‘Who cares? Tatta would have been dead by then. Just tell him that the Kommendant at Permilovo released him; he knows we’ve been trying to get him back for long enough. Who’s going to argue? Ivanov won’t know; he’ll think the other Kommendant did as he asked. At least he’s alive.’
He was right, of course. ‘Meanwhile, where do we put this horse?’
Karol stared at Gerhard. ‘I thought I might put him in your room.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ Lodzia said. ‘I’m not sleeping with a horse!’
‘No, no, I thought we could all move into this room for the night?’
Gerhard said, ‘I’m sorry Karol, it’s out of the question. Take him elsewhere.’
I reached for my coat. ‘Come on Karol; there must be somewhere else we can put him.’
Stefan, who had been listening to this throughout, shot to his feet. ‘There’s space in the Artel, but I haven’t got a key. I shall have to tell my father, but he won’t be pleased.’
‘What about putting him in the club then? There’s plenty of space in there.’
‘Oh yes, and he’ll shit all night. That, Karol, is an idiotic idea. How will you explain that away? Horses make huge turds; you can hardly mistake them for a rat’s dropping.’
Stefan’s father was not best pleased either. ‘I want him out of here long before the workers turn up in the morning,’ he kept saying. ‘I mean it, Karol; otherwise, we will all end up in solitary confinement.’
Karol left for Volosne very early. ‘I’ll be back on Sunday,’ he promised, but before he left, he took Mother’s hand, placed some money into her palm, and curled her fingers around it. ‘There’s still plenty left.’
Exhausted by the excitement of having Tatta back, and worrying about how I was going to explain his presence to Kommendant Ivanov, I lay awake all night. He had to believe me because Tatta needed his rations reinstating at Vodopad.
I was waiting for him when he arrived, but refused to set foot inside the Admin shack. I had to make this brief, and my effusive gratitude surprised him.
‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ he said, ‘and how did your father arrive?’
I looked non-plussed. ‘He said someone from Permilovo brought him on a sleigh. He would never have made it on foot; he’s far too frail to work. The Kommendant at Permilovo knew that; I told him the last time I was there.’
There was no doubt in my mind that Ivanov did not believe a word of it by the way he stared at me, but I held my ground. ‘I won’t keep you; I just wanted to thank you from our whole family. Oh, and how do I get my father’s rations here reinstated?’
With a raised brow, Ivanov was already making for the steps. ‘Leave it with me, young lady; I’ll make sure Vice-Kommendant Smirnov sees to it.’
27
Our first Christmas in bondage arrived.
A scrap of paper nailed to the shop door announced: Carp and reindeer meat will be available for purchase on 23rd December.
With those sparse words, Szefczuk had managed to elevate everyone’s gastronomic expectations to such euphoric levels that Gerhard and Karol decided it wasn’t worth going to bed – they would be first in the queue.
‘Don’t be daft.’ Father called after them when they set off for the shop just before midnight, ‘It’s snowing. You’ll freeze to death standing around.’
‘Your father’s right,’ Mother said. ‘There will be plenty for everyone; go with Lodzia in the morning when she fetches the bread.’
‘You won’t be saying that when we return with reindeer meat,’ Karol laughed.
Lodzia and I agreed to take over at two a.m. but overslept. I wouldn’t have got out of bed for anything – except for meat – any meat was worth the effort.
Mother said Szefczuk should have allowed us to collect it earlier; it would need a good soaking before cooking.
I wrapped my feet in woollen leg bands, stuffed them into my valenki, and accepted the shawl Mama insisted I throw over my coat for good measure.
Lodzia bent over the lamp and squinted at her wristwatch. ‘It’s just after three-thirty. ‘Gerhard and Karol will never forgive us.’
I was at the window now, peering through the swirling white curtain of snow, hoping it might have abated, but it looked as if it was snowing harder than when my brothers left.
Opening the outside door, half the powdery stuff that had drifted against the wall fell in on me, spilling into the hallway. Walking was difficult, but we put our heads down and fought against the blizzard. Most of Vodopad must have assembled outside the shop because the queue snaked up from the river almost to the administration shack.
We trudged along the line, searching out Gerhard and Karol’s faces, but it was hard when everyone was stomping around, covered in snow, their bodies turned away from the wind.
I was tempted to give up and go back to bed then, but the thought of us all eating carp on Christmas Eve, and venison on Christmas Day spurred me on.
‘I see the NKVD aren’t losing any sleep waiting for their measly bit of meat,’ Lodzia said.
We found my brothers right near the front, stamping their feet, thrashing themselves with their arms. Here was the right spot; we would get the best cuts.
A light flickered inside the shop and Szefczuk, holding his lamp aloft, unbolted the door. The crowd stampeded forwards, nearly trampling us underfoot in their enthusiasm to get into the building.
‘Hey!’ I elbowed someone out of the way, ‘we were here before you!’
‘Form two queues,’ Mrs Szefczuk’s voice was almost inaudible amidst the furore.
‘Form two queues!’ Szefczuk yelled. ‘No one will get served until you do. It’s up to you.’
Everyone fell into line, and I realised that we were no longer near the front, but about twelve people back. Everyone was craning their necks for a glimpse of the meat when those at the counter started complaining it was such a stingy portion.
‘It was never intended to be a feast,’ Szefczuk insisted. ‘It’s plenty big enough for soup.’
When the four of us reached the counter, all the reindeer meat had gone.
‘What do you mean gone?’ Gerhard was incensed. ‘What was it, a calf, because it certainly wasn’t a bull?’
‘What did you expect,’ Szefczuk yelled back, ‘that the Nenets slaughter their entire herd just for you?’
‘We’ve been waiting out there since before midnight! You try standing in a blizzard for four hours!’
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. There were only half a dozen pieces left anyway,’ Szefczuk looked like a man terrified for his life. ‘We Ukrainians had first pick, but we have plenty of carp. Enough for everyone.’
Through gritted teeth, Gerhard said, ‘Good. I’ll take seven.’
Christmas Eve arrived, but there was no excitement – not like back home.
Mother invited Sasha because she would have been alone, and our little room was full of bodies.
‘I remember embroidering this.’ She pulled the crochet-trimmed cloth from the pile in the corner. At home, it only came out on special occasions. ‘It was part of my bottom drawer; it was a labour of love.’ She sighed then. ‘Seems like a lifetime ago now– it was a lifetime ago.’ There was no point laying the table yet; it was covered in pots and pans while she and Lodzia prepared the meal.
Father delved into his box of shoemaking paraphernalia and brought out three beeswax candles. ‘These are the last three.’ He placed them on the windowsill, where they melted the frostwork tracery of leaves that adorned the panes and infused the room with the delicate scent of sweet honey.