As Kolya stepped out of the flat he met Alexander’s friend coming down the stairs.
“Have you got a ticket for the match, Mr. Obolsky?” he asked.
“I have,” said Kolya. “In the north end terrace with the rest of the lads. So I’ll see you there.”
“Afraid not,” said Vladimir. “I’ll be sitting in the west stand.”
“Lucky boy,” said Kolya as they walked down the steps together, and although he was tempted, he didn’t ask what he’d had to do in return for his ticket.
“What about Alexander, will he be with you?”
“Sadly not. He’s having to work the afternoon shift, and I can tell you, he’s pretty pissed off.”
“Tell him I’ll drop by this evening and give him a blow-by-blow account.”
?
?That’s good of you, Vladimir. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. Enjoy the game,” he added as they went their separate ways.
* * *
Once Kolya had left for the docks, Alexander still had a dozen more questions for his mother, some of which she couldn’t answer, including which country they would be going to.
“Two ships will be sailing on the afternoon tide around three o’clock,” said Elena, “but we won’t know which one Uncle Kolya has chosen until the last moment.”
It was clear to Elena that Alexander had already forgotten about the football match, as he paced excitedly around the room, preoccupied by the thought of escaping. She looked on anxiously. “This isn’t a game, Alexander,” she said firmly. “If we are caught, your uncle will be shot, and we’ll be transported to a labor camp, where you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you’d gone to the match. It’s not too late for you to change your mind.”
“I know what my father would have done,” said Alexander.
“Then you’d better go and get ready,” said his mother.
Alexander returned to his room while his mother packed the lunch box he took to work every morning. On this occasion it wasn’t filled with food, but with all the notes and coins she and Konstantin had scraped together over the years, a few pieces of jewelry of little value, other than her mother’s engagement ring, which she slipped on next to her wedding ring, and finally a Russian–English dictionary. How Elena now wished she’d spent more time concentrating when Konstantin and Alexander had spoken English every evening. She then packed her own small suitcase, hoping it wouldn’t attract attention when she turned up for work later that morning. The problem was deciding what to include and what to leave behind. Her photos of Konstantin and the family were her first priority, followed by one change of clothes and a bar of soap. She also managed to squeeze in a hairbrush and a comb before forcing the lid closed. Alexander had wanted to take his copy of War and Peace, but she had assured him he’d be able to get another copy wherever they landed.
Alexander was desperate to get going, but his mother wasn’t willing to leave before the agreed time. Kolya had warned her they couldn’t afford to draw attention to themselves by arriving at the dock gates before the siren sounded at twelve. They finally left the flat just after eleven, taking a circuitous route to the dockyard where it was unlikely they would run into anyone they knew. They arrived outside the entrance just before twelve, to face a stampede of workers heading in the opposite direction.
Alexander battled his way through the advancing army, while his mother, head bowed, followed in his wake. Once they’d clocked in, Elena reminded him: “The siren will go at two for the mid-afternoon break, then we’ll have twenty minutes, no more, so make sure you join me at the officers’ club as quickly as possible.”
Alexander nodded, and headed for dock number 6 to begin his shift, his mother going in the opposite direction. Once Elena reached the back door of the club, she opened it cautiously, poked her head inside, and listened intently. Not a sound.
She hung up her coat and made her way through to the kitchen. She was surprised to find Olga sitting at the table smoking, something she would never have done if an officer had been on the premises. Olga told her that even Comrade Akimov had left moments after the siren had sounded at midday. She blew out a cloud of smoke, her idea of rebellion.
“Why don’t I cook us both a meal?” said Elena, putting on her apron. “Then we can eat our lunch sitting down for a change, as if we were officers.”
“And there’s half a bottle of that Bulgarian red left over from yesterday’s lunch,” said Olga, “so we can even drink to the bastards’ health.”
Elena laughed for the first time that day, and then set about preparing what she hoped would be her last meal in Leningrad.
At one o’clock, Olga and Elena went into the dining room and laid the table, putting out the best cutlery and linen napkins. Olga poured two glasses of red wine, and was about to take a sip from her glass when the door burst open and Major Polyakov strode in.
“Your lunch is prepared, Comrade Major,” she said, not missing a beat. He looked at the two wine glasses suspiciously. “Will anyone be joining you?” she added quickly.
“No, they’re all at the match so I will be dining alone,” said Polyakov before turning to Elena. “Be sure you don’t leave before I’ve finished my lunch, Comrade Karpenkova.”
“Of course not, Comrade Major,” Elena replied.
The two women scurried back into the kitchen. “That can only mean one thing,” said Olga as Elena filled a bowl with hot fish soup.
Olga took the first course through to Polyakov and placed it on the table. As she turned to leave, he said, “Once you’ve served the main course, you can take the rest of the day off.”