Vyera's rising panic is interrupted by a knock at the door. Aruna rises immediately and opens the door to confront a smiling Yesukai in her smart uniform. She bows, offers a tray, bows again, smiles and glides away.
Vyera is also on her feet, moving to take the tray and pour the tea.
"Sit down please girl, will you?" says Aruna, testily
"Oh, yes, I am sorry"
"Milk and sugar?"
"Please."
"That's very English."
"I am Eng ... ", but Vyera stops herself too late!
Aruna casts a glance at her through narrowed eyes. "How interesting: an English girl, in Russia who keeps getting confused between her Owners (as I think she meant to say) and her employers. A girl who also has a number tattooed on her breast and ... yes and on her foot. Just who are you?"
'Well just who am I?' wonders Vyera but her instincts of self preservation are active. "I am Vyera. That's my name."
"Real name?"
"Yes."
"Name you were born with?"
"Vyera is my name. I am Vyera Anatoly'evna Kuznetsova. I am. Really."
And of course, she really is. Neena says so. Her Owners say so. She has a passport which says so, the Office of Inwards Migration says so, the Register of Graduates at Moscow State University says so.
"When I get home -- to Africa -- do you want me to speak to anyone?"
Well, does she? Yes, in her inner most being, her secret place, where even her Owners could not reach, she wants the African to 'speak to someone' about her, but how long will it take for him to return home and how long would it take for 'speaking to someone' to mature into a rescue or even just a message to ... who were they? ... her parents and the man ... what was his name ...? Just a message, to say she was all right but to forget her because she would never come home? Too long. After all, she knows she can be executed in a moment, the time taken to key in a special number into a mobile 'phone. And anyway, does she want to be rescued anymore?
Aruna's offer is really much more of a taunt. Vyera also remembers that these walls can have ears, even eyes too and that the walls are almost certainly watching her and listening. She summons her courage, resolutely pushes her disappointment away and replies, "Thank you but there is really no need to speak with anyone. I am perfectly happy here. This is where I live. Where I belong."
"Very well", replies Aruna. "If you are sure." But in the privacy of his mind, he is sure of quite the opposite. That she does not belong and he remembers with some regret the young man who in years gone by would have definitely 'spoken to someone', after his safe return. Meanwhile, he intends to leave his friend's mansion with his virtue intact.
"You have finished your tea? Good. Then please leave me -- and good night." He walks to the door and opens it for her.
Vyera, gets to her feet again and walks toward the open door, waiting for her collar to prick and then begin to shock her and what should she say then?
The collar does not respond -- or rather, the collar takes account of the new situation and allows Vyera access to the upper bedroom corridor, allows her to find the service stairs and allows her to make her way to the basement and (she feels sure) to retribution.
Neena meets her.
"Vyerka: into your cell!"
"I am so sorry, Gaspazha, he just did not ..."
"I know. This is very unsatisfactory. Oh, you did not say farewell to Pavea."
"Farewell?"
"Yes: she has been ransomed. She is gone."
Alone in her cell. Safe behind her locked door, Vyera weeps bitter tears. This evening, she was offered the chance to cry for help - an offer which she politely and firmly turned away. But then, to find that Pavea's unrealistic, over-confident, arrogant American Optimism had won the day! She had been released. She was going home. But Vyera was left. Alone. In service. In prison. Enslaved.
AN URGENT TELEPHONE CALL
Hardly fifteen minutes have passed since Amos Aruna had vanished up to his bedroom when Sveta's mobile quietly chimes.
"Sveta?"
"It is Security, Svetlana Nikitechna."
"And?"
"Events are not going well."
"What events?"
"Vyera and the African."
"Vyera and Aruna? What do you mean?"
"She was left in his room to entertain him."
"Who authorised this?"
"We had instructions from Anatoly Sergeyevitch and Neena Alexandrovna."
"Exactly what is going on?"
"He has rejected her. Vyera has ordered tea from the kitchen and he has told her to leave his room."
"Can you replay me the conversation?"
"Replaying ..."
The conversation; the tone of Aruna's voice; the conversation with Vyera, each and every phrase inflames Sveta. She is dismayed at the ridiculous, clumsy and embarrassing situation as it unfolds.
"Security? Re-programme Vyera's collar to give her free movement between Aruna's room and her cell. Send someone to wait discreetly in the upper landing and take her quietly back to the basement. I shall have to speak with Mr Aruna immediately Vyera leaves."
"Done already! I reprogrammed as soon as I realised the African was going to throw her out. Vyerka is already in her cell"
Sveta heaves a sigh of relief. At least someone knows how to do their job!
She is furious at the casual way Vyera has been used. It is also the point at which Sveta realises that Vyera has become much more than a slave. In fact she is, in Sveta's mind at least, more of a friend, almost genuinely one of the family, even an adopted daughter, almost a slave no longer ...
SOME DIFFICULT CONVERSATIONS
Sveta is standing outside Amos Aruna'a bedroom. It is her home but she feels acutely uncomfortable and wishes she was not there at all. She is about to knock. She pauses. What on earth can she say? To make amends? To set the clock back in their relationship just twenty minutes? Time enough to stop Vyera being left for Amos to find. There is nothing she can do to avoid the discomfort of confession and apology. She knocks, softly ...
The door opens and Amos is standing before her. "Sveta! How can I help?"
"Amos ... its me: I have come to apologise to you."
"Oh?"
"Amos I am so sorry. I did not know about Vyera being left in your room but I am here to apologise and take responsibility."
"Well don't you think the responsible party should make their own apology?"
"Yes, but I am not sure where Anatoly has gone and I don't really even know if it is him and I wanted to come at once, as soon as I found out what had happened."
"But how did you know? I hope you have not had my room bugged - have you?"
Sveta is sweating profusely now. Beads of perspiration have formed across her brow. Her dress feels tight and damp. You have not bugged my room have you? The answer is 'yes' but it is yet another 'something' which Sveta wishes had not happened.
"Its just that we found Vyera wandering in the corridors, going down to her own room and Security let me know and I found out what had happened."
Sveta's face seems to be burning under Amos gentle questioning. She is telling more lies to her friend to try and make amends for the mistakes of others ...
"So why would that be a problem? Vyera walking through the house? She lives here doesn't she? That's what she told me."
"Yes, yes, Amos she does live here but these days, well we have to be careful ..."
"Yes but surely Security would not contact you to say they had found Alana walking down the corridor, surely? So what is the difference with the Vyera girl?"
Amos is really making Sveta squirm. She knows it. He knows it.
Sveta is close to tears. She ploughs on: "Yes, well, er you see, Vyera is ... well you know we... er, for some years ... try ... I mean Anatoly always tries to make sure that the lives they have after we ... er ... are better than what they had before and Vyera is ... Oh, Amos I am sorry. I am so sorry. I don't know why this has happened. I know ... we know that you and Anayah have been together for so long and are still so in love and ... its just that I am so sorry about Vyera. I think maybe she just fancied you and Anatoly thought you being so far from home ...Oh! Amos I am just so sorry ..."
Sveta cannot say any more. She has no words left. She opens her mouth, but she cannot say another syllable. Its obvious that she is acutely embarrassed, distraught, even, by what has happened: testing the loyalty Amos had for his wife, exposing a West African (of all people) to the reality of the contemporary slave trade, in which he has been complicit to some degree, and severely testing an old friendship.
Amos smiles. "Now Sveta, I always knew you and Anatoly were a red blooded couple. I have to say I am cross about finding the girl in my room. Yes she was a temptation and I am a long way from home, but ... well, we have known each other for so many years now. Let's not loose our friendship over a single silly act of clumsiness?"
Sveta is even more embarrassed by the way in which Amos repays rudeness and carelessness with magnanimity! "Thank you Amos, I am so sorry and you are so generous," she sobs.
"But I think," Amos continues, "that Anatoly should have the grace to apologise too ...mention it when you find him, huh?"
So Sveta is dismissed, chastened by his words of her friend but relieved that a friendship does not lay in ruins -- at least if Anatoly can play his own part in its restoration ...
..................................................................................................
"Just what on earth did you think you were doing?" Sveta has found Anatoly in their bedroom where she has fled to recover from the shame she feels after her recent encounter.
"I'm sorry Sveta, its just that I thought it might be a nice way for him to round out his evening and ..."
"The point is that Amos is very loyal to Anayah. He wants to keep himself for her. Putting Vyera in his bed - laying a temptation in front of him -- would look to be extremely rude and careless. You know the sort of relationship they have. Remember? Last time they were here together? Its bad enough to make a faux pas in front of strangers but to do it in front of a friend is very much worse. It looks just horrible, rude, patronising, even cruel ... the list could go on and on! Whatever good this weekend might have done has now been completely wiped out and the reason is complete lack of sympathy for the person we have staying with us. And what was gong to happen if Vyera got pregnant? Do I get to play Popova with Vyera? Is that what you thought would be good for me?"
"Sveta, I am so sorry. You are quite right. Absolutely right. Is there anything we can do? Anything I can do?"
"I have of course apologised but whether we can all get back to where we were before tonight is quite another matter. I tried to suggest that Vyera was just suffering from high spirits. It seems very unkind to blame her and whether he believes me is another matter entirely. At least he has not demanded to go straight back to Moscow. Look Anatoly, you are going to have to go speak to Amos immediately. My apology is one thing but you will have to do your part. You have to go. You have to go now."
There is something unmistakeably dangerous in Sveta's demeanor. A cocktail of desperation and complete dismay at what has become of the evening. An evening which ought to have been a very pleasant interlude with an old friend. Anatoly realises that Sveta's psychological strength is almost exhausted. It is his turn to shoulder the burden. "Sveta, you are quite right. I will go see Amos at once. Immediately."
.....................................................................................................
At last a new day comes. When Sveta wakes up, she finds Anatoly spooned behind her. His warm body is comforting. How every girl should have a husband all to themselves, she thinks -- and then remembers with a jolt how carelessness could have prized Amos away from Anayah and how Vyera (just one little girl amongst many, over the years) would never enjoy the comforting warmth of her very own husband. Sveta is dragged from reverie into the real world in all its cruelty and the recollection that some of the cruelties could be layed at her door.
"Tolya?"
"Hmmm?"
"Can we go on holiday?"
"Holiday?"
"Yes. I want to get away."
"Oh? Where?"
"Away from here. Somewhere different, but not too far."
"We could take the boat?"
"The boat?"
"Yes: take the boat down to 'Peter (3) and then maybe out into the Baltic."
"Why not." Anatoly knows that it is time to build bridges and some time away is probably a good idea. "I would like that. I would like that very much."
"We could take friends?"
"Oh ... friends? Not just us? Not just you and me?"
"Well ... it might be fun ..."
"I just wanted to be with you ... if you could .. I mean, if anyone wanted to come as far as Peter, that wouldn't be so bad but then I would want it to be just you and me."
"Crew?"
"Oh, yes, well I do want a holiday so yes we will need the crew as well -- and Vyera."
"Vyera?"
"Yes: I want her."
"Why?"
"She might not be ready."
"Oh ..."
"Look, let me ask Mendeleyev and Neena what they think. If she is ready ..."
'If she is ready' thinks Sveta. 'If we have beaten her into shape enough. Beaten and annealed and beaten some more until she is incapable of being the little girl she once was.' Out of the bitter soil of Sveta's history another weed is beginning to take root. Guilt over how she has treated Vyera.
"When can we go, Tolya?"
Anatoly thinks for a moment, "Well your TV programme has finished for the summer and there is nothing to keep me in Moscow at the moment so ... well, what about the weekend after next?"
'Yes: I would like that. Thank you, Tolya. Let's go the weekend after next."
.......................................................................................................................
Footnotes:
1 The story of Matthew the Tax Collector is in St Mark's Gospel, Chapter 2 at verse 14
2 The Texas Prison Strap. Obtainable at www.paddlewerks.com
3 Saint Petersburg is often known colloquially in Russia as 'Peter' rather than 'Sankt Pyetyerboorgie' which is a mouthful, even for Russians! CHAPTER 25 : BALTIC JUBILLEE A CRUISE
It is July. The days are long and hot. Gazpazha Svetlana Nikitechna has just announced that she, Gaspadeen Anatoly Sergeyevitch and some friends will take their yacht for a cruise in the Baltic. Alana, Vitally and Dmitry will stay behind in Moscow but I am to go with Gaspadeen and Gaspazha, a sort of 'Girl Friday', on the boat. There will be guests, so I am to wear clothes and have a new, more modest collar. My clothes are white capris, a yellow T shirt and flat sandals. The collar will look like an example of hip modern jewellery to others. It's just a plain metal band around my neck but I know different and in case I have any false expectations, Yuri, the boat's technical officer reminds me that the boat has an electronic boundary just like the dacha and the collar will keep me in bounds, as usual.
Every once in a while, Neena carefully inspects my skin, to search out any heroic rear-guard action from my hair, any small area of resistance which must be vanquished and burnt to ash. I knew there were a few brave follicles, beginning to push up tiny spiky hairs in my groin and at the sides of my head. They are of course, discovered and condemned. I felt rather sorry for them! So brave and yet so futile. I had tried to keep them secret, but before I am ready to be sent off with the holiday party, Neena arranges another session for me with the dermatological laser so I can bid what must surely be a final farewell to my body hair.
A small convoy leaves the Dacha, together with the ever-present security detail and travels to a marina north of Moscow where we board the boat. There is not much luggage. I have spent the previous days packing and most things have been sent on ahead. When I was getting my Owners' things ready, I thought they had such attractive things. Smart clothes, casual clothes, all so beautifully made and presented. What must one do, to deserve a life like this? What should I have done, to be on the other side of this impregnable wall which separates Owners from Servants, or in my case, slaves? It's merely fortune, I think. They are just like me, really. No more intelligent, or attractive but the river of life flowed differently for them or perhaps the currents chanced to carry them to a more favourable part of the stream. However, at least I can enjoy some of this good fortune and life could have been infinitely worse for me. Perhaps I have spent too long thinking about what I do not have and not (as I should) spent enough time being grateful for what life has given me. After all, how many of the children I went to school with can now spend a month on a millionaire's yacht, cruising under the warm, bright northern skies? IN THE SHADOW OF THE GULAG.
Moscow stands on the Moskva River from which it takes its name. From the Russian capital it flows east to the Okan, on to the Volga and further down to the Caspian Sea. But our route lays to the north, along the Кана́л и́мени Москвы́, (1) (Kanal Emyeni Maskvi) the Moscow Volga Canal. It takes us towards the Baltic; to the upper reaches of the Volga and on through a system of waterways which travel to St Petersburg and afterwards, the sea. It was built by Stalin's gulag prisoners. Before them the serfs farmed for the dvoryanstvo (2). It seems we Russians have always known about slavery
The Kustensky's yacht, is like all their other possessions quite simply first class. Built to their specification, it lacks no amenity that the seriously indulgent traveller could wish for. It was also built in Moscow, something Anatoly Sergeyevitch is particularly proud of. I have heard him say so. (3)
There are public areas, promenade areas, and the state rooms. They all exude luxury. Even the crew cabins are for the most part more comfortable and spacious than would be found on many other vessels. Some accommodation is more modest and secure - that's where my quarters are but I am happy with that. I cannot imagine living in any other way now. It is what I deserve, what is appropriate for a slave like me. The need for security when all one could do is dive into a cold river and swim to a hostile shore is open to question though. With the certainty of execution by my lethal collar, the security provided by the accommodation is probably more than is really needed. But as Alana said, that's not the point. They don't imprison slaves merely because slaves need to be imprisoned; they do it because that is what they enjoy doing to their slaves.
I hear the crew talking about places as we follow the river and then the canal. Uglich, where Ivan the Terrible's young son was killed -- some of the crew compare Anatoly jokingly to Ivan and hope for better things for Dmitry; Yaroslavl, the oldest city on the Volga River untouched by World War II; the White Lake and on to the Volga--Baltic Waterway. There's Goritsy and the Kirilov Belozersky Monastery, founded to commemorate hermitage of St. Cyril.
Sometimes, I long for the solitude of a hermitage. There's hardly a moment when I'm alone, or so it seems. Even though the boat is large and comfortable we are never far away from each other and yet, even for slaves, a boat has advantages. I have less to do than if I was at the Dacha or in Moscow with Gaspazha Alana. Of course, 'less to do' does not mean that I am idle, with breakfast to serve and clear away, rooms to clean, linen to wash; lunch to prepare and serve, lunch to clear away, drinks to pour, coffee to serve ... and sun tan oil to rub on guests.
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