Read Online Midnight in St. Petersburg by Vanora Bennett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vanora Bennett
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mine ⦠I showed it to a policeman, at the station, and he let me pass ⦠wouldnât it do?â
She reached into the violin bag, pulled out a passport and held it out to Leman.
Yasha stood in the middle of the room, as Leman flicked sadly through the passport. âHereditary noblewoman,â he murmured, shaking his head, âdaughter of the deputy chief of the Kiev policeâ¦â
âItâs my friend Olyaâs,â Inna said.
He handed it back. âTheyâd find you out, sooner or later,â he told her, regretfully. âIt would be naïve to think they wouldnât. Iâm sorry, my dear.â
She nodded, as if she was used to defeat, picked up the bag â leaving the violin out, Yasha noticed; she wasnât going to claim it, then â and said, very quietly, âDo you mind if I go and rest now? Iâm a little tired. But Iâll be fine to leave in the morning.â From the doorway, she added, in a small voice, âIt was a very kind offer.â
âLook,â Yasha said, defensively, as soon as she was out of the door. âItâs not my fault. You know the way things are.â
But he couldnât help also remembering that Leman had found a way to register him as a resident in St. Petersburg. A Jew was allowed to live here only if he was serving in the army, or was rich, or a qualified craftsman. The craft couldnât be too glamorous, either. So when the ministry had rejected Yasha as a violin master, heâd been in despair. But Leman hadnât been discouraged. âThereâs always a way,â heâd said, and Yasha now had a residence permit as a carpenter. There were twenty-five thousand Jews in Petersburg, so there were probably twenty-five thousand ways to get in.
But there werenât any if you didnât have a passport in your own name, or a sponsor.
âI wish the law was made by liberals, too. But itâs not. The ministry would never let her in. Thereâs no use raising her hopes,â Yasha said now, trying to ignore the accusing looks from Marcus and the younger children.
Nothing went right after that.
Yasha went angrily back to work, so angrily that he stupidly splintered an edge of his violin, and had to put it aside. Until he calmed down, he knew, he wouldnât be able to figure out how to make the wood forgive his mistake. No one else came down to join him. They were avoiding him, clearly. He retidied the workshop. He hounded wood shavings, and dealt death to spidersâ webs.
Eventually he flung back upstairs, hoping for supper. But when he got to the kitchen door he could hear a tense conversation inside the room between Monsieur and Madame Leman, which he didnât like to interrupt.
He skulked uncertainly in the corridor, wondering what to do. The blood rushed hot to his face when he heard Madame Lemanâs alternately weary and exasperated voice, saying, âBut we had that other idiot friend of Yashaâs to stay, donât you remember, while he was supposed to be looking for a proper room? And all he did was sit in the attic writing leaflets, and eat our food with never so much as a thank you, and never lifted a finger â for two months , Tolya!â
Surely it hadnât been two months? Yasha thought. But it had; he knew it had, really.
âWell, maybe she could help you in the house, just for a while?â he heard Leman reply cautiously from behind the door. âBecause we could all see today that sheâs willing enough to help, and that travel passport sheâs got is valid till the end of the month, even if itâs not hers, and really, dear heart, look at the state of her; we canât just send her straight back tomorrow, can we?â
Yasha couldnât bear the idea of her going off to the station in the morning, either, holding herself tall and trying not to look scared.
But Madame Leman wasnât having any of it. âI
She reached into the violin bag, pulled out a passport and held it out to Leman.
Yasha stood in the middle of the room, as Leman flicked sadly through the passport. âHereditary noblewoman,â he murmured, shaking his head, âdaughter of the deputy chief of the Kiev policeâ¦â
âItâs my friend Olyaâs,â Inna said.
He handed it back. âTheyâd find you out, sooner or later,â he told her, regretfully. âIt would be naïve to think they wouldnât. Iâm sorry, my dear.â
She nodded, as if she was used to defeat, picked up the bag â leaving the violin out, Yasha noticed; she wasnât going to claim it, then â and said, very quietly, âDo you mind if I go and rest now? Iâm a little tired. But Iâll be fine to leave in the morning.â From the doorway, she added, in a small voice, âIt was a very kind offer.â
âLook,â Yasha said, defensively, as soon as she was out of the door. âItâs not my fault. You know the way things are.â
But he couldnât help also remembering that Leman had found a way to register him as a resident in St. Petersburg. A Jew was allowed to live here only if he was serving in the army, or was rich, or a qualified craftsman. The craft couldnât be too glamorous, either. So when the ministry had rejected Yasha as a violin master, heâd been in despair. But Leman hadnât been discouraged. âThereâs always a way,â heâd said, and Yasha now had a residence permit as a carpenter. There were twenty-five thousand Jews in Petersburg, so there were probably twenty-five thousand ways to get in.
But there werenât any if you didnât have a passport in your own name, or a sponsor.
âI wish the law was made by liberals, too. But itâs not. The ministry would never let her in. Thereâs no use raising her hopes,â Yasha said now, trying to ignore the accusing looks from Marcus and the younger children.
Nothing went right after that.
Yasha went angrily back to work, so angrily that he stupidly splintered an edge of his violin, and had to put it aside. Until he calmed down, he knew, he wouldnât be able to figure out how to make the wood forgive his mistake. No one else came down to join him. They were avoiding him, clearly. He retidied the workshop. He hounded wood shavings, and dealt death to spidersâ webs.
Eventually he flung back upstairs, hoping for supper. But when he got to the kitchen door he could hear a tense conversation inside the room between Monsieur and Madame Leman, which he didnât like to interrupt.
He skulked uncertainly in the corridor, wondering what to do. The blood rushed hot to his face when he heard Madame Lemanâs alternately weary and exasperated voice, saying, âBut we had that other idiot friend of Yashaâs to stay, donât you remember, while he was supposed to be looking for a proper room? And all he did was sit in the attic writing leaflets, and eat our food with never so much as a thank you, and never lifted a finger â for two months , Tolya!â
Surely it hadnât been two months? Yasha thought. But it had; he knew it had, really.
âWell, maybe she could help you in the house, just for a while?â he heard Leman reply cautiously from behind the door. âBecause we could all see today that sheâs willing enough to help, and that travel passport sheâs got is valid till the end of the month, even if itâs not hers, and really, dear heart, look at the state of her; we canât just send her straight back tomorrow, can we?â
Yasha couldnât bear the idea of her going off to the station in the morning, either, holding herself tall and trying not to look scared.
But Madame Leman wasnât having any of it. âI
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