Riding Icarus (11 page)

Masha had another question. “Nechipor, what
were
those green things inside the sack? They weren’t really hand grenades, were they?”

Nechipor chuckled rosily. “Came in pretty useful, didn’t they? It’s not quite what I was growing them for, but bless my bonnet, didn’t those guards run, the lily-livered, kitten-hearted—”

“
Growing
them?”

Gena burst out laughing. “They were melons! Little unripe watermelons! Those guards are going to feel so stupid when they realize.”

“Melons!” Masha began to laugh too. But then she said, “Those were the melons you were taking such care of, Nechipor. Now you won’t have any.”

“Plenty more where they came from,” said the Cossack cheerfully. “Anyway, I wouldn’t have missed today for anything. Haven’t had so much fun in years.”

It was an uncomfortable ride. Nechipor fell asleep in the front seat and snored enormously, filling the car with
samogon
fumes. Neither Masha nor Gena had any money, so they had to go to the flat and persuade the taxi driver to wait while Gena ran upstairs to beg some from his mother. When he’d been paid the man drove off, grumbling, but by then Ira had come down and was clamouring to know what had happened.

Puzzlingly, Nechipor had managed to disappear completely during the kerfuffle with the taxi driver, just as he had the night of the trolleybus ride. Masha was rather relieved; it made things easier to explain. They all trooped inside, and Granny told a version of events that, without lying, stopped Ira’s questions.

“They had no reason to keep me in hospital; I’m perfectly well,” she said firmly. “When Masha and Gena came to see me today, I told them so. And we left. Simple as that.”

With Ira’s help, Granny propped her bad leg on a stool in the kitchen and folded her hands in her lap. “What are we going to do now, eh, Masha? Go back to our trolleybus?”

Masha had told Granny the whole story of the ride in the thunderstorm, whispering in her ear in the taxi, and Granny had been entirely calm about it. But Masha still felt slightly nervous of Icarus. “I suppose so,” she replied doubtfully. “If we don’t, Uncle Igor might still take me away.”

Granny frowned. “What’s Igor got to do with anything?”

“He did mention that, as Masha’s guardian, he’d like to take Masha to live with him and his family,” Ira put in, rather defensively.

“But I don’t have to, now you’re back; and anyway, Mama— ” Masha broke off, realizing once again that she’d nearly given away the secret. She longed to tell Granny about her mother’s return and the trouble she was in. But she remembered that she had to keep quiet.

“It’s a good thing you got me out of that hospital,” Granny said. “Igor’s a nasty piece of work and I don’t want you to go to him; I want you to stay with me.”

“Are you really well enough to go back to the trolleybus, Babka Praskovia?” Ira asked. “It’s a little isolated, after all, and your leg is so bad. You would be welcome to stay here for a bit with Masha if you like.”

“That’s kind of you,” said Granny, “but I think we should go home.”

At that moment, the phone rang. Ira went out into the hall to answer it, and they heard her voice raised in surprise or anger. When she came back, she was flushed and frowning.

“That was your Uncle Igor. Somehow he knows that you’ve left the hospital, Babka Praskovia. He said something about you escaping, leaving without permission, frightening the staff—”

“Oh, what nonsense,” said Granny. “I had a right to leave if I wanted to, didn’t I? But how ever did he find out?”

“I don’t know. I suppose he must have called there for some reason.” Ira sat down, puffing indignantly. “He’s on his way round here now to see what’s going on. I really think he’s overstepping the mark a little. He said he couldn’t allow me to poke my nose into his affairs any more, for goodness’ sake. Who does he think he is? I’ll shelter you here as long as I like!”

Masha saw that now Uncle Igor had been rude to Ira, she was so annoyed she had forgotten to be frightened of him. But the fact that he already knew about Granny’s escape made Masha more frightened than ever. Perhaps the police would come, as the doctor in the hospital had threatened, and take Granny away again, or put them all in prison. Perhaps Uncle Igor would drag her away by force to his big house and lock her up. Thinking about it made tears start to her eyes. She hid her face in Granny’s shoulder.

When Ira and Granny saw she was crying, they made a big fuss of her.

“Now don’t you worry, Masha dear,” said Ira. “Everything will be fine. You’ll stay here with me, and your granny too, for as long as you like, until your mother comes home, because I expect she’ll be home soon – I’m sure she will.” That just made Masha cry harder than ever.

She was still snivelling when the doorbell rang.

“Now you just go into the other room with Gena,” Ira said firmly. “Your granny and I will sort everything out, don’t you worry.”

“I won’t have to live with Uncle Igor?” Masha swallowed down the sobs.

“I promise you won’t have to, all right? You just sit in the other room, and you won’t even have to see him.” Ira shooed the two children gently along the corridor, and shut the door before going to answer the bell.

Gena looked out of the window. The Mercedes was sitting like a great sleek black beetle in front of the building. As he watched, a scruffy stray dog trotted up and sniffed at the rear wheel. Then it lifted its leg. The driver’s window slid down and a burning cigarette butt flew out and hit it hard on the nose. The dog whimpered and slunk away. The window rolled silently up again.

In the room, Masha had pulled a big book off the shelf and was studying it, still occasionally wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“It’ll be all right, Masha,” said Gena. “We managed to get your granny out of hospital, didn’t we? If we did that we can do anything.”

“But what if the police come for us?”

“We didn’t do anything wrong.” Gena sounded more confident than he felt. “I mean, there can’t be a law against throwing melons on the floor, can there? I bet those guards are too embarrassed to tell anyone what happened anyway.”

Masha smiled tearily. She looked back at the book, which she’d just opened as something, anything, to take her mind off Uncle Igor there in the kitchen. It was a world atlas, and it had fallen open at the Turkey page. She read the city names.
Ankara. Istanbul
. She remembered the postcard her mother had sent her, over a year ago, had been from Istanbul, and the church had been called St Sophia, like the church in Kiev.

She turned the pages slowly.
Bulgaria. Moldova
.
Ukraine
. She traced the roads with her finger, wondering if Mama had come along them on her way home to Kiev.
Belarus. Russia
. She flicked through Siberia. That was where she’d like Uncle Igor to be. That bit there, where there was nothing at all marked, not a road, not a town, nothing, just a great freezing river and unending wastes of killing snow. And tigers. Siberian tigers, bigger and more terrible than anything in the whole world, to terrify him to death.

It was no good. She just couldn’t forget what was going on. She shut the book and went over to the door.

“Where are you going?” asked Gena.

“Shh!” Masha opened the door very gently. She tiptoed along the corridor and into the bathroom. There was a little window in the wall, just below the ceiling, that looked out into the kitchen. Masha climbed onto the edge of the bath. If she balanced against the basin she could see and hear everything that was happening.

Uncle Igor was sitting right below the window; she could see the pink spot on top of his head where he was going bald. There was a big bunch of plastic-looking dark red roses in front of him on the table.

“I’m sorry to break the news to you,” Uncle Igor was saying. “I can see it’s a shock. Of course, I don’t really know what happened. But it’s clear your granddaughter has somehow become involved in affairs in Turkey that are, well, illegal, to say the least. Not to mention immoral.”

Masha stared down at Granny and Ira, who both sat very still. Then Granny said, “Whatever my granddaughter may or may not have done, I don’t see that it’s any of your business. And how do you know about it anyway?”

“You forget, Sveta put various things into my hands before she left,” Igor said softly. Sveta was Masha’s mother’s name. “She asked me to look after Masha, for example. As I’ve reminded you before. And that’s what I’d like to do. I trust you’ll let Masha come to me, once you’ve thought about all the advantages she would have. I have a large house, my income is, um, adequate. My wife adores children, and my darling Nastya would love to have a little sister to play with – they could share so many things.”

Be Anastasia’s little sister? Masha almost fell off the bath in horror.

“You still haven’t answered my question: how do you know what happened to Sveta in Turkey?” Granny said sharply.

“I have my contacts,” said Igor. “You don’t have a phone, Babka Praskovia. You don’t have an address. You’re an old lady; you live in an abandoned trolleybus. Who would even notice if something happened to you? You know you can’t help Sveta now, and you aren’t fit to look after Masha. Give her over to my care.”

“All in good time.” Granny suddenly bent down and began rummaging in a bag under the table, muttering to herself.

“What’s that? What are you saying?” Igor looked nervously under the table.

Granny sat up again and, reaching over, appeared to slip something into his jacket pocket.

“What?” Igor put his hand in the pocket. He felt around quickly and pulled his hand out again, empty. He glared at Granny. “What are you doing? What did you put in there?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Granny looked innocent. “Where were we? Oh yes, I’m an old woman; I live in an abandoned trolleybus. And whose idea was that, may I ask? Who moved us there with promises to build us a new home? Who lured my granddaughter away with promises of well-paid work abroad? Oh yes, I’m an old woman. And I’m wise in ways you can only imagine. Remember that. Because I remember everything. Especially grudges.”

Igor stood up quickly. He felt around again in his pocket, breathing heavily.

“Well,” he said in a very reasonable voice, “I won’t rush you. I don’t want to split up a family. I have your interests at heart; I want only what is best for dear Masha. I hope and trust you’ll see that she’s better off with me. Because, I’m terribly sorry to say, there is nothing but bad in her mother, and to have anything more to do with her could work out very unfortunately, for all of you. I wouldn’t answer for the consequences.”

Granny and Ira stared up at him silently.

“I’m afraid Sveta may come back here, tell you some ridiculous lies, try to take Masha away. Of course you’ll tell me if she does. If you don’t, I’ll find out anyway, and so will the police. And I’d hate for you to get into trouble.”

“Thank you,” said Granny. “I think we understand.” She looked into the bag under the table again. Igor’s hand immediately went to his pocket, and Masha could see the bulge of his fingers scurrying around in it frantically.

“Well, I’ll be off,” he said, and the menace cut right through the reasonableness of his voice. “I’m out of town tomorrow, but I shall expect to hear from you the day after that. I know you’ll take good note of my advice.”

Ira made a small move to rise. “I’ll see myself out,” Uncle Igor said.

As soon as Masha heard the flat door close she scrambled down from the bath and ran into the kitchen.

“What did he mean, Mama is bad?” she cried. “Why did he say the police would find out? You won’t let him take me away, will you, Granny? What did you put in his pocket?”

“Hush now, hush,” said Granny, putting her arms round Masha.

“Were you listening?” demanded a pale, flustered Ira. “I told you to stay in the other room.”

“You can’t believe him,” Masha insisted. “He’s the bad one, not Mama. You can’t let him take me to his horrible house, you just can’t.”

“I won’t, Mashenka, I won’t,” Granny said. “Of course I don’t believe him. I know my Sveta better than that. She may have got into trouble in Turkey, but she’s no criminal.”

Masha looked at Ira, and saw a strange expression of indecision and fear on her face. “Oh, but…” she said. “The police…” she tried again. “You know, maybe Sveta did get involved—” She stopped and put her head in her hands. “I just don’t know what to think.”

“Well, I do,” said Masha loudly. “My mama only got mixed up in something wrong because Uncle Igor sent her to some awful place with bad people, and she was just stupid and didn’t know. And I don’t see why I should call him uncle any more, because he isn’t my uncle and he’s never going to take me away, so there.”

“Quite right,” said Granny. “Good girl. Pull yourself together, Ira. Make us a nice cup of tea, and we’ll all feel better.”

“What did you put in his pocket anyway?” Ira got up obediently to fill the kettle. “All of a sudden he couldn’t wait to leave.”

Granny’s dark eyes twinkled. “Nothing.” She gave Masha a kiss. “It was you, Mashenka, who told me how superstitious Igor is. I thought I’d see if it was true. I was mumbling the recipe for borscht and in this bag…” She looked under the table and picked it up. “What is in this bag? Beetroot.” She pulled one out by its cropped green leaves. “But if he wanted to think this is my bag of spells and I was putting a curse on him, well, that’s his business. It’ll worry him for a few hours.”

And that’s the second time today, thought Masha, that we’ve done something completely silly and harmless and made people who are stronger than us run away. The security guards from the hospital had been in a war, and she was sure now that Igor was involved in all sorts of unimaginable crimes. Maybe all Granny and Nechipor had done was to make such people expect the same bad things from others as they had done themselves.

She tugged Granny’s hand. “But couldn’t you put a real curse on Igor, so he’d leave us alone?” And I wouldn’t have to be scared of him any more, she added to herself.

“You have to be careful with such things. All magic has two sides: it does harm and it does good. A curse has the side that goes outwards to the cursed one, and the side that comes back to the one who cursed. In time, maybe I’ll do it. But it might be the end of me. Better to let him imagine it.”