apart, they dragged themselves around as though drugged.
There was one subject, and only one, that had never been broached by them, but, aside from Tonya herself, it was the topic uppermost in Misha’s mind. The subject had to come up, and one day it did. It was the middle of May. They were walking through the streets in the deepening shade, listening to the dying burr of traffic and the clop-clop of horses’ hooves. Then Tonya squeezed Misha’s hand and said, ‘Your mother. You said she was ill.’
‘Yes.’
‘Headaches again?’
‘Headaches, yes, and back pain. And if it isn’t headaches or back pain, then it’s a cough or a fever or something else.’
‘She’s not strong.’
‘Oh, she’s strong enough, or would be if things were easier for her… You know they want her to start work as a factory hand?’
‘Your mother, a factory hand!’
‘At the saw mill down by the Finlyandsky goods depot. Can you imagine? Wearing blue overalls and shouting above the rotary saws all day.’ Misha laughed, but his face reverted almost instantly to its former serious expression. ‘I have to get her out of Russia. You know that, of course?’
‘To get her out? But…’
‘Her and Yevgeny. They’ll have to join Natasha and Raisa in Switzerland.’
Tonya heard his words and something inside her began to freeze. She walked along, silent and tense. Misha was preoccupied and took a moment or two to notice.
‘What’s up with you?’ he said in surprise.
‘Switzerland!’
‘Yes. Where else? Most of Europe is still at war, you know.’
‘But if she goes, won’t you need to … will you … who would go with her?’
‘Who would go with her?’
Misha stopped and looked full into Tonya’s face. He saw the worry gathered between her eyebrows, her green eyes flitting from one place to another on his face. He was still for a moment, then his mouth quivered and broke out in a merry, widening laugh.
‘Oh, comrade Lensky, comrade Lensky!’
He took her by the waist and her left hand, and, whistling out a tune to give them rhythm, he led her in a rapid waltz down the empty street. Infected by his mood, she started to laugh, but her anxiety hadn’t gone.
‘But really … wouldn’t you need to go?’
‘Comrade Lensky, you’re missing your steps!’
‘No, tell me!’
‘One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, one. That’s better. Keep going.’
Tonya’s feet began to move as he instructed her. She was naturally a better dancer than he was, even though he’d been the one with the boyhood dancing tutor. He’d begun to teach her one evening and already she was technically more competent than him, though she still didn’t give herself to the dance the way he did.
‘Excellent, Lensky! Lensky of the Bolshoi!’
Misha turned from a simple waltz into a complex Viennese one, full of turns inside turns, spinning and circling down the street. Then he fumbled his steps. She pushed him in mock disgust. The dance ended with them leaning against a high stone wall, panting.
‘ Charmante, Madame ,’ said Misha bowing.
‘Tell me.’
‘My job is to get them out of the country with a little money. Natasha and Raisa are fifteen and sixteen. Mother will be safe enough with them.’
‘Really?’
‘No. I lied. Raisa must be seventeen now.’
‘Misha!’
He took her in his arms. He wasn’t broadly built, but there was something in his tallness and confidence that made him seem bigger. ‘I won’t leave Russia without you. And you have your family to think of – your brother, father, and grandmother.’
‘Yes. Yes, I do.’
‘You wouldn’t leave them?’ It was half statement, half request.
‘No… No, I don’t think I could. Father – well, he needs me, but I don’t know if I owe him much. But Pavel’s young, you know. Younger than his age. And Babba, my grandmother, depends on me completely.’
Misha nodded.
‘That’s what I thought. You’re right.’
They walked on.
Tonya wanted
There was one subject, and only one, that had never been broached by them, but, aside from Tonya herself, it was the topic uppermost in Misha’s mind. The subject had to come up, and one day it did. It was the middle of May. They were walking through the streets in the deepening shade, listening to the dying burr of traffic and the clop-clop of horses’ hooves. Then Tonya squeezed Misha’s hand and said, ‘Your mother. You said she was ill.’
‘Yes.’
‘Headaches again?’
‘Headaches, yes, and back pain. And if it isn’t headaches or back pain, then it’s a cough or a fever or something else.’
‘She’s not strong.’
‘Oh, she’s strong enough, or would be if things were easier for her… You know they want her to start work as a factory hand?’
‘Your mother, a factory hand!’
‘At the saw mill down by the Finlyandsky goods depot. Can you imagine? Wearing blue overalls and shouting above the rotary saws all day.’ Misha laughed, but his face reverted almost instantly to its former serious expression. ‘I have to get her out of Russia. You know that, of course?’
‘To get her out? But…’
‘Her and Yevgeny. They’ll have to join Natasha and Raisa in Switzerland.’
Tonya heard his words and something inside her began to freeze. She walked along, silent and tense. Misha was preoccupied and took a moment or two to notice.
‘What’s up with you?’ he said in surprise.
‘Switzerland!’
‘Yes. Where else? Most of Europe is still at war, you know.’
‘But if she goes, won’t you need to … will you … who would go with her?’
‘Who would go with her?’
Misha stopped and looked full into Tonya’s face. He saw the worry gathered between her eyebrows, her green eyes flitting from one place to another on his face. He was still for a moment, then his mouth quivered and broke out in a merry, widening laugh.
‘Oh, comrade Lensky, comrade Lensky!’
He took her by the waist and her left hand, and, whistling out a tune to give them rhythm, he led her in a rapid waltz down the empty street. Infected by his mood, she started to laugh, but her anxiety hadn’t gone.
‘But really … wouldn’t you need to go?’
‘Comrade Lensky, you’re missing your steps!’
‘No, tell me!’
‘One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, one. That’s better. Keep going.’
Tonya’s feet began to move as he instructed her. She was naturally a better dancer than he was, even though he’d been the one with the boyhood dancing tutor. He’d begun to teach her one evening and already she was technically more competent than him, though she still didn’t give herself to the dance the way he did.
‘Excellent, Lensky! Lensky of the Bolshoi!’
Misha turned from a simple waltz into a complex Viennese one, full of turns inside turns, spinning and circling down the street. Then he fumbled his steps. She pushed him in mock disgust. The dance ended with them leaning against a high stone wall, panting.
‘ Charmante, Madame ,’ said Misha bowing.
‘Tell me.’
‘My job is to get them out of the country with a little money. Natasha and Raisa are fifteen and sixteen. Mother will be safe enough with them.’
‘Really?’
‘No. I lied. Raisa must be seventeen now.’
‘Misha!’
He took her in his arms. He wasn’t broadly built, but there was something in his tallness and confidence that made him seem bigger. ‘I won’t leave Russia without you. And you have your family to think of – your brother, father, and grandmother.’
‘Yes. Yes, I do.’
‘You wouldn’t leave them?’ It was half statement, half request.
‘No… No, I don’t think I could. Father – well, he needs me, but I don’t know if I owe him much. But Pavel’s young, you know. Younger than his age. And Babba, my grandmother, depends on me completely.’
Misha nodded.
‘That’s what I thought. You’re right.’
They walked on.
Tonya wanted
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