Dusk at Dawn by David J. Oldman

Author:David J. Oldman [Oldman, David J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2018-09-27T04:00:00+00:00

27

Paul slept on the floor. It was warm enough in the house that he needed no blanket. He had heated some water on the stove and washed as best he could at the sink by candlelight, conscious of Sofya’s presence. He discarded his old clothes and laid out the ones he had bought in the market for the morning. Sofya watched him while he went through this ritual, but if she was amused at the trouble he took over second-hand clothes she didn’t show it.

‘You had better pack whatever you want to take with you,’ he told her.

‘Take where?’

‘Fedorova said you’ll have to leave in the morning. Unless you have a friend you can stay with you’ll have to come with me.’

‘Go with you? Why should I leave? This is my brother’s house now. How will he know where I am when he returns?’

Paul was tempted to ask why she was so convinced Mikhail would come back for her when he hadn’t bothered himself about her when he had left. But Paul sensed she was in a sullen mood. She had been like it as a child, stubborn and, if unable to get her way, inclined to sulk.

‘Skala will make trouble for you if you stay,’ he said. ‘Can’t you leave a message with someone? A friend of Mikhail’s? Or someone he’d go to if you weren’t here? Fedorova, if there’s no one else.’

‘That cow,’ said Sofya.

‘Very probably,’ Paul said. ‘But things are different now. If you want to survive you’ll have to adapt. Things may never be what they once were.’

‘Easy for you,’ she retorted bitterly. ‘You haven’t had to watch while the svolotch of Petersburg have robbed us blind and no army to protect us!’

‘They may be scum,’ he said, ‘but they’re running the city now.’

She glared at him by the dim light of the candle.

‘Turn around,’ she said. ‘I want to get undressed.’

Paul turned his face to the wall.

‘And you needn’t think you’ll get any help from Skala,’ she went on behind him over the sound of rustling material. ‘He won’t swallow that story of yours about being a teacher for a minute. He may be a pig but he’s not stupid.’

‘I won’t give him the chance to swallow it,’ Paul said to the wall. ‘We’ll leave as soon as it’s light.’

Skala. He assumed the name was a pseudonym. They were fond of their pseudonyms, these Bolsheviks — Lenin, Kamenev and the rest... What did ‘Skala’ mean? It was a rock, as he remembered — a large rock. Hard as rock, the implication would be. Well, he wasn’t planning to stay around long enough to find out.

He heard Sofya moving and assumed she had finished. He turned around. She was naked, her back to him, and he saw her thin arms and taught buttocks, her slender legs...

‘Pasha!’ She quickly pulled her night-dress over her head.

‘I’m sorry, Sofya...’ he stammered. He turned to the wall again, his face flushing but still aware that she had used his diminutive. She had called him Pasha as she had used to as a girl.

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