Black Earth City by Charlotte Hobson

Author:Charlotte Hobson [Charlotte Hobson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780571340798
Publisher: Faber & Faber
Published: 2017-10-18T04:00:00+00:00

Back in the hostel, I pushed open the door and found the room had turned silver. Ira had pinned hundreds of single strands of tinsel to the ceiling. You couldn’t see much, but it brushed your face pleasantly as you moved through it. I could just make out Joe smoking, Ira chopping onions into a frying pan, and Emily, head down, searching for something in the bags under her bed. The TV was on with the volume turned down and the Waterboys were booming out of the stereo.

‘Privyet,’ said Ira, grinning. ‘How’s things?’

‘Hey!’ said Emily, pulling her head out from under her bed. ‘You’re back! What did you bring us?’

The atmosphere in the hostel was strained and excitable. In previous years most of the students would have gone home for the New Year holidays, but with the inflation many couldn’t afford it, and the place was full. In the kitchen, people were struggling to cook for tonight’s feast. The cleaners had gone on strike ten days previously, the heap of rubbish in the corner reached five foot up the walls, and still people were adding more. Occasionally it settled and slid further out into the room, and everyone who was fighting and shouting over the few hobs that worked would curse and kick it out of the way.

Now and again, someone would say, ‘Hey, everybody, let’s remember that it’s a holiday today. Let’s wish each other peace and good spirits.’

And someone else would growl, ‘Yeah right, peace to you, you idiot. When are you going to cork your ears up, the air blowing through your head’s disturbing me.’

The Armenians had already begun their celebrations, and Garo was lurching along the corridor, trying to hug the Komendant. A tiny girl in a pinafore saw them coming and hid in the stairwell, clasping the bowl of coleslaw she’d been making to her chest. But they were heading for the stairs and they soon spotted her.

‘It’s Thumbelina!’ they cried. ‘Come here, my beauty, come and celebrate with us. Look what a tasty little salad she’s made, the little mousekin!’ and on and on. She blushed furiously, dodged under their arms and hurried away to her room, muttering under her breath.

Emily and I went downstairs to Room 99. An invitation had been awaiting my return, decorated with a picture of Santa Claus holding a samovar. ‘The Great Chamber of 99 requests the pleasure of your company in greeting 1992,’ it announced. ‘Celebrations will commence with a Grand Parade in formal dress.’ And beneath, in capitals: ‘THIS UNIQUE EVENT WILL NEVER BE REPEATED.’

There were to be fifteen of us, and Liza Minelli was cooking a sort of goulash with paprika. She kept coming in and out, searching for more ingredients and telling us how delicious it was. ‘You won’t believe it!’ she repeated each time. ‘It’ll blow you to fragments!’ Emily and I sat down with Nina to peel a bucket of potatoes.

At four o’clock, Viktor came in, announcing, ‘Happy New Year.’ He poured all of us a few grammes.

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