Tell Tale: Short Stories

She finally thought about work and a job she couldn’t afford to lose while Alexander was still at school. Was the state pension a hint that they no longer wanted her around? Did her presence continually remind everyone how her husband had died? But she was good at her job, which was why she worked in the officers’ club and not in the docks canteen.

“Welcome back, Mrs. Karpenko,” said the guard on the gate as she clocked in.

“Thank you,” said Elena.

As she walked through the docks several workers doffed their caps and greeted her with a “good morning,” once again reminding her just how popular her husband had been.

After Elena had entered the back door of the officers’ club, she hung up her coat, put on an apron, and went straight through to the kitchen. She checked the lunch menu, the first thing she did every morning. Vegetable soup and rabbit pie. It must be Friday. She began to prepare both dishes, just as she did every day. First she inspected the meat, three rabbits that would need to be skinned, and then there were vegetables to be sliced and potatoes to be peeled.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder and she turned around to see Mr. Novak, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“It was a wonderful service,” her supervisor said. “But no more than Konstantin deserved.” Someone else who obviously knew the truth, but wasn’t willing to voice it. Elena thanked him, and didn’t stop working until the siren sounded to announce the mid-morning break. She hung up her apron and joined Olga in the yard. Her friend was enjoying the other half of yesterday’s cigarette, and passed the stub across to Elena.

“It’s been one hell of a week,” said Olga, “but we’ve all played our part in making sure you didn’t lose your job. I personally was responsible for yesterday’s lunch being a disaster,” she continued, after inhaling deeply. “The soup was cold, the meat was overcooked, the vegetables were soggy, and someone forgot to make any gravy. The officers were all asking when you would be back.”

“Thank you,” said Elena, wanting to hug her friend, but the buzzer sounded again.

* * *

Alexander had cried at his father’s funeral, for the first time in years. So when she arrived home after work that night, and found Alexander sobbing, she realized it could only be one thing.

She sat down on the kitchen bench next to her son and placed an arm around his shoulder.

“Winning a scholarship was never that important,” she said. “Just being offered a place at the foreign language school is in itself a great honor.”

“But I haven’t been offered a place anywhere,” he said.

“Not even to study math at the state university?”

Alexander shook his head. “I’ve been ordered to report to the docks on Monday morning, when I’ll be allocated to a gang.”

“Never!” said Elena. “I shall protest.”

“And it will fall on deaf ears, Mama. They’ve already made it clear that I don’t have any choice.”

“And what about your friend Vladimir? Will he also be joining you on the docks?”

“No. He’s been offered a place at the state university. He starts in September.”

“But you beat him in every subject.”

“Except treachery,” said Alexander.

* * *

When Major Polyakov strolled into the kitchen just before lunch the following day, he leered at Elena as if she were on the menu. The major was no taller than Elena, but must have been twice her weight, which was, Olga reminded her, a tribute to her cooking. Polyakov held the title of Head of Security, but everyone knew he was KGB and didn’t bother to report to the dock commandant, but directly to Moscow, so even his fellow officers were wary of him.

It wasn’t too long before the leer turned into a close inspection of her cooking, and while other officers occasionally came in to sample a tidbit, his hands ran down her back, coming to rest on her bottom, and moments later he pressed himself up against her.

“See you after lunch,” he whispered before leaving the kitchen to join his fellow officers in the dining room. Elena was relieved to see him rushing out of the building an hour later, and he didn’t return before she clocked off, but she feared it could only be a matter of time.

* * *

Niko dropped into the kitchen to see his sister at the end of the day, she gave him a blow-by-blow account of what she’d had to endure earlier that afternoon.

“There’s nothing any of us can do about Polyakov,” said Niko. “That is if we hope to keep our jobs. While Konstantin was still alive he wouldn’t have dared lay a hand on you, but now … there’s nothing to stop him adding you to a long list of conquests who would never complain. You only have to ask your friend Olga.”

“I don’t need to, but something Olga let slip today made me realize she knows why Konstantin was killed, and who was responsible. As she’s obviously too frightened to say a word, perhaps it’s time you told me the truth.”