Peter was nowhere in sight, but Yuri didn’t worry. He wouldn’t have gone far. He took out one of the apples, gave it a poor excuse of a rub with his coat sleeve, which wasn’t too clean either, and bit into it. The bitterness of the unripe fruit stole every drop of moisture from his mouth, making his tongue feel like it had instantly doubled in size.
Apart from the shooting, all was still and quiet. He and Peter had come to the conclusion that the bombs and flames scared off the birds. Neither of them could remember hearing bird song in such a long time. As the minutes passed, Yuri reluctantly acknowledged that it might be time to start worrying about Peter. Where was he? If he’s playing a stupid joke, by hiding from me, I’ll give him an earful, even if it means his ignoring me for the next month.
Staying as close as he could to the wall, Yuri slowly picked his way around the garden. Not wanting to trample the last of the flowers, he had to crunch, as softly as possible, across the upturned hills of stones and bits of bricks. Still he couldn’t see the boy anywhere and was desperate enough to break his own rule by whispering his name twice, ‘Peter? Peter?’
It was strange – no, it was worse than that, it seemed impossible to Yuri that Peter simply wasn’t there in the garden with him. This was the first time in many weeks that he couldn’t see the small boy’s mucky face. Trying not to panic, Yuri took a moment to consider the possibilities: perhaps he’s climbed back over the wall – without me! And gone walking? But… he wouldn’t leave me; he’d be much too scared to go off by himself. Wouldn’t he?
Making his way to the gap in the wall, Yuri stuck his head through and half-heartedly scanned the landscape as far as he could see for the figure of a small boy. After everything Yuri had done for him, this just wasn’t good enough. An unpleasant thought popped into his mind: has the ungrateful brat gone to find Tanya to beg her to take him in? To his horror his eyes clouded over with tears. Could he really have left me here all by myself?
And then Yuri heard something peculiar. Well, it was only peculiar now, in the middle of a war; otherwise it was quite an ordinary sound. A woman was singing. He couldn’t make out the words of the song, nor did he recognise the tune but he couldn’t walk away from it. Rooted where he stood, he was fascinated by the difference between the two sounds: her genteel voice and the pounding din of the guns in the distance. As he listened to her, he became more and more certain that Peter was somehow involved. He didn’t know how he knew it, he just did.
The singing was coming from the ruin of the house. Crouching down, he made his way slowly and carefully towards a large hole in what was probably the back wall of the kitchen. Suddenly the singing stopped, making him nervous. Was he being watched? It was a reasonable assumption since there were still plenty of people living in the city. There had to be. A whole city could not have emptied out leaving just the soldiers behind. Yuri figured that most of them had moved underground, away from the bullets and bombs. He and Peter had stumbled upon little groups who were living in the sewers. They stayed there for a few nights, but the smell was too bad and then, there were the hungry rats – not that Yuri would have admitted to being scared of them; it’s just hard to sleep if you’re waiting for a rat to nibble at your fingers or nose. Besides, the rats were rowdy too, always fighting and screaming, just like the soldiers outside. Peter also pretended he wasn’t frightened of the creatures, but he was, so they went out looking for another place to sleep, finding the big crater that they shared with whoever turned up. These big holes were caused by the bombs that the Germans had dropped. They were like caves, only they were made out of muck and grass, instead of rock.
A head popped through the hole, the singer herself: ‘Is that you, Aleksia? Don’t forget to wash your hands. Supper is almost ready.’
Yuri jumped in fright, but before he could say anything she disappeared again. Had she really been speaking to him? He turned his head to check that he was definitely alone in the garden, and he was. There was nothing for it, except to follow her. Just hearing the word ‘supper’ made his mouth water. He couldn’t smell any cooking, but maybe she had a basement full of food. Stepping through into what used to be the house, he heard Peter’s voice, at long last. ‘I love potatoes. Thank you!’
He wanted to run towards the familiar voice out of pure relief, but the amount of rubble, and deadly shards of glass that twinkled in the dirt, forced him to watch his step. Even so, he made his way, as quickly as he could, through what used to be a doorway and on into what perhaps was once a kitchen. Stupidly, he actually pictured Peter sitting at a rectangular wooden table, like the one at home, while this mystery woman ladled out stew and potatoes. During the next few seconds he mentally prepared himself for the smell of shchi, his favourite soup made of cabbage, meat and whatever spices his mother had in the press. Mrs Bogdanov marvelled at how it remained his favourite dish even after she married his stepfather and had more money for fancier foods. Maybe there was even a grandfather clock, like the one that had stood in the hall at home, with carpet on the smashed floor, while netted curtains hid the yawning gaps in the walls. Yuri was overcome with a ferocious longing to see either his home or someone else’s.
But there was nothing, only Peter, hunched down, his knees under his chin, sitting in front of upturned bricks. Yuri was so disappointed, so angry, that he felt like throwing a proper tantrum, like flinging himself down on the ground and kicking his feet in the air, all the while wailing at the top of his voice. The woman had her back to him; he couldn’t see exactly what she was doing, but it did seem like she was playing with a pile of stones.
Peter smiled calmly at him, as if he was sitting down at a normal table in a normal kitchen. Yuri could not smile back.
‘Sit beside me, Yuri.’
Still hoping there was going to be food, he did what Peter told him to do, despite his irritation, but took the time to mutter, ‘You shouldn’t wander off like that. I didn’t know where you were.’
Of course Peter ignored him and instead watched the woman, who had begun to sing quietly again. Determined that he should have Peter’s full attention, Yuri continued, ‘Look, you cannot walk off without letting me know where you are going!’
‘Hush now, boys, you’ll wake the baby.’
Used to hearing his mother say the very same thing, Yuri immediately shut up but continued to glare at the silly smile on Peter’s face. After a minute or two, however, he found himself thinking What baby?
Peter stared straight ahead as Yuri quickly scanned their surroundings and, indeed, saw a baby wrapped in a blanket, on the ground, near the woman’s feet. The hairs on the back of his neck began to itch. He couldn’t explain why, but he began to feel uneasy. What was she doing? Was she just pretending to be busy? She appeared to be stirring mud and pebbles with one hand while pinching the air with the other. Naturally, Peter was no help at all, plainly refusing to meet Yuri’s eye. Yuri nudged him and whispered, ‘What are we waiting for?’