13
Look at the state of my hands, I thought, staring at my tar-covered fingers. I sat on my slats by the table on the folded eiderdown cushioning my tender backside as I worked on the valenki. No more queuing for food; there could be no more distractions. Mind, if Szefczuk refused to accept Lodzia collecting all our rations, I would have to rethink my day.
With my tongue peeping between my lips, I focused on getting the stitches as close together as possible. My efforts were turning out well. It was vital I completed my part by the weekend so Tatta could take over and finish them off.
I had lost all sense of time when the door flew open, and Lodzia entered the room dressed in her coat and pulling on her sheepskin hat. Ella trailed behind her with her rag jester, the little bells on its tri-cornered hat tinkling. ‘Where’s Mama gone?’
‘To the Banya. Why?’
She patted her pockets for her purse. ‘I’m going to find this kolkhoz; see if I can get some milk and eggs, or perhaps a spent hen, although I doubt they’ll have vegetables at this time of year. We can’t exist on soup and bread. Can I leave Ella with you, kohanie? I’ll be quicker on my own.’
I glanced at the clock and wished I could go too. It was early afternoon. ‘Why don’t you wait until tomorrow and we’ll go together?’
‘I’ll be there and back in an hour.’
Lodzia had always been stubborn, I thought; level headed, but headstrong, and there was no point arguing. ‘Szefczuk said you turn left at the shop, and follow the river to Kenga,’ I called after her.
‘Yes, I know where it is; I won’t be long.’ She turned at the door, lifted the wicker basket to show she intended to return with substantial purchases and gave a fond smile.
I returned to the messy job of attaching hogs’ hair to the tar-covered twine. ‘Good luck,’ I called after her, but Lodzia was already passing by the window.
More than an hour later, I paused from my shoemaking and placed my hands on the small of my back. I stretched, glanced at the clock, then down at Ella sitting quietly beside me, and wondered if Lodzia had bought a fowl.
When Mother returned two hours later, I was instantly on my feet, wiping my hands on a damp rag. ‘Lodzia went to the kolkhoz to buy milk and eggs, Mama. That was over three hours ago. She said she would only be an hour.’ I reached for my coat, shrugged into it and grabbed an extra knitted hat to wear beneath my hood.
Mother too glanced at the clock. ‘How far away is this kolkhoz?’
‘I don’t know, do I? When have I ever been there? Szefczuk said it wasn’t far.’
‘Then perhaps she’s bumped into Natasha or one of our old neighbours, and she’s sitting at theirs having a natter. You know what a sociable little chatterbox she is. There’s must be a simple explanation.’
‘I doubt Lodzia’s at a neighbour’s, Mama. She set out to buy milk and eggs and she was determined to get them. Anyway, she wouldn’t be with Natasha; she lives at the back of us near the forest and the kolkhoz is in the opposite direction. Sczefczuk said to follow the river to Kenga. I’ll go and look for her.’ I tied a scarf around my neck and pulled it up to cover my nose and lower face.
‘Look where? Don’t be so silly, Marishu, Lodzia has her head screwed on the right way around. Don’t you worry about her.’
I turned and yanked the scarf away from my mouth. ‘Mama – it’ll be getting dark soon; what if she’s slipped and broken her leg or hip? She’ll soon freeze to death.’ At this, Ella let out a wail, and I grimaced, regretting my careless words.
Stepping out of the shack, I headed first to the cantina, hoping Lodzia might have called in, but there was no sign of her. Passing the shop, Szefczuk said he hadn’t seen her either. Two teenage girls, who were playing records at the Krasny Ugolok, looked up when I entered and shook their heads. No one in a green coat had been there since they arrived.
I was now half running, half walking along the riverbank, calling Lodzia’s name to baffled glances from the odd passer-by.
Some way past the community centre where the shacks of Vodopad ended and the forests began, the Vaymuga curved away from me. Another river, which I took to be the Kenga, joined it from my right, with what looked like two smaller flows leading off it, their banks delineated by obscured shapes, presumably brushwood. They confused me.
I paused and wondered if Lodzia might have crossed one of these smaller rivers, mistaking it for part of the bank. The covered snow made it impossible to tell where solid ground ended and the water began. Was she already floating beneath the ice?
The flat, angry mass of forest rose all around me. I returned to the empty path. The silence was all-pervading, and I continued walking some distance, not knowing if I was heading in the right direction. Szefczuk said turn left out of the door and follow the river to Kenga; it wasn’t far. But what did he mean by ‘far?’ Up here in the land of unending forests, distance stretched into infinity.
Pausing at the edge of the trees, I called, ‘Lodzia, where are you?’ The trampled path ahead suggested recent use. Were some of these tracks hers?
A man was approaching. He was wearing a padded jacket over padded trousers, his feet clad in a pair of valenki, and a shapka ushanka pulled well down over his ears. His face looked gaunt; eyes sunken as if he were a ghost, but his mode of dress differed from the Polish style.
‘Have you seen a young woman in a green coat wearing a sheepskin hat and carrying a wicker basket?’ I asked. ‘She was looking for the kolkhoz hoping to buy food.’
The man lifted the flap from one ear, and I repeated my plea.
He shook his head, turned and lifted his stick. ‘No. See those shacks down there? The first one’s mine. If she’d been looking for food, that’s where she would have knocked first. I see everyone coming and going.’
In the distance, stood three indistinct shapes, but it was difficult to see. Everything was white, grey and brown. I gazed into his faded blue eyes, ‘Is the kolkhoz down there?’
‘It is, but she’s not there; have you tried the community centre or the cantina?’
‘I’ve checked both – and the shop – but there’s never any food; Szefczuk told us we could buy milk, eggs and vegetables from the kolkhoz if they will sell some.’
The old man half laughed. ‘Not at this time of year. We have barely enough to feed ourselves. Try in the summer. There may be more to share.’
‘But we’re all starving. We get a small ration of soup and a wedge of bread that’s supposed to last all day, and the workers get little more. We’ll die if we don’t get more food.’
He shrugged. ‘We’ve been here since 1933. They left us in the open air with neither food nor shelter. Think yourself lucky.’
I changed the subject. ‘But what about my sister-in-law; she has a small child; won’t you help me find her?’
‘Where? You’ve already looked in the obvious places unless she’s visiting neighbours.’
I was already shaking my head. ‘No, she was looking for food. Do you know these forests?’
‘Huh, who knows any forest in Russia? It’s one never-ending forest. Carry on, and you’ll end up in Finland, or the White Sea – if you make it that far. Only stupid people venture out in such places when they don’t know where they’re going.’
‘So she must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Please help me look for her; she’s been missing over three hours.’
He looked at me as if I were demented and splayed his palms. ‘Look where? Don’t you understand – she could be anywhere.’