‘But I want to start working,’ pleaded Alex, ‘so we can both earn some money.’
‘If you hope to end up with a worthwhile position, and eventually earn a proper salary,’ said Elena, ‘you’ll have to go back to school and make sure you’re offered a place at university.’
Alex couldn’t hide his disappointment, but he knew this was the one thing his mother wouldn’t compromise on.
‘Then you’ll have to make an appointment with the education officer at City Hall,’ said Dimitri. ‘But not before you both get some new clothes and Elena’s landed that job in the pizza parlour, so we’d better get going.’
Once they were back on the street, Alex tried to take in everything that was going on around him. He wondered how long it would be before, like Dimitri, he too melted into the background.
One of the first things Alex noticed was that not all of the men were wearing a suit and hat, while many of the women were dressed in brightly coloured clothes, some of them in dresses that didn’t even cover their knees. The paper boy was standing on the same street corner, shouting a different headline.
‘Bobby Kennedy assassinated!’
Alex wondered if Bobby Kennedy was related to the former president, whom he knew had also been assassinated. If he’d had a dime, he would have bought a paper. Once they were back at the market, Elena would have liked to stop and inspect the freshly baked bread, the oranges, apples and so many other vegetables, and ask about those she was unfamiliar with. What did an avocado taste like, she wondered, and could you eat the skin?
Alex couldn’t resist stopping every few moments to stare into the windows of shops that offered watches, radios, televisions and gramophone records. He kept being distracted, and then having to run to catch up with Dimitri and Elena.
They finally arrived outside the Goodwill store on Hudson, just as a young woman was turning the CLOSED sign around to read OPEN. Dimitri led them inside, still very much in charge.
Elena spent her time rifling through the shelves and clothes racks before she selected a white shirt and a dark blue tie for Alex. She then turned her attention to a row of suits hanging on a long rail, while Dimitri chatted to the shop assistant. Alex was disappointed when his mother picked out a plain grey suit, which she held up against him to check the size. It was a little large, but she knew it wouldn’t be too long before he grew into it. She told him to try it on.
When Alex came out of the changing room, dressed in his new suit, he couldn’t help noticing that the girl behind the counter was taking a closer look at him. He turned away, embarrassed. Elena pretended not to notice as she began to pick out some clothes for herself: a simple blue dress and a pleated black skirt. She was beginning to worry that her money must be running out, when she spotted a pair of black leather shoes that would go perfectly with Alex’s new suit.
‘A man dropped them in on Saturday afternoon,’ said the girl. ‘He told me no one wears shoes with laces any longer.’
‘Perfect,’ said Elena once Alex had tried them on and walked around the shop a couple of times.
‘How much?’ Elena asked, gathering up all the goods and placing them on the counter.
‘Five dollars,’ said the girl.
Elena handed over the money, stood back and admired her son, no longer a child. She didn’t notice Dimitri hand the girl another ten dollars, give Alex a wink, and say, ‘Thank you, Miss Marshall,’ as the girl handed him a bag full of their old clothes.
‘I hope you’ll come back soon,’ said Addie. ‘We get new stuff in every day.’
‘Now we have to find the pizza parlour as quickly as possible,’ said Dimitri, as he left the shop and dropped the bag of old clothes in the nearest trashcan. ‘Can’t afford to be late and let someone else get that job.’
Elena was about to rescue the bag, when Alex said, ‘No, Mother.’ She reluctantly joined her son, and they set off once again at a pace everyone else on the sidewalk seemed to consider normal, and they didn’t slow down until Dimitri spotted a red and white sign swinging in the breeze. He crossed the road, dodging in and out of traffic, while Elena and Alex followed, showing none of the same confidence as cars shot past them, horns blaring.
‘Leave the talking to me,’ said Dimitri as he pushed open the door and walked inside. He went straight up to a man standing behind the counter and said, ‘I want to speak to the manager.’
‘That’s me,’ said the man, looking up from his booking sheet.
‘I’ve come about the job you advertised in the Post for a pizza cook,’ said Dimitri. ‘It’s not for me, but for this lady, and you’d be lucky to get her.’
‘Have you worked in a pizza parlour before?’ the man asked, turning his attention to Elena.
‘No, sir.’
‘Then I can only offer you a job as washer-up.’
‘But she’s a fully qualified cook,’ said Dimitri.
‘What was your last job?’ asked the manager.
‘I was the head cook in an officers’ club in Leningrad.’
‘In Queens?’
‘No, in Russia.’
‘We don’t employ commies,’ said the manager, spitting out the words.
‘I’m not a communist,’ protested Elena. ‘In fact I hate them. I would still be there if . . . but I didn’t have any choice.’
‘But I do,’ said the manager. ‘The only job fit for a commie is as a washer-up. The pay’s fifty cents an hour.’
‘Seventy-five,’ said Dimitri.
‘You’re hardly in a position to bargain,’ said the manager. ‘She can take it or leave it.’
‘We’ll leave it,’ said Dimitri. He began to walk towards the door, but this time Elena didn’t follow.
‘Where’s the kitchen?’ was all she said, rolling up her sleeves.
*
As Elena didn’t have to clock on at the pizza parlour before ten, she went straight to City Hall the following morning. After checking the board in the lobby she took the elevator to the third floor. By the time she left a couple of hours later, Elena knew the only school she wanted Alex to attend.
She didn’t make an appointment to see the principal, but in her afternoon break sat in the corridor outside his office until he finally gave in and agreed to see her.
Alex reluctantly joined the twelfth grade of Franklin High the following Monday, and it wasn’t long before the principal had to admit that Mrs Karpenko hadn’t exaggerated when she suggested he would be top in maths and Russian. They weren’t the only subjects he excelled in, although Alex was far more interested in several lucrative activities that were not listed on the school’s official curriculum.
10
SASHA
London
It was at least a week before the other boys stopped staring at Sasha. Although the lower sixth had experienced their fair share of overseas students, he was the first Russian the boys had set eyes on. What did they imagine would be different about him, Sasha wondered.
As English was his second language, it was assumed that he would have difficulty keeping up with the rest of the class. But within a month, several of his classmates had abandoned trying to keep up with ‘the Russki’, and when it came to maths, his third language, Mr Sutton admitted to the headmaster, ‘It won’t be too long before he realizes there’s not much more I can teach him.’
While his academic prowess was admired by many, what made Sasha particularly popular with the other boys was his ability to keep ‘a clean sheet’.
‘A clean sheet?’ said Elena. ‘But you sleep at home, so how can the other boys know if your sheets are clean?’
‘No, Mother, I’ve just become the school’s First Eleven goalkeeper, and we’ve gone three matches without the opposition scoring.’ What he didn’t tell her was that Maurice Tremlett, the boy he’d replaced as goalkeeper, couldn’t hide his anger when he was demoted to the Second Eleven – and it didn’t help that Tremlett was school captain.