I nodded and she picked up the Tsaritsa’s dog and ran across the road, looking back only for a moment as she went indoors again. I waited until I was sure that no one was watching, then stood up, brushed the dirt from my clothes and walked quickly along the path in the direction she had indicated, my heart beating faster in the hope of seeing Anastasia again.
When I awoke, it was already daylight. I opened my eyes and looked up at the glimpses of pale-blue sky which could be seen between the branches of the trees overhead, and for a moment I was at a loss as to where I was. An instant later the events of the previous evening came flooding back and I sat up, startled, immediately tormented by a great pain along the base of my spine, brought on no doubt by the uncomfortable position in which I had been sleeping.
I had waited for Anastasia by the cedar trees for hours, but had finally succumbed to sleep. At first I worried that I might have missed her entirely, but quickly shrugged off this concern, for if she had been able to leave the house then she would no doubt have discovered me in my hiding place and woken me up. I stood up and paced back and forth for a few minutes, trying to ease my pain by massaging my lower back with my hand; I immediately felt pangs of hunger in my stomach, for I had not eaten in more than a day.
Making my way back along the road, I hesitated outside the walls of the Ipatiev house and looked towards the upper windows, but could hear no voices inside. Passing by the front gate, however, I noticed a young soldier changing the tyre of a car and approached him cautiously.
‘Comrade,’ I said, nodding in his direction.
He glanced up, shielding his eyes from the sunlight as he looked me up and down with barely concealed disdain. ‘Who are you?’ he asked quickly. ‘What do you want here, boy?’
‘A few roubles, if you have it,’ I said. ‘I haven’t eaten in days. Anything you can spare would be most appreciated.’
‘Go beg somewhere else,’ he replied, waving me away. ‘What do you think this is, anyway?’
‘Please, comrade,’ I said. ‘I might starve.’
‘Look,’ he said, standing up and wiping his hand across his forehead, leaving a long, dark oil stain streaked above his eyes. ‘I’ve told you—’
‘I could do that for you, if you like,’ I said. ‘I can change a tyre.’
He hesitated and looked down at the ground for a moment as he considered it. I suspected that he had been trying to complete this job for some time and was getting nowhere with it. A jack and a wheel wrench were lying beside the car, but the wheel nuts had not even been removed yet. ‘You can do this?’ he asked.
‘For the price of a lunch,’ I said.
‘You do it right and I’ll give you enough for a plate of borscht,’ he said. ‘Be quick about it, though. We may need this car later on.’
‘Yes, sir,’ I said, watching as he marched away and left me alone in the driveway.
I crouched down and examined the mess that he had made of the job so far, picking up the jack and propping it under the frame to lift the car. Unaccustomed to such mental stimulation I quickly became engrossed in my work. Indeed, so lost was I in my thoughts that I didn’t even hear the footsteps as they approached me. And then, when my name was uttered in an awed whisper, I jumped in surprise, the wrench slipping between my fingers and grazing the knuckles of my left hand. I cursed and looked up, and the furious expression on my face immediately dissipated.
‘Alexei,’ I said.
‘Georgy,’ he replied, looking back towards the house now to make sure that he was not being observed. ‘You came to see me.’
‘Yes, my friend,’ I said, and this time it was I who could feel tears behind my eyes. I had not realized quite how much I cared for this boy until he was no longer part of my life. ‘Can you believe I’m here?’
‘You have a beard,’ he said.
‘It’s not much of one, though, is it?’ I asked, rubbing the stubble irritably with my hand. ‘Certainly not as impressive as your father’s.’
‘You look different.’
‘Older, probably.’
‘Skinnier,’ he said. ‘And paler. You don’t look well.’
I laughed and shook my head. ‘Thank you, Alexei,’ I said. ‘I could always rely on you to make me feel better about myself.’
He stared at me for a moment as if trying to decipher what I meant by this, but then his face broke into a wide smile as he realized that I was only teasing him. ‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘How are you?’ I asked. ‘Are you holding up all right? I saw your sister yesterday, you know.’
‘Which one?’
‘Marie.’
‘Pffft,’ he said, blowing an unpleasant noise through his lips and shaking his head. ‘I hate my sisters.’
‘Alexei, don’t say that, please.’
‘But it’s true. They never leave me alone.’
‘Still, they love you very much.’
‘Can I help you change the tyre?’ he asked, looking down at the half-completed job before me.
‘You can watch,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you sit over there?’
‘Can’t I help?’
‘You can be in charge,’ I told him. ‘You can be my supervisor.’
He nodded, satisfied, and took a seat on a large boulder that stood behind him, just the right height for him to sit and talk to me as I worked. It occurred to me that he didn’t seem particularly surprised to find me there, working like this. He didn’t even question it. It was simply another part of his day.
‘You’re bleeding, Georgy,’ he said, pointing at my hand.
I looked down and, sure enough, there was a thin line of blood clotting above my knuckles from where the wrench had injured me. ‘That was your fault,’ I said, grinning at him. ‘You surprised me.’
‘And you said a bad word.’
‘I did,’ I admitted. ‘We won’t speak of it again.’
‘You said—’
‘Alexei,’ I said, frowning.
I picked up the spanner and continued to work on the tyre in silence for a moment, anxious to talk to him but wary of asking my questions too quickly in case he ran back inside to tell the others of his discovery.
‘Your family,’ I said finally. ‘They are all in the house?’
‘They’re upstairs,’ he said. ‘Father is writing letters. Olga is reading some silly novel. Mother is giving my other sisters their lessons.’
‘And you?’ I asked. ‘Why aren’t you at your lessons too?’
‘I am the Tsarevich,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I chose not to partake.’
I smiled at him and nodded, feeling a sudden wave of sorrow for his predicament. The boy didn’t even realize that he was the Tsarevich no longer, that he was just Alexei Nicolaievich Romanov, a boy with as little money or influence as me.
‘I’m glad you’re all well,’ I said. ‘I miss our days at the Winter Palace.’
‘I miss the Standart,’ he said, for the Imperial yacht had always been his favourite of all the royal residences. ‘And I miss my toys and my books. We have so few here.’
‘But you have been well since you came to Yekaterinburg?’ I asked. ‘You haven’t suffered any injuries?’
‘None,’ he said, shuddering a little at the thought of it. ‘Mother doesn’t let me out often. Dr Federov is here too, just in case, but I’ve been quite well, thank you.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘And you, Georgy Daniilovich, how have you been? Do you know that I am thirteen years old now?’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I remembered your birthday last August.’
‘In what way?’
‘I lit a candle for you,’ I replied, recalling the day when I had walked for almost eight hours in order to find a church where I might mark the Tsarevich’s birth. ‘I lit a candle and prayed that you were well and uninjured and that God would keep you safe from harm.’