them was: tell me some more about Uncle Vanya. They’d been so cryptic about him I thought he might be a bad uncle. “Uncle Vanya plays the balalaika with us, we lovehim very much, and he’s funny when he gets drunk.” That’s Irina speaking. She’s decided to be more forthcoming than her big sister. But I’m thinking: a drunken uncle who plays music to them, what else does he play?’
‘And the language spoken still English , we take it,’ Yvonne asks, in her pursuit of every last detail. But gently now, woman to woman. ‘We’re not into basic French or anything?’
‘English was virtually their first language. Internat American English with a slight Italian accent. So then I asked, is Vanya a real uncle or just an honorary one? Answer: Vanya is our mother’s brother and he used to be married to Aunt Raïsa who lives in Sochi with another husband nobody likes. We’re doing family tree now, which is great by me. Tamara is Dima’s wife, and she’s very strict, and she prays a lot because she’s holy and she is kind to have us. Kind? Have us how? And then I say – I’m being a really clever lawyer now, asking the tangential questions, not the in-your-face ones – is Dima kind to Tamara? Is Dima kind to his boys? Meaning: is Dima a bit too kind to you? And Katya says, yes, Dima is kind to Tamara because he is her husband and her sister’s dead, and Dima is kind to Natasha because he’s her father and her mother’s dead, and to his sons because he’s their father. Which opens the door to the question I really want to ask, and I put it to Katya because she’s older: So who’s your father, Katya? And Katya says, he’s dead. And Irina joins in and says, so’s our mother. They’re both dead. I do a kind of “oh really?” and when they just look at me, I say, I’m very sad for you. How long have they been dead? I wasn’t even sure I believed them. There was a bit of me that was still hoping they were pulling some gruesome children’s trick. By now it’s Irina doing the talking and Katya who’s gone into a kind of trance. So have I, but that’s beside the point. They died on Wednesday , Irina says. A lot of emphasis on the day. As if the day’s to blame. Wednesday was when they died, whenever Wednesday was. So I say – it just gets worse and worse – you mean last Wednesday? And Irina says, yes, Wednesday a week ago, the 29th of April: very precisely, making sure I get it right. So Wednesday last week and something about a car smash, and I just sit there staring at them, and Irina takesmy hand and pats it and Katya puts her head in my lap, and Perry who I’ve completely forgotten about wraps his arm round me, and I’m the only person crying.’
*
Gail has wedged the knuckle of her forefinger between her teeth, which is another thing she does in court to protect herself against unprofessional emotions.
‘Talking it over with Perry in the cabin afterwards, everything fell more or less into place,’ she says, raising her voice to give it an even more detached ring, but still keeping Perry out of her eye-line, and meanwhile trying to make it sound natural that two little girls should be having a jolly time beside the seaside a few days after their parents have been slaughtered in a car accident.
‘Their parents died on the Wednesday . The tennis match took place on the following Wednesday. Ergo, the household had mourned for a week and Dima had reckoned it was time to get them out into the fresh air: so all snap out of it and who’s for tennis? If they were Jewish, which for all we knew they may have been, or some of them were, or the dead parents were, then maybe they’d been sitting shiva, and by the Wednesday they’re supposed to be getting back into life. It hardly meshed with Tamara being Christian-holy and wearing a cross, but we weren’t talking religious consistency, not with that crowd, and Tamara was widely held to be weird.’
Yvonne again, respectful but firm: ‘I hate to
‘And the language spoken still English , we take it,’ Yvonne asks, in her pursuit of every last detail. But gently now, woman to woman. ‘We’re not into basic French or anything?’
‘English was virtually their first language. Internat American English with a slight Italian accent. So then I asked, is Vanya a real uncle or just an honorary one? Answer: Vanya is our mother’s brother and he used to be married to Aunt Raïsa who lives in Sochi with another husband nobody likes. We’re doing family tree now, which is great by me. Tamara is Dima’s wife, and she’s very strict, and she prays a lot because she’s holy and she is kind to have us. Kind? Have us how? And then I say – I’m being a really clever lawyer now, asking the tangential questions, not the in-your-face ones – is Dima kind to Tamara? Is Dima kind to his boys? Meaning: is Dima a bit too kind to you? And Katya says, yes, Dima is kind to Tamara because he is her husband and her sister’s dead, and Dima is kind to Natasha because he’s her father and her mother’s dead, and to his sons because he’s their father. Which opens the door to the question I really want to ask, and I put it to Katya because she’s older: So who’s your father, Katya? And Katya says, he’s dead. And Irina joins in and says, so’s our mother. They’re both dead. I do a kind of “oh really?” and when they just look at me, I say, I’m very sad for you. How long have they been dead? I wasn’t even sure I believed them. There was a bit of me that was still hoping they were pulling some gruesome children’s trick. By now it’s Irina doing the talking and Katya who’s gone into a kind of trance. So have I, but that’s beside the point. They died on Wednesday , Irina says. A lot of emphasis on the day. As if the day’s to blame. Wednesday was when they died, whenever Wednesday was. So I say – it just gets worse and worse – you mean last Wednesday? And Irina says, yes, Wednesday a week ago, the 29th of April: very precisely, making sure I get it right. So Wednesday last week and something about a car smash, and I just sit there staring at them, and Irina takesmy hand and pats it and Katya puts her head in my lap, and Perry who I’ve completely forgotten about wraps his arm round me, and I’m the only person crying.’
*
Gail has wedged the knuckle of her forefinger between her teeth, which is another thing she does in court to protect herself against unprofessional emotions.
‘Talking it over with Perry in the cabin afterwards, everything fell more or less into place,’ she says, raising her voice to give it an even more detached ring, but still keeping Perry out of her eye-line, and meanwhile trying to make it sound natural that two little girls should be having a jolly time beside the seaside a few days after their parents have been slaughtered in a car accident.
‘Their parents died on the Wednesday . The tennis match took place on the following Wednesday. Ergo, the household had mourned for a week and Dima had reckoned it was time to get them out into the fresh air: so all snap out of it and who’s for tennis? If they were Jewish, which for all we knew they may have been, or some of them were, or the dead parents were, then maybe they’d been sitting shiva, and by the Wednesday they’re supposed to be getting back into life. It hardly meshed with Tamara being Christian-holy and wearing a cross, but we weren’t talking religious consistency, not with that crowd, and Tamara was widely held to be weird.’
Yvonne again, respectful but firm: ‘I hate to
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