I am determined to work hard and save so that Varvara can do whatever she wants. Maybe she will be doctor rather than ballerina or even just ordinary person, I do not care so long as she is happy.
Love and kisses Alla xxx
Oct 11th
Dear Adrian
It is so cold here today. I wish I had money to buy new coat but I must send everything back to mama. The same guys come in Kitty Kat Klub all the times. Maybe they are beginning to get bored with me as they do not give so many tips. Maybe I am getting old, even though I am only twenty-two, that is quite old compared to some of the girls, Natasha is only sixteen and she is giving private dances in the back room.
I hate to ask you this and hope you do not think I am taking advantage of our friendship but PLEASE PLEASE if you hear of any job opportunities in your wonderful country you let me know. I feel you are my very good friend.
Love Alla
xxxx
Nov 1st
Dear Adrian
Something very bad happened to Katya. She was kidnapped by one of the guys from the Klub Kabana. This is also club for dancing girls, many of the girls leave Klub Kabana to work here at Kitty Kat because the guy who runs it is very bad man who beats the girls.
The boss got mad with Ivan for stealing his girls and as revenge he takes Katya. They keep her blindfolded and tied up for three days. When she is let go they had cut her face and now she cannot work anymore. It is horrible and the police will do nothing because they say she is prostitute. Ivan says I must take Katya’s job or he will fire me. I am very scared. I do not know what to do. Please can you help me Adrian?
Alla
xxx
Marion had been picking daffodils from beneath the sycamore tree at the end of the garden when she heard the child crying. It was only months after Mother’s funeral, and she had thought of taking some to the grave, but when she looked closely, she saw the petals were tinged with brown and little black bugs were crawling around inside the bell-shaped flower. For goodness’ sake, Marion, you could at least go to the trouble of buying something from a decent florist, rather than giving me those rotten old things. After casting the tainted blooms away, she peered over the garden wall and saw a little red-haired girl. Though not very good at guessing the ages of children, Marion thought the girl must be about four.
“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?” she called out.
The child looked up; her mouth was open and ragged with pain. She scowled at Marion, mucus dripping from her lower lip.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Have you hurt yourself? Where’s your mummy?”
The child looked down at a small felt mouse she was holding as if it might have the answers to these questions.
“Is your mummy inside the house?”
“Ummy hurt gar—” said the girl through sobs.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Mummy hurt gar!” she shouted.
“Your mummy hurt you?”
“Ooooooooooh—” Then she let out a long squeal of frustration. A fat globule of spit fell from her lip, forming a dark patch on her green dungarees. The girl wiped her face with the felt mouse and took a shaky breath.
“Mummy hurt car—Daddy has to pay to make better.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Dey’re fighting.”
“I see.”
“An when car got hurt—I got a sore arm.”
The little girl held up her left arm. Marion saw a dark bruise.
“But don’t tell Daddy,” she whispered, and put her finger over her mouth.
“All right, I promise I won’t.”
Then Judith came out of the house, looking like a French prostitute from the 1920s, her hair in a lopsided black bob, red lipstick, leather miniskirt with fishnet tights. Marion waved at her over the fence.
“Hello there, I’m your neighbor, Marion.”
Judith ignored her, so Marion tried again. “I think your little girl is upset.”
With barely a glance in Marion’s direction, Judith snatched up her daughter and went back into the house.
A few weeks later she appeared on Marion’s doorstep with Lydia. The little girl was holding a pink lunch box in one hand and sucking on a raw, unpeeled carrot in the other. Unlike the last time they met, Judith was smiling and apologetic, her words came out in a giddy torrent:
“Margaret, isn’t it? Hello, I’m Judith, I’m so sorry we haven’t had a chance to really meet until now, but we’ve been so busy, what with the move and everything. I was wondering if you could do me the most enormous favor. This is terribly cheeky of me, I know, but if you’re not busy, could you watch Liddy for just a short while?”
Judith patted her daughter’s head as if she were an unfamiliar, yet friendly dog who had just wandered up to her.
“You see, I’m in the middle of something of a crisis—do you know Patric Mulvane the sculptor? Of course you don’t, but he does fantastic things with bird skeletons—well, I’m supposed to meet with him, as a potential client, anyway I won’t bore you with the details, but her father promised to leave work early and take care of madam here—but he hasn’t turned up—I’d be so grateful.”
“Marion.”
“Sorry?”
“My name is Marion, and yes, I’d be happy to watch her.”
Lydia came into the house, without saying goodbye to her mother. She handed Marion the carrot, still warm and moist from being sucked, then went into the kitchen. After sitting down at the kitchen table, she opened her pink lunch box, took out a drawing pad, and some felt-tip pens, and began drawing pictures of neat little houses.
Marion was filled with wonder as if a baby unicorn had trotted into the house. She sat down cautiously so as not to frighten her away, then watched as she drew pictures. It was difficult to believe something so perfect could exist; perhaps some magical toy maker had created her in his workshop, painted that tiny mouth with sugar-pink enamel and modeled those blue eyes from sapphire-colored glass. Next to the child, Marion felt like a storybook ogre with her big, messy body, clumsy movements, and rough, blotchy skin.
After a while the girl got bored with her drawing; she pushed the pictures away and began kicking her legs beneath the chair.
Marion spoke in a whisper. “Why don’t you come upstairs with me, I have something exciting to show you.”
The girl looked cynically at Marion, and put a finger in her mouth dragging down her lower lip.
“What is it?”
“A secret, something you can’t tell anyone else about.”
Lydia followed Marion up the stairs right until they came to the attic.
When she first saw all the teddies, nearly a hundred piled on the bed, Lydia’s eyes swelled with amazement. She charged across the room, jumped onto the bed, and then began tossing the toys in the air and whooping with glee.
“So many teddy bears, I love them all! How did you get so many?”