‘That’s good news.’ She sighed.
There must have been something in her voice, a sadness that had caught his attention. He looked at her closely. ‘Why did you ask about the prisoner camp? What happened?’
Crying, she told him about the fight with her father and the arrest, and how they combed every inch of Brovary prisoner camp looking for him. He pressed her hand gently. ‘I’m sorry about your father,’ he whispered.
‘I know,’ she said, reaching for him. ‘So am I.’
‘Your mama is right, you know. No matter what you said to each other, he knows how much you love him.’
‘I’m sure he does,’ she said, barely audible, not at all sure. ‘I have more news.’ She told him about the Red Army soldier they had rescued on the way back from Brovary.
When she finished, Mark said, ‘That’s an amazing thing you’ve done for that man. Where did he fight?’
‘I don’t know. He was still asleep this morning when I left for work. Imagine if he knows Stanislav. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?’ Natasha could see the outline of his face in the light of a street lamp. She was no longer crying. How could she, when he was looking at her with such love, such tenderness, such wonder? ‘What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?’
He pulled her closer. ‘Natasha, I’ve never met anyone as caring and unselfish as you. Here you are, saying goodbye to your brother, losing your grandmother, your best friend, your father, starved, scared, with no means to survive, and yet, not once did I hear you complain. Instead, you help others. You have the kindest heart of anyone I know.’
‘I don’t have the kindest heart.’ She blushed. ‘You do.’
‘Do you have any idea how much I love you?’
‘And I love you,’ she whispered.
He paused in a dark doorway. ‘We are here,’ he said, reaching into his pocket for a key and unlocking the door.
‘What is this place?’ she asked as they walked in. When Mark pulled the light switch, she found herself in a ghostly forest of flowers, old and dry, with petals wilted and limp. They seemed to reach for her, clinging to life even in death.
‘An old florist shop. When I came across it, I thought you would like it.’
‘It’s so spooky in here!’ She shivered.
‘But in a beautiful way. Look at all these flowers. It’s like they are frozen in time.’
‘Yes, it looks like a graveyard of old flowers. I personally prefer them fresh.’
‘You do? Wait here for me.’
He disappeared through the back door and she waited impatiently, pacing on the spot and rubbing her hands to warm up. Finally he invited her in, and when she walked through the door, she gasped in wonder. The room was cosy and warm, with a fire cracking in the fireplace. In its dancing light, Natasha could see flowers everywhere – fresh roses, carnations and daisies. The room was filled with them. On the floor and on the table, on the shelves and on the mantelpiece, there were vases and bouquets. Rose petals were strewn on the floor, forming a shape of a heart. On the table, in what little space remained between the flowers, someone had laid out a feast, with white bread, sausages and cheese, smoked fish, chocolate and sweets.
‘You did all this for me?’ she exclaimed.
He nodded. ‘It’s almost two months since we met. I wanted to do something special.’
‘But I don’t understand. Where did you find fresh flowers in November?’
‘I can’t tell you that.’ He laughed.
‘Why not?’
‘Because then you’d know all my secrets.’
‘I can’t believe you would do this for me.’
‘I wish I could do more. I wish I could bring you flowers every day.’
He made some tea on the portable stove in the corner of the room and they sat down to eat. Natasha devoured the food as if she hadn’t eaten in days, while Mark hardly touched anything. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said to him, suddenly shy.
‘You are welcome.’ He pulled her closer and undid the rubber band that held her hair in place. She wore a long skirt and her mother’s blouse. She was glad she’d had time to scrub her hands clean and apply some lipstick. She kissed him. ‘I missed you at the weekend.’
‘I missed you, too.’ He let go of her for a second, reaching into his rucksack. ‘I have another surprise for you.’
‘More surprises? You are spoiling me. What is it?’
‘Guess.’
‘Is it a book?’
‘No.’
‘Is it edible?’
‘No.’ He laughed and pinched her. She fell quiet, watching him. He said, ‘Do you give up?’
‘Never! Is it something I would like?’
‘I hope so.’
‘Is it… Let’s see… Is it a puppy?’
His eyes widened. ‘A puppy? No. I don’t have a puppy here with me or you would have heard it barking by now.’
‘What is it then? Tell me.’
‘Do you give up?’
‘Never! Is it a cake?’
‘Cake is edible. Therefore, it’s not cake. Do you give up?’
She nodded.
He nudged her. ‘Come on, say it.’
She pushed him with her fists but said, ‘I give up.’
‘Good. Now close your eyes.’
She did as he said. A second later she felt a smooth, possibly wooden, object in her hands. This object rattled when she shook it. She opened her eyes and cried, ‘A chessboard! Where did you get it?’
‘Borrowed from my commanding officer. He never goes anywhere without his chess.’
She undid the metal strap and opened the box. ‘I haven’t played in ages. Years. Father taught us how to play when we were little.’ At the thought of her father, she felt tears swell up in her eyes. She blinked them away.
‘Still remember how?’
‘Hopefully I remember enough to beat you.’
He laughed. ‘It might be easier than you think.’
‘Why is that?’
‘I’ve never played before.’
‘Never played chess?’
‘No.’
‘What do they teach you in Hungary?’
‘Not much.’ He found his torch in his rucksack. ‘You’ll have to show me how the game works.’
‘Under one condition.’
‘What is it?’
‘I’ll teach you if you tell me where the flowers came from.’
‘Do you really want to know?’ He was teasing her. She could see it in his eyes.
‘If you want to learn how to play chess, you’d better tell me.’
‘An old woman who lives not far from our barracks grows flowers in a greenhouse. It’s her passion. She says while there are flowers, there’s life.’
‘She’s right,’ said Natasha, touching the stem of a rose. ‘They are so beautiful, so full of life. And she let you have some?’
‘In exchange for food, yes. Now, why are you crying?’
‘No one’s ever given me flowers before.’
She couldn’t take the intensity in his face. Shyly she turned away from him and towards the table. The chess set was unlike any she had ever seen before. The pieces were large, heavy and elaborately carved. She looked at them in wonder. Finally, she said, ‘Pick a colour. Black or white? Which one do you want?’
‘White.’
‘Oh no you don’t. Let’s do it the proper way.’ She took one white piece and one black piece and hid them behind her back. ‘Which hand?’
‘Left.’
She opened her left fist. ‘Damn it. Okay, you get to be white.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘You go first.’ She separated the pieces by colour and set up the board. ‘You have eight pawns, one king, one queen, two rooks and two knights. Oh yes, and two bishops.’
‘Sounds complicated.’
‘Not really.’ She laughed at the confounded expression on his face.
‘What is the aim of the game?’
She
chuckled. ‘You really don’t know anything about chess, do you?’
‘I told you. So what do I do?’
‘Protect your king at all times.’
‘Which one is the king again?’ His eyes twinkled. She couldn’t tell if he was serious or if he was teasing her.
‘The one wearing the crown,’ she said.
‘Okay, I understand.’
‘Are you sure? You look confused… Ready to play? It’s your go first.’
‘What do I do?’
‘Move your pawn two squares forward.’
‘Which one? I have eight.’
‘Start with this one.’ She pointed at the pawn in the middle of the board.
‘Why this one?’
‘Just do it. Don’t ask questions.’
He held her gaze as he moved the pawn forward. ‘What kind of teacher are you? Alright, done.’ Then he pulled her closer across the chessboard, squeezing her. She frowned. ‘Be serious. Don’t distract me. I need to decide on my strategy.’ She moved her own pawn.
‘Me again?’ He moved the same pawn another two squares.
She grabbed his hand just as he was about to put the pawn down. ‘You can’t do that. You can only move one square.’ Taking the piece from him, she placed it back.
‘Hold on, what are you doing? You told me the pawn moved two squares…’
‘Only on the first move.’
‘You’re cheating. Making up the rules as you go along.’ He pinched her.
She pinched him back. ‘You think I need to make up rules to beat you in chess?’
They continued playing. In ten minutes Mark lost half his pieces. Natasha lost one rook. She looked at the board, considering her next move. ‘Wait a second,’ she exclaimed. ‘Where did my knight go?’
‘What’s a knight? What does it look like?’
‘Just because you lost both of yours…’ She shoved him. ‘It looks like this.’ She pointed at his knight that was now lying defeated on the floor. ‘Where is it?’
‘Haven’t seen it.’ He struggled to keep a straight face.
‘You’re such a liar. I had it a minute ago. What did you do with it?’ She looked around, checking under his rucksack and lifting the chessboard, careful not to disturb the pieces.
She could tell he was trying not to laugh. ‘I don’t know what you mean. Not my fault if you can’t keep track of your own knight.’
‘I won’t play if you steal my pieces.’ She pouted.
‘But that’s the only way I can win.’ Finally, he looked like he couldn’t stand it anymore. He burst out laughing.
‘Come on, tell me. Where did you hide it?’
‘Haven’t seen it,’ he repeated.
‘And if I search you?’
‘Go ahead.’
She climbed over the chessboard, knocking the pieces out of position. Finally settling on his lap, she tickled him under his shirt.
‘Here it is. I knew it. You were sitting on it. Cheater!’ She pushed him as hard as she could. ‘That’s it, you lose.’
He lifted her up, bringing her close. ‘I lose, do I? I have a beautiful girl sitting in my lap. Does that sound like losing to you?’
‘Loser,’ whispered Natasha, no longer thinking of chess.
The chessboard was all but forgotten on the floor. She longed to feel his hands on her bare back. She longed for his touch but was too afraid to ask.
She didn’t have to. His hands slipped under her blouse, caressing her with a perplexing familiarity, as if he had touched her like this, naked under his fingers, many times before.
This time she didn’t hesitate, stroking him through his clothes. His body was strong and muscular. Feeling brave, she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled at it until he removed it. Natasha looked in wonder at his bare chest and his bare arms. She had never seen him naked before. Never seen any man naked other than her brothers when they were children. Giddy and disoriented, she could barely sit up straight.
Gently he lowered her on the floor. ‘Ouch,’ she whispered.
‘What is it?’
‘The knight.’
He removed the chess piece, and they kissed. He was on top of her, she was underneath him. Seconds, minutes passed. ‘Are you sure about this?’ he whispered.
She couldn’t, wouldn’t answer. Even though she had never been more sure of anything in her entire life. Even though she craved him like she had never craved anything before. He must have taken her silence as a yes. Undoing the buttons of her blouse, he slipped it off. As he did that, his hands trembled, just like hers. He removed her skirt. She was next to him in nothing but her stockings and underwear.
‘I can’t believe how beautiful you are. Are you nervous?’ he whispered. She shook her head but it didn’t fool him. ‘Don’t be. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.’
‘I want to,’ she said, and her voice quivered. Did he hear her? He was watching her and not moving, as if waiting for something. She nudged him and pulled him closer. She didn’t want to wait any longer.
‘We can go as slow as you want. Anytime you want me to stop, just tell me.’ His hands were on her, probing, touching, stroking. His lips tickled her, light kisses like butterfly wings in her hair, on her cheeks and on her mouth. Before she knew it, she was naked on the cold floor. Bare in front of him. Even though she was burning inside, she shivered. ‘Come here,’ he said, helping her up and guiding her to the couch. Standing in front of her, he undressed quickly. When she saw him naked next to her, she gasped.
He whispered, ‘Natasha, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Please, don’t be scared. I’ll never hurt you.’
‘I’m not scared,’ she replied, wanting him to touch her again, feeling cold where his warm hands had just been.
‘Then why are you trembling?’
‘I’m not.’ She trembled.
His lips were on her neck. ‘Why are you crying?’
‘I’m just so happy. I love you.’
‘Please, don’t cry. Don’t you know how much I love you?’ he asked, leaning over her. She nodded and placed a hand on his chest. She could feel his heart beating fast.
When he brought himself on top of her, she squeezed her eyes in fear. And then she felt his lips on her eyelids and opened her eyes.
‘Ready?’ he whispered.
Everything else ceased to exist. The war, the hunger, the fear. All she could see, all she could feel was him. She was enthralled, captivated by him, forever. Her old life, her new life, she forgot it all right there as Mark made love to her for the first time.
‘Put your legs around me,’ he whispered. She tried to do as he said but couldn’t, so she wrapped her arms around him instead.
She watched his face as his breathing became heavier, struggling for her own breath. When he stopped, still panting, still clasping her in his arms, she touched his lips with hers, not wanting it to be over just yet. Wanting the exquisite pain to last. They lay in each other’s arms, kissing deeply. She was no longer scared or shy around him, and so she traced his skin with her fingertips.
‘I love you,’ she whispered.
‘I love you too.’
Chapter 10 – At the Crossroads
December 1941
A thick blanket of snow covered the streets in December and all of a sudden, Kiev looked fairy-tale beautiful again, just like it did before the war. On the way home from work Natasha would pretend that once again their city was free. That she was free. But then a Nazi officer would stroll past and glare at Natasha. She would see a dead body in a snowdrift or a building so blackened by the fire that no amount of snow could disguise it. And Natasha would no longer be able to pretend.
One day, in the second week of December, she was brushing the snow off her coat, having just walked in, when Nikolai motioned her into the kitchen, his mouth twitching in excitement.
‘What is it, Nikolai? Let me take my coat off.’
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘Wait, I’
m covered in snow.’
Nikolai paid no attention to Natasha. He tap-danced on the spot, his feet moving to some rapid tune that he alone could hear. ‘Did you know Yuri is a partisan?’ His usually steady voice sounded high-pitched.
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Well, he is. He told me himself.’
‘What else did Yuri tell you?’
‘That he has managed to get a fake passport. He doesn’t have to hide anymore.’ Nikolai’s face grew serious. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I’m going to ask Yuri if I can join.’
‘Join what?’ asked Natasha, absentmindedly undoing her shoe laces.
‘The partisans, silly.’
That made her look up from her shoes into her brother’s eager face. ‘You are too young. It’s dangerous.’
Nikolai jumped on the spot, pretend-sparring with an invisible opponent. ‘You are never too young to stand up to the enemy.’
Natasha tweaked her brother’s ear. ‘Don’t let Mama hear you talk like that.’
Natasha could understand Nikolai’s exhilaration. Having Yuri living with them made her a little exhilarated herself. When he was around, she felt a little less despondent. In his late twenties, he always had a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his face. Only occasionally would Natasha catch a glimpse of sadness on his face, the sole indication of the ordeal he’d been through. His height, broad shoulders, kind smile, everything was to his advantage. A sergeant in the Red Army, he was taken by the Nazis at the Battle of Kiev with the rest of his regiment. He was the only one of his comrades to survive the prisoner camp. During long evenings after work, Natasha would sit next to Yuri and Grandfather and Nikolai at the kitchen table, listening to Yuri’s stories about the prisoner camp. He could never talk about it without lighting a cigarette; Natasha could understand why. ‘Did anyone ever escape?’ she’d asked one day at dinner.
‘In the beginning, yes. But nine times out of ten, the Nazis would catch them and shoot them.’
‘Did you ever think of running?’
‘I did once, yes. Two of my friends and I were all set to go.’
‘What happened?’
‘They died of dysentery before we had a chance.’
‘Oh,’ whispered Natasha. Her face fell.
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