Berezovo: A Revolutionary Russian Epic

Looking briefly at the crowd conversing loudly around them, she turned to face him and mouthed the words “Let go!” to him. She felt his fingers tighten further on her arm. Raising her eyebrows, she shook her head angrily in warning. Still he did not loosen his grip. Something in the situation reminded her of when she was a little girl being pestered by oafish boys at play. Without thinking, she lifted her foot and stamped on his toes as forcefully as she could. Her husband’s cry of surprise and pain rose above the hubbub, causing heads to turn and the noise level around them to begin to fall. As she turned back to resume her progress towards her target, Lidiya appeared by her side. Hidden by the crowd Tatyana felt her friend’s hand find hers and give it a surreptitious squeeze of encouragement.

The room grew quieter as more of the assembly became aware that something untoward was happening. Now that the moment for her performance was approaching Tatyana was alarmed to find that her resolution was beginning to drain away. She could feel the blood pounding in the ears and a gravelly fluttering feeling in her stomach and she realised that she was now leaning heavily on Lidiya’s arm, who was steering her towards the small group. She could see Irena waiting for her expectantly, dressed in a stylish peach coloured morning dress. By the time she had reached them the room had fallen silent.

“Tanya, sweetheart, how lovely to see you!” Irena said brightly. “Where is Lyonya? Is he here too?”

Tatyana was stunned by her greeting. The complete absence of guilt, or embarrassment, the fearless deficiency of contrition and lack of remorse, the total refusal in Irena’s manner to acknowledge her betrayal momentarily rendered her speechless. She felt the innocuous phrases she had rehearsed to herself slip away. The next moment she heard her husband’s voice beside her, tensely greeting first the Shiminskis then the Mayor’s wife and then Irena.

It was Matriona Pobednyeva’s mocking smile as she opened her mouth to reply to Leonid’s greeting that finally gave Tatyana the strength she needed. Raising a shaking arm, she pointed directly at Irena Kuibysheva.

“You… You…” she faltered and then paused.

Ashen white, Irena raised her chin an inch and looked deep into her eyes.

“You cow!” Tatyana spat out. “You said that you were my friend and all the time… You …”

Once again she felt Leonid grasp her arm but this time she shook him off.

“You keep away from my husband, you hear? You keep right away from him, you cow, or so help me God…”

Leonid began to pull her away.

“Tanya, control yourself!” he said fiercely.

“Leonid, I will not sit down to eat with this suka! I will not! You have to choose. Either she leaves or I do.”

She was dimly aware of a woman nearby gasping with shock at her curse. The silence in the room had now become absolute. An expression of studied calm seemed to descend upon Leonid Kavelin’s face. Taking as step back, he adjusted one of his shirt cuffs and nodded in agreement.

“Then you had better go home, Tanya. You are unwell. I will make your apologies to our host the Mayor.”

For a moment Tatyana stared at him open mouthed and then felt her face begin to crumple, her features transforming themselves into a tragic mask. Holding one hand up to shield herself from the gaze of the assembly, she walked quickly from the lounge. Noisily clearing his throat Shiminski took a glass of wine from a tray beside him and passed it to Leonid Kavelin. Olga Nadnikova and Raisa melted away as Kavelin raised his glass and toasted the small group.

“My apologies,” he said. “My wife has been under an enormous strain.”

“We quite understand,” said Madame Shiminskiya sympathetically. “First the typhus and now these damn terrorists coming here. It’s enough to unnerve anyone.”

Raising his glass again, Kavelin saluted her in gratitude and drank deeply. All around him conversations were beginning to be resumed. He felt Irena and the Mayor’s wife silently leave his side. Draining his glass, he lowered it and looked calmly around him. Normality was returning; the moment of drama was over. Beckoning to the waiter, he watched as across the far side of the room Father Arkady, engaged in deep conversation with the Mayor, made an emphatic chopping gesture with one of his hands.