Centauri galaxy.”
“It’s not stupid.”
“Yes, it is.” Anastasia crumbled up the whole construction and started throwing the bits back in the box. “I don’t want to play with Lego anyway.”
“Well, I don’t want to play with you,” said Masha. She got up and stormed out of the little house.
She hung around miserably on the smooth striped English lawn for a little while. It was always so quiet at Tsarskoe Selo, as if all the money somehow managed to exclude the cars and radios and barking dogs and shouting people all over the rest of Kiev. Finally she wandered back towards the real house. She was thirsty. Maybe Aunt Anya would give her a drink.
The kitchen door was ajar; as she came up to it she heard voices inside and paused. And then she caught her name spoken.
“Masha’s only ten; you’ve no right threatening a little girl,” she heard. That was Aunt Anya.
“For the last time, I wasn’t threatening her,” Uncle Igor replied.
“Oh, so what’s really going on? Where exactly
is
Masha’s mother?”
“Why are you asking?” Uncle Igor sounded angry. “You should know better than to ask. I don’t hear you complaining about the money I make to buy you new outfits—”
“I let you carry on with your own business. All right. But don’t drag a little girl into it. You bring her here to play with Anastasia, and all the time, you’ve got her mother mixed up in your dirty business. It’s shameful! And as for the money, you know it can’t buy us happiness—”
There was a sudden cracking noise, and Aunt Anya gave a squeak and fell silent. A chair scraped back.
“Why’s that damned bread upside down?” shouted Uncle Igor. “Don’t you know that’s bad luck?” His footsteps clicked across the kitchen and the door to the hall slammed.
There was silence.
Masha stood frozen outside, hardly daring to breathe. It had sounded like Uncle Igor had hit Aunt Anya. But grown-ups didn’t do things like that. And why – because the bread was upside down? Masha felt horribly guilty. What should she do? Go in and see if Aunt Anya was all right? Apologize? She couldn’t hear anything inside. Finally she stuck her head cautiously round the door.
Aunt Anya was sitting very quietly at the table. She looked all right, except that she was holding one hand up to the side of her face.
Masha sidled inside, and Aunt Anya gave her a little smile. “Are you hungry or thirsty? Have a look in the fridge; you know you can help yourself to anything you want.” She got up and went slowly out of the kitchen.
Masha automatically went to the fridge and opened it. It was full of brightly coloured little cartons and packets of nice food and drink, all the kinds of things she never usually got to eat. But she didn’t feel the slightest bit hungry.
At that moment, Anastasia came in from the garden. “Where’s Mama?”
Masha pointed towards the hall. “I think your father hit her,” she said, perhaps unnecessarily, perhaps nastily, because Anastasia went bright red and shot her a look of pure hatred before she ran out after her mother.
For the first time, Masha didn’t just think about how mean Anastasia was. She thought how awful it must be having parents like Igor and Anya, and maybe that was why Anastasia wasn’t very nice.
Masha guessed she was probably in disgrace after that. Feeling small and lost, she slipped outside again and round the silent house to the drive. There stood the driver, polishing the Mercedes to an even richer shine.
“It’s time for me to go,” Masha said. The driver turned towards her, his eyes obscured as always behind the blank sunglasses. “I can get the bus,” she added quickly, disconcerted by the sight of her pale, nervous face looking back at her from the gleaming rounds of glass.
“What are you doing?”
She spun round. Igor was leaning over the pretty white balcony that looked out onto the drive, smoking and studying her in a reflective manner.
“It’s time
“It’s not stupid.”
“Yes, it is.” Anastasia crumbled up the whole construction and started throwing the bits back in the box. “I don’t want to play with Lego anyway.”
“Well, I don’t want to play with you,” said Masha. She got up and stormed out of the little house.
She hung around miserably on the smooth striped English lawn for a little while. It was always so quiet at Tsarskoe Selo, as if all the money somehow managed to exclude the cars and radios and barking dogs and shouting people all over the rest of Kiev. Finally she wandered back towards the real house. She was thirsty. Maybe Aunt Anya would give her a drink.
The kitchen door was ajar; as she came up to it she heard voices inside and paused. And then she caught her name spoken.
“Masha’s only ten; you’ve no right threatening a little girl,” she heard. That was Aunt Anya.
“For the last time, I wasn’t threatening her,” Uncle Igor replied.
“Oh, so what’s really going on? Where exactly
is
Masha’s mother?”
“Why are you asking?” Uncle Igor sounded angry. “You should know better than to ask. I don’t hear you complaining about the money I make to buy you new outfits—”
“I let you carry on with your own business. All right. But don’t drag a little girl into it. You bring her here to play with Anastasia, and all the time, you’ve got her mother mixed up in your dirty business. It’s shameful! And as for the money, you know it can’t buy us happiness—”
There was a sudden cracking noise, and Aunt Anya gave a squeak and fell silent. A chair scraped back.
“Why’s that damned bread upside down?” shouted Uncle Igor. “Don’t you know that’s bad luck?” His footsteps clicked across the kitchen and the door to the hall slammed.
There was silence.
Masha stood frozen outside, hardly daring to breathe. It had sounded like Uncle Igor had hit Aunt Anya. But grown-ups didn’t do things like that. And why – because the bread was upside down? Masha felt horribly guilty. What should she do? Go in and see if Aunt Anya was all right? Apologize? She couldn’t hear anything inside. Finally she stuck her head cautiously round the door.
Aunt Anya was sitting very quietly at the table. She looked all right, except that she was holding one hand up to the side of her face.
Masha sidled inside, and Aunt Anya gave her a little smile. “Are you hungry or thirsty? Have a look in the fridge; you know you can help yourself to anything you want.” She got up and went slowly out of the kitchen.
Masha automatically went to the fridge and opened it. It was full of brightly coloured little cartons and packets of nice food and drink, all the kinds of things she never usually got to eat. But she didn’t feel the slightest bit hungry.
At that moment, Anastasia came in from the garden. “Where’s Mama?”
Masha pointed towards the hall. “I think your father hit her,” she said, perhaps unnecessarily, perhaps nastily, because Anastasia went bright red and shot her a look of pure hatred before she ran out after her mother.
For the first time, Masha didn’t just think about how mean Anastasia was. She thought how awful it must be having parents like Igor and Anya, and maybe that was why Anastasia wasn’t very nice.
Masha guessed she was probably in disgrace after that. Feeling small and lost, she slipped outside again and round the silent house to the drive. There stood the driver, polishing the Mercedes to an even richer shine.
“It’s time for me to go,” Masha said. The driver turned towards her, his eyes obscured as always behind the blank sunglasses. “I can get the bus,” she added quickly, disconcerted by the sight of her pale, nervous face looking back at her from the gleaming rounds of glass.
“What are you doing?”
She spun round. Igor was leaning over the pretty white balcony that looked out onto the drive, smoking and studying her in a reflective manner.
“It’s time
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