Ha! Hes a fine one, this Yuri, Baba tutted to herself as she went to fetch a cloth. Youll get splinters in your tongue that way! You wont like that!
Tolya gazed at the boy, his eyes narrowed. Yuri began to flap his hands in front of his face.
You shouldnt do that. We have good manners in this house. And we like quiet! Tolya looked down into his broth, and saw his face reflected there, all big nose and little bug eyes. Why had Baba invited him into their home? It was all strange, all wrong. He swilled the broth around, the grains twirling and floating like leaves on the wind, and tried not to cry.
I dont like you, he said quietly, looking up at the boy across from him. Yuris gaze fell on him briefly, and he smiled. He didnt seem to care whether Tolya liked him or not.
Well Yuri, youd better be off now. Youve warmed up and had a bit to eat, and Tolya and I have to finish our jobs before we get to our beds. Baba was heaving about under the big bed, trying to reach something stored there. Dust swirled in the air around her.
Yuri wiped his fingers around the inside of his bowl and sucked them clean. Then he stood up from the table and nodded, shifting from one foot to the other, flicking his fingers. The tapping and twitching was making Tolya cross. He couldnt wait for this Yuri to leave.
You can take this with you. We dont need it. Baba handed him an old padded jacket, patched many times, and bursting white wadding like foam along one arm.
But thats for me, Baba! yelled Tolya indignantly, dropping his spoon and leaping to his feet. Papa promised it to me! When Im grown up! Its mine!
Tolya, you have years to grow into it, and Yuri needs it now. Well make you a new one when the time comes. Let Yuri have this, eh? Her tone was firm, and the other boy was already at her side, grinning.
Tolya sat down with a thump and kicked his legs under the table as Yuri took off his own frayed rags and put on the new coat. He stretched out his big, toothy grin and laughed. Its good! Mmm! He wrapped both arms around himself and rocked from side to side. Good!
That will help you on your way. Baba stood back and looked at him, patting him on the arm. Good travels now then, Yuri! She led him to the cottage door. Goodnight!
She stood and watched as he made his way across the moon-silvered yard, over the fence and out into the undulating forest beyond, disappearing into the darkness as his footsteps crunched on the grass and fallen leaves. It was a cold night.
You gave him my jacket, glowered Tolya as he stood to take his bowl to the bucket, once Baba had bolted the door. That was my jacket, and you gave it to some some boy who cant even speak properly, or use a spoon!
He needed it more than you, son. Its cold out there, and he has so little.
But why has he got so little? Maybe he doesnt need anything, Baba? Maybe hes a wood spirit and he doesnt need our clothes, or our food? Maybe hes moth boy, and he doesnt need to come in here and sit by our stove! Tolya shouted, hands clenched.
For the last time, Baba rolled her eyes as she rinsed the bowls, hes not a spirit, hes a boy. I dont know why he has nothing, and Im not going to ask.
Why not?
Because sometimes it is better not to know! Now enough! Baba turned and raised her hand above Tolyas head, as if to strike him.
He backed away, surprised and panting. I dont like him! he shouted, and I dont want him in my house! He thumped the log wall with his small, angry fists.
A fine Communist youre turning out to be, said Baba, shaking her head.
Stalin would hate him too! Hes weak and thin and stupid and laughs at nothing and steals things that are mine!
Baba stood by the bucket picking barley grains out of her hair, her movements jerky and swift. She stopped and looked up. Not everyone can be equal, Tolya: not everyone is the same. Some have no family, no friends: they are weak. We must look after those people. It is our duty.
No! He took my coat! Hes stupid and dirty and I dont want to do my duty!
Baba stood by the bucket picking barley grains out of her hair, her movements jerky and swift. She stopped and looked up. Not everyone can be equal, Tolya: not everyone is the same. Some have no family, no friends: they are weak. We must look after those people. It is our duty.
No! He took my coat! Hes stupid and dirty and I dont want to do my duty!
You have no choice, eh? Its the right thing to do. Your conscience will tell you. And youll have a new coat, when the time is right.
Tolya spun away from her and leant his forehead on the musky-smelling wood of the wall. He shut his eyes as Baba put away the bowls and swept under the table. He poked his fingers into the knots of the wood and sniffed. She didnt understand the feeling he had, in the pit of his stomach, gnawing at him. It told him Yuri did not belong. It told him to be afraid.
Come, be a good boy, and dont sulk. Its been a long day, and youve worked hard in the yard. Help me with the bedding, and wash your face and hands. Thats it!
She smiled as he peeled himself away from the wall and, silently, came to help her with the bed.
Wheres my lovely Tolya gone, eh? Chased away by a messy wood spirit? I dont believe it! Hes in here somewhere! Baba enveloped him in a bear hug that turned into a tickle, her fingers digging into his ribs.
No! Stop!
He chuckled despite himself, unable to be cross with his grandmother as they wrestled at the foot of the stove, laughing and twisting and tumbling. Lev jumped around them barking and nipping their boots, trying to join in. She could always make him laugh, no matter how cruel the boys at school were, or how much he missed his mama and papa. Baba could always make it right. And now the stupid boy had gone, she was all his again.
Dont tell anyone about Yuri, Baba warned before bed.
Why not?
Its hard to explain. Talk brings trouble. And we dont need trouble. So lets keep him to ourselves, eh? Our secret? She tweaked his cheek.
He wanted to brag to his cousin and the other boys about how hed tamed the moth boy. He wanted to be important. He wanted to make them see that he could be one of them. But still, he nodded.
Yuri didnt just come that night. He appeared every so often, melting out of the forest into the edge of the yard as dusk fell and the lamps were lit. He would stand, hands flapping gently at his sides, with a huge happy, otherworldly grin, laughing into the wind and the snow, tapping at the window, waiting for Baba to hail him in for a bite to eat. Theyd sit at the table telling stories or playing games: card games at first, but Yuri couldnt get them, and the cards would fly through the air to fall in autumn patterns across the floor as he gurgled with laughter. So they thought up better games, like guessing the first letter of the things they could see, or taking turns to hide an object for the others to find. Baba would conjure up a bit of bottled fruit to savour, or maybe a piece of black bread smeared with honey. As the weeks passed, Tolya forgot to distrust Yuri, forgot that he was strange. The clutch of fear in his stomach when he appeared at the window melted away. He almost looked forward to Yuris visits.
One night, around New Year, Tolya came home from school, frozen and famished as usual, to find the cottage brightly lit and the stove roaring. Baba and Yuri were waiting for him, standing in the doorway, their cheeks flushed, eyes shining.
Surprise! cried Baba, kissing Tolya on both cheeks. Look what Yuri has made for you! Look!
Ha ha! cried Yuri, Look!
They led Tolya to the table, where lay a wooden spoon, roughly cut and uneven. Along its spine, in blotchy poker work, he made out a moon and star, and the words
He did that all by himself! said Baba, beaming with pride.
Friends! said Yuri, and flapped his hands.
Tolya picked up the spoon and rubbed his thumbs over the words.
Friends, he nodded, smiling to himself.
Baba squeezed his cheeks. My good boy. My treasure, Tolya.
The old man broke off and raised a trembling hand to his wet forehead. His past was hanging on his shoulders like a sack of kindling. He could almost smell it. Im not sure
Anatoly Borisovich! Vlad reached out to take his hand, eyes pleading. Dont back away now. Take a moment to gather your thoughts, and go on, please!
Green eyes rose to meet the hope and frustration radiating from every pore of Vlads handsome, upturned face. Anatoly Borisovich nodded.
He took a sip from the glass by his bedside and blotted his lips on the sleeve of his robe.
Everything has an end, even the happiest story, and sometimes without warning.
Yes? Vlad leant towards him.
It was a few nights later. I was in bed, sleeping above the stove, on the tiled shelf up there it was a bitter night, blue and hard, and it was the warmest place, warmer even than the big bed with Baba. I remember well, I dont remember. It is just a feeling; a smell like a bonfire, or shashlik smoking in the courtyard. A smell of danger.
He stopped and passed a hand down the back of his neck, tugging on the straggly ends of grey mane hanging there. I was in blackness, the depths of sleep. There was a smell and a noise, breaking into me. Crackling, fierce and sharp, prodding into my ears, and a stench blooming up my nose. I felt it all here. Anatoly Borisovich pressed two fingers to his forehead. There was darkness in my brain like the end of the world. Something was wrong, but I could not move.
Mama was calling me. I heard her voice and it made me shiver. I knew she was dead, you see. She called in my ear, called me to come. I opened my eyes, and all around me was black and orange leaping shapes, shivering, snapping. Fire! I sat up on the stove, and flame and fire was all I could see, eating up our cottage, bursting over the table, rushing like rats, dropping from the curtains to the floor, racing up the timbers to the roof. My lungs bucked in my chest. I cried out and scrabbled to get down the side of the stove, but my legs tangled in the sheets and blankets, and I fell like a sack to the floor.
My eyes were streaming holes in my face. When I forced them open, I saw only black and orange, black and orange leaping and crackling and tearing up the roof. My eyelashes fizzed and the hairs in my nose scorched. I stood, but the smoke and heat knocked me off my feet before Id taken a step. So there I crouched, crying on the floor.