Berezovo: A Revolutionary Russian Epic

“Yes. You are at my house in Ostermann Street. You arrived about half an hour ago and you have had a little sleep. It is nothing to worry about.”

Madame Wrenskaya shook her head in disbelief.

“Sleeping? Nonsense!” she said crossly. “I was just resting my eyes.”

The two women looked at each other and Yeliena watched as recognition slowly dawned upon the old woman’s face.

“Of course! I remember now. You are on my list.”

Reaching painfully over the arm of her chair, Madame Wrenskaya clawed at a misshapen handbag that lay on the floor beside her feet.

“Shall I get that for you?” asked Yeliena quickly.

“No thank you, I can manage,” its owner insisted, straining until, with a final effort, her fingers hooked over the strap of the bag and hauled it onto her lap. She sat quite still for a moment, her eyelids fluttering with the effort, as she fought to catch her breath. When she had recovered herself, she looked at Yeliena and tapped the bag meaningfully.

“It’s all in here, you know,” she rasped.

“Your visiting list?”

“No, no, no!” replied Madame Wrenskaya. “My jewels and my money. I daren’t leave them at home because of her.”

“Who? Mariya?”

The old woman nodded solemnly.

Yeliena looked away. Aware of how quickly her mood could change from eccentric to vituperative, she was loathe to contradict her aged guest but she thought it highly unlikely that Madame Wrenskaya’s maid, after years of faithful service, would suddenly take it into her head to rob her mistress of her jewellery.

Besides, Yeliena thought, the few pieces that you wear, although valuable, are of so old-fashioned a design that they would be virtually impossible to get rid of, or to wear without attracting comment.

She felt momentarily relieved by the appearance of her own maid Katya with a small tray upon which rested two freshly poured glasses of tea and – her heart sank to see them – the four cakes she had bought to share with Vasili. She carried one of the glasses over to Madame Wrenskaya.

“Katya has brought us some cakes. Would you like one?” she asked.

“Cakes? At this hour? No thank you my dear. But don’t let me stop you having one. I find I can hardly eat anything in the afternoon nowadays.”

Summoning her maid, Yeliena ordered her to take the cakes back to the kitchen.

“I don’t know why she brought them in,” she said as soon as the door had closed behind Katya. “They are meant for Vasili’s tea. She must have been confused.”

“The girl’s a moron,” declared Madame Wrenskaya roundly. “I don’t know why you even employ her. The whole family is quite soft in the head. Father Arkady told me so. One of her brothers can’t even speak: he just grunts like a hog.”

“Father Arkady asked us to take her in,” replied Yeliena lamely. “She is a little slow sometimes, but she does her best.”

“When I am gone,” the old woman promised her, between sips of tea, “I shall give you Mariya. She can look after you and the Doctor far better than that simpleton.”

“I’m not sure…” began Yeliena.

“No arguments now!” insisted her guest. “It’s all settled.”

Yeliena looked at the clock, hoping that Vasili would be back earlier than the time he had told her. He could cope far better with Madame Wrenskaya’s moods than she could. As good as the maid Mariya was – and she could only be an improvement on Katya – the household had neither the space nor the budget to employ two maids and, for all her faults, it was inconceivable that they should turn Katya out, for who else would take her?

“I passed that brute Tolkach on my way here,” announced Madame Wrenskaya abruptly. “The man had the effrontery to raise his hat to me. What do you think of that?”

“I’m sure he meant no disrespect, Anastasia Christianovna.”

“No disrespect? Pah! I know just what he meant,” the old woman replied with a snort. “I suppose you have heard what that fool Pobednyev has done?”

Yeliena hadn’t.

“His Excellency the Mayor has, in his wisdom, raised the wretched man to the rank of Town Councillor.”

“Modest Tolkach, a Town Councillor?” Yeliena repeated, aghast.

“It’s true,” declared Madame Wrenskaya, leaning back in her chair.

“But that’s horrible! Its grotesque! Surely you must be mistaken?”

Her mouth pursed like a creased cloth button, Madame Wrenskaya shook her head.

“As God is my witness,” she replied, “I heard it from Maslov when he brought me my books yesterday morning and later on Pavel Nadnikov confirmed it. He was at that very meeting and saw it all.”

But Yeliena was only half listening. Having recovered from the shock, she was beginning to realise what it would mean to her own household. Now that the Hospital Administrator had succeeded in reaching such a position of influence, he would be even more unbearable, especially to Vasili.

“It’s about Tolkach that I came to see you,” Madame Wrenskaya was saying.

“Oh? Really?”