Page 34 of The Unseen (Echoes from the Past #5)
TWENTY-SIX
London, England
Valentina closed her eyes and allowed the soothing notes of the sung prayer to wash over her.
It felt good to be in a church again. She’d questioned her faith and the very existence of God during the dark days of their winter in exile, but spring had come eventually and renewed her spirits.
Cousin Dmitri was indeed a godsend. He’d taken them in and made them his family.
Even Elena had blossomed under his tender care.
The first week had been awkward for all of them, but once they’d settled into a routine, it was as if they’d always lived in the house in Belgravia.
Dmitri had been true to his word and saw to all the little details that made the transition easier.
Now, a month later, they looked much as they had before the revolution, a well-turned-out, prosperous family, except that instead of Ivan Kalinin, her mother’s arm rested on that of Dmitri Ostrov.
Tanya and Kolya stood next to their mother, Tanya in a high-necked pale blue dress with a lace collar and Kolya in a tweed suit and crisp white shirt.
Elena wore a new dress in a muted shade of purple.
Cousin Dmitri had talked her out of widow’s black and assured her that purple and lavender were acceptable mourning colors in England.
She’d gained a little weight over the past month, and her skin had lost that papery quality, partially due to better nutrition and partially with the help of the creams Cousin Dmitri had ordered for her.
Elena’s hair was beautifully dressed beneath her black lace headscarf, which she wore to church.
The service came to an end and everyone began to collect their belongings and make their way toward the door.
The church wasn’t as large as the one they had attended in Petrograd, but it was beautiful, in a cozy sort of way, and nearly full.
Valentina was surprised to see so many Russian expats in London.
There were many families with young children and several young women her age.
There were also a number of young men, and Valentina noted shy looks and coy smiles between some of the young ladies and the eligible bachelors.
She caught a few curious stares but didn’t acknowledge them.
She’d meet other people in time, but today, she wasn’t ready to talk of her experiences and share her pain.
Once outside, Valentina was surprised to see that a folding table had been erected to the left of the door.
A young man dressed in a shabby tweed suit and flat cap stood by the table, his gaze watchful.
Newspapers were piled on one side of the table with a tin cup next to them.
Nearly every man who exited the church helped himself to a paper and dropped payment into the cup.
The opposite side of the table was covered with books.
Several ladies drifted over and examined the offerings, while several more seemed to be selling their books to the young man.
Valentina walked over to the table, eager to look at the books.
There was no rush, as Cousin Dmitri seemed to be introducing Elena to some of his acquaintances and Tanya was chatting happily to a girl she’d just met.
“I didn’t realize there was a Russian language newspaper in London,” Valentina remarked to the young man. He reminded her of some of the Gypsies she’d seen back in Russia, with his dark coloring and coal-black eyes, but his pallor revealed that he didn’t spend much time outdoors.
“There isn’t. My brother and I print the paper ourselves.”
“Really? You have a printing press?”
“We work for a printer. He allows us to use the press to print the paper as long as we reimburse him for the cost of paper and ink. We had to invest in Cyrillic typeset, of course,” the young man added.
“Where do you get your news?”
“We still have contacts in Russia, and we also translate some of the articles from the London papers. Most of these people don’t have a solid enough grasp of the English language to read the papers for themselves.
And, of course, people are desperate for books since no Russian language books are sold in the shops. ”
“That’s very clever of you,” Valentina said. “Very enterprising.”
The young man smiled, revealing straight white teeth. “Capitalism at its best.”
“I’m Valentina Kalinina, by the way.” Valentina held out her hand and the young man took it shyly.
“Stanislav Bistritzky.”
“Will you be back here next week? I didn’t bring my reticule with me, but I would like to buy a book.”
“You can just take it and pay me later. Or, if you have any books you’re finished with, you can bring me a book in exchange.”
“That’s very kind. I’ll take this one.” Valentina helped herself to a book of poems by Yesenin.
Her mother would enjoy the poems, and perhaps Valentina would read them as well.
She hadn’t thought to pack any books into her valise, and the lack of reading material had been difficult to deal with at a time when any distraction would have been welcome.
“Enjoy it. I love poetry. I tried writing some myself, but it’s rather maudlin, I must admit.”
“Perhaps you should publish it, since you have the means.”
“No, they are private. I’d be mortified if someone actually read them.”
“I’ve never written poetry, but I tried my hand at writing stories when I was younger,” Valentina confessed. “My parents liked them,” she added wistfully.
“You should try writing again. It helps deal with loss. ”
“How do you know I’ve suffered a loss?” Valentina asked, surprised by his astute observation.
“Everyone who’s here has suffered loss, but I can also see the sadness in your eyes.”
“I lost my father and my fiancé,” Valentina said. She had no idea why she was telling this stranger, but something about him invited confidences.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Valentina walked away from the table when she saw Cousin Dmitri watching her. “I bought a book for Mama,” she explained. “Look, Mama, it’s poems by Yesenin.”
“Thank you, my darling. That was very thoughtful of you. I shall enjoy reading them, although I’m sure they’ll bring back some bittersweet memories.”
“What were you talking to him about?” Dmitri demanded as they walked to his motorcar.
“About his newspaper and where he gets his information.”
“The man is a charlatan,” Dmitri growled as he started the engine.
“Why do you say that?”
“He’s using the pain and suffering of others to line his own pockets.”
“I think he’s providing a valuable service,” Valentina replied.
“Is he? Then he should give out the books and papers for free. ”
“Why? Other newspapers are not handed out for free. Everyone has a right to make a living, and he’s supplying an obvious demand. There wasn’t a single paper left by the time I left.”
“Yes, he and his brother have certainly found a convenient place to sell their wares. By the church, of all places.”
“Well, that’s where the émigrés congregate, isn’t it?” Valentina wasn’t sure why she was defending the young man, but she couldn’t understand why Dmitri was so incensed.
“He has no respect. He wouldn’t, being a Jew.”
“What does being a Jew have to do with it?” Valentina asked.
“They always find a way to make a profit off others, in any circumstances. It’s disgraceful, but I wouldn’t expect anything better from the likes of him.”
“Dmitri, Valentina, please, let’s talk of something else. Surely this young man is not worth such anger.”
“I’m sorry, my dear. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Dmitri replied, his tone now gentle. “Of course, you are correct. The young man is providing a useful service.”
“Indeed, he is. I very much look forward to reading these poems.”
“Perhaps you can read them to us out loud after supper,” Dmitri suggested.
“It would be my pleasure,” Elena replied as she laid a soothing hand on Dmitri’s arm. “I do like riding around in a motorcar. This is a new experience for all of us, isn’t it?”
“It’s grand,” Kolya said. “When I grow up, I’ll have a motorcar of my own. Maybe two. ”
“So will I,” Tanya piped in. “And I will drive it myself. I’ve no need of a man.”
“Tanya!” Elena cried.
“Women drive, Mother. Women do many things in this country.”
“So they do,” Elena replied bleakly. “So they do.”
“Valya, you must show Dmitri respect,” Elena said once they were alone in the parlor. Dmitri had gone out to run an errand, and Elena had called for tea.
“I did nothing wrong.”
“You antagonized him.”
“I had no idea he was such an anti-Semite.”
“He’s perfectly nice to Mrs. Stern.”
“Because she serves a purpose. Isn’t he benefitting from her family’s hardship? So, why is it wrong for Stanislav Bistritzky to sell his newspaper?”
“It isn’t, but you don’t need to argue with Dmitri about it. He’s entitled to his opinions, and given that we’re living on his generous bounty, you will control your tongue in the future.”
“Yes, Mama. I’m sorry.”
“Have some tea.”
Valentina accepted a cup of tea. She was grateful to Dmitri for all he’d done for them, and was still going to do, but she hated feeling beholden and having to hold her tongue for fear of offending their benefactor.
Perhaps, in time, she could find some sort of employment, so that she’d at least have some of her own money and not feel entirely dependent on him.