The Art of Waiting

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Book: Read The Art of Waiting for Free Online
Authors: Christopher Jory
‘Well, perhaps . . .’ He slipped out of the door and they dashed down the alley and into the street, Katerina striding out in front.
    â€˜Right, follow me,’ she said. ‘First I’m going to show you the Mushroom Woman’s shop!’
    But the shop was closed so they wandered along to the railway station and sat on a bench and watched the trains departing along the tracks.
    â€˜Vassili Ivanov is a bastard,’ said Oleg.
    Katerina didn’t reply.
    â€˜It’s terrible when he’s around,’ Oleg continued. ‘The last time he was home, we didn’t sleep all weekend, he was shouting all night. He’d been out drinking, as usual. He’s just a bastard.’
    â€˜His wife’s a whore, though.’
    â€˜She’s all right.’
    â€˜I don’t like her. I’m not surprised her husband drinks. And he’s nice to me anyway – he even gave me sweets once.’
    â€˜He never gives anything to anyone, unless it’s something awful.’
    â€˜Well, they weren’t very nice sweets. He got them in England. I swapped them for a rabbit.’
    â€˜A rabbit?’
    â€˜Yes, a nice one. I called it Vassili.’
    Oleg laughed.
    â€˜Don’t laugh! Vassili escaped and a dog ate him.’
    â€˜Oh. It sounds like he should have stayed in his cage.’
    â€˜I didn’t keep him in a cage. He wanted to be free.’
    â€˜It’s your own bloody fault, then.’
    â€˜It wasn’t my fault! It was the bloody dog that ate him.’ She scowled at him and he edged away from her a bit. They sat there in silence until she decided she would speak to him again.
    â€˜Have you ever been on a train, Oleg?’
    Oleg shook his head.
    â€˜Me neither. Let’s get on the next one that comes.’
    â€˜What?’ He screwed up his eyes to convey the idiocy of her suggestion.
    â€˜Let’s get on the next train,’ she repeated, as an engine drew into sight around the bend.
    â€˜What for?’
    â€˜We can go somewhere.’
    â€˜Oh yes, and where are we going to go?’
    â€˜Moscow, and then abroad.’
    â€˜Moscow is miles away. We can’t go there. And abroad is probably even further.’
    She stood up and moved with the crowd along the platform, Oleg following a few steps behind.
    â€˜Katerina, you can’t go on the train.’
    â€˜Yes, I can.’
    â€˜You haven’t got a ticket. And how do you know where it’s going?’
    â€˜I don’t.’
    She stepped up into the carriage and found a seat by the window. She looked at Oleg through the glass and smiled. He looked around. The guard was at the other end of the platform. Oleg looked back at Katerina. She gestured to him to get on board. The whistle blew and the doors of the carriages were each in turn pushed shut by the guard as he advanced down the platform. The train began to tremble and Katerina mouthed urgently at Oleg through the window, ‘Come on, Oleg!’
    He stepped up into the carriage, and sat down next to her. They watched the platform slide past as the train left the station behindand trundled out of the city centre, through the industrial areas and out into the flat open countryside.
    â€˜How long till we get to Moscow?’ asked Oleg.
    â€˜How should I know? I’m not an expert on everything, you know.’
    â€˜You’re not an expert on anything.’
    â€˜What?’
    A little later the guard came round and Katerina and Oleg were put off the train at Kolpino. They reached Leningrad again as dusk was falling and arrived home in the dark. Katerina sat on the step outside her empty house and listened as Oleg ventured inside his own. She heard the shrieks and squawks that ensued as Oleg’s mother welcomed him home with a succession of cuffs and blows that sent him scurrying upstairs and past the room in which Mrs Ivanova sat in the darkness picking at her nails and muttering

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