searching for you. We even put notices in the papers.' 'I didn't see
them,' I said remorsefully.
Only now did I fully realise how beastly I had behaved. Fancy
forgetting that I had such a sister. And such a wonderful Aunt Dasha,
who couldn't even be told that I had come back, because she was likely
to die of joy, as Sanya explained to me.
'And Pyotr's been looking for you too,' she went on. 'He wrote to
Tashkent not long ago. He thought maybe you were living in Tashkent.'
'Pyotr?'
'Why, yes.'
'Skovorodnikov?'
'Who else?'
107
'Where is he?'
'In Moscow,' Sanya said.
I was amazed.
'Has he been there long?'
'Ever since you two ran away.'
Pyotr in Moscow! I couldn't believe my ears.
'But, Sanya, I live in Moscow myself!'
'No?'
'Yes, really. How is he, what's he doing?'
'He's all right. He's finishing school this year.'
'The devil he is! I'm finishing too. Have you got any photos of him?'
I thought Sanya was somewhat embarrassed when I asked for a photo
of him. She said: 'In a minute' and went out, returning almost
immediately, as if she had taken Pyotr's photo out of her pocket.
'My, isn't he handsome,' I said and started laughing. 'Ginger?'
'Yes.'
'Gee, isn't it grand! And the old man? How's the old man? Is it true?'
'Is what true?'
'That he's a judge?'
'Why, he's been a judge these last five years.'
We kept asking questions and interrupting each other and asking
more questions. We started the samovar going and made up the stove,
and then the bell tinkled in the hall.
'Aunt Dasha!'
'You stay here,' Sanya whispered. 'I'll break the news to her. She has
a heart condition, you know.'
She went out and I heard the following conversation in the next room.
'Now don't get excited, Aunt Dasha, please. I have very good news so
there's no need to be upset.'
'Well, out with it then!'
'You decided not to bake any pies today, Aunt Dasha, but you'll have
to.'
'Pyotr has arrived?'
'That would be nice too, but no, it's not Pyotr. You won't get excited,
Aunt Dasha, will you?'
'I won't.'
'Honestly?'
'Drat the girl! Honestly.'
'That's who's come!' Sanya announced, throwing open the kitchen
door.
The remarkable thing is that Aunt Dasha recognised me at first
glance.
'Sanya,' she said quietly.
She embraced me. Then she sat down and closed her eyes. I took her
hand.
'My darling boy! Alive? Where have you been? We've been searching
the world for you.'
'I know, Aunt Dasha. It's all my fault.'
'His fault! Good heavens! He comes back and talks about his fault!
Dear, dear boy. What a bonny lad you've grown! And so handsome!'
Aunt Dasha had always thought me a good looker.
108
Then the judge came in. The guard had been right—the old man had
shaved off his moustache. He looked ten years younger and it was now
hard to believe that he had once boiled skin-glue and built such hopes
upon it.
He knew that I had come back, as Sanya had telephoned him.
'Well, prodigal son,' he said, hugging me. 'Aren't you afraid I'll have
your head off, you rascal, you?'
What could I say for myself? I only grunted penitently.
Later that night he and I were left alone. The old man wanted to
know what I had been doing and how I had been living since I had left
the town. Like the judge he was, he questioned me rigorously about all
my affairs, school and private.
I told him I wanted to be an airman, and he gazed at me long and
steadily from under his bushy eyebrows.
'The air force?'
'An Arctic pilot. In the air force, if necessary.'
'A dangerous, but interesting job,' he said after a pause.
One thing I didn't tell him, though that I had come to Ensk in the
wake of Katya. I couldn't bring myself to tell him that if it hadn't been
for Katya it would very likely be a long time before I came back to my
home town, to my home.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE OLD LETTERS
I slept until eleven. Sanya had gone a long time ago, the old man was
at work and Aunt Dasha had already put the dinner on, as she informed
me.
While I drank my tea she kept making horrified comments on how
little I was eating.
'So that's how they feed you!' she said tartly. 'The gypsy fed his horse
