Ludmila's Broken English, page 25
‘It’s Gregor,’ said a voice from inside. It was Lubov.
Ludmila entered.
The Heath twins followed.
*
‘Stop there, identify yourselves!’ Abakumov woke suddenly in his chair.
The twins ignored him, and clamoured to the stove.
‘Milochka!’ Irina scurried to plaster her daughter with kisses. Olga began to wail, serving meals to the saints with her hands; not sour meals, but sweet ones. In the flurry of greetings, the serving of meals, and rolling of eyes, the two strange men were ignored for a while.
Abakumov stood watching them, eyes flicking up and down the black suit of one, and the collected robes of seemingly all three Wise Men on the other, as well as their matted hair. He shared a raised eyebrow with Lubov, who stood sullen in the dark. They watched as the men stumbled to the floor, tried to sit, then fell beside the stove, heads on their bags.
‘So, the prodigal daughter.’ Abakumov paced slowly around the clump of women. ‘Clearly she has journeyed great distances to fetch such holy types to your hovel. But I can’t say it ameliorates your situation in any way.’
‘Who is this?’ Ludmila asked her mothers in Ubli.
‘State inspector,’ said Irina.
Ludmila looked the man up and down, stepping over Blair’s chest to remove her coat and hang it behind the door, as if her regular chores beckoned.
‘Yes,’ Abakumov went on in Russian, ‘it’s the state inspector. Before I outline the situation here – presuming you remain unaware of at least some of it – I must comment on the condition of these apparent priests in your company. What is their provenance, and how might they appear so ravaged?’
Ludmila looked down. The Englishmen lay like piles of shuddering laundry at her feet. ‘There’s a war, in case you hadn’t heard. Their coats and hats were taken at gunpoint – we were thankful to escape with our lives.’
‘I see.’ Abakumov stroked his chin, studying the men. ‘And I ask myself – what man would steal the hat of a cleric, and leave your own two coats in situ?’
‘Hoh, the man you ask after is a Gnezvarik soldier, perhaps a person outside of your direct acquaintance. Or do you imagine he’ll fight at the front in women’s clothing?’
Olga cackled, glowing with pride that her tongue had such a keen successor.
The welcome spurred Ludmila on. ‘Perhaps I should have offered the man my scarf and underwear, instead of the priests’ clothes, because, after all –’
‘Enough!’ Abakumov snapped. ‘I see you’re as hard a task as the rest of your family, whose barbarity has already blunted me to the core.’
‘Clearly not blunted enough, to be found skulking after my mothers in the very dead of a night.’ Ludmila stood over the Englishmen, siphoning energy in a surge that made her eyes dance. ‘Your passions must be prodigious to be found in such a situation. I can’t blame these men for hiding their faces in the floor, having witnessed such impropriety. An inspector, lurking alone in a house full of defenceless women!’
‘Quiet!’ Abakumov’s face began to bristle. ‘I’m in the process of removing your so-called mothers, and the little girl, for crimes against nature, and incidentally, against the state. Unless you can show reason why I shouldn’t immediately proceed, you should stand aside and acclimatise yourself to the thought of going with them.’
Ludmila pondered a moment, narrowing her eyes. ‘Then you should proceed while the faces of these men are hidden. Now, instantly. Because if they see their journey’s incentive snatched away, they will surely summon the other men that follow them, with wide-ranging consequence indeed.’
‘And what reason might this be? Now I feel you are painting my face like a clown.’
‘Hoh! And why would it need painting twice?’ Ludmila busied herself with the bag under Bunny’s head, while Olga rocked and twittered gleefully on her chair. When Bunny stirred, Ludmila knelt down beside him. Ludmila reached into his coat, rummaged for his inner pocket, and, after a moment, pulled out his British passport.
Abakumov’s pupils widened. He looked down, and chewed his lip. ‘Well,’ he said, glancing at each woman in turn. ‘Well, well. You have introduced two more unknowns into this equation. I fear you’ll kill me with all this official work. Stand aside while I perform an identity check on these men.’ Sighing, the inspector began to rifle through the men’s pockets. He came upon Blair’s wallet, and pulled out a cash card. ‘Now, well,’ he said. ‘Sub-agent Kaganovich – we must travel back to the depot, and ring the appropriate authorities.’ Abakumov held the card like a laboratory specimen as he made for the door. Lubov joined him. They turned as one to face the room. ‘Don’t any of you leave these premises. I will be calling for men from the regional office to back us up in your removal. But I’ll also tell you, in all fairness, that if, through my checks, and my subsequent return here this morning, it is made clear that these foreigners have come to help you in the correct financial way – in the only feasible way, in fact, the extent of which I will ascertain on the telephone just now – it may be – and I only say “may” be – that your situations can be slightly upturned.’ His eyes panned across the smoky dark, passing each face in turn. ‘Let us pray that, for your sakes, this might be so.’
‘And,’ said Lubov, as Abakumov opened the door, ‘remember Gregor lurks outside, and Karel can’t be far behind. Tell them to wait here for us, we won’t be long away.’ With that, she strode archly on to the step, and banged the door behind her.
Olga, Irina, and Ludmila stood quiet in the haze until the crunch of footsteps grew faint. Then Irina gazed over the Englishmen, now beginning to stir, and curled damp eyes at Ludmila. ‘Nights and days we’ve had these leeches in the house,’ she said. ‘Yet within ten minutes of your return you’ve scattered them away like beetles under a broom. Your house welcomes you, Milochka.’
Ludmila disappeared beneath another cloak of hugs and sweet meals to the saints. In the eruption of murmurs and cries, the women didn’t hear the door creak open. They only heard it bang. All stiffened. When they stood back from each other, they found a haggard Maksimilian on the threshold, Gregor’s rifle dangling from his arm.
He scarcely acknowledged them, but tramped shivering to the stove, kicking aside the Englishmen’s legs as he passed. ‘Hoh! And how long did you think I would wait on the mountain for you to empty the house of enemies? I’m surprised you didn’t marry them and invite them to live in the room, if you wanted me to die in the cold!’
‘Cut your hatch,’ wheezed Olga, ‘your sister has made them run like puppies to milk. You’re lucky to enter at all.’
Maks snuggled up to the stove, glancing testily at the bodies beside him. ‘And how is the house now filled with musicians? Are we starting a band to celebrate our troubles?’
‘Listen to me,’ said Irina. ‘We haven’t much time, so hold your typical bile. We must move Aleks’s body outside and cover him, if not bury him properly. We have the excuse that the inspector thinks our guests are holy men.’
Maks studied the men. ‘Holy men now, are they? This one here, with the glasses, is clearly an albino. I mean – hoh! – let’s be serious, do we actually know what or who they are?’
‘They travelled with Ludmila, it’s not important who they are.’
‘Hoh, well.’ Maks kicked the hairy one’s leg. ‘They at least look soft enough – homosexual enough, I should say. I’m pleased at least that you’re in your right minds still, that your feminine logic is intact. If homosexual musicians arrive in the house, it must be time for a funeral.’
‘Maksimilian! You’ll do as you’re told!’
‘And,’ Olga added, ‘you’ll bury Aleks properly, with respect, and with prayers. And far away from wherever you’ve put the mongol Gregor, saints rest his soul.’
*
Blair sat up. He clawed at the air, hunting a centre of gravity. A gun clicked beside him. His eyes snapped to the sound, and found the barrel an inch from his nose. Using its length to find focus, he saw a swarthy, hollow-cheeked young man scowling down it. The man’s finger was on the trigger. Blair’s hands shot over his head.
There came a shrill outburst from Ludmila, who stepped up to the gunman. He sent a loose outburst back, but lowered the gun, and eventually stood it by the wall behind the stove. Blair smacked Bunny’s leg.
Bunny sat up, blinking. He looked around, wiped his eyes, yawned. Then he sighed. ‘What in fuck’s name –’
‘Shut up, give me time to think.’
Ludmila knelt between the men. ‘Halo,’ she said. ‘Are you fine?’
Bunny looked up. Behind his eyes, the night’s story reassembled in icy pieces. ‘I mean to say. Fine’s putting it in a plush light.’
‘Yes, Millie,’ said Blair. ‘I think we’re okay.’
His tone brought a snarl from the young man, and the waving of hands towards the gun. Ludmila thrust her chin at him, and sliced a stream of words off her tongue.
‘Hoh!’ the man said.
‘Hoh!’ said Ludmila. Then a gentler clutch of sounds rolled through her lips, ending with the word ‘English’. It came with a delicate, breathy space either side of it.
‘English!’ Another barrage of hisses, seeming to end with ‘homosexual’.
‘Hoh!’ said Ludmila.
‘Hoh!’ said the man.
Maksimilian watched Bunny uncrumple himself from the floor, gazing around like a blind man through his glasses. He lifted them, and found the two ladies in front of him, observing with some interest.
The very old one shone her gums, and pointed him to a chair while she spat a mouthful of language at Maksimilian – who clicked his tongue, and threw back his head.
‘Mind, I’d kill for a cup of tea,’ said Bunny. ‘Never mind the bacon.’
Ludmila watched him, head slightly cocked. ‘Tea?’ she said.
‘Yes, and some food,’ Blair stood, and ran his eyes over the women’s faces. ‘We can pay you. Is there something?’
Ludmila frowned. After a moment, she turned to the ladies, and made a plea. It brought frowns in return. Her tone rose, and an instant came when the women snagged on one of her words, and their brows wavered. They looked at each other, spoke briefly, then threw a finger at Maksimilian, attracting from him a tirade ending with ‘Hoh!’
The fingers stayed thrown. Maksimilian picked up the rifle, pulled out its cartridge, and emptied it on to the table. A single bullet bounced out. He moved grave eyes over each woman.
The fingers stayed thrown. The women stared until he reloaded the gun, and stormed into the yard. A shot cracked through the dark. Blair saw a goat dragged past the step, heard a blade clinking on stone. Within minutes, the animal’s skin was hung outside the door, its innards saved in a bucket, and the remainder, including its head and feet, were quartered and tossed on the kitchen benchtop.
Before Maksimilian could scrub his hands, his mother issued a sharp request, nudging a chin at the Heaths. The boy looked sceptically at Bunny and Blair, until an ancillary eruption, from the old woman, made him lead the twins to a door at the back of the room.
They entered to find a smell. Maksimilian stood by a bed, and pulled back the covers to reveal a body.
‘Fucking hell.’ Bunny jumped back.
Maksimilian motioned the pair to the body’s legs.
Bunny gagged as they carried the corpse from the room. The old woman regaled their passing with wails, and the throwing up of hands. ‘What in the name of fuck, Blair?’
‘I mean, I’m sorry, Buns, but it’s not going to get any better going on and on about it.’
‘Aye, mate. None of the steps we’ve taken in the last forty-eight hours, and none of the signs at the place where those actions have led us, suggest we’ll ever fucking get out.’
‘Well, that’s just absurd. You’re just being absurd now, Bunny, frankly.’ Blair could feel the body’s skin detaching to float on a kind of slime under its trouser leg. ‘And it’s not in the least helpful to make dark of the situation, when we really should be getting our heads around it. I mean, it’s just a bit new, that’s all. Relative comfort will settle in, you’ll see.’
The trio stumbled off the front step, and waded grunting through a foot of dry snow. Olga followed at an oblique distance, wailing. Blair’s mouth flapped and clamped intermittently. ‘What I am saying to you is that we mustn’t be put off at this stage. We have the tools we need to turn things around. I think – and I mean this seriously, Buns – that now is the time to really calibrate our attitudes, orientate our minds for best results. Wasn’t it Nietzsche who said, “If your model defeats you, change the model?”’
‘“If your ethical model defeats you.” I think you’ll find he said.’
‘Well, but what I mean to say is – we’ve two of these sachets left. I think it’s crucial, in the interests of –’
‘If you touch another of those fucking cocktails I will make you shag this corpse, Blair.’
‘Buns, Buns, Buns! You’re missing the point!’
Maksimilian shuffled a half-circle with the old man’s head, and grunted to indicate they should drop the body where they stood, in a dune of snow by the yard’s fence.
It sank with a puff.
Bunny rinsed his fingers in the snow, and wiped his hands up and down his sock. Then he sidled to his brother. ‘I’m not missing the point. Every drink we’ve had has gotten us deeper into shit. And do you know why, Blair?’
‘Well, Buns, just look –’
‘No, no.’ Bunny leant closer, stabbing his brother with a finger. ‘You look. Do you know what this drug does? Do you know its single active quality? The suspension of conscience, Blair. Do you hear?’
‘Oh for God’s sake. It doesn’t produce anything we don’t already have. It’s a facilitator, that’s all.’
‘And it’ll facilitate us to our fucking graves.’
‘Now look, what I am saying to you is simply this: we can make a sensible and orderly plan, and be on our way tomorrow. We weren’t to know about the trains. I’ll have a proper chat with Ludmila – I’ll even pay her to take us back to the airport, and we’ll carry on with the original plan.’
‘And she’ll be swept off her feet by hotel toiletries, and follow you to the ends of the earth.’
‘Well, that’s not what I’m saying at all. Anyway, I mean – she did advertise, Buns. She did write me that letter.’
‘No, mate. Here’s what happened: you got wafted away with one of these fucking cocktails and told me we were off to Spain for a laff.’
‘Well, I take exception to that. I never said a word about Spain.’
‘I’m too fucking cold to argue. At first light, I’m off home. And I’m taking the card – if there’s only the cost of one ticket in it, that ticket’s mine, Blair.’
‘Yes, yes, yes.’
All the while they spoke, the weasel Maksimilian observed the pair, keeping them silhouetted against the shack’s dim light, his stare lurking over their forms, weighing each shift and thrust, each breath beween them.
Ludmila came into the yard. She stood a moment beside Olga, whose wails had shrunk to squeaks and hisses, and whose meals were only served as far as her chest. Had the meals been real, they would have formed a pile around her boots. Ludmila hugged her coats, and stepped up to the men. Maksimilian took a lingering squint at the brothers, then strode off to fetch a shovel. He muttered as he dug a hole around the body. Ludmila didn’t look at Bunny or Blair, but stood behind them.
Blair leant back, close enough to feel the damp of her breath.
‘English!’ Maksimilian barked. He held up the shovel.
‘He’s got you pegged,’ said Bunny.
‘Why?’ Blair moved testily around the grave. ‘I’m not doing anything!’
‘Well sussed, he’s got you.’
‘Piss off, Buns.’
‘Because, do you know what, Blair? Shall we just be honest for a minute? All of this has come about because you’re a virgin who found the talent back home a bit daunting. You’ve managed to rationalise to yourself a string of conceits, like thinking the dirt poor will lay down at your feet for the whiff of a quid.’ Bunny levelled his eyes across the snow at his brother. ‘Face it: the lad’s on form. You’ve come to knob his sister.’
23
‘Is it that the financial instrument is bad?’ Abakumov argued into the telephone. ‘Or why will you not honour a perfectly routine transaction?’ He put one hand over the mouthpiece, tossed another vodka down his throat, and leant across the table to Lubov, hissing to her, ‘They say the transaction can’t be completed without a merchant account – you must have a registration number, as a commerce, with which they can charge the money from the card.’
Lubov crossed her arms, leaning into the back-room door frame. ‘Well I have conducted business here for many years without such a registration. I’m certain it’s not something required by the state.’ Her eyes fell under the weight of greater priorities: the whereabouts of Gregor and Karel, who had never taken so long to fetch the bread. Already a handful of villagers began to shout at her door. This, and the curious absence of soldiers on the street, despite the closeness of gunfire, disquieted her. All was compounded by fatigue from the ridiculous debacle of the Derevs’ voucher.
‘I’m not saying it’s for the state,’ Abakumov tutted, ‘I’m saying it would have been helpful to have an account to charge the card to. It’s all that stands between us and a workable resolution to this dire caseload, if we could just lubricate the process with the proper funds.’
‘I’m sorry, we cannot complete the transaction,’ a voice said down the telephone. ‘You will have to approach the cardholder.’
‘I see, I see. But then can you give me the status of the account, a balance of available funds, before we approach the customer for a resolution?’
