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CHAPTER 22 : MOTHERCARE
Anatoly and Sveta are asleep in one another’s arms. Sveta is dreaming of Alana as a little girl and a family holiday to the Crimea. Alana is playing with a little bell. Sveta realises in a moment of rational thought that she is asleep and wants to stay that way. "If only Alana would stop ringing the bell", she thinks as she drifts deeper into sleep once more With a start Sveta realises the noise is the bedside telephone. The ’phone is on Sveta’s side of the bed. She picks it up.
"What? It’s Sveta? Who is this?" She’s awake quickly, a legacy of her military career.
"Mamma?"
"Alana?"
"Mamma, I think the baby is coming. Vitaly is taking me to the clinic. We have called Dr Maevitch."
Although she has been waiting for this moment almost as keenly as Alana, the sudden onset of labour still has come as a surprise. "Oh ah we will come wait for us no, I mean go right away. We will come up now. Is that alright?"
"Mamma," Alanna’s tone is almost scolding. "Leave it to me and Vitaly We will be fine. There is no need for you to race up here just yet. Let me get to the clinic and Vitaly will let you know what is going on. Alright?"
"Yes, alright. I we we must keep in touch."
"Mamma: it will be alright. I am telling you."
By now, Anatoly is also awake. His little girl is going to have her own baby! He remembers Alana as she was. As a little girl. The funny things she did and the funny things she said. Why did they not write them down more carefully? And now, his little girl will soon be a mother and have her very own tiny baby
He turns over and places a hand gently on his wife’s shoulder. This will be a difficult day for her. A confusion of hope, joy, anxiety and regret for the children she did not have and especially for the child she could have had.
He says: "I’m going to make tea. Would you like some?"
"Yes, let me come with you."
Hand in hand, Sveta and Anatoly leave the safety of their room and pad down into the kitchen.
I am alone in my cell when in the middle of the night the door is thrown open. I had a second or so of warning as the lights came on and locks clicked open. In the door way stands the naked form of Sveta Kustenskaya. She walks straight in and sits on my bed. "Vyerochka," she says, "Alana has telephoned. Her baby is on the way. Anatoly and I are having tea in the kitchen. Please come and join us. It does not seem right for us to be alone."
I obediently follow her, trying to squeeze the last vestiges of sleep from my mind, to be confronted in the kitchen by my Owner also completely naked, looking for cups so he can pour the tea!
The whole scene is bizarre beyond belief.
"Vyerochka: the cups: do you know ?"
"Da! Gaspadeen. Here let me help you."
"Thank you – no – take three cups. There! That’s better. Please join us. Sveta has told you about Alana?"
What a couple they are! For two people who must be somewhere in middle age, they have been spared many of the ravages of time.
Gaspadeen is tall, beautifully muscled with not a hint of ‘middle aged spread’. He holds himself perfectly erect in his posture. You can see he is in very good shape. As he turns, I see the heraldic emblems of the KGB tattooed on his shoulder. It is clear now why the Dacha should have such a well organised and well equipped gymnasium. Gaspazha is also tall, but not quite so tall as her husband. Her complexion is more swarthy and her pubic hair is as dark as the hair on her head. She has the poise and grace of a gymnast and the body of an athlete - a runner to complement the ‘body builder’ physique of her husband. Her mons forms a neat dome between her legs with her labia nicely formed beneath. The tops of her legs have been carefully waxed (I guess) and her public hair has been shaped into a little knot above her labia. I find my mouth beginning to water. What would she be like to suck?
Gaspadeen Kustensky thrusts a cup into my hand. Breaking up my fantasies. "I don’t usually take milk but I have added some jam. Is that... I mean are you happy with ?" So odd that he is polite and thoughtful! Concerned that his slave might still enjoy her tea with milk, the English way and not tea with jam, in the Russian way. Has he forgotten the efforts which are being made to help me forget my English ways? Perhaps, at a moment such as this, forgetfulness is understandable.
"Da! Gaspadeen. I am perfectly happy. You are both very thoughtful. So when ?"
"The little one has not been born yet! Alana telephoned to say she is going to the clinic," replies Gaspazha Sveta on his behalf and continues:
"She has also asked – no, that’s not quite right she has told us to stay here until she has news."
"Ah. Well, I am sure that is er understandable. A time for the couple themselves?"
"It is rather like the night of one’s marriage, adds Anatoly Sergeyevitch, "Not the occasion for parents to be close by!"
"No, absolutely not!" It’s how I would feel if it was me.
So at last, a moment of shared experience between the three of us! We have all had that moment of perfect intimacy, after our marriages. They have taken my marriage from me and Neena, their lieutenant, has tried to persuade me that the moment belongs to another girl in another world. As things stand right now, she is correct but that other girl and I are still connected by some shared, tenuous memories. Especially in the stillness of the night, when I can still feel her, when I even feel that I was her. The curious thing is that now I feel no resentment, as I probably should. No feeling of having been cheated out of an experience - bearing the baby of my husband – which should have been mine - would have been mine in due course, had I not walked down a particular street in a particular city at a particular time on a particular day. Yes: I am happy to do all I can to help others to enjoy this precious moment and I feel completely at ease with no disappointment or envy at doing so.
"We were planning to send you and Neena to Moscow to look after the house for Vitaly whilst Alana is in the clinic. When she comes home, there will be a professional paediatric nurse - Ocsana - to help with the technicalities. She has received training in London, by the way and you will be able to attend to all the other things which have to be done and then we’ll see."
And then we will see. Here I stand, naked as the day I was born, planning the homecoming arrangements for the grandchild of my abductors, drinking tea with them, all of us naked, and feeling completely calm and sanguine as though that is how my life was meant to be. It’s the calmness which is so disturbing. Why can’t I still have the fire of someone like Pavea? The fire which burns within, to reassure me that one day - one day - I will be the mother of a child created by me and ... and what was his name?
Dmitry Vitalyevitch Zhukov arrived in the world at 06:30 on a summer morning in June.
The staff (which of course now includes me but excludes Pavea who is still locked away safely in her cell) are gathered in the dining room where Svetlana Nikitechna and Anatoly Sergeyevitch make their announcement. There is champagne for all of us, even for me, and we toast the little boy and his parents and bask in the happiness of his grandparents who are in equal measure, delighted and relieved at his safe arrival. A photograph has been sent to Anatoly Sergeyevitch’s i-phone and the phone is passed round for us all to admire a small squashy face of the sleeping infant, the rest of him wrapped in a white shawl, cradled in the arms of a tired but radiant Alana.
Neena approaches me: "you and I are to go to Alana’s home in Moscow to make things ready. You will stay there for as long as you are required. I hear you were up in the night?"
I smile. A rude but interesting awakening!
"Da, Gaspazha, I can leave with you at once."
"Be at the garden door at ten, I will collect you from there."
The garden door. The door from which I stepped into the depths of a Russian winter, a year ago, or was it two? It seems so very long ago now. The door through which I stepped and first knew, first really knew that my life had changed for ever.
During the journey to Moscow, Neena briefs me on my duties and also sets up the ground rules. "You will have to go on shopping errands and assist Gaspadeen Vitaly and the nurse Ocsana. Also, I understand there is still work for you to do on your research report, so Dr Mendeleyev and Dr Romanova will need you at the University from time to time. It would be ..." she searches for the best word "... convenient if we can rely on you to find your own way around the City on the Metro."
I find that astonishing! It’s a degree of freedom they haven’t allowed me before.
"You can be accompanied, if necessary. The question is: can I rely on you? Do you at last know your place, Vyerochka? Will it be better to have you chaperoned?"
Well, how on earth do I reply to a question like that? Neena is proposing to give me a limited freedom, to be more a normal person once more. Is this that long hoped for opportunity for escape? But where could I go? Who do I know? I could turn up at the BBC office and tell my story. Would they believe such a fantastic tale? If I knew where the British Embassy was I could appeal for help but my appearance bears no relationship to any records they might obtain of me and – assuming I got so far as crossing the threshold - whilst languid passport and nationality checks were made, my collar would signal my whereabouts and receive instructions to release its poison, to execute the runaway slave. Also: where are they anyway? I have not had access to anything which would tell me. It’s clear. Neena is merely setting a temptation in front of me. I have to reject it.
"Thank you Gaspazha, but I would prefer to be chaperoned. First, I do not know my way around. Second, I do not want to suffer the consequences of getting lost: I do not want to ‘worry’ my collar as it tries to make sure I remain within any boundaries you have set. Third, this sounds like the chance to live a conventional life, but I do not have a conventional life anymore and I do not want to be tortured by the constant comparison of how I live now and what life was like for another girl in another place in another time. So please let me have one of the security staff as my companion!"
Neena smiles broadly." Bravo rapina! What a good reply! By your answer, I know you are now ready to take more responsibility and be more useful to us than you were before. You shall have Pyotr for the first few days. Afterwards, I will let you have a map of the city and the Metro, which will clearly show the areas in which you are permitted and the areas which are out of bounds and then you will be on your own responsibility – but you can be sure, we shall still watch!"
I sigh in reply. This limited freedom will in fact be merely a longer leash. It will be another kind of hard work.
"If you look in the glove compartment you will find two things you will need" Inside I find a mobile phone and a wrist watch. I gaze at them uncomprehending for a moment. A watch and a phone I have not had a watch in ever such a long time and the mobile? Suddenly it seems to have something dangerous about it. This is something that could get me into serious trouble. Do I really have to take them? I would so much prefer to do without.
Neena ploughs on, "The mobile has only certain permitted numbers. You will only be able to reach my own mobile, the duty security guard at Vitaly and Alana’s home, Vitaly and Alana themselves, Ocsana, the Dacha and any other numbers I add. Those would be Julia and Dr Mendeleyev on days when you have to work with them."
So, she really must be serious ...?
E-mail from Neena Alexandrovna to
Anatoly Sergeyevitch Kustensky and
Dr Igor Ivanovitch Mendeleyev
I am very pleased to report really excellent progress by Vyera.
I gave her instructions about her work for Vitaly and Alana in Moscow and mentioned in particular, that she would have to run shopping errands. I gave her the opportunity to ask for a chaperone to keep her under close supervision or to accept my offer of free access to the city.
Without hesitation, she asked to be chaperoned, to keep her grounded in her new life as a slave and to avoid the emotional torment of thinking of herself as a free individual once more and living a ‘conventional life’, to use her own words.
This answer makes me think that she is in fact now ready to work within a normal social sphere but within clearly defined boundaries. She should still receive regular discipline, not for the punishment of infractions (now quite rare) but to maintain her view of herself as an enslaved individual and that for her, enslavement has become her natural state.
We reach Alana and Vitaly’s home once more; the small detached house in the neat Moscow suburb.
The garden is now full of flowers and flowering shrubs. It is very beautiful and tranquil.
I am in the downstairs office with Neena and Pyotr. Neena spreads out a plan of the Metro. It’s not a standard plan. All the lines are present but only some of them are in colour and only some of the stations are included. (1)
"So these are your boundaries", Neena tells me. "You can reach the University directly using Line One – here, do you see?" She glances up at me to make sure I am paying attention.
"Then", she continues, "we may need you to go here". She turns the plan over to reveal an extract from the Moscow street map showing the area around the University. When you leave the station, you turn left onto Vernadskogo Prospect and walk straight ahead. Then turn first left onto Stroiteley Ulitsa. Walk straight ahead and under the new Leninsky Prospect bridge turn right and walk down old Leninsky Prospect. In the second block on the left you will find the shop you need. It is called ‘Mothercare’. What’s funny?"
"I’m sorry, Gaspazha. I think I have seen that before."
"Ah ... really? ... ah. I do not think they exist outside Russia. I am sure if you reflect, you will agree you must have been mistaken."
So, occasionally my Owners and their colleagues actually do make mistakes, because I can even remember being taken to Mothercare when I was a little girl. There is one in every British town, but that’s something I will keep to myself. (2)
I reply, "Yes, I am sure you are correct", but actually I do more than merely acquiesce. I summon up the mental effort to drive the memory away somewhere safe, somewhere far out of mind. Dwelling on it will do me no good and bring me no peace.
Neena is speaking again, "Tickets on the Metro cost twenty eight roubles for each journey (3). You will buy one ticket for each journey. Your ticket allows you to pass through the admission barriers, onto the platform and through the exit barriers at your destination. Today you will make these journeys with Pyotr. I expect you to complete your task without the need for any advice or help. When you come up onto street level, you will check-in using your mobile ‘phone. Is that clear? Quite clear? We know how long the journeys should be at any particular time of day and will expect to hear from you within five minutes of our estimate. Incidentally, we will be aware of any operational problems on the Metro network. Are my instructions still clear, rabinya?"
"Spaseeba, Gaspazha, ya ponomayoo!" Thank you Mistress, I understand. The words of my new language trip from my tongue effortlessly ...
"Harosho, rabinya Vyerochka. I will look forward to your report and Pyotr’s report about you."
Like an aeroplane on auto-pilot, I engage with the protocol for navigating the Moscow Metro and set off to find Mothercare; this establishment which is only to be found in Mother Russia, according to my Supervisor but which I know will give me a painful sense of dιjΰ vu, when I finally enter its doors.
The Metro is breath taking. The scale of the design and the flair of the construction. I have, quite simply never seen the like before.
As I gaze at the chandeliers, the marble floors, the ornate plasterwork, the colourful mosaics, I am torn between emotions: I should feel pride, when I gaze at the achievements of my country because I am a Russian myself: they told me so. These are achievements of my country. Or should I acknowledge the feeling of alienation I still have. The certainty that I do not really belong. That I am a stranger in a strange land?
Once in the train, I take a seat and inspect my fellow passengers. The old, the middle-aged, the young. The old seem wearied by years and the changes and chances of troubled lives. The young are familiar: the happy confident optimistic faces found in any modern city. The middle-aged: A curious hybrid of the two extremes. Confident, yet apprehensive. Prosperous, yet wary of what the future may bring.
I emerge onto a street with booming fast moving traffic. I check in using the mobile phone that Neena gave me. There’s no sense of approval at the other end, just recognition of the fact that I have emerged and I am doing exactly as I have been told.
As I approach my destination, it is instantly recognizable. A ghost from a former life which still walks and haunts me. I have to buy a baby changing box, baby wipes, a baby changing bag and ‘natusan’ whatever that may be.(4) I take them from the shelves, present myself at the checkout and discover that I have change from the cash which has been given to me. I check: there is still money left over once my return ticket has been bought. This is a deliberate challenge. I should merely return ‘home’ but something draws me back to the displays. I stand admiring the little baby dresses and baby grows. They are so tiny. So innocent. On impulse, I buy one! A white and pale blue striped all-in-one baby-grow with smocking across the chest and trimmed with bright blue, white and red at the collar and cuffs. I will get beaten for this, but I do not care. I will blame a ‘maternal instinct’ when they question my brazen failure to follow instructions! The fact is, I just do not care anymore. I am a woman. They have sent me to a baby shop. I am helping to look after a baby. Women in my position buy things for babies.
As I leave the store to return to the house with my purchases and my contraband, I find myself thinking about an old life I once led and a man with whom I shared it. I cannot imagine ever going back now and after so long, would he still want me? Surely the time has come to exorcise his ghost from my mind and set him free to live his own life: to make new friends, to form new relationships and to walk on into the future, unencumbered by memories of me. With a great effort, I try to visualize his image, to imagine him standing in front of me, one last time. We hold hands. We kiss, gently, respectfully on the cheek and then take a step back, to regard each other for the last time. Our hands slip apart. He smiles. I smile. He turns, walks, turns again to give me a fleeting smile as he looks at me for the last time over his shoulder and then he is lost in the press of the passers-by on the pavement as he walks away westward. I stand and watch his retreat. I wish him well and turn to descend into the Metro and to resume the strange new life to which I have been recruited. We are both free now. He is free to live his life. I am free to embrace my chains.
MISSION CONTROL MOSCOW
E-mail from Neena Alexandrovna to
Anatoly Sergeyevitch Kustensky and Svetlana Nikitechna Kustenskaya
Dr Igor Ivanovitch Mendeleyev
I am pleased to report the Vyera returned from her first solo mission into Moscow safely.
She had followed her instructions to the letter – well not quite to the letter, but see below. She made her journey by Metro accurately , found the shop quickly and made her purchases successfully. She then returned immediately.
She reported her progress using the mobile ‘phone she was given and examination of the unit after she returned showed that she had not attempted to call any unauthorized numbers and she had not tried to send a text – in fact she had not explored the text option.
She was tracked both by her collar and also by a RFID hidden in her clothes which shows that there is an operational back-up if either of the units fail.
She was discretely observed throughout and there was no cause for concern at any point.
She reported her progress using the mobile ‘phone she was given and examination of the unit after she returned showed that she had not attempted to call any unauthorized numbers and she had not tried to send a text – in fact she had not explored the text option.
When she realized that the money she had been given was more that she needed to make her purchases and buy her ticket home, she indulged herself and bought a little baby-grow for Dmitry.
This was not included in her instructions but I did not punish her for this little disobedience because:
1. She did not use the money for her self
2. She thought of our interests, not hers
3. It shows that the training she has undergone has not damaged her humanity nor her womanly instincts
4. If you will permit me to say – it is just lovely! I have attached a photo taken on my mobile.
I hope I made the correct decision, in the circumstances?
.
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