Tell Tale: Short Stories

“Yes I have,” said Niko. “In the north end terrace with the rest of the lads. So I’ll see you there.”

“Afraid not,” said Vladimir. “I’m in the west stand.”

“Lucky boy,” said Niko, and although tempted he didn’t ask what he’d had to do in return for his ticket.

“What about Alexander, did he manage to get one?”

“No such luck. He’s having to work the afternoon shift, and I can tell you, he’s pretty fed up to be missing the cup final.”

“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.”

* * *

Once Niko 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 Niko has chosen until the last moment.”

It quickly became clear to Elena that Alexander had already forgotten about the football match as he began to pace excitedly around the room, preoccupied only by the thought of escaping. His mother looked anxiously on. “It’s not a game, Alexander,” she said firmly. “If we’re caught, your uncle will be shot, and we would be transported to a Russian gulag, where you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you’d gone to the match. So it’s still 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 without another word while Elena 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 they just might be able to sell once they landed in a strange country, and a Russian–English dictionary. How she now wished she’d spent more time learning English. She then packed her own small suitcase, which she hoped wouldn’t attract attention when she turned up for work later that morning. The problem was deciding what to pack and what to leave behind. Every photo of Konstantin and the family became her first priority, followed by one change of clothes and a bar of soap. She also managed to squeeze in a brush and comb before forcing the lid closed. Alexander had wanted to take his copy of War and Peace, but his mother had assured him he’d be able to get a copy wherever they landed.

Alexander was desperate to get going, but Elena wasn’t willing to leave a moment too soon, after Niko had warned her they couldn’t afford to draw attention to themselves by arriving at the dock gates before the hooter sounded at twelve. They finally left the flat just after eleven, Elena taking a circuitous route where they were unlikely to run into anyone they knew. They arrived outside the dockyard entrance at a few minutes past 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 her son: “The hooter 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 they both went their separate ways. He to dock 6 to start the afternoon shift, she 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.

Elena hung up her coat and made her way through to the kitchen. She was surprised to find Olga sitting at the table smoking a cigarette, something she would never have considered if an officer had been on the premises. Elena smiled. Olga told her that even Mr. Novak 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 Albanian 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 officers’ table, putting out the best cutlery and two linen napkins. She then poured two glasses of red wine and took a sip. Elena 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,” said Olga, 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 face Elena. “And be sure you don’t leave before I’ve finished my lunch, Comrade Karpenko.”

“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.”

“Thank you, Comrade Major, but one of my duties after you’ve left is to clear up—”

“Immediately after you’ve served the main course,” he repeated, before picking up his soup spoon. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Comrade Major.” Olga returned to the kitchen and once the door was closed told her friend what Polyakov had demanded. “I’d do anything I can to help,” she added, “but I daren’t cross the bastard.” Elena said nothing as she filled a plate with rabbit stew, turnips, and mashed potato. “But you could always go home now,” said Olga, “and I’ll tell him you weren’t feeling well.”