Read Online The Gardener from Ochakov by Andrey Kurkov - Free Book Online Page B

were full of hryvnas, or – even better – dollars! The evening seemed darker than usual. Igor looked up at the heavy sky. Never mind, he thought, the party at the Petrovich club should be fun. He just had to make sure he didn’t miss the last train home, as the shared minibuses could be pretty unreliable late at night.
    The darkness seemed to wrap itself around Igor for a few seconds. It seemed strangely impenetrable. Either that or something was wrong with his eyes. In this ‘dark’ moment Igor suddenly remembered that his uncle had died from drinking fake brandy. First he went blind and started crying out, ‘I can’t see anything!’ Then he stopped speaking altogether, lay down on the sofa and died. Or so Igor had been told – he hadn’t witnessed it first hand, of course. But ever since then he’d checked the smell of opened bottles of brandy before drinking from them.
    Igor was still able to feel the hard surface of the road with every step, so he brushed off his alarm and kept walking. Suddenly the darkness released him, and he saw lights in the distance. He looked around, trying to work out whether his eyes were playing tricks on him or whether the street lamps had simply gone out. It happened sometimes. You could be sitting watching television at home, when suddenly – snap! Complete darkness. Sometimes it lasted for five minutes, sometimes several hours.
    Behind him was a solid wall of darkness. Nothing was visible except the lights up ahead. Must be a power cut, thought Igor. He nodded decisively and carried on walking.
    Igor suddenly felt a little wave of pleasure as he thought about the boots. They were so comfortable! They’d been at least a size too big when he’d first tried them on, but now they felt as though they’d been made to measure by a master cobbler. His delight abruptly changed to suspicion. He stopped and looked down at the boots but found that he could hardly even see them. He cleared his throat and quickened his pace, hoping to reach the lights more quickly.
    I should have reached the bus station by now, and that’s always brightly lit, thought Igor. It’s surrounded by kiosks too, and what about that little bar? He peered into the distance, feeling increasingly anxious. The lights weren’t where he expected them to be.
    Igor started to feel hot, either from anxiety or from the strange feeling of disorientation, and he broke into a nervous sweat. He took his anorak off and threw it over his shoulder, hooking his finger into the loop inside the collar.
    â€˜Hey, lieutenant! What’s the hurry?’ a woman’s voice suddenly called from behind him. ‘Have you got the right time?’
    Igor stopped and glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t see anything.
    â€˜No,’ he said warily, peering into the darkness. ‘I’ve got a watch, but it’s not working.’
    â€˜Lucky you!’ The woman’s voice contained the hint of a threat.
    â€˜Manka, you idiot! Are you blind? He’s a policeman, not a soldier!’ Her male companion’s voice was an urgent whisper. ‘Come on, let’s go! Hurry up!’
    Igor heard footsteps hurriedly receding. Now he was scared. He started walking towards the lights again, as fast as he could. He reached them eventually and came to a halt in front of some well-lit gates, behind which he could see grey factory buildings.
    â€˜â€œOchakov Wine Factory”,’ Igor read aloud and looked around.
    Something stirred in his pocket, and the sensation unnerved him. He put his hand in and felt the golden watch. Its heart had started beating. Surprised, Igor took the watch out, and when he brought it to his ear he heard a loud ticking sound.
    What the hell’s going on? he thought. How can a watch suddenly start working, just like that? And what’s this Ochakov Wine Factory doing here in Irpen? Maybe they’ve just built it, I guess.