near Gorky Park, dedicated to some famous Russian scientist I hadn't heard of. She had the deference that old people sometimes show towards the young, racing through her life story so as not to take up too much of our precious youthful time. I liked Tatiana Vladimirovna. I liked her immediately, and I liked her right 'til the end.
"So, Nikolai," she said, "what do you think of our little scheme?"
I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. I glanced at Masha. She uncrossed her legs and nodded.
"I think it's an excellent scheme," I said, wanting to please.
"Yes," Tatiana Vladimirovna said. "Excellent."
We all smiled.
"Nikolai!" said Tatiana Vladimirovna, jumping up and changing the subject. "Girls! You haven't eaten anything."
We all cooed around the desk, where Tatiana Vladimirovna handed out the plates and saw to it that I got the fish I didn't like. I made sure I had enough cold blinis to hide it under.
We sat down. Tatiana Vladimirovna asked Katya about university.
"It is hard work," Katya said, "but very interesting."
We drifted into a well-meaning but awkward silence.
"Fish loves to swim!" Tatiana Vladimirovna exclaimed. She got to her feet, went to the kitchen, and came back with an unopened bottle of vodka and four old shot glasses with snowflakes etched into them. She poured, and we all stood up to clink our glasses.
"To your success, kids!" said Tatiana Vladimirovna, and knocked back her vodka in the efficient Russian way.
The three of us drank too. I felt the vodka at the back of my throat, then in my stomach, and after that the warmth in my chest and the instant elation that made it such a curse. I felt the colour in my cheeks, and the liverdamage and indiscretions that were on their way. I hadn't troubled to ask anyone what the scheme was.
Ten minutes later ("To Russia!" "To us!" "To the Queen of England!"), I asked Masha in English whether she was ready to go. She said no, she needed to talk to Tatiana Vladimirovna. I knew it might be rude to leave before the bottle was empty, but I told Tatiana Vladimirovna that unfortunately I had a meeting to get to. "But you haven't eaten anything," she protested, looking at my overworked plate and clasping her hands in front of her.
I said, "I'm sorry." I said it had been a great pleasure to meet her.
I kissed both girls on the cheek. Tatiana Vladimirovna followed me as I swam across the parquet to put on my coat and shoes.
"Good-bye," I said. "Enormous thanks. Until we meet again."
"You haven't eaten anything," she repeated as she shut the door behind me. I bolted down the stairs, escaping the heavy suffocating childlessness.
L ATER THAT DAY I found Oleg Nikolaevich standing on the half landing between our floors, wearing a black suit and shirt and a black trilby. He was darkly immaculate, apart from a couple of stray cat hairs on his lapel. He seemedto have trimmed his beard. He looked like he was going to his own funeral.
"How are you, Oleg Nikolaevich?" I think I was still a little tipsy.
"Normal, Nikolai Ivanovich," he said. "What is it you say in English? Without news is good news. Only, I cannot find our neighbour Konstantin Andreyevich."
"What a pity," I said. "I'm sorry."
"My friend Konstantin Andreyevich," he went on. "He lives in the building behind the church. He isn't answering his phone." He peered at me as if maybe I might say,
Oh, that Konstantin Andreyevich, you should have said, he's upstairs in my kitchen
.
Instead, I just tried to smile and look pained at the same time. "I am sure everything is okay," I said. I remember thinking that Konstantin Andreyevich, whoever he was, had probably had his phone disconnected or drunk himself into temporary deafness. But I did my best to take Oleg Nikolaevich seriously.
"Maybe he has gone to his brother in Tver."
"Maybe," I said.
"Perhaps," he said, "you can help me. Help me to find him."
"I would be happy to," I said, "but I'm not sure there's anything I can do."
"Yes, you can," he
"So, Nikolai," she said, "what do you think of our little scheme?"
I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. I glanced at Masha. She uncrossed her legs and nodded.
"I think it's an excellent scheme," I said, wanting to please.
"Yes," Tatiana Vladimirovna said. "Excellent."
We all smiled.
"Nikolai!" said Tatiana Vladimirovna, jumping up and changing the subject. "Girls! You haven't eaten anything."
We all cooed around the desk, where Tatiana Vladimirovna handed out the plates and saw to it that I got the fish I didn't like. I made sure I had enough cold blinis to hide it under.
We sat down. Tatiana Vladimirovna asked Katya about university.
"It is hard work," Katya said, "but very interesting."
We drifted into a well-meaning but awkward silence.
"Fish loves to swim!" Tatiana Vladimirovna exclaimed. She got to her feet, went to the kitchen, and came back with an unopened bottle of vodka and four old shot glasses with snowflakes etched into them. She poured, and we all stood up to clink our glasses.
"To your success, kids!" said Tatiana Vladimirovna, and knocked back her vodka in the efficient Russian way.
The three of us drank too. I felt the vodka at the back of my throat, then in my stomach, and after that the warmth in my chest and the instant elation that made it such a curse. I felt the colour in my cheeks, and the liverdamage and indiscretions that were on their way. I hadn't troubled to ask anyone what the scheme was.
Ten minutes later ("To Russia!" "To us!" "To the Queen of England!"), I asked Masha in English whether she was ready to go. She said no, she needed to talk to Tatiana Vladimirovna. I knew it might be rude to leave before the bottle was empty, but I told Tatiana Vladimirovna that unfortunately I had a meeting to get to. "But you haven't eaten anything," she protested, looking at my overworked plate and clasping her hands in front of her.
I said, "I'm sorry." I said it had been a great pleasure to meet her.
I kissed both girls on the cheek. Tatiana Vladimirovna followed me as I swam across the parquet to put on my coat and shoes.
"Good-bye," I said. "Enormous thanks. Until we meet again."
"You haven't eaten anything," she repeated as she shut the door behind me. I bolted down the stairs, escaping the heavy suffocating childlessness.
L ATER THAT DAY I found Oleg Nikolaevich standing on the half landing between our floors, wearing a black suit and shirt and a black trilby. He was darkly immaculate, apart from a couple of stray cat hairs on his lapel. He seemedto have trimmed his beard. He looked like he was going to his own funeral.
"How are you, Oleg Nikolaevich?" I think I was still a little tipsy.
"Normal, Nikolai Ivanovich," he said. "What is it you say in English? Without news is good news. Only, I cannot find our neighbour Konstantin Andreyevich."
"What a pity," I said. "I'm sorry."
"My friend Konstantin Andreyevich," he went on. "He lives in the building behind the church. He isn't answering his phone." He peered at me as if maybe I might say,
Oh, that Konstantin Andreyevich, you should have said, he's upstairs in my kitchen
.
Instead, I just tried to smile and look pained at the same time. "I am sure everything is okay," I said. I remember thinking that Konstantin Andreyevich, whoever he was, had probably had his phone disconnected or drunk himself into temporary deafness. But I did my best to take Oleg Nikolaevich seriously.
"Maybe he has gone to his brother in Tver."
"Maybe," I said.
"Perhaps," he said, "you can help me. Help me to find him."
"I would be happy to," I said, "but I'm not sure there's anything I can do."
"Yes, you can," he
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