Jacky Jakes and Georgy were in Buffalo, staying at Marga’s apartment for the first time. Greg and Lev were there too, and on Victory Japan Day – Wednesday 15 August – they all went to Humboldt Park. The paths were crowded with jubilant couples and there were hundreds of children splashing in the pond.
Greg was happy and proud. The bomb had worked. The two devices dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki had wreaked sickening devastation, but they had brought the war to a quick end and saved thousands of American lives. Greg had played a role in that. Because of what they had all done, Georgy was going to grow up in a free world.
‘He’s nine,’ Greg said to Jacky. They were sitting on a bench, talking, while Lev and Marga took Georgy to buy ice cream.
‘I can hardly believe it.’
‘What will he be, I wonder?’
Jacky said fiercely: ‘He’s not going to do something stupid like acting or playing the goddamn trumpet. He’s got brains.’
‘Would you like him to be a college professor, like your father?’
‘Yes.’
‘In that case . . .’ Greg had been leading up to this, and was nervous about how Jacky might react – ‘he ought to go to a good school.’
‘What did you have in mind?’
‘How about boarding school? He could go where I went.’
‘He’d be the only black pupil.’
‘Not necessarily. When I was there we had a coloured guy, an Indian from Delhi called Kamal.’
‘Just one.’
‘Yes.’
‘Was he teased?’
‘Sure. We called him Camel. But the boys got used to him, and he made some friends.’
‘What happened to him, do you know?’
‘He became a pharmacist. I hear he already owns two drugstores in New York.’
Jacky nodded. Greg could tell that she was not opposed to this plan. She came from a cultured family. Although she herself had rebelled and dropped out, she believed in the value of education. ‘What about the school fees?’
‘I could ask my father.’
‘Would he pay?’
‘Look at them.’ Greg pointed along the path. Lev, Marga and Georgy were returning from the ice-cream vendor’s cart. Lev and Georgy were walking side by side, eating ice-cream cones, holding hands. ‘My conservative father, holding the hand of a coloured child in a public park. Trust me, he’ll pay the school fees.’
‘Georgy doesn’t really fit anywhere,’ Jacky said, looking troubled. ‘He’s a black boy with a white daddy.’
‘I know.’
‘People in your mother’s apartment building think I’m the maid – did you know that?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve been careful not to set them straight. If they thought Negroes were in the building as guests, there might be trouble.’
Greg sighed. ‘I’m sorry, but you’re right.’
‘Life is going to be tough for Georgy.’
‘I know,’ said Greg. ‘But he’s got us.’
Jacky gave him a rare smile. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘That’s something.’
THE COLD PEACE
21
1945 (III)
After the wedding Volodya and Zoya moved into an apartment of their own. Few Russian newlyweds were so lucky. For four years the industrial might of the Soviet Union had been directed to making weapons. Hardly any homes had been built, and many had been destroyed. But Volodya was a major in Red Army Intelligence, as well as the son of a general, and he was able to pull strings.
