Ambitious Love

by Rosie Harris

  ‘I’ll still look after Egor each day, so that will mean that Dairvy can work longer hours at the café whenever you want her to do so,’ she promised.

  Jacob was not happy with such an arrangement. Dairvy expressed no opinion whatsoever; she merely listened, smiled and nodded. Whether she was in agreement with what Fern had said or with what Jacob decreed Fern was never quite sure. The tension in the flat increased daily. Jacob started finding fault with Fern’s work at the café and this led to angry exchanges. When she asked Dairvy to talk to Jacob and point out that her work was as good as ever Dairvy merely shrugged.

  ‘Jacob, he is the boss,’ Dairvy explained. ‘Here at home and in the café. Whatever he says is right.’

  Fern felt they were both being unreasonable. Matters came to a head when they expressed the opinion that she was not showing them the gratitude they felt they deserved. Fern decided that since there was no way of mollifying them she had no option but to make some changes whether she wanted to do so or not.

  When she voiced her feelings to Vladimir and Boris she was dismayed to find that because of their longstanding friendship with Dairvy and Jacob they were not very supportive. They even went so far as to try and make sure that she no longer appeared in any shows they were in.

  Piqued by their attitude Fern felt that she was more or less forced to make a choice about her future. Although she knew she was taking a considerable risk, she decided to stop working at the café and become an entertainer.

  ‘If that is your decision, then I think it would be best if you also found yourself some other accommodation,’ Jacob told her.

  ‘I am perfectly happy to stay here and I will pay you whatever rent you ask,’ Fern told him. ‘What is more, since I will be at home a great deal more during the daytime, I can look after Egor for you most days,’ she told them both.

  She felt sure that Dairvy would find this quite acceptable because it meant that she would be able to put in more hours working at the café and that would mean a better life for herself and her family. Jacob, however, didn’t approve.

  ‘No, that is not a satisfactory arrangement. If you are not working at the café, then I will need your room for whoever takes your place there as a waitress,’ he insisted.

  ‘They may not want to rent a room from you; they may still be living at home or in lodgings nearby, and can walk to work each day,’ Fern pointed out.

  ‘If that is the case, then that will be very good,’ Jacob told her. ‘It will mean that little Egor can at long last have a room of his own instead of his bed being in a corner of our bedroom,’ he added.

  ‘You mean you want me to go?’ Fern frowned, trying hard not to let him see how worried she was by his decision.

  ‘That is correct,’ Jacob affirmed in a very formal voice. ‘Please do so as soon as you can.’

  Fern looked at him in dismay. She’d had it all planned out in her mind that she would go on living with him and Dairvy virtually for nothing in return for looking after Egor until she had managed to become established as a full-time entertainer. If she had to move into other lodgings where she would have to pay rent and buy her own food, what little money she had would be gone in next to no time. She wanted to ask Jacob if she could wait a little longer but pride wouldn’t let her.

  There was another problem: she could still only understand a smattering of Russian and on the few occasions when she had ventured into the heart of the city without Dairvy she had felt nervous about asking for directions when she was uncertain of her whereabouts.

  Listening to the talk that went on in the café each day, especially when there were sailors there who spoke in English, she knew that there were still a great many revolutionary factions in the city. The thought of being on her own worried her. She had no idea how she would cope if she was ever involved in an uprising, no matter how small it might be.

  When she was in the café, or accompanied by Vladimir, Boris or Dairvy, she felt safe enough. Now, when they were all turning their backs on her and leaving her to her own devices, she was not at all happy with the situation she found herself in.

  Her longing to be back in Cardiff was now stronger than ever but she could see no way of getting there. Even if she could find a boat to take her home, the cost of a passage was far more than she could pay out of her meagre savings.

  The only other way she could manage to return to Cardiff would be to travel back overland, through Europe.

  It was an idea that she and Glanmor had once discussed when they had first talked about coming to Russia. He’d been afraid that they might encounter difficulties with customs and the police when they wanted to move from one country to the next, so she was not sure if she could undertake such a journey on her own.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Fern was left in no doubt that Jacob was keen for her to leave their apartment so that he would no longer be responsible for her in any way. He had no interest in her welfare and expected her to make her own plans for her future.

  Since Russia had given women the same powers as men, all the normal courtesies had vanished; many no longer felt in any way responsible for the welfare of even their own womenfolk.

  Gone were the days when men were protective, made way for women, held doors open for them or offered to carry their heavy shopping. Women had insisted on equality with men and that was what they were getting. Fern felt that in so many ways it had made life much less pleasant for them.

  Since the revolution, communal eating places had come into existence and cafés were no longer as popular as they’d once been. She suspected that was why Jacob could manage without her working at the Korsky Kafe and was quite relieved that she would be leaving without him having to ask her to stop working there.

  When she asked Boris and Vladimir if either of them could help her by asking their managers if they could take her on so that she would automatically be considered when they were negotiating new programmes with theatre companies, they were both very hesitant.

  ‘It is up to you to audition the same as we had to do,’ they told her. ‘If you are good enough, then maybe you will be included in the roster, otherwise . . .’

  The unfinished sentence and the shrug of the shoulders told her all she needed to know. She was on her own and her future depended on whatever she was able to achieve with her own talents.

  Suddenly, she was not only afraid of living in Russia on her own but she had also decided that she hated it there because she felt lonely and isolated.

  Although the people appeared to accept her, she was still a foreigner in their midst and one more in the rising figure of unemployed women. Since employers were forced to pay women the same rates as men, then men were automatically given preference in the jobs where their skills were considered to be superior.

  Fern wished she had tried harder to learn the language and become involved in Russian politics as she’d intended to do when she first arrived in Petrograd. Had she done so, then she could have applied for work in the medical section or in general educational work, where women still seemed to be predominate.

  Her resolve to return to Cardiff grew ever stronger, only she didn’t know how to set about it. If she couldn’t afford her passage by sea, then she would have to travel overland and that meant a tremendously arduous journey. Once through the Baltic States and on into Germany she would then have to travel across Holland and Belgium to France. After that it should be fairly straightforward to cross to England and, once on British soil, making her way back to Cardiff should be simplicity itself.

  Could a woman achieve such an exhausting trek on her own? she wondered. Women might have equality in Russia but what about in the rest of Europe?

  Since a man’s protection was out of the question, then joining a troupe, a concert party with gypsies or a circus seemed to be the obvious answer. If they would let her travel to Europe with them, then her worries would be over.

  Once more she turned to Vladimir and Boris for help. When they heard she inte
nded to leave Petrograd their manner changed. She would no longer be a threat to them professionally. Although her acts and ability were those of an amateur there was an aura of femininity and a naïve quality about her that the audience seemed to like, especially when she sang in English.

  With Vladimir’s help she was introduced to the owner of the Katikav Circus. They were a little-known group of performing artists under the leadership of Ivan Katikav, a sleek-haired portly Russian Jew.

  ‘Are you a member of the Communist Party?’ was the first question he asked Fern.

  ‘No, I’m Welsh,’ she answered, smiling.

  ‘If you are Welsh, as you say you are, then what are you doing here in Russia?’ he asked before agreeing to see her perform.

  When she explained that she had stowed away on the SS Saturn in order to be with Glanmor, his manner changed.

  ‘You are resourceful, that is something I admire,’ he told her approvingly. ‘This Glanmor, where is he now? Are you no longer living together?’

  In a subdued voice the told him about Glanmor’s tragic death at sea but she made no mention of the baby she had lost.

  Ivan Katikav made understanding noises then demanded that she sing and dance before he would consider whether or not she could come with them.

  ‘You are quite talented, but you lack professional polish,’ he told her. ‘Hopefully, with practice, you will improve. Are you prepared to undertake the many other things that have to be done when we move from place to place?’

  ‘Of course, if I can. Do you mean helping to put up the tents and feed the animals, things like that?’ Fern asked anxiously.

  ‘No, no, no!’ He gave a dry laugh. ‘Heavy jobs of that sort are men’s work. In Russia they may treat women like men but here in the Katikav Circus we do not. We expect our women to help with domestic matters; the cooking, the washing and things that make life comfortable when we are on the road.’

  ‘Of course I am prepared to help in that sort of way,’ Fern agreed. She felt dazed; it was hard to believe that she was to be an exotic dancer; it was all so different from the life she’d known as a young girl living in the Welsh Valleys. She knew she could do it; she was determined to be a success, because her future depended on it.

  ‘One other thing; we pool our money. You will receive bed and board but no set wages. At the end of each session, before we move on to the next town, we share out whatever money is left over after we have paid for all our expenses. Sometimes it is very good, at other times there is nothing at all. Are you agreed?’

  Fern nodded. It would have been nice to know exactly how much she would be earning so that she could plan ahead. However, she knew only too well that she had no option but to accept his way of doing things and to consider herself fortunate that he was willing to let her join them.

  She very much wanted to know details of their itinerary but some inner caution warned her not to ask too many questions. If he knew that she was merely using him as a means of getting back to Cardiff he might not let her join them. As it was, he seemed prepared to accept that she was tired of being in Russia and that she felt uncertain about what sort of future she could expect if she stayed there on her own without a man at her side.

  ‘We have one caravan reserved for the young unattached women,’ he told her. ‘You will be in there. You will be sharing with four other girls. No drinking, no smoking and no taking men back at night. Is that understood?’

  ‘Thank you. When can I join you?’

  ‘We hit the road after our show tonight. I will now take you to your van and introduce you to your new companions.’

  The van was small; two sets of bunk beds on either side took up most of the space. There was only a narrow gap between them, barely enough for one person to stand to get dressed, Fern thought critically. The only other furnishing was a table fitted into one side of the room with a small mirror over it. A ledge running right the way around the van was packed full of bags, cases, boots and shoes and all the personal belongings of the occupants.

  ‘The costumes you will be wearing are stored in a separate van,’ Ivan explained. ‘This is merely where you sleep. You eat in the canteen which is a large separate van where all the cooking is done. No food or drink is to be brought in here, you understand.’

  Fern nodded; she was already having second thoughts about whether to join the Katikav Circus or not, there were so many rules and restrictions.

  ‘Come,’ he broke into her thoughts, ‘meet the girls who will be sharing with you. This is Helga,’ he indicated a tall athletic-looking girl with short fair hair and bright blue eyes. ‘Helga is making her way back to her home in Sweden. This is Anastasia and she is Russian, but she comes with us to escape the harsh regime that is now the backbone of Russia. She is sure that there is going to be another uprising quite soon,’ he added with a dry laugh.

  ‘Alina,’ he went on, indicating a thin dark girl, ‘is from Romania and she is not sure if she will leave us when we reach her country or not. Alina lost both her parents in the revolution.

  ‘Finally,’ he paused as his eyes rested on the fourth girl who had long blonde hair and huge grey eyes and was as plump as Alina was thin, ‘this is Marlene, my special song bird from Germany.’

  ‘Fern is coming with us, girls, so I want you to make her welcome and help her to understand our way of doing things. Although she is joining us as an exotic dancer she can also sing, so if you have one of your bad throats, Marlene, there is now someone who can stand in for you.’

  He rubbed his hands together. ‘Are you all happy with this arrangement?’

  ‘There is no spare bunk. We are already crowded, so where is Fern going to sleep?’ Helga asked.

  ‘For the moment it will have to be on a mattress placed on the floor in between the bunks. If Alina leaves us, then Fern will be able to have her bunk.’ He looked around at them all, smiling. ‘Has anyone else any questions?’

  The girls looked at each other and shrugged dismissively.

  When no one answered he turned to Fern. ‘In that case,’ he murmured, ‘why don’t you go and fetch your belongings? Make sure you are back here in good time; we move off tonight as soon as the show is over.’

  Fern found that although Ivan Katikav was a hard taskmaster his division of labour, when it came to running things, was scrupulously fair and he had no time for shirkers.

  She also discovered that he was equally rigorous when it came to preparation for the shows he staged. She was not the only one to be put through their paces at least once each day.

  No matter how tired they might be when the show closed at night or how far they had travelled when they were moving from one town to the next, the welfare of the animals was always the first thing that was ensured.

  Those who had to attend rehearsals knew they must complete whatever duties had been allocated to them first of all. After that, no matter how exhausted they might be feeling, they were expected to put every ounce of enthusiasm they could muster into their practice session.

  Fern noticed, however, that Marlene was constantly being singled out for special attention. She had only to hold her hand to her throat and Ivan was immediately full of concern. He regarded her voice as something so precious that it had to be cherished.

  At first Fern found the changing countryside as they moved out of Russia fascinating and arriving in a new town exciting. Gradually, however, the constant travelling and all it involved began to pall and she found herself caught up in the same grumbles as the rest of the troupe.

  As they related tales of hardship about what had happened in their own families, Fern discovered it was the same the world over for the working class. The men went out to work and ruled the roost and the women, for the most part, were treated as skivvies. They had to rely on whatever their husband doled out to them as housekeeping money.

  Apart from Anastasia, none of the others were Russian. Over a matter of weeks, Fern learned that they had all come to Russia from war-ravished Europe, afte
r the Russian Revolution, expecting to find a freedom they’d dreamed about.

  Gradually, they discovered that the new regime in Russia imposed rules that were even stricter than those they’d known in their own home countries. The equality the Russians boasted about that sounded so attractive meant you were expected to share everything.

  As they moved further and further West, into Bulgaria and Romania, their company began to grow ever smaller. Sometimes members of the troupe openly announced that they were leaving; on other occasions nothing was said and they vanished quietly late at night.

  By the time they’d reached Poland, their numbers were so depleted that Ivan Katikav announced that those who wanted to stay with the circus should tell him, because he was planning to sell out. He promised to negotiate with the buyers that those who wished to carry on working with the circus could do so.

  Fern knew that this was the time when she needed to make a decision. The circus life didn’t really appeal to her. When they asked Ivan why he wanted to sell, he said it was for personal reasons and refused to enlighten them any further. It had been an expedient way to get herself out of Russia and it had taught her a lot about the art of survival.

  She had saved every penny she’d earned but she knew it wasn’t enough to pay her train fare back to Cardiff. Nevertheless, she felt the time had come to leave the circus.

  She didn’t feel at all confident that she would be able to make her own way across Europe working as an entertainer, but under Ivan’s rigorous training her singing had improved beyond measure and her improvised exotic dancing always won applause from the audience.

  The thought of once more being back in the familiar surroundings of Loudon Square and the life she’d known in Tiger Bay would sustain her. Cardiff, Maria and memories of Glanmor were the last things in her mind every night when she settled down to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-eight