Kolya carefully took the thousand-franc note, as if he’d never seen one before, folded it and stuffed it into his wallet.
“Be sure you don’t lose it! And don’t spend it all at once. I’m trusting you.”
Nikolai kissed her hand ceremoniously.
“Thank you, Natasha.”
“Now that you’re in charge of the money, you’re a grown-up. Are you proud?” She laughed. “Well, let’s go. Liza, where are you?”
Dasha carried the suitcases out.
In the taxi, Natalia Vladimirovna sat next to Boris. Liza sat with Nikolai.
Nikolai was rubbing his hands with glee.
“Brilliant. We’ll be able to live it up a bit on that! A thousand francs! We can get food on credit at the store later. Brilliant!”
Liza said nothing.
At the station there was a lot of fuss until the seats were finally located. When at last they settled down, Natasha Vladimirovna’s face had lost the last traces of worry. It was as if everything she found sad and difficult were staying here in Paris, while ahead of her lay only happiness and sunshine. Natalia Vladimirovna smiled at them from the train window.
“Don’t do anything silly. Study hard. Write to me often. I’ll be back soon.”
Boris peered out over her shoulder, sporting a travelling cap.
“They’ve put the heating right up. It’ll be too hot to sleep.”
Natalia Vladimirovna nodded happily, as if he were saying something incredibly pleasant.
“Yes, far too hot.”
Then, still smiling, she leant out of the window.
“Give me your hand, Liza darling. May God keep you.”
Liza grabbed hold of the thin hand in its white glove and pressed it against her lips.
“Mummy,” she whispered, putting into that word all the words she hadn’t had time to say.
Natalia Vladimirovna tore her hand out of Liza’s grasp in a panic and quickly turned to look at Boris. But he was standing up in the car and hadn’t heard anything.
“Never, ever say that! Remember that!”
The guard passed along, slamming all the carriage doors.
“Goodbye, Liza darling. Goodbye, Kolya.” Natalia Vladimirovna’s face was happy again. Next to her, Boris waved his cap at them, grinning and baring his white teeth.
Liza silently watched them pull away and then started running after the train, as fast as she could.
“Mama!” she shouted. “Mama!” She ran, colliding with other people on the platform, nearly knocking them off their feet. She couldn’t see anything for her tears, nothing but the departing train. “Mama! Mama!”
Nikolai caught up with her and grabbed her arm.
“You’re mad, you’ll fall under the train! Why the theatrics?”
Liza stopped and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Are you really that sad that she’s gone? I’m not. I’m happy. We can have fun for a few days.”
They made their way through the crowds towards the exit. Liza looked at the low, cold night sky and sighed.
“Let’s get a cab, pick up Andrei and go somewhere. We’ll drink to her departure.”
Liza shook her head.
“I don’t want to go anywhere. Take me home.”
“You’re being ridiculous, Liza. Funny and ridiculous. But please yourself. You can take the metro home—here’s a franc.”
X
THE WIND SWEPT noisily through the trees in the garden. The gate squeaked pitifully, like a cat.
Liza walked into the dark, quiet, empty house. She switched on the light and stopped by the coat stand, without taking off her coat.
It was all over. She didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything. It was all over. What was she to do now? Do her homework, go to bed? What was the point in all that now? Now that it was all over. Mama had left.
She leant against the wall. She didn’t cry. She looked listlessly at the white staircase, at the dark circular window and swaying branches outside.
She heard the heavy footfalls of somebody running up the porch stairs. The sound of the doorbell was desperately loud. Who could it be at such a late hour?
“Who is it?” she shouted through the door.
“It’s me, Rochlin!”
“Bunny!”
The key clicked and the door opened. A cold wind burst into the hallway. Bunny stood on the porch. Behind him the sky was darkening as the black trees swayed.
“Is Natasha, Natalia Vladimirovna at home?” he said breathlessly in his funny accent.
His blue round eyes stared at her in fright. He looked mad. His cheeks were tinged yellow and covered in stubble. His bowler hat was as crooked as could be without falling off. His coat was creased all over, his tie hung to one side. It looked as if he hadn’t had a change of clothing for at least a day.
“Natalia Vladimirovna.” He tugged at the collar that was too tight around his neck.
Liza stared at him—a funny man, mad, lost. She could hardly breathe for pity.
“Natasha isn’t here,” she said with difficulty.
“Where is she then?” His nose twitched, he seemed to be on the verge of tears. “I must, I absolutely must…”
Liza put her hand on his arm.
“Natasha’s left,” she said, as gently as she could.
“Left?” The mad blue eyes fixed Liza with a stare. “What, to go and sing at the restaurant?”
Liza shook her head.
“No, Bunny, she’s a long way away… She’s gone to Nice.”
“Nice? Nice!?”
He jerked his head violently and his bowler hat came flying off, first hitting the wall and then rolling down the steps into the dark garden below. Bunny didn’t even turn to look.
“Nice?” He repeated, shocked.
The wind ruffled the fine, soft hair on his head. His round face, with those mad eyes and his hair standing on end was both comical and frightening.
“Don’t worry, Bunny.” Liza pulled at his sleeve. “Let’s go through to the drawing room, come,” she said, as if there, in the drawing room, she would find the words to comfort him.
But he wouldn’t move.
“She’s left… She’s left me… Tell me, Liza, did she go alone?”
Liza’s heart thudded loudly and stopped.
“Yes.”
“What about Boris? Was Boris at the station?”
Liza shook her head.
“I haven’t seen him all week.”
“She’s left me.” Bunny’s shoulders shuddered. He hung his head and sobbed. “I gave her my blood and she…”
Liza embraced him urgently.
“Bunny, don’t cry. Dearest Bunny, please don’t cry. My fluffy, pretty little bunny. She’s left me too, and I too am suffering. Oh, Bunny!”
They stood in the doorway, in the howling wind, embracing. Bunny put his short little arms around Liza’s shoulders and pressed his wet cheek against hers, as if this little girl were his salvation, as if she alone connected him to life.
Liza kissed his wet, drooping cheeks. Poor man, he was so weak, so helpless! Her heart was bursting with pity, with tenderness, with dread. She just wanted to comfort him and help him. Poor, poor man.
Their tears mixed together. They held each other closely—both lonely, miserable, abandoned. “This is how people embraced on the Titanic, as it was sinking.” The thought flashed through Bunny’s mind. “And I am sinking. I have already sunk. It’s all over.”
“I wanted to die for her. I gave her my blood,” he sobbed.
“Bunny, don’t cry. Dearest Bunny, please don’t cry. My little bunny. Natasha will be back in a month. We’ll be happy yet, Bunny!”
He lifted his head. He even pushed Liza away a little. He took a crumpled handkerchief out of his pocket, blew his nose and wiped his face.
“Well, I should go. Thank you for taking pity on me.” He smoothed down his coat, switching from tearful despair to his usual brisk manner. “Thank you, Liza dear. You’r
e kind. Don’t write or say anything about this to Natasha.”
He let go of her hand and bounced down the stairs like a ball. Liza watched him crouch down and search for his bowler in the dark, find it, brush it off with his sleeve and replace it on his head, before bounding down to the garden gate. The gate creaked mournfully. Liza’s heart was beating so fast, as if it wanted to burst out and fly after him. Poor, poor man. She wanted to comfort him, but how? She didn’t know how, she couldn’t help him.
She remained standing there in the doorway for a long time. She could no longer see anything or hear his footsteps. Everything was silent, dark and empty. There was only the sound of the trees and the dark sky. Liza shut the door and tried to warm her cold, stiff hands with her breath.
She wrapped herself in a shawl, sat down in her favourite armchair in the drawing room and sighed deeply.
“I’m unhappy and I’m crying, but what’s my grief compared to Bunny’s!”
She sighed again and tears streamed down her face.
“Poor wretched Bunny. Poor wretched Mama. Everyone is poor and wretched. Nobody understands anyone else, and nobody can comfort anyone. How difficult, how frightening life is.”
Meanwhile, Bunny was walking down an empty, poorly lit street. His short coat was unbuttoned and his swollen lips gulped at the night air.
“This is the end. She’s left me… like a mangy dog… Like a rabbit… It’s all over.”
In his head, everything was dark and confused. He didn’t even feel any pain. It was the end.
But suddenly, somewhere deep in his subconscious, there was a bright spark, as if something had pricked his heart. A swooping gust of damp night wind struck him. He stopped. His knees began to tremble. A blissful weariness spread over his body, as if the cold light of the moon had replaced the blood in his veins. He heard a quiet, gentle ringing in his ears. He lifted his head and the ringing stopped. He looked at the sky. A cold, glistening moon slowly rolled out from behind a dark cloud.
“The moon,” he whispered absent-mindedly and smiled.
And suddenly it all became clear—the blissful weariness, the trembling in his knees, the light of the moon streaming through his body.
“This is the end. She’s left me… like a mangy dog.” Suddenly, he understood that it really was the end. But not the sort of end that he had been anticipating, that he had been dreading. No. It was the end of his bondage, the end of his love. The end of his death. The death of his death.
He sighed in relief and touched his face.
“This is the end,” he whispered gleefully. “I’ve made it. I’ve made it out alive. I’ll live!”
He turned a corner. His step was light, he breathed easily and the trees rustled quietly, and up in the sky, the moon was swimming through dark clouds.
He took out his pipe and lit it.
“As for the oil company… I’ll figure something out.”
And he gave a dismissive wave of his little hand.
XI
THAT NIGHT, Liza couldn’t get to sleep for a long time. Before bed, she said long prayers for her mother and for Bunny. She lay down on her wide divan and pulled the cover all the way up to her chin. On the wallpaper right above her pillow was a red carnation that reminded her of her mother’s mouth. Liza lifted her head and pressed her mouth to the carnation with a passionate, loving tenderness.
“Mama, Mummy.”
And again, she felt grief stirring in her chest. Not pity, but a living, breathing grief. Liza pressed her hand to her chest.
“Stop beating so. It will be over soon. Mama will come back. And I’ll write to her. Yes, of course! Why didn’t I think of this before! I’ll write to her. I’ll tell her everything in my letter.”
She stretched out under the cover, laid her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes.
“I’ll write, I’ll write everything down.”
A calm descended over her, she was almost happy. It wasn’t over. Everything was going to be all right. Still smiling, Liza started composing the letter.
Dearest mummy, my darling mummy, you don’t realize it yet, but I am an adult now, I’m not a child any more. And I love you more than anything in the world. I will sacrifice my whole life for you.
It was a long letter and Liza kept repeating it in her head.
“I’ll forget it by tomorrow. Better write it all down now.” She threw off the cover, switched on the light and sat down at her desk. She stayed in her nightdress, without putting anything over it. She tucked her cold, bare feet under her and dashed it off, trembling from joy, the cold and the excitement.
“I must have made lots of mistakes,” she thought, worried. “Writing in Russian is so difficult. But Russian is better—it’s more tender. Mama will forgive me.” She folded the sheets of paper and placed them in an envelope, without bothering to reread them.
“I’ll send it as soon as I get Mama’s address.” She jumped back into bed and kissed the red carnation on the wallpaper.
“Goodnight, Mummy. You’re on the train right now. You don’t know it yet, but soon you’ll get this letter.” Then she pulled up the cover and fell immediately asleep.
Three days later, a postcard arrived.
My dear Liza, it’s wonderful here and I’m having lots of fun. What a pity that you aren’t here! Hugs and kisses to you and Kolya. Write to me at…
On the other side, across the sky and the sea, she read: “For God’s sake, don’t forget to address me as Natasha in your letters!” Natasha was underlined.
Liza read the postcard and twirled it in her hands. Then she unlocked her bureau, took out her letter and tore it into tiny little pieces. That letter had been written for Mama. Whereas Natasha could make do with a postcard in a day or two.
Liza ran downstairs. Nikolai was drinking coffee in the dining room.
“Look who’s written.”
Nikolai snorted with disdain.
“Is she having fun? Well, let her. We don’t miss her either. She could have left a little more money though.”
Liza nodded.
From that day on, she stopped thinking of her mother and even avoided going into her bedroom.
Part Three
I
THAT WINTER in Paris—the winter of ’28—was bitterly cold. In the mornings, the frozen earth of the garden would creak under Liza’s feet.
Liza went to school. School was boring. Home was even more boring. It was as if she were living on her own. Nikolai would disappear for days on end, returning only late at night when she was already asleep. He and Andrei were always whispering about something and had stopped inviting her out with them. But Liza did not even care to go to restaurants. She felt weak, tired and indifferent to everything. She just wanted to sit by the fire with a book. Even Odette was away—she was with her grandmother in Bordeaux. But Liza didn’t give any thought to Odette.
Liza was on her way home from school. Her satchel weighed her arm down. Her legs were cold in her thin stockings.
“It’s nothing.” She lifted up the collar of her light jacket—the one with gold buttons—and pulled her beret down a little farther. “Don’t pay any attention to it.”
She saw a white round piece of cardboard lying on the pavement in front of her. She picked it up and threw it with all her might. It flew high up into the clear, frosty air. “Like a white dove,” she thought and turned around.
Andrei was walking straight towards her.
Liza was happy.
“Hello! Have you come straight from school?” she asked.
“I’ve stopped going.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t be bothered any more.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Nikolai’s stopped going too.”
“That’s not good,” Liza said quite seriously. “What’s going to happen now? They’ll make you retake the year or expel you.”
“So what? What do we care about the future?”
“Does your aunt know?”
“No, she doesn
’t.”
Liza shivered.
“It’s so cold. Do you want to run? It isn’t far. Give me your hand.”
Andrei ran too fast. Liza couldn’t keep up with him. He was dragging her by the hand and she kept tripping.
“Let go! Let go! I can’t!”
He pushed open the gate.
“It’s so slippery, I’m going to fall over!”
But they were already at the porch.
“What fun!” Liza walked into the hallway and threw down her satchel and coat on a chair. “Let’s go to my room, quick, and light the fire.”
As he was taking his coat off, she stood up on tiptoe and kissed him.
“Your ears are so cold. Kissing you is like eating ice cream. I’m so glad I ran into you. We haven’t been alone together for so long.”
She looked into his eyes.
“You’re practically a stranger these days.”
He shook his head.
“No, Liza.”
She no longer felt happy. She picked up her books.
“You’re all I have,” she said quietly, blushing. She hurried on.
Firewood was stacked up next to the fireplace in her room.
Liza sat down on the rug.
“Come on then, help me. We need some heat in here.”
Andrei got down on his knees beside her.
“Wait, don’t just throw the logs on like that, the paper goes first.”
He struck a match. Liza couldn’t pull her eyes away.
“I like fire. Put some more logs on, come on.”
“That’s enough, let them catch. It’ll be warm soon.”
She started piling more logs on. Her eyes were wide with excitement. Her cheeks flushed scarlet.
“That’s enough, that’s enough!”
She wasn’t listening to him, she was throwing more and more logs on.
“Like a bonfire.” She was staring into the flames. “You know, I want to be burnt alive. Kolya always says that if I had been alive in the Middle Ages, I should have been burnt at the stake, like a witch.”
“Oh no, you would have been a nun, with those eyes of yours. Or maybe a nun and a witch in one.”
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