‘How should I know?’ Yuri was tetchy and irritable, and Peter was really getting on his nerves. Everything was. That’s the bad thing about kids his age; they don’t worry about anything. Yuri, on the other hand, had to do all the worrying for the both of them. For instance, should he be looking for the sergeant and his soldiers again? What they made Peter do was so dangerous. Thank goodness it worked out fine and they both got fed, but today Peter was in a bad mood, and clumsy with it. Already Yuri had had to steady him twice when he lost his balance, either out of hunger or tiredness.
But if they didn’t bother with the soldiers and their bribes of sausage meat, they were going to go hungry again. There would be nothing to eat until Tanya came back, and that might be nothing more than a few crusts. What else could they do for food? Apart from not wanting to listen to the moans of a hungry Peter, Yuri was determined to find something to bring back. Surely Tanya would regret her decision to have them move in if there wasn’t enough to eat for her mother and herself. He couldn’t bear the thought of her asking him and Peter to go back to sleeping in the tunnels or, worse still, the sewers. He had an idea. ‘Will we go and see if there are any apples left on that big tree?’
‘No!’ Peter’s answer was definite and Yuri wasn’t going to try and change his mind. Neither of them wanted to run into that mad woman with her dead baby. Peter must have felt obliged to provide a proper explanation because he added, ‘She’ll only try to eat me.’
Yuri didn’t bother to argue. They continued on in silence until something built up inside Peter causing him to blurt out, ‘I want cake!’ He started to cry, although there were no tears in sight.
The small boy’s sorrow was so dramatic that Yuri couldn’t help himself; he started to laugh.
Peter was shocked. ‘Why are you laughing?’ The pain in his voice was real, dampening Yuri’s fun.
‘I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t mean to. I just wasn’t expecting you to say that. I mean, when was the last time you had cake?’
Peter’s faced creased up like newspaper, and tears threatened this time as he yelped, ‘I don’t know!’
To soothe him, Yuri agreed that it was all so stupid, ‘We should be able to have cake if we want.’
Peter peeped up at him, full of hope. ‘Can we?’
Now it was Yuri who wanted to cry. The last cake he had eaten was his birthday cake, shared between himself and his mother. How he wished that she would suddenly appear. It was scary not knowing what to do, or what was going to happen.
It was then, despite all his worries, all the hundreds of thoughts racing through his brain, that Yuri noticed the smell. He stood rooted to the spot as if a door had been slammed in his face.
Peter was sulking too much to care about what he was doing, or, at least, that’s what he wanted Yuri to think. However, when they didn’t move after a few seconds he pouted, through down-turned lips, ‘What?’ Just that: ‘What?’
Against his better judgement Yuri told him the truth. ‘I can smell freshly baked bread.’ He closed his eyes as if this would improve the strength of his nose and opened them again when Peter leant his head against his arm and asked, ‘Can we have some?’
It was a sensible question; Yuri just had no idea how to answer it. They were on an empty street in the older part of the city, where the roads were shorter and narrower. The shooting had been fierce a few minutes ago, so he had walked them away from it, never expecting to lead them to smelling fresh bread. Where is it coming from? Is it in the wind? Yuri hadn’t realised he was talking out loud until Peter sniffed, and said, ‘I can’t feel any wind.’
Like every other street they had ever walked in, the buildings were broken and smashed. The few walls which were still standing were completely blackened by the fires that had raged for weeks on end. Nevertheless, Yuri was sure that there were ordinary people living here, somewhere. Then he heard a whispered exclamation, ‘Why, it’s just two boys.’ Rightly or wrongly, Yuri called out a quiet hello. If there was food to be had, he was willing to risk looking stupid. He was instantly shushed, but from where he couldn’t work out. Peter put his hand in his while Yuri hoped they looked as young and as miserable as they felt. He scanned the buildings either side of them but couldn’t detect any movement whatsoever, although he could still smell the bread, which prevented him from going anywhere.
To his horror, the lid of a man-hole, that was a few feet in front of them, shifted slightly. He jumped, forcing Peter to jump too, which nearly gave Yuri a fit of the giggles. Peter had a serious expression on his face, but Yuri was sure that they must have looked really daft jumping like that. He shrugged at Peter apologetically as Peter stared dolefully back at him. In any case, they immediately forgot about one another on hearing a woman’s voice urging, ‘Come on, you two. Quick as you can!’ Neither of them moved.
A woman’s forehead and pair of eyes appeared from beneath the lid. ‘Are you alone, just the pair of you?’
Peter nodded before Yuri could think about whether to say ‘yes’ or not.
‘Poor little things! Would you like some bread? Are you hungry?’
They both nodded at that.
Cocking her head, she said, ‘Down you come then, just for a few minutes, alright?’
They ran over to her. She pushed the lid back, telling Yuri to pull it closed after him. Peter went first and was happy to announce, ‘There are steps, Yuri.’
Glancing around to make sure there was nobody watching them, Yuri made a quick wish: don’t let this be a trick, not like the mother with her invisible dinner. Surely there was definitely food here; the smell of bread was only getting stronger and stronger.
It was dark and chilly in the sewer, for that was what they were walking through, beneath the battered street above.
‘We’re just down here,’ said the woman as she padded along.
‘Who else is there?’ asked Yuri, just because it seemed a bit rude not to make an attempt at conversation.
‘Just me and my sister’, was the reply.
She led them into an opening off the main tunnel, down a small corridor and then around a corner, up some steps and there appeared, out of the gloom, a large room which Yuri guessed to be the basement cellar of a house, long gone, just like Tanya’s. The boys felt suddenly shy as another woman stared at their approach while their guide declared, ‘Two waifs in need of bread.’
Yuri was too nervous to smile, just in case he did something to make them change their mind about giving them food. However, a low moan erupted out of Peter’s belly, causing the women to rush into action. The sister, a tall woman in a grey dress, wearing a purple scarf on her head, actually clapped her hands and led them to a table with a white tablecloth on it. Really, a white tablecloth in the middle of nowhere! ‘Rest your bones down there!’
They willingly obeyed. The woman who had invited them strode over to a small counter where, to Yuri’s surprise, and heady delight, he spied a stove. She opened the door, and the smell nearly knocked him over. Using a towel, she slowly lifted out a tray with two loaves on it. Meanwhile, the sister set out two small plates in front of the boys. They looked like new.
‘Thank you!’ said Peter as he stared at the bread, and then, in a rush of excitement, informed his hosts, ‘I wanted cake but this is nice!’
‘Peter!’ hissed Yuri, frantic that the boy sounded ungrateful and cheeky.
‘Oh dear!’ said the sister. ‘I’m afraid we don’t have any cake, child.’
Peter smiled, as if he was bestowing a giant favour on them all, and said, ‘I don’t mind. I like bread too. Don’t I, Yuri?’