“Vitaly, promise me you won’t sign anything. I have an idea. Give me a few days.”
He shrugged. “What can you do, Tanya? You mean well, but Gregory is going to Paris and I’m not. That’s all that matters.”
“Vitaly, trust me for just a few days.”
I waited until Marina was by herself and then hurriedly said, “Listen, I have to talk with you.”
“Go ahead and talk.” She looked at me with suspicion as I led her off to a hallway where we wouldn’t be seen.
“It’s about Vitaly. His dad has kicked him out because he didn’t make the Paris tour. Now Vitaly is going to run off with some second-rate dance group and bury himself in Siberia.”
“That’s insane,” Marina said. “It will be the end of his career. It’s all because of that miserable thief, Gregory Ivanovich, and his vicious rumor. How I would like to tear him to bits. He never loses a chance to upstage me. He manages all the lifts so that they end with him facing the audience perfectly composed and me any which way.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s the same with me. Look, what if in my performance tonight and yours tomorrow he should stumble a little, maybe even fall? If it happened with just one of us it would be suspect, but if it happened with both of us, Maxim Nikolayevich would pay attention. Everyone knows there is no love lost between you and me, so no one would dream we would plot something together.”
Marina stared at me and then a sly smile broke out on her face. “Why shouldn’t he get what he deserves?”
In the pas de deux that evening, as Gregory lifted me, I shifted my weight, leaning just enough to the right to destroy his balance. He listed like a crippled ship to the left, nearly falling. As he lowered me to the ground, he hissed through tight lips, “You clumsy cow.”
“Sorry,” I whispered, and danced away.
Afterward Maxim Nikolayevich was furious with Gregory. “You looked like a first-year student. Were you asleep?”
“It was Tanya’s fault,” he said. “She shifted her weight. It was like dancing with a bag of beans.”
Maxim Nikolayevich looked at me. “If it makes him feel better,” I said, “let him blame me.”
The next night Romeo and Juliet was performed with Marina as Juliet. Gregory snarled at me, “At least tonight I won’t have to dance with an elephant.”
“Cow, elephant, make up your mind, Gregory.”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you are up to, Tanya. You are trying to get Vitaly back with the tour, but you don’t have a chance. He’s finished. Just watch me tonight with Marina.”
As the first notes of the introduction ended in the orchestra, Marina leered at me. Loud enough for everyone backstage to hear she said, “If you want to have a lesson in how a pas de deux is danced, watch us tonight.”
My heart sank. What if she had agreed to our plan just to make me look bad? I was onstage with the other members of the corps when Gregory and Marina began the pas de deux. During the enlèvement I was only a few feet away when Gregory fell. I had no idea how Marina managed it. You could hear the audience gasp. Gregory was so shocked to find himself sprawled on the stage floor that, instead of an immediate graceful recovery, he lay there for whole seconds, unable to believe what had happened. I could hear Maxim Nikolayevich from the wings spit out, “Get up, you fool.”
When the curtain came down for intermission, Gregory was crying with rage like a two-year-old. “Marina did it on purpose,” he shouted.
“Shut up,” Maxim Nikolayevich said. “Do you want the audience to hear you? With you it is always someone else’s fault. Last night it was Tanya and tonight it is Marina. When will you take responsibility for your own bungling?” Maxim Nikolayevich sought out Vitaly. “Come and talk with me after the performance tonight,” he said.
I didn’t dare be seen waiting in the dressing rooms for Vitaly. On my way out Marina gave me the briefest of glances, and I saw the corner of one side of her mouth turn up in a wink of a smile. It was such a complicit smile, saying we were friends in arms, that at last I saw my feud with her was over.
I walked slowly down the street and was not at all surprised when I felt two arms grab me from behind and begin to lift me in the air. “Up you go, my clumsy love.” Passersby stopped and stared as Vitaly twirled me around and let me down to kiss me on both cheeks. “Maxim Nikolayevich said I am to go on the tour. He said he couldn’t take a chance with Gregory. Wait until I tell the Old Soldier.”
CHAPTER 8
SAVING SASHA
The next evening Aunt Marya dropped by the apartment after dinner to see what everyone was up to. She was always restless during the white nights. “So much daylight,” she said, “it’s as if you have to lead two lives instead of one. It exhausts me.” Gratefully she accepted the lemonade Mama had made from some powder she had found in the store. Aunt Marya made a face. “Svetlana, this tastes like a dissolved aspirin tablet.”
I could see politics were coming and I wanted to escape, but before I got to the door, Aunt Marya said, “Tanya, I saw Mr. Brompton today. He came to say good-bye. He leaves for England tomorrow. I gather he was successful. He looked like the cat that ate the cream. Did Sasha give him some of his paintings to sell?”
“Yes, he took three or four.” I said nothing about the icon that Sasha meant to sell him, but I wondered if that was the reason for Mr. Brompton’s satisfied look.
“I have been hearing even more unpleasant things about him from artists he has talked into giving him work with no compensation,” Aunt Marya said. “Of course it is not unusual for a dealer to wait until he sells a work to give money to an artist, but when the dealer is a thousand miles away, what is an artist to do if he is cheated?”
Hearing the word cheated, I realized I had been so busy these last days, I had forgotten all about Sasha and the dangerous, wicked thing he was doing. If Mr. Brompton was dishonest, so was Sasha, even if he was doing it for his grandmother. If I was truly Sasha’s friend, I ought to stop him before it was too late. Then I asked the question I had asked myself a hundred times: Was Sasha just a friend or something else? How much did I care for Sasha? In books and movies young men and women went out on dates, going to restaurants and strolling through parks, gradually discovering they were in love. The truth was that between my dancing and Sasha’s painting there was no time to find out how we felt about each other, and now with me leaving we might never know.
Aunt Marya was watching me. “Tanya, what is it? Something is worrying you.” I longed to tell Aunt Marya what Sasha was doing, but I couldn’t give away his secret. “It’s only the pressure of getting ready for the tour. Madame and Maxim Nikolayevich expect the impossible.” Hastily I excused myself. “I have to pick up a new leotard before the stores close.”
As soon as I escaped, I was on my way to Sasha’s. Nadya Petrovna greeted me as warmly as ever, but there were tears in her eyes. Her hand when it reached for mine was as spare as one of Kuzma’s claws. “Ah, Tanya, you have come just at the right moment. Sasha has been in a terrible mood all day. He spends too much time here in the apartment. He has been working on his icon for the church night and day, and now that it is finished, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Be a good girl and take him out for a walk so that I can have a few minutes of peace.”
It was exactly what I meant to do, for I wanted to warn him about Mr. Brompton, but Sasha said, “I can’t go out. I have an appointment in another hour to deliver the icon to the church.” I saw a neatly wrapped parcel tied with string lying on the table. I wanted to snatch it up and throw it away. Sasha saw the look on my face. “Besides, Tanya doesn’t want to spend time with me.”
Hastily I said, “Yes, I do. Come with me for a short walk. It’s lovely out and as bright as noon.”
Nadya Petrovna urged, “Yes, yes, go along, Sasha.”
Reluctantly Sasha followed me out of the apartment. The streets were crowded with strollers with no other purpose than to escape tiny rooms and to breathe in the summer air. Th
e people who remained in their apartments had opened wide their windows, and the sounds of radios—and in the larger, more expensive apartments the chatter from televisions—spilled out into the streets. The kiosks were selling ice cream, and little children hung on to their parents with one hand and with the other clutched a dripping ice cream cone. I led Sasha to the little park in front of the Russian Museum, which was close to his apartment. “Sasha, sit down. I must talk to you.”
Sasha gave me a sulky look and settled onto a bench. During the Siege of Leningrad the trees had been cut down, for people were desperate for wood to burn to keep themselves from freezing. Even the bark of the trees had been ground up and mixed with flour to make bread. After the end of the Great Patriotic War new trees were planted. Now, after nearly fifty years, they stood tall and made large pools of shade. “Listen, Sasha, Aunt Marya came by this evening. She doesn’t trust your Mr. Brompton.”
“Why is he my Mr. Brompton? I met him through your aunt.”
“If she knew what you are doing, she would feel terrible about introducing him to you. Sasha, what if he learns you have cheated him?”
“He is too stupid and greedy. He’ll never be able to tell the difference. I had the original right before me. What can he do? He can’t call in the police, because it is illegal to buy an old icon. Anyhow, he has already cheated some of my friends. He took their paintings, promising to give them a bit of money as an advance, as he gave me. Now that he has their paintings, he says he will send the money when he gets to England. Even if he sells our paintings, I doubt we will ever see any money.”
“Just because he is a cheat doesn’t mean you should cheat him.”
“Don’t lecture me, Tanya. At least he will not be taking a real icon with him.” He looked in the direction of the Russian Museum, where the famous icon Angel Goldhair was on display. It was eight hundred years old, and thousands had proclaimed that it worked miracles for them. I hoped it was watching over Sasha.
Sasha was pale, his lips a thin line. I saw what it was costing him to sell his soul for the medicine. When I saw how guilty he felt, I took his hand. “Sasha, I’ll tell you a secret. When the troupe gets to Paris, Vera and I are going to stay there. I can send you medicine from France. Only wait a few months. Tell the man you have changed your mind.”
Sasha was staring at me. “Tanya! I don’t believe you. You are lecturing me on cheating and look what you plan to do—cheat the ballet that has trained you and made you the fine ballerina you are.”
I felt my face grow hot. I hated Sasha for telling me what I had put out of my own mind a thousand times. “That’s different,” I said. “Things are never going to get better here.”
“That’s not true. I’ve seen your grandmother’s poems printed, and we’ve had a real election. Everyone is saying that now that Yeltsin is in, the Communist party is done for. You surely know from your grandfather all about the changes Yeltsin is making. He’s sweeping out the crooks.”
“Yes, but the Communists are threatening to take over again, and then it would be just like it was.”
“The people will never let them run the country again,” Sasha said. “Why can’t you see how things are improving?”
“We’re not talking about me. It’s you who will get into trouble.”
“I can take care of myself, Tanya. Go home and think over what foolishness you are planning and leave me alone.”
I hurried away without turning back to look in Sasha’s direction. Everything I saw on the walk home irritated me. People looked tired and shabby, the children cross. The goods in the stores were either ugly or so expensive, no one but families like Vera’s could afford them. Why shouldn’t I try to better myself? Who was Sasha to preach to me? A little boy chasing a ball bumped into me, and I snarled, “Look where you are going.” He gave me such a wounded look, I was ashamed. To cheer myself up, I wandered along the Fontanka River to the Anichkov Bridge, with its two pairs of bronze horses. I loved the horses, which always looked to me like the greatest ballet artists in the world, vaulting into the air with power and grace. Tsar Nicholas I gave the first horses away to a Prussian king who admired them. When they were replaced, Nicholas gave them away again, this time to the king of Naples. Once more they were replaced, and then during the Great Patriotic War they were buried to protect them during the bombing. It was awful to imagine the proud beasts imprisoned underground. “Like Russia,” I thought, “a great country imprisoned by a corrupt government.”
When a hard rain began to fall, I headed for home. I had put Sasha and his troubles out of my mind, so I was unprepared to find him at my doorstep, his wet hair clinging to his head like a black helmet. “Sasha,” I asked, “what’s happened? You look like the world has come to an end.”
He grabbed me by the shoulders. “Tanya, you have to help me. It’s something terrible. You were right and I was wrong. It’s the icon. Brompton has the real one.”
“That’s impossible. You wrapped it up yourself. I saw the package.”
“While we were gone, Grandmother changed it for the real one.”
“She would never have done that. Nothing she owned was more precious to her.”
“Tanya, don’t tell me something I know perfectly well. Of course I know what the icon means to her. That’s why I’m so upset. She did do it. I met Brompton at a restaurant and gave him the icon, and he gave me the money, although less than he promised, but that makes no difference. I’ll give him back the money, but I must have Grandmother’s St. Vladimir.”
“You haven’t told me how he got the real one.”
“Grandmother knew what I was doing all along. She knew that it was dishonest. While I was gone, she switched the icons. When I discovered what she had done, she said, ‘Sasha, I would rather lose the precious icon than have you do something dishonorable.’ Tanya, when I heard those words, I nearly died. You have to help me get it back. Your aunt must know where Mr. Brompton is.”
“Aunt Marya was visiting at our apartment before I left. She may still be there.”
We raced up the stairway, vaulting over a drunken body and stumbling on his bottle. When I threw open the door, we found Aunt Marya and Mother talking over cups of tea. They looked at us as if we had gone mad.
“Tanya, Sasha, what is it? You are soaking wet. What were you doing out in the rain? Has something happened to Nadya Petrovna?”
“No—yes,” Sasha said. “It is worse than that. I have nearly killed her.”
“Sasha,” Aunt Marya said, “come and sit down and catch your breath, then tell us exactly what is wrong.”
Sasha slumped down on a chair but refused the cup of tea Mama offered. The story came out in a great rush. “So I have to get to Brompton at once, before he takes off with Grandmother’s St. Vladimir. She will die without it.”
“Don’t be melodramatic,” Aunt Marya said. “You needn’t exaggerate. The facts are bad enough. You have been a fool, Sasha, but I understand how much you wanted that medicine for your grandmother. Now, let’s see what we can do. First of all, your Mr. Brompton is staying at the Hotel Europa.”
That was the hotel where Mama worked. Quickly Mama said, “The receptionist is a friend. I’ll go down and use the phone in the apartment lobby and see if Mr. Brompton has checked out.”
In a moment she was back, breathless from the climb. “It’s a disgrace to have to live in an apartment building where men lie sprawled on the stairway.”
“Mama, quickly, tell us what you found out.”
“He is still there and has ordered a car to pick him up in an hour. He’s in room three twenty-four. They are very strict about whom they let into the hotel. If you aren’t a guest, you have to show some reason for being there. My friend said if anyone asked, to say you were there to pick up a package from Mr. Brompton. Look for her at the desk and she will pretend to ring Brompton, but she won’t or he would never let you in. Her name is Nastya.”
Sasha bolted toward the door and I was right behind him. “Wher
e are you going, Tanya?” Mother called.
“With Sasha,” I said. “I don’t trust him to keep a cool head.”
The hotel was only two blocks away. As I hurried to keep up with Sasha, I asked, “How did you know Mr. Brompton had the real icon?”
“I didn’t want him to have an image of Vladimir that was exactly like Grandmother’s, so I put just a faint speck of blue on Vladimir’s sleeve. No one would have noticed. When I got back from delivering the package with what I thought was the false icon, I looked up at the icon on the wall. There was the speck of blue! For a moment I thought St. Vladimir had made a miracle to punish me and then I saw Grandmother’s face. There is no time to talk, Tanya—just hurry.”
When we were within sight of the doorman, I made Sasha slow down. “If we look upset, they will be suspicious and never let us in.”
As it was the doorman stopped us. When Sasha explained our errand, the doorman said, “It won’t take two to pick up a package.”
“Must I wait out here in the rain?” I said, giving the doorman my sweetest smile.
He grinned at me. “I’ll put up an umbrella and you can keep me company.”
“I would love to,” I said, “but I don’t think the hotel would approve.”
“You are right there. Go ahead, but wait just inside the door.”
Once inside the hotel I was intimidated by its splendor. A year before, as a special treat, Mama had taken me for tea in the hotel cafe. The cafe had a glass roof and even on that winter day was filled with flowering plants.
Sasha and I went at once to the reception desk, where Nastya was waiting for us. “Svetlana said there would be just the young man.”
“I’m Svetlana’s daughter,” I assured her. “It’s important that I talk with the man as well.”
She looked doubtful. “You aren’t going to make any trouble?”
We assured her that we would be only a moment and she nodded in the direction of the elevators.
Sasha knocked on the door of room 324.
“Who is it?” We recognized Brompton’s voice.