The Incorrigible Optimists Club (55 page)

LENINGRAD 1952

1

T
he lighted candles of the two candelabras placed on the mantelpiece were reflected in the drawing room mirror. Irina glanced for a moment at her wrinkled features and her white hair and, feeling tired, let out a sigh. This was a very special evening. She had laid out the embroidered, Hungarian-stitch tablecloth, the Baccarat crystal glasses and the Limoges porcelain dishes bought for her by her husband before the Revolution. In the middle of the fully-extended table she had placed the huge gilded and beaten bronze dish acquired at the souk in Istanbul in the days when you could travel there by taking the train from Odessa. Fifteen places had been laid. Each guest would have two glasses, even the children who didn't drink wine. In another era, she would have placed cut flowers in a third glass, but it had been ages since there were any florists in this frozen, ice-bound city. She had cut flowers out of coloured paper and made garlands and spiralling bouquets from them. They looked as though they were real. In the cupboards she had found forgotten objects, bought to be looked at, that had become useless and dangerous. She wondered whether there was any point in going to so much trouble, in taking so many risks. But she couldn't be blamed for anything. She had done what had to be done. With her sister, her sister-in-law and her cousins, she had prepared the matzo crackers, even though this was forbidden nowadays. It was not the first time that a woman had to defy this edict. It was simply not possible to celebrate the flight from Egypt without these flat biscuits that you did not allow to rise in the oven. This year once again, she had had to use age-old ingenuity to procure the flour, the chickens, the herbs, the cucumber, the celery, the black radishes and the knuckle of veal. They had prepared the broth with kneidels, the stuffed carp and the entire feast taking precautions worthy of the secret service. None of the neighbours had seen, heard or smelt anything. She remembered what Emile, her husband, had said before he
had disappeared, during the siege, when they celebrated their last Passover together, with only stale bread and hard-boiled eggs to eat: ‘During the Inquisition, the Marranos of Seville had adopted the somewhat suicidal custom of preparing sumptuous Seders. Whereas they should have been discreet, merged into anonymity and disappeared. They would say, “May this Seder be the most beautiful of our lives, since it may be the last we observe together.”' Ever since, she had made it a point of honour to celebrate it according to the rules.

Valentina, her sister, who had difficulty moving, put a log in the grate and stoked the fire. Vera, her cousin, lay a plate with herbs on the table. Anyone would think they were in an old people's home. The war and the purges had meant that there were only old people left to look after the children, who chased one another round the flat and hid beneath the table and behind the armchairs, laughing uproariously.

‘Quietly, children, you're making too much noise. Don't run around. We'll attract the neighbours' attention.'

Irina pricked up her ears. She had heard the familiar sound of the key in the lock. Igor came in with Nadejda. She walked over to them, but the two children overtook her in the corridor. Little Ludmila hurled herself at Igor, who picked her up, threw her in the air, caught her and then did it again. Piotr snuggled in Nadejda's arms.

‘How are you, my darling?'

‘We've done some drawings, Mama.'

‘Have they been good?' Nadejda asked.

‘As they always are.'

‘It's nice in your home,' Igor said to Irina as he kissed her on the forehead. ‘There was a strike on the underground. We walked for two hours. There's never been so much snow at this time of year.'

‘Come and warm yourselves.'

‘Irina Viktorovna,' said Nadejda, as she too embraced her mother-in-law, ‘I've left you all the work. I'm sorry.'

‘It doesn't matter. We've got the time. Everything's ready.'

Irina went over to Igor who was warming his hands by the chimney.

‘Sacha's coming to dinner with Anna.'

‘What? You didn't tell me.'

‘He rang up two days ago to ask how I was. I couldn't do other than suggest that he joined us.'

‘It's unbelievable! He never comes. How could you have invited him?'

‘I was convinced he'd refuse. He accepted.'

‘He'll ruin our celebration.'

‘Igor, he has an important job. You must be diplomatic.'

‘He didn't move a finger for Lev. And what did he do for Boris?'

‘He's not the one who decides. He's like us. He does what he can.'

Igor uncorked a bottle of Crimean wine and placed it next to a silver beaker. He looked at his watch slightly impatiently.

‘We're not going to wait all night for them. Why don't we begin?'

‘With this foul weather, there must be problems,' Irina explained. ‘The canals are frozen over again.'

The doorbell rang. The children sat stock-still and did not say a word. With an automatic gesture, Nadejda pushed her plaited hair up from her neck, walked somewhat anxiously over to Igor and put her hand on his shoulder. Ludmila rushed over to Igor's legs. He took her in his arms.

‘It's nothing, my darling. Nadia, will you answer the door?'

She walked to the end of the corridor and opened the door, which was concealed behind thick brown material.

‘Welcome,' she said to Sacha and Anna, as she kissed them.

‘The underground stopped running. We had to walk through the snow,' said Anna.

‘And the children?'

‘We left them at home. My sister's looking after them.'

Nadejda helped her take off her soaked shawl and parka. Anna, who was pregnant, had difficulty turning round in the narrow corridor. Irina joined them.

‘How are you getting on, Anna Anatolievna?'

‘As well as possible. My legs hurt. We've walked for too long.'

‘With a wind like this, you're bound to have a girl,' Irina remarked. ‘Come and rest.'

Nadejda and Anna moved away. Irina took Sacha's black leather coat
and his blue cap with its red headband, dripping with wet snow. He kissed her on the cheek and smiled at her.

‘It's nice here. Outside, you'd think it was December. How are you?'

‘I'm glad to see you. It's good that you've come. Oh, your hands are frozen.'

‘Is everyone there?'

‘We were only waiting for you.'

Sacha did not hurry as he entered the dining room. He embraced Valentina, Vera and the children. He spread out his hands over the fire in the hearth. Igor came up to him.

‘You could have changed! Fancy coming to a Seder in uniform!'

‘I've come from the Ministry. You could at least say hello!'

Sacha removed his khaki tunic and handed it to Igor.

‘Be careful with it. I hope your hands are clean. There mustn't be any stain or crease on it.'

Igor took the jacket. Sacha held on to it and drew Igor towards him. ‘I need to speak to you in private,' he whispered in his ear. ‘It's important.'

Nadejda passed them a plate with cream cheese cake cut into squares. Igor walked away and placed the jacket on a chair.

‘I don't know how you manage to make such a light cheesecake. Anna, you should take the recipe.'

‘The hardest thing is finding some cheese,' replied Nadejda.

‘How can we change this country when there are people who are constantly moaning? You're not the worst off,' said Sacha.

‘Have you heard me complain? Last week, I worked seventy-five hours at the hospital. Igor worked longer. In appalling conditions. We're not paid any more. We don't ask for money. This is the first evening we've spent together for a month. When people say they can't find anything to eat, they're not being anti-Communist, it's just that no one understands what's going on. There's nothing to buy anywhere. You queue for hours for nothing. Before the Revolution, people could buy cheese for themselves. Nowadays, even if you have the money, there's none left. We're weary, Sacha.'

‘There are problems of supply, the government is addressing them. We'll succeed.'

‘Supposing we all sit down?' Irina suggested. ‘The children are getting rowdy.'

Assisted by Piotr and Ludmila, Nadejda brought in the three matzos, each of them covered with an embroidered napkin, and placed them on the tray beside a platter containing hard-boiled eggs, dishes laden with sticks of celery, black radishes, some dark-coloured apple purée, the knuckle of veal with the grilled meat and a bowl of water to which she added salt. Once they had all sat down, there were three empty places.

‘How many are we this evening?' asked Sacha, as he counted the number of chairs.

‘There are two who are absent,' Igor explained.

‘I thought one only kept one place for the poor man.'

‘Last year, Boris and Lev were with us.'

‘They are where they should be,' Sacha replied. ‘If they haven't anything to feel guilty about, they'll be set free.'

‘Shall we say the prayer?' Irina intervened.

‘These two places must be removed.'

‘But Sacha, they're for Boris and Lev!' Irina insisted. ‘It's the tradition for those who are absent. So that they will come back and be with us again. Where they are, they're forbidden to celebrate Seder.'

‘Is your head made of stone or are you stupid? We're not allowed to gather together this evening! These medieval practices are forbidden! These matzos are forbidden! And what's more, you're showing solidarity with counter-revolutionaries!'

‘Can you tell us why they in particular have been arrested?' asked Igor. ‘A paediatrician and a music teacher! What abominable crimes have they committed? And the hundreds of others who disappear at the drop of a hat?'

‘Do you think I've come to risk my own and my wife's necks to take lessons from a gang of retrograde fanatics?'

‘Why do you insult us, Sacha? I know what you do at the Ministry and you have nothing to be proud of.'

‘I work for my country and for the triumph of the Revolution!'

‘Please, let us say the prayer, my children,' said Irina in a quavering voice.

‘Remove these two places, mother.'

‘You've gone crazy!'

‘Boris has confessed. He's been sentenced!'

‘I don't believe it! He's a doctor!' Igor cried. ‘He's done nothing apart from his job.'

‘He's guilty. And so is Lev!'

‘Get out of my house immediately!' Irina yelled as she rose to her feet. ‘I'm ashamed to have a son like you! Get out! I don't ever want to see you again! Both of you, out!'

Sacha stood up. He nodded to Anna who walked over to him. He helped her on with her parka and the shawl that went on top of it. He put on his own overcoat and left without a glance. They heard the door close.

‘Let us recite the Haggadah, my children,' said Irina. ‘And let us pray for our family.'

2

T
he Tarnovsky Hospital did not have a good reputation. Not just because it forced the prostitutes to be treated for venereal diseases in the grim building and because the militia brought the tramps, the senile old men and drunks they picked up in the streets of Leningrad to its night dispensary, but also because they had built a vast morgue there capable of accommodating for five or six months the corpses of those who could not be buried because of the frozen ground. It's true that it was not a pleasant place, what with its wooden huts from the 1930s, which were draughty and heated by a stove whose pipe ran the length of the tiled roof and only managed to maintain a temperature of fifteen degrees. People spoke very disparagingly about it, but there were no more deaths there than in the city's other hospitals. There was a recently constructed three-storey concrete building, nicknamed the Palace, which, from the outside, looked like a prison because of the bars over the windows. It accommodated those dignitaries or their families who benefited from preferential treatment and were given private rooms, central heating and different food from the rest of the hospital. Whereas the other buildings were arranged according to their area of speciality, this one was for general practice and treated eminent party members. Working there procured considerable advantages, among them benefiting from the abundant good meals. Igor Markish had begun to train there as a heart specialist. The war had prevented him from acquiring his degree, but he had been appointed to the hospital because there were very few medical specialists.

The arrest of Professor Etinguer had spread consternation among the nursing staff. Four men in MVD uniform had stopped him for questioning as he left the operating theatre and had carted him off without giving him time to change his clothes. For a week, his family had no news of him. Larissa Gorchkov, the director of the hospital, was not easily deterred. She telephoned the Ministry for an explanation. She received the worst
sort of response: ‘Jacob Etinguer is not known in this department.'

A delegation of doctors went to call on a district secretary of the party whose life Erlinguer had saved following a severe heart attack. They were stunned when they learnt that the professor had been arrested on accusation of murder, several patients having died in his care. However much they swore that these were natural deaths, some of them dating back three or four years, they were told the professor had just confessed. The matter was in the hands of the Public Prosecutor. Detailed articles in
Pravda
explained that a diabolical plot hatched by doctors had just been uncovered. Several dozen doctors, all of them Jews, had been arrested. They were accused, with supporting evidence, of having disposed of a number of executives and of planning to get rid of comrade Stalin himself. A major trial was in preparation. Over two entire pages,
Pravda
printed the indignant reactions of foreign dignitaries and sister parties all over the world who applauded the arrest of this group of Zionist criminals.

Igor was taking a break and drinking a cup of hot tea when he was informed that a woman was calling him on the telephone very urgently. He went down to the ground floor. The nurse on the admissions desk handed him the receiver.

‘Yes, hello.'

‘Are you Igor Markish?' a faint, sharp, nasal voice asked.

‘What do you want?'

‘I'm advising you that you are about to be arrested.'

‘What? What are you saying?'

‘Tomorrow. At the hospital.'

‘Why?'

‘You're a doctor, a Jew and a colleague of Professor Etinguer's.'

‘I've done nothing.'

‘Neither have the others. They have been arrested. They will be sentenced and shot. The unlucky ones will be sent to Siberia.'

‘Why are you warning me?'

‘It doesn't matter. You have a slight head start. Take special care. Escape via Lake Ladoga.'

‘I can't abandon my wife and my children.'

‘Will you be any help to them once you've been shot?'

‘Who are you?'

‘It's not important.'

‘How am I to know it's not a trap?'

‘The MVD doesn't need a ruse or an excuse to arrest you. If you stay, you're nothing but an idiot! Think of your family!'

The call ended. Igor's face was distraught. He was trembling. The nurse came over to him.

‘Is there anything wrong, Doctor Markish? May I help you?'

‘I'm going to be arrested!'

Igor collapsed on a chair and held his head in his hands.

In the telephone box on Vitebsk station, Sacha relaxed the pressure of his left hand, which was squeezing his nostrils. He took out the small spoon he had placed at the back of his mouth, unwound the scarf that he had wrapped round the receiver, and replaced the phone. He breathed in several times and remained lost in thought for a moment. He took out his handkerchief and wiped the handset. He readjusted his uniform and left the public call box. He glanced around the concourse. He loathed this Art Nouveau style, these floral volutes, the exaggeratedly intricate gilt lighting, the cold colours of the frescoes. He pretended to admire the over-embellished décor and the Eiffel-style glass roof and he gave it a complete panoramic tour. Nothing unusual claimed his attention. Outside, the storm grew more intense.

At the same moment, Igor left the main hospital building. He was wearing only his white coat and he shivered at finding himself out in the open again. Heavy flakes of snow were falling. He walked through the hospital in search of his wife. Nadejda was employed as a midwife in the maternity unit. She was in the labour ward. Igor paused at the door for a few moments. A woman's cries came from inside. He waited for almost an hour, unsure about what attitude he should adopt. Nadejda was surprised to find him there.

‘Are you not well, Igor? You're very pale.'

‘I need to speak to you, Nadia.'

Despite the cold, he dragged her outside. They sheltered beneath a porch roof. Igor told her about the telephone conversation he had just had.

‘Do you think it's serious?'

‘What do you mean? That they're playing a joke on me?'

‘I feel so confused that… You didn't recognize this person?'

‘I don't know whether it was a man or a woman. Perhaps it was a patient I've been looking after and who is warning me out of gratitude.'

‘What are you going to do?'

‘If I stay, they'll arrest me. I must get out!'

‘I'm leaving with you, Igor.'

‘And the children?'

‘They have their grandmother. She'll look after them.'

‘If we both escape, they'll be put in an orphanage. Do you know what that means?'

‘Let's leave with them.'

‘Nadia, we won't get through with the children. It's minus thirty at night in the Gulf of Karelia. They wouldn't survive. A man on his own might manage it. Together, it's bound to fail.'

‘Are you going to abandon me?'

‘Suggest any other solution to me. If I succeed in getting to Finland, we can bide our time. See how things work out.'

‘We know what will happen. I want to come with you.'

‘You can't do that to the children, Nadia. Think of them. If you're there, they'll understand why I left. If we leave together, we're abandoning them. They can't lose their mother at this age.'

‘I beg you, Igor, don't leave me. I would die. I need you so much.'

She threw herself against him. He hugged her. They remained like this for a long time. Tears were streaming down Nadia's face.

‘You must go back to your department, Nadia. As though nothing has happened. I'm going home. I'll take some clothes, some dry biscuits, some dried herring and I'll leave straight away. This evening, you'll tell the neighbours that I haven't come back. You'll be anxious. Tomorrow, when they don't find me here, they'll come and look for me at our home. You'll have to disassociate yourself and show your disapproval, otherwise you'll lose
your job. Don't hesitate to denounce me to the local committee. If you don't hear from me within three months, open divorce proceedings.'

‘Don't ask me to do that. I wouldn't be capable.'

‘You must be strong, Nadia. Think of yourself. Think of the children. They're the most important.'

‘I don't care about the children! Igor, I implore you!' she murmured.

He grabbed her vigorously by her forearms and, in his despair, he shook her.

‘You must promise me you'll do it! I'm going so that you can be safe. Tomorrow, Ivan, the male nurse who works in my department, will deliver a message to my mother. He lives five minutes away from her. Afterwards, try not to see her or help her again. You must sever the links. And with all my family. It's the only way to extricate yourself. It won't be easy. I would never have believed it could end up like this. The only thing I can say to you is that I've never loved anyone other than you. You know this, my love, you're the only woman in my life. There will never be anyone else. And I swear to you that if I survive, we'll see each other again one day.'

There are moments in a life that no man imagines he will have to suffer, such as making the woman he loves weep, brutally pushing her away, having to extricate himself when she is clinging to him, and not turning round when he hears her screaming and collapsing on the snow. Her cries and her tears tore him apart and froze inside him. Those are what he hears throughout his sleepless nights.