
He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, and felt a flush burn his cheeks.
He was an acrobat, of course!
An acrobat?
Yes! Oh, how he flew through the air! She gazed up at the murky ceiling, as if she could see her lover flying there. Thats how we met.
How? In the air?
Oh Gor, youre being silly! She giggled and took another sip of brandy. I took a party from the school, for an evening performance. Year 4s, I think they were. He was a visiting artiste not the usual that we get here, day-in, day-out. He was a special, just for the season. High-wire, trapeze He had a wonderful Cossack costume, I remember it all: long black boots, military jacket with shiny brass buttons, a tall fur hat real fur, you know
On the high wire?
No! Gor, really! Listen: hed jump into the circus ring I can see him now a dark jewel of the Caucasus: the cheekbones, the flashing eyes, that chin, such a nose! Akh! I knew from that first moment I went to the circus every day after that. Very soon, he picked up on my passion he could feel it, from where I sat. And he returned it four-fold! How my heart would leap! He would stride to the bottom of the ladder and disrobe, very slowly. That in itself was a performance, Gor! He would place each item of clothing on his upturned shield. And do you know she leant forward, eyes dancing, he did that in the bedroom for me, also.
Oh no, Sveta, really! Gor jerked in his chair, spilling brandy down his front. Now look whats happened!
She chuckled, ignoring Gors discomfort, her voice a low, sing-song melody. I was under his spell: it was the spell of love. You know how they sing about it? Well, its true. He was amazing not just beautiful to look at, but so tender, and funny, and just She sighed. But I knew it could never last. That was my bargain: supreme happiness, for a few months. And it was worth it. In the end, he had to go. I saw him off at the station. He went back to Leningrad. Of course there were tears, he could barely tear himself away. But it was for the best. And now, I have my Albina: I look at her every day, and I remember the day Bogdan and I met. And I remember how we created her, in that magical cauldron of our love, when
Quite, muttered Gor, and took a gulp of brandy. Im sure you
And what about you? she cut in, an inquisitive smile lighting her face.
He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
Have you known love, Gor? Have you a family? I cant help but notice You have no photographs on show is there anyone? Or are your piano and your cats enough for the master magician? Sveta reached out a hand towards Pericles, who ignored it and proceeded to lick his fluffy white behind.
Well, I Its a long story, Sveta.
We have all night, she replied in a sing-song voice, putting her head on one side.
Well, ah. I
The phone rang out in the hallway, its bleeps rattling off the doors and windows. For once, Gor was relieved to hear it.
I must get that, he said, bracing his arms, hands gripping like crab claws on the chair to lever himself up and out: he felt seized up.
No, no, Gor. I will get it. If its your phantom caller, Ill speak with them. Her tone was determined and she jumped off the sofa, stockinged feet knotting slightly, and made for the hallway with quick, uneven steps.
He heard her lift the receiver, wait to listen, and then bellow into it. Silence followed, then again the sound of Svetas voice, huge and hard, as if in a school hall or a playing field, eating the distance, loud in every ear. The clunk of the handset going down echoed through the flat.
No one? asked Gor, rolling his eyes across the ceiling.
No one. But I gave them what for. She winked at him as she came back in.
Right. Well, thank you for trying. I should call you a taxi, Sveta. Its getting late.
I could hear them breathing, you know. Thats the creepy thing. They were listening, breathing, waiting to hear what I would say.
You must have surprised them. He smiled slightly. Youre a brave woman. Ill call that taxi.
If youre sure, she said, her voice soft again, getting sleepy as she curled up on the sofa next to her daughter.
Im sure.
But do you know what? she called out. I could hear something else, in the background.
Really? What could you hear? Gor flicked through his directory for the taxi number.
I dont know. It was just when I put the phone down. It was something like the wind.
The wind? They were calling from the street, then?
Maybe. But it was a strange sound as if they were calling from the forest.
The forest? Gor laid the directory aside.
I could hear it: the wind, rushing through the trees.
Open Flame
His physical health was returning. He felt in charge of his body, the master of his limbs. However, he still slept poorly. It was as if the weather had slipped inside him: the wind blew on his thoughts, heralding the ice that would eventually solidify his veins, the bog that would form where his heart still beat. His dreams were filled with the roar and rush of forest air, the snap of twigs, and always the smell of wood smoke.