it’s all faded, poor thing. Maybe I can think of a way to brighten it up.”
“Do you think that church can somehow … move about? I mean, be visible from particular places at particular times, and not at others?”
“That’s a funny question.” Fyodor Ivanovich straightened up from his makeshift seat and rubbed his back, groaning. “Some game you’re playing, is it? Where’s young Gena today?”
“At the dentist’s, with his mother.” Masha tried not to sound plaintive, but Fyodor Ivanovich’s face turned compassionate. He had befriended her and Granny when they’d moved into Icarus, and he’d been unfailingly kind, helping them furnish the trolleybus, dig the outside toilet and build the goats’ pen.
“Is your granny still in hospital?” he asked. “What about your mother – any word?”
Masha shook her head. Why was everybody asking about her mother, all of a sudden?
“Tell you what, Masha. I’m going to see my sister on Thursday. Why don’t you come with me? The baby would love it; he took such a shine to you last time.”
Fyodor Ivanovich’s sister lived right across Kiev, quite close to Uncle Igor’s house. The baby was actually a toddler; Masha had kept him occupied for several hours playing shops when she’d visited, putting things in and out of bags and exchanging bits of paper.
She realized Fyodor Ivanovich was trying to cheer her up. “I’d like that.”
“All right. Come down here on Thursday morning and we’ll go together.”
“I will.” Masha got up to leave. “Thanks.”
Down by the river it was cooler, and the sand slipped and shuffled under her feet familiarly. She visited the goats. They chomp-chomped away at the thick grass and didn’t pay her much attention.
“What shall I do?” whispered Masha into the silky pink, black-speckled ear of the kid. “Where do I find my heart’s desire?”
The kid shook its head so its ears flapped, and looked meaningfully out towards the river. “Maaa,” it said.
Masha looked too. A thin, grey plume of smoke rose vertically into the air above the island, like a finger pointing skywards.
“How can I get there?” Masha asked. But the kid was engrossed in a nice green willow branch.
Perhaps she would find a fisherman beside the river to take her across, so she could finally investigate the smoke. Masha was quite sure it wasn’t just a shashlik party like Gena had said. It was something special, and specially to do with her. She ambled down the bank, hoping to find someone fishing beneath the willows. The faded blue dome of the church appeared on her right, and she scowled at it.
Along the riverbank a few people sunbathed, supine and almost naked in the grass. Nothing, not even a sun-dazed fish, broke the glittering water surface. The sky pulsed with light; the crickets whirred inexorably, winding the day to its pitch of brightness and heat. Masha drifted into a sort of walking dream.
A tremendous noise from the trees ahead startled her out of it. It was a snorting, roaring, whistling sound. She approached cautiously and peered through the leaves. She saw a shaded sandy hollow, almost entirely filled by the big round figure of Nechipor. The Cossack, lying comfortably with his hands folded over his bulging belly and his hat tipped over his eyes, was taking an afternoon nap. And to Masha’s delight, he was leaning against a little boat. What incredible good luck!
“Nechipor!” called Masha softly. More loudly: “Hey,
Nechipor
!”
The Cossack’s droopy moustache twitched once, twice, he sneezed hugely, his hat fell off and he opened his eyes.
“Who? What? Can’t a fellow get even forty winks in peace? What the devil – oh, it’s you,” he said more calmly as he caught sight of Masha. “What d’you want, young scamp? Or do you just think it’s fun to go round waking up old snoozing walruses, eh?”
“Oh no,” said Masha earnestly. “I’m sorry I woke you, but I so wanted… Won’t you, Nechipor – I
“Do you think that church can somehow … move about? I mean, be visible from particular places at particular times, and not at others?”
“That’s a funny question.” Fyodor Ivanovich straightened up from his makeshift seat and rubbed his back, groaning. “Some game you’re playing, is it? Where’s young Gena today?”
“At the dentist’s, with his mother.” Masha tried not to sound plaintive, but Fyodor Ivanovich’s face turned compassionate. He had befriended her and Granny when they’d moved into Icarus, and he’d been unfailingly kind, helping them furnish the trolleybus, dig the outside toilet and build the goats’ pen.
“Is your granny still in hospital?” he asked. “What about your mother – any word?”
Masha shook her head. Why was everybody asking about her mother, all of a sudden?
“Tell you what, Masha. I’m going to see my sister on Thursday. Why don’t you come with me? The baby would love it; he took such a shine to you last time.”
Fyodor Ivanovich’s sister lived right across Kiev, quite close to Uncle Igor’s house. The baby was actually a toddler; Masha had kept him occupied for several hours playing shops when she’d visited, putting things in and out of bags and exchanging bits of paper.
She realized Fyodor Ivanovich was trying to cheer her up. “I’d like that.”
“All right. Come down here on Thursday morning and we’ll go together.”
“I will.” Masha got up to leave. “Thanks.”
Down by the river it was cooler, and the sand slipped and shuffled under her feet familiarly. She visited the goats. They chomp-chomped away at the thick grass and didn’t pay her much attention.
“What shall I do?” whispered Masha into the silky pink, black-speckled ear of the kid. “Where do I find my heart’s desire?”
The kid shook its head so its ears flapped, and looked meaningfully out towards the river. “Maaa,” it said.
Masha looked too. A thin, grey plume of smoke rose vertically into the air above the island, like a finger pointing skywards.
“How can I get there?” Masha asked. But the kid was engrossed in a nice green willow branch.
Perhaps she would find a fisherman beside the river to take her across, so she could finally investigate the smoke. Masha was quite sure it wasn’t just a shashlik party like Gena had said. It was something special, and specially to do with her. She ambled down the bank, hoping to find someone fishing beneath the willows. The faded blue dome of the church appeared on her right, and she scowled at it.
Along the riverbank a few people sunbathed, supine and almost naked in the grass. Nothing, not even a sun-dazed fish, broke the glittering water surface. The sky pulsed with light; the crickets whirred inexorably, winding the day to its pitch of brightness and heat. Masha drifted into a sort of walking dream.
A tremendous noise from the trees ahead startled her out of it. It was a snorting, roaring, whistling sound. She approached cautiously and peered through the leaves. She saw a shaded sandy hollow, almost entirely filled by the big round figure of Nechipor. The Cossack, lying comfortably with his hands folded over his bulging belly and his hat tipped over his eyes, was taking an afternoon nap. And to Masha’s delight, he was leaning against a little boat. What incredible good luck!
“Nechipor!” called Masha softly. More loudly: “Hey,
Nechipor
!”
The Cossack’s droopy moustache twitched once, twice, he sneezed hugely, his hat fell off and he opened his eyes.
“Who? What? Can’t a fellow get even forty winks in peace? What the devil – oh, it’s you,” he said more calmly as he caught sight of Masha. “What d’you want, young scamp? Or do you just think it’s fun to go round waking up old snoozing walruses, eh?”
“Oh no,” said Masha earnestly. “I’m sorry I woke you, but I so wanted… Won’t you, Nechipor – I
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