The Gardener from Ochakov by Andrey Kurkov

the gardener’s eyes.
    â€˜Me?’ he asked, momentarily disconcerted, as though he’d been deep in thought and the invitation had been an unwelcome interruption. ‘Of course, it would be a pleasure. Thank you. I just need to lock up.’ He glanced around the room and his eyes fell on the shelf unit where he kept his things, and where all the tools were stored. He took a padlock from one of the shelves and put his jacket on.
    Elena Andreevna watched, intrigued, as he closed the door carefully and padlocked it. She’d never seen him lock it before.
    â€˜So, did you find any family in Ochakov?’ she asked, putting a plate of casserole and boiled potatoes on the table in front of Stepan.
    â€˜Not quite,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘But we found some people who remember them, which is something. And we found a few bits and pieces . . . things that used to belong to my father.’
    â€˜You don’t say!’ exclaimed Elena Andreevna. ‘Someone kept them all that time?’
    â€˜Indeed,’ nodded Stepan, wondering how best to change the subject. ‘So how are things here? What’s the latest?’
    â€˜You’ve only been away for a couple of days.’ His landlady shrugged. ‘Nothing’s changed. Well, the kiosk near the station was robbed one night, and there was a fight near the Customs and Excise training academy, but that’s it really. Igor’s asleep . . . Should I wake him?’
    â€˜No.’ Stepan waved his hand. ‘Let him sleep it off. Has he been out of work long?’
    â€˜Yes,’ nodded Elena Andreevna.
    â€˜Why? Can’t he find a job?’
    â€˜He’s not even looking,’ sighed Elena Andreevna. ‘He had an accident when he was little. Five years old, he was. I told my husband to take him to the playground, but he met someone he knew and started chatting and Igor ran off towards the carousel. It was just slowing down, and one of the metal seats caught him on the head. He suffered what they call a closed head injury. He was in hospital for two months, and I never left his side. The doctor warned us to expect brain damage so we were prepared for the worst, but he ended up making a complete recovery . . . He just gets headaches every now and then. He was lucky. I spent years watching over him like a blade of grass, trying to protect him.
    â€˜Then when he finished school I sent him out to find a job. One day he came home and said that he’d found one in a furniture factory, here in Irpen. He started leaving the house every morning, and he told me all about the job itself, what his friends were like, that kind of thing. He even brought some stools home once, said he’d been given them because they were slightly damaged. We’re sitting on them right now, in fact.’ Elena Andreevna paused and looked down at her stool. ‘About three months later, I needed to find him urgently during the day so I went to the address he’d mentioned, but there was no furniture factory there. Well, at first I wanted to challenge him about it, and then I decided I ought to take him to see a doctor, to a psychiatrist . . . In the end I just told him I hadn’t managed to find the factory, and he immediately stopped going. So, here we are. Things aren’t so bad – I get my pension money, and we manage to make ends meet . . .’ Elena Andreevna trailed off, lowering her eyes.
    Now Stepan felt awkward too because the change in his landlady’s mood had been caused directly by his curiosity. But Elena Andreevna’s sadness didn’t last for long. She licked her dry lips, and when she looked up at the gardener her eyes were alive again.
    â€˜Is the town pretty?’ she asked.
    â€˜Ochakov? Not particularly. It was quite grey. It’s probably nice in the summer, but not now.’
    Elena Andreevna offered Stepan a shot of vodka, but he politely declined.
    â€˜Elena Andreevna,