Her question was aimed at Yuri, and all he knew was that ‘yes’ was the right answer, so he said it, wishing he was older and really understood what she meant. There was silence for a couple of minutes as Tanya chewed on her bread. ‘So Mother and I ran inside the building, thinking we were safe. Then, of course, there was a huge bang above, which shook the ground we stood on, and we knew the place had been hit. We could hear a lot of screaming and cries for help. God knows how many people were in their apartments, but I could only think about Mother and me. Just then, the door to this stairway blew open. I couldn’t believe it. Talk about perfect timing!’ She smiled at her mother, who returned her daughter’s smile with such a look of love that Yuri immediately wanted his mother so much, it made him gasp. ‘We both ran to it and kept running until we were down here, in the darkness, bumping into the furniture.’ Unaware of the emotion in the room, Tanya chuckled. ‘I sat down in this exact chair, sure that we were going to be flattened at any moment, but, here we are, still in one piece.’
The shooting started up again, in the distance, but no one mentioned it since it was such a normal sound now, although it did remind Yuri of something new he had learned that day. ‘Have you heard about the sniper, Vasily Zaitsev?’
Tanya’s eyes were closed but she was still awake. ‘The Russian Hare? That’s what they call him in the factory. How many has he killed now, two or three hundred? It’s all a bit silly, isn’t it, as if it’s some sort of game?’
‘Huh?’ Yuri was a little confused.
She didn’t answer him for a couple of minutes, during which time he realised that both Peter and Mrs Karmanova were fast asleep, one snoring as loudly as the other.
Tanya opened her eyes, threw them a half-smile while asking Yuri, ‘How old are you, anyway?’
Not wanting to tell her he was only fourteen, he fibbed, ‘Almost sixteen.’ To his surprise, she appeared to believe him. He had been told many times before that he was small for his age.
‘And do you love your country very much? You know, like more than your family, more than yourself?’
It took him a couple of seconds to realise that he did not know how to answer her question. He had just been about to say ‘Yes!’ to the first part, but found he couldn’t admit to loving Russia more than his mother and Anna.
His hesitation made her grin. ‘Ha! It’s not that easy, is it?’ She rubbed her nose. ‘A lot of ordinary people have died in this city, Yuri, a whole lot more than was necessary.’
‘Because the Germans…?’ Yuri began.
‘No, you see… well, that’s it. Yes, they killed hundreds, maybe thousands, but why was that?’ She waited calmly to see if he knew but he didn’t. Nodding to let him know he shouldn’t worry, that it was only what she had expected of him, she explained, ‘Stalin wouldn’t allow his cherished city to be evacuated. Did you know that? He said the army would fight better if the city was full of people to defend… people like us, women, children and the elderly.’
She sat forward now, her eyes blazing. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying? He wouldn’t allow his own citizens to leave a dying city and that’s how the Nazis were able to kill so many. In other words, Yuri, it is Stalin’s fault, it is him, not the Germans who killed all these Russians, and why? I’ll tell you why, he doesn’t care about ordinary folk like you and me, Mother and Peter. It’s all about money and power.’
Yuri’s face was tingling. He had never heard anyone, especially a girl, talk like this before. Or was that true? Didn’t she remind him just a little bit of his mother? She sounded just as angry as his mother did that night she told Papa that somebody was after his job and that’s why he was being sent out of the way. Still, Yuri had questions: ‘But how do you know all this? And what do you mean “a dying city” – don’t you believe that we’ll win the war?’
She giggled unpleasantly. ‘Which war are you talking about?’
He stared at her, feeling terribly young and ignorant. ‘Er… this one?’
‘Don’t you think it would be a lot easier to defeat the Germans if Stalin stopped killing our own people? Do you know what I heard today?’
He obviously didn’t, so she continued, ‘Our great leader is punishing anyone who is taken prisoner by the enemy and sent over to camps in Germany. He has disowned his own son for being arrested and held in a German Prisoner of War camp because he is convinced that anyone who breathes in non-Russian air instantly becomes a traitor. Isn’t that diabolical?’ She dared him to argue with her.
The right answer was clearly ‘Yes’, but Yuri stayed silent, feeling a long way out of his depth. He was embarrassed at how little he knew or understood. In any case, she accepted his silence as the right answer and sank back into the chair. Ready to concentrate hard on whatever she was going to say next, he watched her open her mouth again, but all she did was yawn.
His own eyes felt heavy, reminding him that he was exhausted. The chair wasn’t as comfortable as a bed but it was a hundred times better than the ground. As he felt himself floating off to sleep, he heard her mumble, ‘Don’t tell anyone what we’ve talked about, Yuri. It’s our secret.’
When he woke up the next morning the other armchair was empty. Peter told him that she had gone to work. Mrs Karmanova was slowly sweeping her way around the room. Peter followed her closely, moving the furniture out of the way of her broom and then putting it back, when she was finished. Yuri’s stomach grumbled and he looked around for something to eat. Too shy to bother Mrs Karmanova, he asked Peter if he had had his breakfast.
‘No, there’s nothing’, was his glum reply.
Mrs Karmanova interrupted her sweeping to say, ‘Tanya will bring us some bread tonight.’
Yuri stayed where he was, wondering if he could go back to sleep. It occurred to him that he felt safe here, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Here he was, sitting on a proper chair, in a proper room with the promise of food. It was almost normal living again.
Tanya had told him that her mother hadn’t left the basement since they found it. She hadn’t felt any need to face the dangers outside and Yuri completely understood why. This place, with its strange collection of tired furniture, was home now. Why would anyone ever want to leave it while the war was still going on outside? Closing his eyes, he decided that he was happy to stay right where he was. However, about two seconds after making his decision, there was a rush of hot air beside his ear, as if someone was breathing on him… and, sure enough, someone was.
‘Yuri, I’m hungry. I can’t wait for tonight’. Peter was whispering so that Mrs Karmanova wouldn’t hear him.
Yuri pretended to be asleep.
‘The sergeant told me he’d give us more sausage. Do you remember, Yuri? He said that.’
There was no way Peter was going to allow him to ignore him in search of more sleep. Yuri opened his eyes to roll them to the ceiling, a feat which achieved absolutely nothing.
Suddenly Mrs Karmanova said, ‘You two could do with a good bath,’ and then pointed to a far corner. He looked over and saw, surrounded by cardboard boxes and empty bottles, an actual bath. Pushing himself up from the chair, he went over to it. A strange sight to behold; it was covered in dust, with spiders’ webs sprawling out from the two taps that looked like they hadn’t been turned on in years.
Peter said quietly, in a worried voice, ‘I don’t want to have a bath.’
Ignoring him, Yuri turned to Mrs Karmanova. ‘Is there hot water?’
The woman snorted with laughter, as if he had just said the most stupid thing ever, ‘No, of course there isn’t. There’s no water at all!’