The Wolves of Leninsky Prospekt

by Sarah Armstrong

  ‘I know. Not really your thing.’

  ‘It’s not just that. She said she’d be in touch, that she’d get Charlie to ask you to ask me to go around again. And she didn’t, and now she wants me to be his nanny? I only spent an afternoon with him.’

  ‘So, I’ll say no?’

  I groaned and put my feet up against the balcony. ‘This should be a face to face thing, not Chinese whispers between husbands. It’s just weird.’

  ‘Maybe she thinks you’re bored. Or you could do with the money.’

  ‘I never said either of those things. And I’m just finding my feet. I had a brilliant time today.’ Then I remembered. Kit noticed. He closed the balcony door and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I met Eva Mann.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ He clasped his hands together.

  ‘She was walking past with her dog.’

  ‘She’s invited you around, hasn’t she?’

  I nodded.

  ‘And promised you something?’

  ‘No. Oh, yeah, a map.’

  ‘But you can get your own map.’

  ‘I know. But I’m interested in her. And that’s your fault. You won’t tell me anything about her.’

  ‘I don’t know anything, but I know,’ he lowered his voice, ‘she’s not on our side.’

  I glanced at him. ‘She has a nice dog.’

  He huffed, ‘It’s probably not even her dog. You can’t go there, Martha. I bet you anything you like, she gets you to do things for her. She’ll butter you up, and then you’ll be running around, doing little jobs, feeling useful. And all the while she’ll be getting information.’

  ‘But I won’t say anything. Apart from,’ I waved my hand between us, ‘that I don’t know anything. And the point is, I don’t want to be at her mercy or Alison’s. I want to explore Moscow. So few people get to do that, and Eva knows Moscow. She lives here.’

  Kit sat quietly for a while. ‘Just tell me everything, OK. And if the map doesn’t look like a tourist map, don’t take it.’

  ‘Got it. And I’ll go around to Alison’s soon, sort this out. Maybe I’ll say that you said, what with rabid hooligans and crazy drunks, it’s best to stay inside.’

  ‘Hmm.’ He picked up the plates to take them through. ‘How was your lesson this morning?’

  ‘Otlichno.’

  He raised his eyebrows and went inside. But I felt I had improved today. I had started to get an idea of sounds from around the map. Prospekt looked a bit like ‘in pocket’, -skaya looked like ‘ckar’, just the R was backward. The letters T, O, M and A were safe. I stood up and leaned on the balcony, looking over the trees to the dark, north-east skies.

  ‘Toma,’ I said aloud. My safe letters that wouldn’t trick me. But I would work hard to learn the rest. And maybe see a film.

  The door behind me opened and I jumped.

  ‘Guilty conscience?’ asked Kit. ‘I just wanted to say, can you talk to Alison about the picnic when you go?’

  ‘OK.’

  I thought of the militiaman, noting down all the comings and goings.

  ‘Kit?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Someone knocked on the door when I got back. It was really loud. It sounded official and I got nervous.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘I don’t know. Should I have opened it?’

  ‘No. Best not, if you’re not expecting anyone.’

  I was pretty sure that covered me if Charlie tried to stir things up. I went to bed, eager to read through Eva’s stories again.

  "Cherry Stones"

  by

  E.V. MANN

  There are so many similarities between this landscape and home – the oak, hawthorn, pansy and violet. And nettles. There is even a cherry tree at my dacha. I sit underneath in the snowfall of petals, watching tiny pips of green swell and ripen. I have never belonged to anywhere else like I belong here.

  The wolf watches me from the gate, occasionally sifting news from the wind. He watches, but he says nothing. He feels far away. I miss the heat of his fur.

  That first summer, the cherry tree has a full crop, heavy in the low branches. I water them and pick bugs from the leaves. I shoo any birds from my garden. The sound of trees rustling sends me to sleep, and I dream of the cherries. The wolf watches me as I sleep.

  I check the crop every day, sometimes squeezing a cherry between my fingertips and sometimes eating a slightly bitter one. But less bitter than last time. One more night, and I will pick all the cherries.

  I wake to the sound of feathers. When I get up, I can see from the window that the birds are finishing off the last of the cherries. I run outside, but it is too late, they have all gone. I throw damp stones everywhere and shout.

  The wolf looks at me from his place near the gate. ‘Why are you shouting at the birds?’

  ‘They’ve eaten all my cherries,’ I cry.

  The wolf shakes his head. ‘Do you see the flowers which grow by the gate?’

  I go and look. Their tiny robustness pushes up through the stones, and from the wall where the pointing has crumbled away.

  ‘And how about that damson tree?’ he says. ‘Did you plant that?’

  The damson had grown while I wasn’t looking, near the dacha.

  ‘They were all planted by birds,’ he says. ‘We are surrounded by the work of others; we are guardians, not owners. And you begrudge them a share of their own work.’ He lowers his head, but I can see a glint of resentment, as if he knew it was a test I would fail.

  ‘They have taken every last one,’ I complain. I can’t help it.

  ‘You ate some while they were green. We saw you. Would you let the birds do all the work and eat their fruit?’

  A blackbird flew down and sat on the gate to address the wolf.

  ‘Comrade, I congratulate you on providing such lovely fruit for the citizens. We are sorry to say that we believe your companion does not have the right kind of soul.’ The wolf nods. I watch the bird fly away.

  The wolf opens the gate and I know it’s for me to leave. I fling my arms around his neck. He speaks gently and I feel the rumble of his words.

  ‘You have been denounced. You can’t stay here.’

  I whisper, ‘Please let me stay. Forgive me. I love you.’

  ‘You do, citizen, but your soul needs to be fixed. You must live in the city and learn to love us equally.’

  I walk back to the city alone, noting the position of every bird in the sky and how they follow me with their hollow bones and shrill voices. My tears fall like cherry stones, hard and bitter.

  11

  After Natalya arrived with the shopping, I walked the other way to Alison’s, crossing over Leninsky by my apartment to where it met Vernadskogo Prospekt. It was no quicker, but I liked going past Christopher the Archangel, no longer a church, of course. Kit had told me that most churches were used as storage now. I felt that it was an excuse not to knock them down, although some had gone from the centre. Kit said that, just down from where I’d been on the river, a huge cathedral right on the Moskva had been destroyed for one of Stalin’s dreams, which never came to anything. The massive space was now an enormous outdoor swimming pool, heated through the winter. It was the one I’d read about in the library, but I had no idea I’d been so close.

  It was one of the many moments when I thought, Alison could take Bobby there. There were so many grand, stunning places for the people, it seemed odd for her not to see the grand Metro stations and run through their parks.

  I was hot by the time I got to apartment block 79, and tentatively passed the militiaman. Hot could look like guilty. He didn’t stop me. I decided to take the lift, but Kit had been right. They did all smell of cabbage, day and night.

  I paused at Alison’s door before knocking. She’d said she didn’t go anywhere, so I supposed this was a test of sorts. I knocked. A few seconds, and she opened the door, hand on one hip.

  ‘Ah. So you’
re interested? You really should get that husband of yours to install a phone.’

  I shifted my feet. Not staff, and already I was being kept on the doorstep. ‘Shall I come in?’

  She stood aside and I walked into the hall. She closed the door but didn’t go anywhere else.

  ‘I don’t want to be a nanny, Alison. Sorry. I’m happy to take Bobby out as an informal thing, but I don’t want to be tied down.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘But it’s not like you’ll be having any of your own.’

  I tilted my head. ‘Why not?’

  She paused, blushing slightly. ‘Well, you probably feel too young.’

  She knew about Kit. I’d known she was fishing the other day. If he’d told Charlie, he was a fool.

  ‘Yes, well, I think that’s our business.’

  I put my hand out to open the door and she placed a hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Please don’t go. I feel like I’ve lost all my social skills. I used to have friends, honestly. Come in.’

  She went into the front room. I hesitated and followed her. I couldn’t see Bobby. Then I looked out at the balcony and gasped.

  ‘Alison!’

  He was sitting on the concrete wall, his back to the sixty-foot drop, his feet dangling. Both hands were on the book he was reading.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, not again,’ said Alison. ‘Bobby, get off that wall!’

  He looked up and smiled at me. I held my breath as, somehow, he jumped forward off the wall. He walked in, waving his book at me.

  ‘I’ve been reading about wolves,’ he said.

  I took the book. ‘Fairy tales are brilliant.’

  ‘Can we look for bears today?’

  I looked at Alison. She nodded.

  ‘Could we have a chat first?’ I said.

  She looked at her watch. ‘OK.’ She sat down at the table. ‘What do you want to talk about?’

  I didn’t sit down. I wanted to ask what the problem was, why she switched her friendship on and off, what I’d done that was wrong. I didn’t say any of those things.

  ‘Christopher said to ask you about the picnic.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, he said it as if I knew what that meant. What picnic, where, when? Do I have to do something?’

  ‘It’s at the embassy dacha, on the 9th.’

  I looked blank.

  ‘It’s a week tomorrow. The embassy provides the food. Maybe he wanted to share a car out there, but there’d be too many of us. But he and Charlie probably just think the wives do it all.’

  ‘OK. I’ll ask him what he meant, then.’ She was so snappy again. I could never predict if she was going to be friendly or not. I turned to Bobby. ‘Do you want to put a jacket on?’

  ‘No.’ He threw his book on the sofa and ran to the front door. I heard it click open and rushed to catch him up.

  ‘We’ll be a couple of hours,’ I shouted back.

  Nothing. I closed the door.

  This time, we turned right and soon saw the red M of another Metro station, Vernadskogo Prospekt. There were more buildings being constructed along the road. At the bus stop, people physically pushed each other onto the bus through the rear door, and Bobby turned to me.

  ‘They should wait for the next one,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I would.’

  I wondered how long we’d walk before I could see the university properly. We crossed over at the crossroads and, just as I started to doubt we’d gone the right way, a thin line of trees appeared along the road.

  ‘Oh, this isn’t a forest,’ I said. The park stretched out with clumps of trees, running uphill to copses and downhill to streams. It was designed for people, with wooden pathways, and yet it felt natural. ‘What kind of beasts are we going to find here?’

  Bobby was quiet as we approached the trees. ‘Could be Giant Land,’ he said.

  ‘Giants.’ I nodded. ‘They eat small boys, you know.’

  ‘I’m going to find a sword.’ Bobby started to scour the ground for sword-type sticks, while I looked around. A couple of people were examining the earth around the base of a tree, and I immediately thought, spies! But they don’t normally come in pairs like that, and soon I could see that they weren’t collecting secret cash payments or dropped off tapes, but mushrooms. Like Kit had said.

  Bobby came back, armed.

  ‘If we go up the hill,’ I pointed, ‘I think we’ll see the giant’s castle.’

  Bobby nodded and started running. I hoped the running would wear off pretty quickly. I was hot enough walking uphill, and sure enough Bobby sat down halfway up.

  ‘Thank you for waiting. You’re the only one with a sword.’

  ‘Don’t be scared, lady.’ He pushed himself to his feet.

  ‘Bobby, do you know my name?’

  He shook his head. ‘I forget it.’

  ‘I’m Martha.’

  ‘Daddy said, say hello to Martha. And you’re Martha.’

  ‘Yes. I am.’

  We continued our search for footprints, past pink lilac and striped birch. Bobby was ready to smash a cluster of mushrooms until I stopped him.

  ‘People pick those to eat them.’

  ‘But I hate mushrooms.’

  ‘We’ll leave them for the giants, then.’ I looked north. ‘Bobby, I can see their castle.’

  The huge tower of the university shone creamy in the sunlight, like a slightly squat Empire State Building, rising in tiers. As we went a little higher, the four shorter towers were visible too. I turned around. It had reminded me of Richmond Park, but the tower blocks surrounding it made me now think of Central Park, which I’d only seen on films and always struck me as a dangerous place. Here, I felt utterly safe. I remembered about drunks and rabies, but it was impossible to feel any danger with so many people walking and sitting, just enjoying the space.

  ‘Charge!’ shouted Bobby, running full pelt down the hill, past squirrels, thin pine trees with vibrant purple cones, a patch of dandelions, until we reached the small stream at the bottom.

  ‘Those sneaky giants have got a moat,’ I said.

  Bobby threw his stick down. ‘Can I take my shoes off?’

  I hesitated. It was only ankle deep, but I knew what a nightmare it was to get anything washed by hand in the sink. But it was just socks. If Alison got funny, I’d wash them myself. I stuffed our socks deep into the toes of our shoes, and knotted all the laces together

  We both waded in barefoot, the water running fresh over the stones, and began to search for tinier beasts. Further along, the banks grew higher and we could hide from the vibrations of giants. After a while my toes started to feel numb, and I climbed out, pulling Bobby after me. We lay in the sun and allowed our toes to dry off a bit before pulling the socks back on. They felt wrinkled, a bit gritty, no matter how tight I pulled them.

  Bobby’s cheeks were a bit flushed with sunburn, and the back of my neck was starting to feel tender.

  ‘Time to go home,’ I said.

  Bobby nodded, so I knew he was really tired. On the way back, along the hot street, I told him about the red castle of the biggest giant that I’d seen the other day.

  ‘You mean the Kremlin,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah. Have you been there?’

  ‘I’ve seen it.’

  ‘You know Christopher? He was telling me about these underground caves which are so beautiful. They might have trolls or bears, I’m not sure what kind of caves they are.’

  Bobby didn’t respond.

  ‘Do you want to have a ride on my back?’

  He nodded, and I bent down for him to climb on. He was some weight. I hoped he didn’t have sunstroke.

  Alison wasn’t worried. ‘He didn’t sleep much last night, and he always catches the sun.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. I’d laid him down on the sofa, where he was flat out asleep.

  ‘Do you want a cold drink?’

  I felt my cheeks, burning hot. ‘Yes, thanks.’

  ‘Beer or kvas?’


  I was putting off kvas, some kind of fermented bread drink. ‘Beer sounds perfect.’

  ‘Go and sit on the balcony. It can get a good breeze, sometimes.’

  I went outside, wondering exactly how bad I looked. The flat faced west and, while it was fresh now, the afternoon sun would soon fill it.

  Alison brought me my beer. She had water.

  ‘Pregnant,’ she said, to answer my look. ‘That’s why I’m so tired and cross with him all the time.’ She nodded back inside towards Bobby. ‘And probably why I’ve seemed a bit off with you. I’m not sleeping well at all. The white nights. It will only get worse.’

  ‘I was looking forward to that. Is it a problem?’ I asked.

  ‘I need total darkness to sleep, and there’s no actual night. No real darkness. Do you know about twilights? Astronomical, nautical, civil?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘It’s about the levels of the dark. And where we are at this time of year, there is no absence of light. Charlie got me an almanac. Today we have no night, over an hour of astronomical twilight, nearly four hours nautical, almost two hours civil twilight and seventeen hours of daylight.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I’ve never heard of these kinds of twilight.’

  She went inside and brought back a thin book. ‘After the 3rd June, we only have nautical and civil. And it isn’t until the 8th August that we get half an hour of night. Actual darkness. And we’ve had no night since the 6th May. Three months. And I know it isn’t like Greenland, and I know,’ she waved the almanac, ‘that there is technically no night in England for two months. But we never have less than three hours of the darkest twilight and,’ she dropped the book on her lap, ‘in England we do have bloody curtains.’

  ‘Can’t you get an eye mask?’

  Alison tutted. ‘A rolled-up flannel is the best I’ve come up with.’

  I looked at the sofas which she and Charlie slept on, by the large balcony window. A wall made of glass, and no curtain at all. We had a thick curtain in the room where Kit slept, which he’d brought over.

  ‘Does it keep Charlie awake too?’

  ‘Of course not, but he can have a beer or two to make sure it doesn’t. Now that I’m pregnant, I feel like my eyes are pinned open all the time. It makes me feel sick to drink since that night you came over for dinner.’