Two Cousins of Azov

‘Oh no! You must not bring the magical cabinet into the apartment! No, no, that would be too much! The noise and excitement! We must just rehearse, as if we had it with us. No equipment, thank you.’

‘Make believe, Sveta? I am not convinced. Maybe we need to have a talk.’ He raised his eyebrows. Still Sveta stood in the doorway, stepping uneasily from one swollen, slippered foot to the other, not inviting him in. The warm smell of the apartment rolled into his nostrils: furniture polish and something edible – gravy, perhaps.

He cleared his throat. ‘May I?’

‘Oh, of course, of course, come in, how silly of me!’ She stood away from the door and flicked the light switch. A blowsy ceiling lamp trickled pinkish light along the narrow hallway. ‘Please, take off your shoes! Here we are, some slippers – for men!’ Sveta, her face beaming in a way that made Gor uncomfortable, handed him a pair of navy suede slippers with grubby woollen insides. He had the impression they had been waiting a long time for a suitable pair of feet, although they were not particularly dusty, and gave no home to spiders. There was something about them that reminded him of the pleasure boats down on the river: abandoned.

She bade him sit on the bench by the telephone table to remove his shoes, and stood over him as he did so. She repeatedly glanced down the corridor to a room at the end, where a door lay ajar. He guessed the daughter must be occupying that wing, and must be suffering: her mama was clearly anxious. Perhaps he should have brought melon.

As he pulled on the second slipper he heard a flapping, followed by a whistle of wings through the air. He raised his head as an avian screech rang out, followed by what sounded like a series of muffled oaths, deep within the apartment. Sveta giggled, her fist pressed into her mouth, pushing down on her small, receding chin. She turned to him.

‘That’s Kopek, our parakeet. Albina loves him, and she’s teaching him to talk. I think Albina has a special relationship with animals – an affinity, I think it’s called,’ she confided with an air of pride.

Gor raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The bird had sounded as if it were in pain. The screeches continued, becoming louder and more insistent, and then interspersed with a series of thuds that made the light fittings rattle. Gor and Sveta looked at each other. The latter dropped her smile, sighed and pursed her lips.

‘Just one moment,’ she said, raising a lone index finger into his face before hurrying down the corridor and through the open door at the end, pulling it closed behind her.

‘Be my guest,’ he murmured to himself.

He turned to the bookcase as he waited, perusing the familiar titles and shaking his head occasionally. Scratchy sibilants hissed from the door at the far end of the hall, followed by a storm of shushing. He hunched his shoulders into his ears as the unfortunate bird continued squawking. He dropped the book in his hand – The Mother, by Maxim Gorky – and leapt inches into the air when the mysterious door clattered open and a shrieking girl-cum-devil came dashing into the corridor. A round, pink face framed rolling marble eyes under ropes of hair, fixed into pigtails by two enormous shaggy pom-poms, which flew fiercely about her. She was laughing. Or crying. He wasn’t sure. She was definitely running – towards him.

The shrieking noise the girl was making morphed into an extended ‘ahhhh!’ of terror as her foot caught in the edge of the runner and she started to tumble. In that moment, as she sought to regain her balance, she reminded Gor of a bear cub in a hunter’s trap: her half-grown body out of her control, its constituent parts flailing around her haunches, the fore-paws and hind-paws huge and silly, but also full of menace. It was in the last moment before impact that Gor noticed she was carrying a small, brightly coloured bird in her right hand, its beak stretched in a soundless, endless squawk of terror. He raised his hands.

He heard the impact before he felt it. The air whistled from his lungs as he dropped backwards onto the bookcase, the girl felling him like a tree in the forest. For a moment he was in blackness as a mass of hair, smelling of gravy, furniture polish and pom-poms, claimed his face. He was aware of pain in his back and a tightness in his chest. There followed a second of absolute quiet, and then a roar as if a shell had struck the apartment. The girl began heaving sobs, coughing and spluttering as she fought to right herself, all the time not letting go of the small, still bird in her hand.

‘Kopeka! My Kopek-chik! He’s deeeeaaaaadddd!’ The words erupted from her.

‘Oh, malysh, shush now, collect yourself, and let’s have a look at you.’ Sveta huddled over her daughter, trying to heave her up from the tangle of rug and bookcase and Gor, yanking ineffectually at her arm. ‘I’ve told you not to run in the house, haven’t I?’

‘He’s deeeaaaaadddd! You made me kill him!’

‘No no, I can see his eyes are gleaming – look! He’s just stunned. Let’s get you up and check on our poor guest. Are you injured?’

‘I hate you!’

‘Now, now baby-kins! Mummy didn’t mean to make you fall over.’

‘But you diiiiiidddddd!’

‘I just want you to behave—’

‘Ladies – I can’t breathe,’ Gor broke in as the discussion became heated. The girl crushing his chest glowered at her mother and snivelled at the limp bird cupped in her hands. They carried on arguing. A flutter of panic rose in his throat and his hands flew into the air.

‘Help!’ It was the only thing he was able to say.

Albina squinted into his face, sniffed behind her trembling hands for a moment and shifted her weight up and sideways.

As she did so, the bird made an utterance in a high-pitched, acid voice. Gor’s eyebrows met his hairline and Sveta’s jaw dropped. Albina grinned as she wiped her nose on her sleeve, and then gazed into the globe of her hands.

‘He’s alive! Oh, Mama!’ She pulled the hapless Kopek close to her face to nuzzle his electric blue feathers.

‘Oh! That’s wonderful! I told you he was fine. But mind his beak, baby-kins. You know what happened last time,’ cautioned Sveta. ‘Now let’s get you up—’

‘Did that bird … I mean, did the bird just say—’

‘I told you she had an affinity for animals,’ beamed Sveta, pulling the girl up from the floor with one hand under each armpit, and then reaching out to Gor with a sunny smile.

‘Gor, this is my daughter Albina. Albina, say hello to Mister Papasyan.’ The girl regarded Gor sullenly. ‘Albina is not well today, are you, munchkin?’ continued Sveta, ‘so she really needs to go and rest and be quiet in her room. But you wanted to meet Mummy’s guest, didn’t you, darling? Gor is a magician. And we are going to rehearse. You don’t mind, do you?’

Albina said nothing, but looked along her lashes at Gor and chewed her lip. The bird made a guttural clucking noise.

‘I’ll put him away,’ said Albina, raising her head with a smile, ‘and then I can help you.’

The rehearsal that followed was, perhaps understandably, not up to scratch. Without props or a stage, and with both of them distracted by the day’s events, neither was in a magical frame of mind. Instead, they discussed various possible programmes for shows and the range of illusions they could offer, where they might stand and how they might move their arms and legs about. The list of meagre bookings so far taken was reviewed amid worried sighs from Gor. Sveta suggested some murky-sounding venues in depressing nearby towns that might be persuaded to have them. When she began chattering about organising a variety spectacular of their own, Gor succumbed to a cough, drowning out her words.

He observed her misty eyes, and asked her what the profit margins would be.

‘Well, er … I haven’t got that far, yet.’

He nodded his head knowingly, and Albina sniggered behind her hand.

Indeed, the girl was a continual distraction to Sveta, as she refused to leave the room. In fact, she refused to leave Gor’s side, and followed him around at the space of half a pace all afternoon; trailing him in the kitchen, huddling into him on the sofa, and even insisting on showing him into the bathroom when he enquired as to its whereabouts. Gor had taken a deep breath and bolted the door firmly as she waited for him in the hallway.

‘What sort of costume will you be providing?’

He issued her with a puzzled frown.

‘I must have a costume, must I not? Assistants must always be well presented – a sequinned bodice, I was thinking, with feathers at the shoulder, and a net skirt, with fishnet tights underneath. And a feathered tiara. It is traditional, is it not?’ Sveta laughed deep in her throat as Gor harrumphed and looked away – directly into the probing gaze of Albina.

‘Are you planning to use Kopek in your show, Mister Papasyan?’ she asked, sliding her feet over and over the nylon covering of the couch and setting Gor’s teeth on edge as she did so.

‘Ah, no, Albina, I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

‘Magicians use rabbits though, don’t they?’ she asked, and then, ‘Ouch, Mama, I caught my toe-nail.’

Gor shuddered as she picked at it. ‘Yes, some do. But I have not used animals in my magical expositions, ever. I find, when we are confusing and confounding the human mind, that animals are neither necessary nor advantageous.’

‘But they’re cute. Kopek would be cute, in a top hat or with a wand or something. He could hold it in his beak. Go on, Mister Papasyan, you could use him.’

‘No, no, Albina, really, it’s not necessary.’

‘Mama, tell Mister Papasyan he should use Kopek.’

‘Well, Gor, it is a good idea, don’t you think?’ Sveta beamed at him and wound a finger through her brittle blonde hair. ‘After all, people like animals—’

‘No, Sveta, it is out of the question. That … bird, can play no part in my—’

‘Our!’ interjected Albina.