She found the door on the fourth floor and took a deep breath. Here goes! She rang the doorbell. Silence. Oh, thank goodness, no one was home. This was a stupid idea after all. What was she thinking? She waited a few seconds more, then turned to start going back down the stairs. But at that moment, the door opened.
A thin, pale woman stood before her, and they stared at each other for a moment. Bela knew she should say something, but her tongue seemed to be stuck in her throat.
“It’s you, isn’t it? Aslan’s girl. What do you want?”
“I...um... I just wanted to talk. Can I come in?”
Maria eyed her for several seconds and then slowly pulled the door further open to allow Bela to pass through. “If you must.”
Bela entered the apartment. It was shabby and dark. The furniture was old and worn, and the place seemed devoid of any beauty. A couple of sad, drooping plants sat on the windowsill of the living room, where Maria had indicated they should go. Bela looked around and chose to sit down on the end of the only sofa. She perched on the edge, feeling decidedly awkward. What was she doing here again? She hadn’t even properly rehearsed what she’d wanted to say.
Maria sat herself down on a little stool near the doorway and waited for Bela to speak. Bela was about to open with some polite comment about the apartment but stopped short since there really was nothing nice to say about it.
She took another deep breath, gathered her courage and shot up a quick prayer to God to give her the right words to say. She straightened her back and tried to smile.
“How’s Pavel?”
“He’s not here. What do you want with him?”
“I... I just wanted to know if he was okay.”
Maria snorted a laugh. “Why would you want to know that? What do you care?”
“Papa wanted to let him go. I just wanted to know if he got back home okay.”
Maria’s look softened slightly as she remembered, no doubt, what kind of prison sentence her son would have faced if Papa had pressed charges.
“Yes, well, we’re grateful it wasn’t taken further. He got back fine.”
“Do you know why he did it? I mean, why was he so angry that he wanted to kill my father.”
Maria’s eyes flashed defiantly again. “I brought him up to know exactly what kind of man his father was, and how he’d abandoned us. I... I didn’t mean for him to try to kill him though. I didn’t think it would go that far. I just wanted him to hate him, that’s all.”
“And you? Do you still hate my father, after all these years?”
Maria twiddled the hem of her old woollen cardigan before looking Bela in the eyes again. “He ruined my life. I’ll never forgive him for that.”
“But surely you can see that all this hate you have towards my father is only hurting you. Hurting Pavel. Isn’t it time you forgave and moved on?”
“Forgave? Hah” she spat. Bela looked at the woman, her features all twisted through years of holding onto that hatred. She felt sorry for her.
“If it helps, I forgive you.”
The woman looked up, confusion in her eyes. “You. Forgive me. Why?”
“I forgive you for having an affair with a man that you knew was married and had children. I forgive you for the pain you gave my mother, who knew about it. I forgive you for... for being the reason I was never able to finish my education and go to London. I forgive you for bringing up your son with so much hatred that he nearly murdered my father. There.” Bela exhaled loudly. A huge weight that she hadn’t known was there had been lifted from her shoulders.
“You came all this way to tell me that?”
Bela leaned forward, compassion in her voice. “Yes, but I also came here to plead with you to forgive my father. Forgive and move on. Forgive and start rebuilding your life. Yours and Pavel’s.”
For a moment it looked as though Maria might burst into tears, but then she steeled herself and stood up abruptly.
“I think you’ve been here long enough. You should leave.”
Bela hesitated, but Maria didn’t flinch. Reluctantly she rose from her seat and went out to the hallway to put her shoes and coat back on. Maria waited in silence, her eyes cold, her body rigid. Bela stepped out into the corridor and turned to say goodbye, but Maria had already closed the door in her face.
Chapter 12
Azamat
Azamat stored the last of the bikes at the back of the shop and locked the stockroom door. It had been a great season. They’d had double the number of customers hiring bikes to ride in the park compared to last year, and interest in the sport was definitely growing. The race they had organised had been a wonderful success, attracting great interest and new clients, as well as extra money through tourism and advertising. The town administration had already given them permission to host it again next year. But now in October the weather was just turning too cold, and no one had hired anything for more than a week now. The season was over, but the business had done well. He’d been going over the accounts with Cody last week, and the American had suggested that it might be time to hire a shop assistant ready for the start of the next season. There was enough money now to pay for an extra staff member. Azamat could find someone over the winter, and Cody would just need to sit in on the interview process to make sure he was happy with Azamat’s choice.
Azamat smiled to himself as he sank down into his chair and looked around the shop. He leaned back and ran his hands through his hair. Things were looking up for old Azamat. Who would have thought it?
Things were looking up in other areas too. He’d actually caught a glimpse of his son, Alikhan. After Madina had told him that Alikhan went to school number twelve, Azamat had been hanging around near the entrance for several days. He felt a bit creepy, but he was desperate to catch a glimpse of his son. He could have gone to Milana’s village, but his presence would have been immediately noticed. Nothing escaped the watchful eyes of those village babushkas, the elderly ladies who spent their days sitting on the wooden benches outside their front gates, watching the comings and goings of the whole village. But here, in town, he was able to blend in with the shoppers and parents loitering around on the street.
A few days later his patience had been rewarded. He recognised Milana as she stepped out of a taxi and walked over to wait by the school gate for her son. Azamat’s heart had nearly stopped inside his chest when he saw her. It had been sixteen years, but she was still every bit as beautiful as he remembered her. The ache that used to haunt his soul returned in full force. Perhaps he was being stupid, opening up old wounds. He’d spent years in the army trying to forget her. Unsuccessfully.
He was still gazing at her when he noticed a boy of about fifteen come up to her and greet her in the understated way that teenage boys do. There was no doubt about it, that was his son. His son! His own flesh and blood. He looked so like Azamat himself looked in those family photos taken when he was younger. But the boy had Milana’s graceful physique and oval face. He was so beautiful. His son! Azamat glanced around to see if anyone was looking strangely at him, but it didn’t seem as if anyone had noticed. He stuck his hand in his pocket. It was shaking. He looked back over at Milana and Alikhan. They were leaving now, stepping back into the taxi that had waited, ready to whisk them back to the village, probably. Azamat followed them with his eyes for as long as he could. When they had disappeared, he felt bereft. A huge heaviness lay on his heart. He’d known then that he would have to see his son again. He was done with waiting in the wings. He wanted to be part of Alikhan’s life now. But how?
That had been a week ago. Today, as every day, Azamat would be waiting on the other side of the road, opposite the school gate, hoping to catch another glimpse of his son. He locked the shop behind him and began to walk purposefully in the direction of Alikhan’s school, a route that he could have done blindfolded now. Twenty minutes later he reached his usual place behind the tree and waited.
Milana didn’t pick up her son every day. Some days Alikhan c
aught a marshroutka. Other days he hung around with some friends for a while. Today, though, Azamat watched him as he rushed out of the school and headed off in the direction of the town centre.
Azamat followed at a distance. He hoped no one would see him following the boy. He didn’t want to be answering questions in a police station, or have Milana find out, but he couldn’t help wanting to know all about his son. What did he like to do? Where did he like to hang out? Who were his best friends?
Alikhan crossed over the main road, and Azamat did the same a few seconds later. The boy didn’t seem to know he was being followed. Soon it was clear that he was heading for the town park. Azamat smiled. That had been one of his favourite places to hang out too, when he’d been Alikhan’s age. In fact, that’s where he and Milana had met and started seeing each other. Perhaps Alikhan was also off to see a girl?
Alikhan stopped near one of the central fountains and looked about. Azamat quickly sunk down onto a bench a fair distance away and pretended to look at his phone. After a while a young girl walked up. Alikhan broke into a huge smile at the sight of her. Azamat grinned to himself. A girlfriend. Or if not, then Alikhan certainly wanted her to be. He couldn’t see her face yet, but she was probably very pretty. It was funny watching Alikhan. He had so many of the same mannerisms. He looked just like Azamat had looked when he was courting girls. Yes, there was no doubt about it, the boy really liked this girl. But perhaps they weren’t together yet. He could still only see the girl’s back, but there was something familiar about her. He squinted to get a better look, but suddenly the pair turned. Azamat dropped his head down quickly and studied his phone even harder. He was aware that they were walking in his direction. He mustn’t be discovered.
“Uncle Azamat! What are you doing here?”
Azamat looked up straight into the face of his niece, Alyona. A wave of shock broke over his whole body and he felt the blood drain from his face. He looked at Alikhan and then back at Alyona and then back at Alikhan. What? It couldn’t be? The girl that his son was meeting was none other than Alyona?
“Um... hi,” he stammered.
Alyona laughed. “This is my friend, Alikhan.”
Azamat stood up and shook Alikhan by the hand. He hoped the boy didn’t notice the slight tremble in his fingers. This was an auspicious moment. He was actually touching his son for the first time. Shaking his hand, looking into his eyes. The boy had no idea who he was, that much was clear. Neither, of course, did Alyona.
“Hello,” said Alikhan.
Azamat suddenly found that no words were coming out of his mouth. He opened and closed it like a fish.
“Well, see you later, Uncle Az,” said Alyona cheerily. She took Alikhan’s hand and pulled him away, further down the path.
Azamat fell back onto the bench in complete disbelief. He’d shaken hands with his own son. He’d never thought he would actually talk to the boy. He’d just been following from a distance. He’d been totally unprepared for any opportunity to actually talk to him. He let out a small laugh of disbelief. He’d actually been introduced to his own son.
But there was something else, and Azamat’s smile quickly disappeared as his brain whirred through all the ramifications of what had just happened. Alikhan was clearly falling in love with Alyona. It all made sense. They’d grown up together, they danced together. But what Alikhan didn’t know, and what Azamat was going to have to break to them both, was that Alyona was in fact his first cousin. There was no way they would be allowed to be together romantically. He had a duty to stop this relationship before it got too far. It wasn’t too late yet. He could tell Madina, but no. Then his secret would be out, and his whole family would know. He wasn’t ready for that yet. Besides, she would then know Milana’s secret too: that her husband was not Alikhan’s real father. It was possible that Milana hadn’t told anyone, including Madina, and who knows what that would do to their friendship? No, it would be better if he told Milana herself, and then she could decide what to do and whether or not to tell Madina. Yes, he was going to have to find Milana and tell her. He had no choice. But then, if he told Milana he would have to admit that he’d been stalking Alikhan. Oh dear, his life was about to get so much more complicated.
AZAMAT SANK DOWN ONTO the sofa at Bela’s apartment. What did that say about him, that he had to run to his little sister before he could pluck up the courage to confront his ex-girlfriend and tell her about Alyona and Alikhan? He’d always lacked courage, growing up, even after all his months in the army. Ugh, he was such a loser. Why couldn’t he be strong and decisive, like Papa?
Bela returned from saying goodnight to Angelina. She turned off the light in the corridor and came to sit next to Azamat on the sofa.
“Michael won’t be here for another hour or so, he’s got a meeting. What’s bothering you, Azamat? Do you want to talk about it?”
Azamat laughed. “Is it that obvious?”
“Of course. We both know that you’re not here because of my delicious cooking, come on!”
“I like your cooking,” he protested. “But yes, I’m here to get some advice about... about a tricky situation.”
“Tell all!” Bela tucked her legs up under her, and turned to him, giving him her full attention.
Azamat took a deep breath. “You remember I told you that I have a son, right?”
“Yes. You told me you’d got your girlfriend pregnant, but that she’d ended up marrying someone else and telling you to have nothing to do with her or that baby. I’ve always felt that was so harsh.” Bela touched his arm lightly.
“Well, it’s got worse.”
“Oh?”
“The girl I was with was called Milana.”
“Milana? Do I know her?”
“No, but she’s good friends with Madina.”
“Oh yes,” Bela’s eyes lit up, “Milana. She and Madina used to live near each other in the village when Alyona was small. Their children used to play together... Oh! You mean, the boy Madina was talking about was actually your son?”
“Yes, my son. His name is Alikhan.”
“Oh wow!” Bela paused to let the information sink in. “And did you know?”
“I suspected, years ago, when I first heard Madina mention a friend called Milana who had a baby. I did the maths, and the dates worked out.”
“Does Madina know?”
“No, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t, otherwise she would have said something.”
“Okay, but how is this worse? It sounds like at least you know where your son is, now. Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Well, yes, I thought so. I actually saw him.” Azamat laughed. “To tell the truth, I’ve been stalking him.”
“Really?”
“Yes. When Madina mentioned that Alikhan went to school number twelve on the other side of town I just hung around there for a few days until I saw Milana meet him at the school gate.”
“And, what’s he like, your son?”
“He’s amazing. He’s healthy, athletic. He’s a dancer, you know? He looks just like me, too, I think.”
“But you haven’t spoken to him yet? He doesn’t know about you?”
“Yes, and no. I ended up being introduced to him in the park, but he didn’t have a clue who I really was.”
Bela laughed. “How on earth did that happen?”
“He was with Alyona, and Alyona spotted me. I’d been watching from a distance, but my cover was blown.”
“Of course, he and Alyona are friends. They dance together, don’t they? Wow, this just gets more and more amazing.”
“That’s the problem.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Him and Alyona. I... I could see that he wanted to be more than friends. I could see that he really fancied her. I don’t think they were a couple, but it might only be a matter of time.”
“Oh.” Bela’s face fell. “Oh, I see. So... Alyona and Alikhan, they’re actually related but they don’t know it.”
“Exactly
.”
There was silence for a moment.
“What should I do?”
“I think... I think you have to tell them. Obviously. They can’t be allowed to fall in love with each other. No, you have to stop it.”
“I know, but who do I tell? Suddenly, the secret will be out in the open. Everyone will know. I don’t know...”
Azamat felt a stab of pain in his temple. A tension headache on the way. He lowered his voice.
“I don’t know how Alikhan will react when he finds out he’s my son. I don’t want to lose him before I’ve even found him.”
He swallowed, holding back the lump in his throat. He wasn’t going to cry in front of his baby sister, even though she’d seen him cry on many occasions.
Bela was thoughtful. She took his hand. “Do you mind if I pray for you? This is so huge. I think we need some supernatural wisdom.”
Azamat was used to Bela’s talk about praying and about God. He knew she’d been a Christian now for a few years. Michael, her husband, was a Christian, so it made sense, and no one in the family questioned it, although they never spoke about it. Personally, Azamat had never really had much time for God. Not since Beslan, certainly. He’d seen what mindless religious devotion did to people, and what it made them do. He’d had a lucky escape. No, God wasn’t for him. God was distant and cruel. Where was God when all those children died? Why didn’t God stop it? And what had God done for him, anyway? Here he was with a son who didn’t know who he was, and a girl he was still in love with after all these years who was married to someone else now. No, God wasn’t for him.
But Bela looked so sincere. God seemed to be looking after her and Michael. Michael, he was a great guy. He wasn’t one of those weird, religious fanatics. Perhaps this was a different kind of religion. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt just to let Bela pray for him.
“Okay, sure,” he said eventually. Bela closed her eyes and bowed her head, so Azamat did the same.
“Heavenly Father,” she prayed, “I lift up to you my brother Azamat. Lord, this situation is so tricky, and we don’t really know what the best thing to do is. Please would you give Azamat wisdom to know how to handle it well. Please bring along the right opportunities and the right conversations with the right people at the right time. Lord, we thank you that you’re in control of everything. We thank you that you’re a God who can move mountains. We pray for Alikhan and Alyona, that you would prevent them from starting a romantic relationship with each other, Lord. And we pray that Alikhan will be open to accepting Azamat as his real father if and when that information comes out into the open. Please don’t let him be too angry. And please give Azamat a real sense of your peace and your presence with him. We lay this whole situation into your hands. Amen.”
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