Page 37 of The Unseen (Echoes from the Past #5)
TWENTY-NINE
Valentina took the omnibus to Fleet Street and then walked the rest of the way.
McGovern’s Print Shop was tucked away on a side street, its front window less than clean and the dark green sign faded and peeling.
She hoped Stanislav wouldn’t be angry with her for coming, but she had no other way to contact him and had no wish to speak to him in front of Cousin Dmitri on Sunday.
Stanislav had told her where he worked during one of their conversations, and said that he and his brother took their dinner break at noon.
The bell above the door chimed, summoning a portly, balding gentleman who wore a pair of grimy specs and a leather apron. “How can I help, miss?”
“I’d like to see Mr. Bistritzky, please.”
“Which one?”
“Stanislav.”
“Stan!” the man hollered. “A charming young lady is here to see you.” He winked at Valentina and left her to wait. She looked around, taking in various pamphlets, books, and leaflets.
Stanislav appeared through a door at the back of the shop. His hands were stained with ink and he wore an apron to protect his clothes.
“Miss Kalinina, what a surprise. Were you in the neighborhood?”
“No, I came to see you. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course. I have my break coming up in a few minutes. Would you care to join me for a cup of tea? There’s a little place Max and I go to just around the corner. The proprietor allows us to eat our sandwiches as long as we order a pot of tea. ”
“Yes, tea would be great.”
Stanislav retreated back behind the door and reappeared a few minutes later, sans apron and with semi-clean hands. “Max will have his dinner here today. He has something he wishes to finish.”
Valentina walked with Stanislav to the tea shop, acutely conscious of the awkward silence between them.
She’d never called on a man before, and he’d probably never had anyone seek him out at work.
He held the door for her and they entered the tiny shop.
Stanislav nodded to the man who came to greet them and asked for a table for two and a pot of tea.
“Would you like some scones?” he asked.
“Why not? But please allow me to treat you. I’m the one who came to see you, and I’d like to recompense you for your time.”
“There’s really no need, Miss Kalinina. Seeing you is a pleasure, and I would have come here anyway.”
“All right,” Valentina conceded.
They settled at a table by the window and Stanislav shyly took out his lunch. “Would you like half?”
“No, thank you. Enjoy your lunch. What is that?” She couldn’t quite make out what was spread between the bread of the sandwich.
“It’s shkvarki,” Stanislav replied, coloring slightly. “It’s basically just onions fried in chicken fat and allowed to congeal,” he explained when Valentina looked blank. “It’s poor-people food,” he added bitterly.
“I didn’t mean to imply…”
“I know you didn’t. My mother is very frugal. Max and I give her a portion of our salaries so she can buy food, but she scrimps and only makes a decent meal on the Sabbath. Then, we have brisket or roasted chicken. We look forward to it all week.”
Valentina poured tea for both of them and helped herself to a scone and some clotted cream. She wasn’t a huge fan of the stuff, but the tearoom didn’t offer any jam or even butter. “The reason I came to see you today is that I want to make you a proposition.”
“Oh?”
“These past few months I’ve lived off my cousin’s bounty. He’s been very good to us, but I would like to earn money of my own—without his knowledge.”
“And how can I help?” Stanislav asked.
“I noticed that only men purchase your newspaper.”
“I expect they convey the news to their womenfolk,” Stanislav said as he reached for a scone, having finished his sad excuse for a sandwich.
“Well, what if there was a newspaper for women?”
“For women?”
“Yes. Like Ladies’ Journal or some such.”
“And who would print this paper?”
“You would. And I would contribute articles and back matter.”
“What back matter?” Stanislav had stopped chewing and was watching her intently.
“I would think that some of these Russian families are always on the lookout for Russian-speaking maids, nannies, cooks, and even tutors. And it’s usually the women who see to hiring staff.
Perhaps the back page could be used for advertisements, for which we could charge a fee.
There could also be write-ups of current fashion trends, maybe some society gossip.
These women might not speak English, but they are very well aware of who is who, all the same. ”
“What type of articles would you write?”
“Well, for one, I would like to keep a running commentary on the suffragette movement. I know that many of the older ladies are staunchly opposed to women voting, but the younger ones are intrigued and would like to know more. I thought I might also do a monthly feature on some extraordinary woman, like Florence Nightingale. I read an article about her recently and thought that writing about her might inspire some young women to go into nursing.”
“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”
“I’ve been thinking for a long while that I need to find a way to earn some money, and once I saw what you were doing, I thought it was rather brilliant.
I have a little bit put away, so I could reimburse you for your expenses.
We could put out several issues and see how it goes.
Perhaps a pamphlet at first, and after a time, an actual newspaper. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a very interesting idea. Let me consult Max. I can’t agree to anything without his approval. We’re in this together. We have plans of starting our own publishing house one day, so we can’t afford to take any unnecessary risks.”
“I completely understand. Do let me know your thoughts, but be discreet. I wouldn’t want Dmitri Pavlovich to know what I’m up to.”
“Would your articles be anonymous?”
“No, I’d take a pen name.”
“Have you already thought of one?” Stanislav grinned at her. He understood her better than she’d expected.
“Yes. Vera Vechnaya. ”
“Oh, clever play on words. Eternal Faith. I like it. Very optimistic sounding.”
“Truthfully, I couldn’t think of anything else. I thought the religious overtone of the name might appeal to the matrons, while the notion of eternal optimism might strike a note with the younger generation.”
“I think it’s brilliant, Miss Kalinina.”
“Please call me Valentina.”
“Only if you call me Stan.”
“Deal.” They laughed as they shook hands. “If we’re to be partners, we can dispense with the formalities.”
“I can’t promise you a partnership, but I will certainly try to convince Max. I think it’s a good idea. Innovative.”
“I’ve never thought of myself as innovative.”
“No one does until suddenly they’re not happy with the status quo and want to do something to change it. You’re a woman of the twentieth century, and I have a feeling that you’re all on the verge of something truly amazing.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Women are fighting for their rights for the first time in history. That’s truly amazing already. If they don’t give up, which I don’t think they will, real, legal changes will come to pass, changes that will affect future generations. Women will become a power to be reckoned with.”
“Would you want to marry a woman who challenges your ideas and wishes?” Valentina asked, impressed by Stanislav’s take on the women’s movement.
“My mama wouldn’t be too pleased, but I want a partner when I marry, not a servant who has no opinions of her own. To be honest, I’m tired of my mother’s matchmaking attempts. Some of these girls have been in England for years, but in their minds, they still live in some nameless shtetl.”
“What’s a shtetl? I’ve never heard that word.”
“A shtetl is a small Jewish settlement.”
“Did you grow up in a shtetl?”
“No, I grew up in Petrograd, like you. Only our paths would never have crossed, even if we had both remained.”
“No, I don’t suppose they would. Well, I’m glad our paths crossed now. This is a new world, and a new life, and I, for one, am planning to embrace it.”
“I must get back to work, Valentina. I’m so glad you came to see me.
Feel free to visit me again, even if you don’t have any innovative business propositions.
Just being seen with a pretty girl is doing wonders for my reputation.
” Stanislav held the door for her and they stepped out into the street.
Valentina smiled. She hadn’t realized until that moment that Stan was actually quite attractive. Being seen with him might harm her reputation, but she didn’t care. She was done doing things the old-fashioned way. She was a woman of the twentieth century.