movements in his bedroom, his arrivals and exits at strange hours, exacerbated my insomnia terribly.
As time passed it seemed to me that he had shown disrespect, if not for me then for the principle of self-transformation that he had spoken about so warmly. Taking my courage in both hands, I decided to approach him myself. In the new world men and women must be honest and direct with each other; it was no good hanging back like a blushing damsel.
I knocked on the door of his room that evening, my hands sweating uncomfortably.
‘Enter!’
‘Comrade Slavkin,’ I began, ‘I’m afraid I am disturbing you in the midst of important work, but it is essential that we discuss the matter of living space. We are here in possession of almost two hundred square metres of living space, enough by government standards to house at least another twenty-five people. Don’t you think we should report this anomaly?’
As honest as I intended to be, this was the subject that I lit upon in the awkwardness of the moment.
‘Oh, yes indeed, comrade,’ he said. ‘The fact is I have been thinking about exactly this problem . . .’
I could see, now, that he was blushing. Yes, blushing! A deep pink all down his neck and under his hair. He looked up at me almost beseechingly, like a boy gazing up at his teacher. A chill passed through me at that moment; if I had only heeded it, how much pain I would have saved myself. But I suppose it was already too late. I steadied myself, and spoke to him as gently as I could.
‘Please, you have no need to feel awkward with me.’
‘What? No, no—’ he stammered.
‘Really, it’s not necessary. We are adults, we are responsible for our own actions.’ I smiled, to show I meant it. ‘Now – start again. Tell me what you have been thinking.’
He gazed at me doubtfully for a moment. Then a smile began, and spread and spread. ‘Dear Miss Gerty, comrade, what a wonderful person you are! A true Revolutionary! I am convinced that if you will help me, we will succeed. Will you help me? Will you?’
He was almost on his knees before me, beaming, looking so young, and I couldn’t help laughing and agreeing. ‘Of course I’ll help you, Nikita, but with what?’
‘With my institute – my scientific institute for the purposes of creating the true communard! You, Miss Gerty, you are the perfect woman to lead our Russian dyevushki , you have already the spirit of English egalitarianism in your veins . . .’
We talked long that night, Nikita was inspired and eloquent. In the early hours of the morning, without any awkwardness, we suddenly found ourselves making love on his rusty-springed bed. The feel of his skin against mine was intoxicating.
Immediately afterwards, as we lay in each other’s arms, we agreed that the physical side of our friendship was no more than that, part of a friendship. Romance, we both said, was a product of an outdated social order, a trap for women that turned them into second-class citizens. ‘I have the greatest respect for you, Gerty,’ Nikita said to me earnestly. ‘In fact I’m very fond of you – but I am not and I never will be “in love” with you. I reject that state of exaggerated ego in which each partner wilfully creates an ideal beloved of the other.’
I agreed with him and added, quite casually, that sexual desire is natural in both men and women – even if the words caused a foolish hot flush to creep up my cheeks. We both concluded that the important thing was to be rational about such things, and not to let emotion mislead one.
June passed in this way, and July. In what spare time I could grasp from the round of English classes, looking after the old ladies, tending the vegetable patch and trailing from shop to shop to find food, I packed away the Kobelevs’ things, determined to keep them safe if I could. ‘Loot the looters!’ Lenin had announced, and all over Moscow people were taking his words to heart. The Civil War brought news
As time passed it seemed to me that he had shown disrespect, if not for me then for the principle of self-transformation that he had spoken about so warmly. Taking my courage in both hands, I decided to approach him myself. In the new world men and women must be honest and direct with each other; it was no good hanging back like a blushing damsel.
I knocked on the door of his room that evening, my hands sweating uncomfortably.
‘Enter!’
‘Comrade Slavkin,’ I began, ‘I’m afraid I am disturbing you in the midst of important work, but it is essential that we discuss the matter of living space. We are here in possession of almost two hundred square metres of living space, enough by government standards to house at least another twenty-five people. Don’t you think we should report this anomaly?’
As honest as I intended to be, this was the subject that I lit upon in the awkwardness of the moment.
‘Oh, yes indeed, comrade,’ he said. ‘The fact is I have been thinking about exactly this problem . . .’
I could see, now, that he was blushing. Yes, blushing! A deep pink all down his neck and under his hair. He looked up at me almost beseechingly, like a boy gazing up at his teacher. A chill passed through me at that moment; if I had only heeded it, how much pain I would have saved myself. But I suppose it was already too late. I steadied myself, and spoke to him as gently as I could.
‘Please, you have no need to feel awkward with me.’
‘What? No, no—’ he stammered.
‘Really, it’s not necessary. We are adults, we are responsible for our own actions.’ I smiled, to show I meant it. ‘Now – start again. Tell me what you have been thinking.’
He gazed at me doubtfully for a moment. Then a smile began, and spread and spread. ‘Dear Miss Gerty, comrade, what a wonderful person you are! A true Revolutionary! I am convinced that if you will help me, we will succeed. Will you help me? Will you?’
He was almost on his knees before me, beaming, looking so young, and I couldn’t help laughing and agreeing. ‘Of course I’ll help you, Nikita, but with what?’
‘With my institute – my scientific institute for the purposes of creating the true communard! You, Miss Gerty, you are the perfect woman to lead our Russian dyevushki , you have already the spirit of English egalitarianism in your veins . . .’
We talked long that night, Nikita was inspired and eloquent. In the early hours of the morning, without any awkwardness, we suddenly found ourselves making love on his rusty-springed bed. The feel of his skin against mine was intoxicating.
Immediately afterwards, as we lay in each other’s arms, we agreed that the physical side of our friendship was no more than that, part of a friendship. Romance, we both said, was a product of an outdated social order, a trap for women that turned them into second-class citizens. ‘I have the greatest respect for you, Gerty,’ Nikita said to me earnestly. ‘In fact I’m very fond of you – but I am not and I never will be “in love” with you. I reject that state of exaggerated ego in which each partner wilfully creates an ideal beloved of the other.’
I agreed with him and added, quite casually, that sexual desire is natural in both men and women – even if the words caused a foolish hot flush to creep up my cheeks. We both concluded that the important thing was to be rational about such things, and not to let emotion mislead one.
June passed in this way, and July. In what spare time I could grasp from the round of English classes, looking after the old ladies, tending the vegetable patch and trailing from shop to shop to find food, I packed away the Kobelevs’ things, determined to keep them safe if I could. ‘Loot the looters!’ Lenin had announced, and all over Moscow people were taking his words to heart. The Civil War brought news
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