Konstantin Karpenko’s funeral was held at the Church of the Apostle Andrew. The turnout was so large that the congregation spilled out onto the street, long before the choir had entered the nave.
The bishop who delivered the eulogy described Konstantin’s death as a tragic accident. But then, he was probably one of the few people who believed the official communiqué issued by the dock commandant, and only then after it had been sanctioned by Moscow.
Standing near the front were twelve men who knew it wasn’t an accident. They had lost their leader, and the promise of a thorough investigation by the KGB wouldn’t help their cause, because state inquiries usually took at least a couple of years to report their findings, by which time their moment would have passed.
Only family and close friends stood beside the grave to pay their last respects. Elena sprinkled some earth onto the coffin as the body of her husband was lowered slowly into the ground. Alexander forced himself to hold back the tears. She wept but stepped back and held her son’s hand, something she hadn’t done for years. He was suddenly aware that, despite his youth, he was now the head of the family.
He looked up to see Vladimir, who he hadn’t spoken to since his father’s death, half-hidden at the back of the gathering. When their eyes met, his best friend quickly looked away. His father’s words reverberated in Alexander’s mind. He’s cunning and ruthless. Believe me, he’d shop his mother for a ticket to the cup final, probably even the semi-final. Vladimir hadn’t been able to resist telling Alexander that he’d got a stand seat for the match on Saturday, although he wouldn’t say who had given it to him, or what he’d had to do to get it.
Alexander could only wonder just how far Vladimir would go to make sure he was recruited by the KGB. He realized in that instant they were no longer friends. After a few minutes Vladimir scurried away, like Judas in the night. He’d done everything except kiss Alexander’s father on the cheek.
Elena and Alexander remained kneeling by the graveside long after everyone else had departed. When she finally rose, Elena couldn’t help wondering what her husband had done to cause such wrath. Only the most brainwashed party member could have accepted the official line that after the tragic accident the crane operator had committed suicide. Even Leonid Brezhnev, the party’s General Secretary, had joined in the deception, with a Kremlin spokesman announcing that Comrade Konstantin Karpenko had been made a Hero of the Soviet Union, and his widow would receive a full state pension.
Elena had already turned her attention to the other man in her life. She had decided she would move to Moscow, find a job, and do everything in her power to advance her son’s career. But after a long discussion with her brother Kolya, she reluctantly accepted that she would have to remain in Leningrad, and try to carry on as if nothing had happened. She would be lucky even to hold on to her present job, because the KGB had tentacles that stretched far beyond her irrelevant existence.
On Saturday, in the semi-final of the Soviet Cup, Zenit F.C. beat Odessa 2–1, and qualified to play Torpedo Moscow in the final.
Vladimir was already trying to work out what he needed to do to get a ticket.
2
ALEXANDER
Elena woke early, still not used to sleeping alone. Once she’d given Alexander his breakfast and packed him off to school, she tidied the flat, put on her coat and left for work. Like Konstantin, she preferred to walk to the docks, and not have to repeat a thousand times, how kind of you.
She thought about the death of the only man she’d ever loved. What were they hiding from her? Why wouldn’t anyone tell her the truth? She would have to pick the right moment and ask her brother, who she was sure knew far more than he was willing to admit. And then she thought about her son, whose exam results were due any day now.
She finally thought about her job, which she couldn’t afford to lose while Alexander was still at school. Was the state pension a hint that they no longer wanted her around? Did her presence continually remind everyone how her husband had died? But she was good at her job, which was why she worked in the officers’ club, and not in the docks’ canteen.
‘Welcome back, Mrs Karpenko,’ said the guard on the gate when she clocked in.
‘Thank you,’ said Elena.
As she walked through the docks several workers doffed their caps and greeted her with a ‘Good morning’, reminding her just how popular Konstantin had been.
Once she had entered the back door of the officers’ club, Elena hung up her coat, put on an apron and went through to the kitchen. She checked the lunch menu, the first thing she did every morning. Vegetable soup and veal pie. It must be Friday. She began to inspect the meat, and then there were vegetables to be sliced and potatoes to be peeled.
A gentle hand rested on her shoulder. Elena turned to see Comrade Akimov, a sympathetic smile on his face.
‘It was a wonderful service,’ her supervisor said. ‘But no more than Konstantin deserved.’ Someone else who obviously knew the truth, but wasn’t willing to voice it. Elena thanked him, but didn’t stop working until the siren sounded to announce the midmorning break. She hung up her apron and joined Olga in the yard. Her friend was enjoying the other half of yesterday’s cigarette, and passed the stub to Elena.
‘It’s been one hell of a week,’ said Olga, ‘but we all played our part in making sure you didn’t lose your job. I was personally responsible for yesterday’s lunch being a disaster,’ she added after inhaling deeply. ‘The soup was cold, the meat was overcooked, the vegetables were soggy, and guess who forgot to make any gravy. The officers were all asking when you’d be back.’
‘Thank you,’ said Elena, wanting to hug her friend, but the siren sounded again.
*
Alexander hadn’t cried at his father’s funeral. So when Elena arrived home after work that night and found him sitting in the kitchen sobbing, she realized it could only be one thing.
She sat down on the bench beside him and put an arm around his shoulder.
‘Winning the scholarship was never that important,’ she said. ‘Just being offered a place at the Foreign Language Institute is a great honour in itself.’
‘But I haven’t been offered a place anywhere,’ said Alexander.
‘Not even to study mathematics at the state university?’
Alexander shook his head. ‘I’ve been ordered to report to the docks on Monday morning, when I’ll be allocated to a gang.’
‘Never!’ said Elena. ‘I’ll protest.’
‘It will fall on deaf ears, Mama. They’ve made it clear that I don’t have any choice.’
‘What about your friend Vladimir? Will he also be joining you on the docks?’
‘No. He’s been offered a place at the state university. He starts in September.’
‘But you beat him in every subject.’
‘Except treachery,’ said Alexander.
*
When Major Polyakov strolled into the kitchen just before lunch the following Monday, he leered at Elena as if she were on the menu. The major was no taller than her, but must have been twice her weight, which was, Olga joked, a tribute to her cooking. Polyakov held the title of Head of Security, but everyone knew he was KGB and reported directly to the dock commandant, so even his fellow officers were wary of him.
It wasn’t long before the leer turned into a close inspection of Elena’s latest dish. While other officers would occasionally come into the kitchen to sample a titbit, Polyakov’s hands ran down her back, coming to rest on her bottom. He pressed himself up against her. ‘See you after lunch,’ he whispered before leaving to join his fellow officers in the dining room. Elena was relieved to see him rushing out of the building an hour later. He didn’t return before she clocked off, but she feared it could only be a matter of time.
*