Maria's Story

by Robin Barratt

  “I want you to do something for me.” I almost shouted to Inna as she approached me at the restaurant. I had found a seat but waited impatiently with my coat still tightly buttoned, scarf tightly wrapped and hat still firmly placed on my sweaty head and anxiously counting each second until Inna arrived.

  “What’s wrong?” she nervously said as I jumped up and led her back outside before she could even unbutton her coat

  “Quick, I saw a girl begging at the metro and I want to talk to her, she might have an interesting story.” While I was waiting for Inna I had an idea that I could write an editorial about this girl and sell it to an English magazine. I thought that life begging on the streets of Moscow would make a fascinating human interest story and I had a notion that I could then help her in the only way I knew how; give her the money from the sale of the story.

  We rushed out of the restaurant and back towards the metro, leading Inna by the hand I was almost running through the slippery snow. Moscow metros have separate entrances and exits and it was almost impossible to fight through the hoards of people flowing from the exit but we struggled nevertheless, and ignored the abuse of the passengers telling us that this was not the entrance. But we had no choice and eventually gave up and waited a few minutes until there was a slight lull between trains and then rushed head-first in. I looked down to where the girl was sitting just a short while earlier, she was not there. I frantically looked around - she was nowhere to be seen.

  ***

  About two months later, as I worked on my computer at home, Inna called me from her mobile.

  “I have just seen her!” she cried.

  I had braved the winter and the snow many times over the previous two months meeting Inna from work and hoping every time I would see the girl again. As the weeks passed I had virtually given up. The Russian winter was more or less ending, the snow had almost all but disappeared and, although it was now raining a great deal and still quite cold, getting around wasn’t as difficult as it had been a couple of months previously. Although I still hated the minibuses and travelling into the city centre, it became easier and easier and, after a long day sitting squared-eyed in front of the computer screen, I would often want to travel an hour to Alekseevskaya, meet Inna and journey back home together.

  “Where is she?” I asked eagerly.

  “At the metro. Shall I talk to her?”

  “Yes, try and ask if we can meet her and talk to her and take some photos. Tell her I am an English journalist and that we shall write a story for an English magazine and give her some money.” Actually, we had spoken about this many times and Inna knew exactly what to say.

  “All right, I will see what I can do and ring you back in a minute.” The line went dead. I sat by the side of the bed looking down at the phone, willing it to ring. I was so hoping that everything would be okay, that she would be happy for us to talk to her, that we could arrange to meet up, and that she did indeed had an interesting story to tell. As I had wondered about the life of the disabled man on the metro, I had frequently wondered about the life of this pretty young girl.

  The phone rang and I snatched at it; “Hello.”

  “I am with her now. Her name is Maria, how about tomorrow at five pm at the metro, is that all right?”

  “Great, tell her we’l see her there then. Do you have any money on you? Can you give her some now?” I wanted to make sure she would turn up.

  “I have a little. I’ll give her a hundred roubles and we can give more tomorrow if she turns up.”

  “Great, see you later.”

  I put the phone down and breathed a huge sigh of relief. For some reason I wanted this interview more than any other I had done. After seeing that poor man with no arms begging on the metro I felt I wanted to help a little. I had seen and generally ignored poverty and hardship many times on my travels around the world, but I still felt saddened and upset that so many people were leading such awful, miserable lives. I knew nothing about this girl, apart from a pretty face looking up at me one horrible winter’s day a few months ago, but hopefully I could write a good story and sell it to a magazine for a decent amount of money and help her a little; whoever she is and whatever kind of life she is leading.

  The rest of the afternoon I spent preoccupied with thoughts of Maria and what we were going to talk about. I thought about what I was going to ask her; what was she doing there? Where did she live? Where were her family? What had happened to her and how did she lose her legs? Did she have a boyfriend? What was life like for her on the streets? What were the biggest problems? So many questions, and some of them so personal. Could I actually ask them and would she actually tell me?

  The next day Inna and I travelled together to meet Maria. As we exited the metro, we saw her sitting on her little wooden platform talking to a haggard, scruffy looking man selling newspapers. She turned to us, smiled, said something to the man and, with the help of her small wooden block, wheeled herself towards where we were standing. I looked down at her pretty eyes and sweet smile, greeted her in my basic Russian and shook her hand. She said something to Inna.

  “Shall we go and sit somewhere?” Inna asked.

  “Sure, where?” I answered, looking around.

  We followed Maria as she wheeled herself towards a small open space, bordered by a grass verge, where there were a few benches. The sun was shining, but I could see dark heavy clouds slowly building on the horizon and I hoped that we could finish before it rained. Before we started I asked Maria if I could take a photo, she agreed. I looked down my lens to this pretty little girl strapped to her wooden platform looking up at me smiling. Inna and I sat on the bench looking at Maria as she began her story.

  Section Two

  Maria’s Story

  Chapter One

  The Journey

  Spring was in the air and the snow was just beginning to melt. It was still chilly, but the weather was slowly changing. The winter had been long and hard, there had been little opportunity to go outside, apart from to school and back, and the very occasional trips to the shops with her mother, so little Maria was excited.

  “Do your buttons up,” Maria’s mother said, balancing on the corner of bed in front of her, fussing with her collar and scarf while Maria fumbled with her buttons. “Come on,” her mother said, taking charge of the buttons. “Grandma’s waiting and we have to catch the train. We mustn’t be late now, must we?”

  “Will grandma be waiting for us at the train station?” Maria asked eagerly. She hadn’t seen her grandmother all winter and was really looking forward to seeing her again. She loved her grandmother dearly.

  “Of course.”

  “I can’t wait,” said Maria jumping on the spot, spinning round, giggling.

  “You look so pretty today, grandma will be proud,” Maria’s mother said, easing herself upright of the bed. Maria did indeed look pretty in her new bright red jacket, red hat, scarf and red buckled shoes, all bought especially for this first trip to her grandmother’s since winter set in. Maria’s mother had worked hard and saved hard so that Maria could look her best.

  “When will my sister be here?” Maria said, looking at her mother’s swollen tummy, “I really do want someone to play with.”

  “Soon sweetheart, soon.” Maria’s mother laughed and gently stroked her tummy. “Are you sure it will be a baby girl?”

  “Oh yes mummy, of course, because I want a sister to play with so it has got to be a baby girl.”

  “Of course it has,” Maria’s mother replied, smiling. “Now put on your shoes,” she said as she made a cursory check around the apartment. “And don’t forget grandma’s present,” she called from the kitchen.

  “Got it,” Maria called back, tapping the small neatly wrapped box lying on the stool next to the bed as she bent to buckle her shoes. She stood up, smoothed down her smart red jacket and tucked t
he small box securely under her arm. Vecherny Zvon truffles with hazelnut were grandma’s favorite chocolates and she would give them to her the minute she saw her waiting at the station. She couldn’t wait to see grandma’s face as she opened the box, her lovely smile and the kind look of anticipation in her eyes. Grandma had such lovely kind warm eyes. And of course she couldn’t wait until grandma gave her one, or two, or maybe three chocolates too! They would both giggle and hold hands and eat chocolates together.

  Maria’s mum pushed Maria’s hat firmly on her little head and pulled Maria’s gloves tightly round each finger on her little hands. They laughed as they tried to get her little finger in the correct opening and not in together with her third finger.

  Maria and her mother lived alone in a small apartment on the fourth floor of a typical Russian style apartment block in a small village in western Siberia. They had moved there shortly after Maria was born. The government allocated them the apartment after her father got a job at an engineering factory nearby. He liked to drink, especially at weekends, and what tiny amount he earned would almost always be spent on vodka. Maria would often hide under the sheets and cover her ears when he came home drunk. She would hear him stumbling and falling in the corridor outside, swearing that he couldn’t find his key, cursing his job, his wages, his life, his wife; shouting and swearing and occasionally striking her mother. She would try to keep him quiet and not cry when he slapped her or pushed her into the corner or onto the floor, and she would try to cover up the bruises with makeup the next day hoping and preying that Maria wouldn’t notice. But although Maria was just five years old she did notice. She knew and understood everything.

  He left them one evening almost eight months previously after a drunken, violent argument a few weeks after Maria’s mother had fallen pregnant with their second child. They had not heard one word from him since, and neither did they want to. Although it was a struggle on the few roubles a month she earned stocking shelves and serving at the local supermarket, they were happier now than they ever had been. Maria never asked after her father, not once, and her mother didn’t care.

  “Hurry up mummy,” Maria called as she raced ahead of her mother, down the path leading away from their apartment block towards the town square and general direction of the railway station. “Mummy, hurry, hurry. grandma’s waiting.” She jumped around playfully, tightly holding the pretty box containing grandma’s chocolates, kicking the remaining snow and stamping in the muddy puddles.

  “Coming, don’t run off, wait for me and don’t get your shoes dirty!” her mother called, walking as quickly as she could. The town wasn’t big and the station wasn’t far, but for a woman almost eight months pregnant it was nevertheless a difficult and long walk. The paths were still quite slippery and Maria’s mother had to keep calling for the excited and impatient Maria to slow down.

  “Hello little Maria,” an elderly lady said, stopping to look down at Maria playing in the small puddle and then up across at Maria’s mother who she could see was following behind. “Where are you off to, all excited, this morning?” She asked.

  “I am going to see my grandma,” she replied “and I have some chocolates for her,” she said proudly showing the old lady the prettily wrapped box.

  “What a lucky girl you are, and what a lucky grandmother she is,” she said laughing, patting Maria on the head and stalling for time while Maria’s mother slowly caught up.

  “And we are going on the train!” exclaimed Maria.

  “How wonderful and how exciting! Have you been on a train before?” the old lady asked.

  “No,” she said, a little confused. She wasn’t sure whether she had or hadn’t been on a train before, but she was very excited about it nevertheless.

  “Well, you must remember to wave to everyone standing on the platform,” she said, “and they will all wave back! Hello dear,” she said to Maria’s mother as she finally caught up.

  “Hello Mrs. Effimova, how are you today?”

  “Fine dear, thank you,” she said and looked down at Maria again, “Well little Maria, have a nice time at your grandmother’s and mind you don’t eat too many of those yummy chocolates,” she said laughingly as she walked off towards the apartment block.

  Maria held her mother’s hand as they walked the remaining distance to the station. It didn’t take them long. Once they arrived they queued together, still holding hands and bought one adult and one child return ticket from a lady peering through a small hole in the wall that was the ticket office. She looked up at the notice board confirming the arrival time of the train they had planned to catch. Luckily they had just a few minutes to spare. Although her grandmother lived in Tumen, the biggest city in that part of western Siberia and only about an hours journey from their town, trains didn’t run that often and the next train wasn’t until much later in the afternoon.

  There were already quite a few people waiting on the platform. Maria’s mother looked around. She needed to go to the toilet, but there were just too many people on the platform and she didn’t really want to leave Maria standing there on her own. Plus the train was due any minute now. She would just have to wait until they got on the train.

  Maria looked around fascinated. “Is everyone going to see their grandma too, mummy?” asked Maria, tugging on her mother’s sleeve. But nobody else seemed to be holding a box of chocolates like Maria was, so she knew her grandmother must be the best grandmother in the world.

  “No, not everyone, but some are,” her mother replied looking around again and wondered if indeed she could leave Maria for a few short minutes and pop to the toilet, or perhaps Maria could come with her and wait outside.

  “Why don’t they have presents?” she asked.

  “Well, maybe because your granny is the best and deserves chocolates the most,” she said looking down at Maria again. Maria knew she did have the best grandma in the world and held the little box even more tightly.

  They heard the whistle of the train.

  “Mummy, the train is coming,” Maria shouted, “I heard it mummy, it is coming.” She jumped up and down excitedly, one hand holding her mothers’ and the other hand tightly holding her grandmother’s present. “I can see it, I can see it,” she shouted looking down the tracks at a big monster coming nearer and nearer. She could see a window at the front of this strange shape, and through the window she could see two funny looking men in funny hats, looking very grumpy. “It’s coming, it’s coming,” she shouted. People around looked down at her and smiled.

  The train slowly pulled into the station, moving past her like a huge noisy smelly green beast. Maria looked up in awe at the big metal boxes and through the windows into the stained ceilings of the compartments.

  “Are we going in there?” She asked.

  “As soon as it stops,” her mother replied.

  The train shuddered to a halt and the platform became a mass of people scrambling in all directions; jostling to get on and to get off, saying “goodbyes” and “hellos.” Platform traders sprang from no-where offering candy and cakes, magazines, puzzles, maps and drinks.

  Maria and her mother scrambled through the broken half-opened doors and onto the train. They found a seat a few compartments down from the front of the carriage.

  “Now sit still,” Maria’s mother said.

  Maria stared out of the window. So many people, like ants in the garden where she lived, scurrying back and forth. She smiled as she watched everyone on the platform, some were waving, others hugging, last farewells, emotional meetings. She could see men dressed in dirty overalls, like her father used to wear, probably on their way to work, children being lifted off the floor and hugged and kissed, old ladies with makeshift trolleys piled high with boxes and bags, and an old man on crutches standing silently with his hand held out. She stared at the man. Something was strange about him and then she saw that one of his trouser
legs was hanging loose and flutted slightly in the wind.

  She turned to her mother “Look mummy,” she said pointing at the old man but just at that moment the whistle blew and the train shuddered and started to move.

  “We are going mummy,” Maria said excitedly forgetting about the man. “We are going to see grandma, hurry train, hurry!”

  “Now wait here, I must use the toilet. Promise me you won’t move. Okay? I won’t be a minute.”

  “All right mummy,” replied Maria, staring out of the window enthralled with the motion of the train and with watching everyone passing by outside.

  Maria’s mother looked across to the bench opposite to where a fat lady in some sort of a grey uniform sat with her head bowed. “Keep and eye on her for a couple of minutes for me, will you?” she called.

  The lady looked up at Maria, then at her mother and nodded.

  As the train started to move and everyone started to wave, Maria stood up to get a better view. She remembered what the old lady outside their apartment had said and waved back. She wondered if they were all waving at her. They must be, she thought. The fat lady opposite looked up briefly and saw Maria standing at the window waving. She grunted, closed her eyes and let her head fall forward again. She was tired, a little drunk and just wanted to sleep.

  Maria carefully placed her grandmother’s box on the seat and rushed the short distance down the aisle to the carriage door to get a better look at everyone before the train completely left the platform. The carriage door had not closed properly and little Maria could see everyone quite clearly between the jammed doors. She held the inside handle to one of the doors and leaned out slightly to wave at all the people waving back at her. She thought she heard someone shout “Go back inside little girl,” but she couldn’t be sure and leaned out even more. She loved the feel of the cool air rushing against her face as the train slowly picked up speed. She watched fascinated and the people grew smaller and smaller and the train got faster and faster. A couple of minutes into the journey the train jolted as it suddenly switched tracks and Maria’s right foot slipped and dangled in mid air, bouncing against the side of the train. She desperately clung to the metal railing as the wind pulled and tugged at her little body. “Mummy!” she screamed. No one heard her as the wind through the open doors became louder and louder as the train picked up speed, and no one in the carriage saw her as she was hidden behind the solid metal carriage divider. Her other leg slid off and her hands slithered down the icy cold rail. “Mummy!” she screamed again. Maria’s feet bounced and banged against the side of the train as she desperately tried to keep hold of the rail but her little hands couldn’t hold on any longer. Maria felt herself slowly slip and heard a horrible crunch of her tiny bones and a terrible tearing and ripping just below her waist. She fell onto the hard frozen earth below and rolled, over and over again, banging and smashing herself on the hard metal tracks.