The Pear Field Read online

  ‘Don’t go to too much trouble, all right? Nobody’s expecting him to be fluent. You need to look after things here. He’ll be gone soon but you’ll still be here and these cars are your responsibility. You understand what responsibility is, right? I’m counting on you, you know that.’

  ‘I know, Tiniko.’

  After lunch, Marika arrives with a new batch of swear words. Irakli is especially pleased with You bastard! and I’ll kill you! Lela can’t give Marika the twenty lari she’d promised, nor the five lari for this week. Marika doesn’t pressure her; as August is nearly over, she agrees to let Lela pay her back with the parking money she collects in September and then they’ll be quits.

  With the arrival of autumn, the whole school comes alive. They tidy the yard and fix the broken fence, and Tiniko even brings some paint from her house so that Avto can paint the main gates green and the front door maroon.

  They clean inside the main building too. Dali gets down on her knees to scrub the floor with laundry soap and an old shoe brush before the children apply a layer of polish.

  In the TV room they do the best they can. A couple of the teachers bring in potted aloes and roses from home. Avto and Vano drag the sofa out into the yard and Tiniko gets the children to beat it with sticks to remove all the dust, then relocates it to her office and covers it with an old bedspread with a sinister-looking tiger motif.

  Goderdzi’s wedding is to take place in September, so the entrance to the dinner hall gets a new coat of paint too. Venera pays for this herself, along with some minor repairs inside the dinner hall. The holes where nails have held up countless flags and pictures over the years are filled in with plaster and sanded down, and the walls and windowsills are painted white. All traces of the past are removed. Avto insists that the old paint needs to be sanded before the new paint goes on, but Venera wants things done as quickly and cheaply as possible. She hopes this will be Goderdzi’s last wedding and that she won’t ever have to worry about the state of the dinner hall again.

  Teachers and children alike approach the renovations with a sense of great pride because they are also due to host two extremely important guests from America: Irakli’s new parents, Deborah and John.

  When the big day arrives, Lela throws open the green school gates and a cream-coloured Volga sedan drives in carrying Madonna, Deborah, John and Shalva, the driver, who is somehow related to Madonna.

  While the furore surrounding the Americans’ stay is not as great as that once created by Marcel’s arrival, everyone is beside themselves with excitement nonetheless, because this visit confirms that there is indeed a world outside Georgia, Tbilisi and Kerch Street.

  The welcome ceremony takes place in the gymnasium. The assembly hall has been off-limits for years. Velvet curtains have been brought over from the assembly hall and hung on the gym’s wall-mounted exercise bars. Benches have been set out to form three sides of a makeshift stage.

  The children file cautiously into the gym. Every child still harbours the memory of their friend and brother Sergo laid out on the desk in the middle of the hall.

  Deborah and John are led into the gymnasium by Tiniko and Madonna. Dali marches in behind them. The strange, acrid smell of washing powder is almost overpowering.

  The second the Americans appear the children fall silent.

  ‘Hello, everybody!’ John calls out, raising his hand to greet them. His voice is smooth and melodious. The children freeze.

  They see a tall man of average build, whose body seems to be sagging in places and who is carrying a little extra padding on the hips. His smile is so pure and sincere that it’s hard to imagine he has ever been happier than at this moment. Everyone stares as he walks over to the stage.

  ‘Hello, everybody! How’s everyone doing today?’ he bellows cheerfully.

  For some reason, Gulnara starts clapping. The children join in. Madonna hisses, ‘Stop clapping, you’ll scare them off – I mean, they know where they are but still, let’s try to rein it in a bit, shall we?’

  She turns back to the children.

  ‘John is asking you how you are. He wants to know if you’re all OK.’

  ‘We’re fi-i-i-ne,’ a few children call out timidly.

  Deborah is standing next to John, smiling broadly. With her ample hips and slender trunk she looks like a good-natured pot plant. She starts speaking and Madonna translates into Georgian: ‘Although we have come here for Irakli, we think of you all as members of our family and we want you all to grow up to be strong, capable adults. Unfortunately, we can only adopt one child, but we want you to know you are all in our hearts. You’re Irakli’s brothers and sisters, after all!’

  ‘Pff, his brother? No thank you!’ exclaims Levan loudly.

  The children burst out laughing. Deborah is confused, but tries to gather her thoughts and finish what she was saying. Tiniko whispers to Lela, who turns to Levan sitting behind her and tells him to follow Tiniko outside. While Deborah carries on with her speech, Tiniko strides briskly out of the gym with Levan slumping along behind her, like a prisoner about to face the firing squad, except that Levan has faced the firing squad before.

  Levan has barely stepped outside when Tiniko closes the door and grabs him by the earlobe.

  ‘Why can’t you just behave?’ she hisses so that nobody in the hall will hear. Levan grimaces and lets out a moan. Tiniko digs her painted nails harder into his ear and twists it as if she’s opening a tap.

  ‘Hush! I don’t want to hear another peep out of you!’

  Levan gives a pitiful croak. Tiniko lets go. Levan tries to run off, but Tiniko pounces like a hungry animal. As she raises her hand, her ill-fitting costume ring rotates on her finger and when she brings her hand back down to slap Levan hard across the back, she catches his spine with the gemstone. Levan screams and darts forward like a shot deer.

  ‘I’m going to put you six feet under, boy!’ spits Tiniko. ‘Next time your mum visits you it’ll be in the graveyard!’

  Levan doesn’t hear. He is already halfway across the empty yard. His face is red and his ear is still smarting. He would cry, but the tears won’t come. He feels the sharp pain in his ear gradually ebbing. A dog hobbles across the yard and in the street a bus rattles past belching thick black smoke.

  When Tiniko goes back inside, Shalva is carrying a couple of large sacks onto the stage. Deborah opens them and explains that these are presents – clothes, shoes and toys – that her neighbours have sent for the children. Tiniko tells Dali and Avto to keep the sacks for now and takes Deborah and John out of the hall, along with Madonna, Irakli and Lela.

  They gather in Tiniko’s office. Dali brings in some instant coffee and honey biscuits.

  As soon as they walk in, Deborah throws her arms open and says, ‘Now we’re alone I can hug Irakli!’

  Deborah and John both hug him tightly. Dali watches out of the corner of her eye while she’s pouring the coffee and her eyes fill with tears again. Irakli is blushing furiously. He has no idea why Deborah keeps looking him straight in the eye and speaking English as if he was already an American. Maybe they think he understands what they’re saying. Maybe they’ll be upset when they find out the truth.

  Then Madonna translates: ‘She says they’ve been waiting a long time for this day. They are so happy you’re going to live with them. Their children are adults now and have their own places so you’ll be the only child. She hopes it won’t be too dull for you. But she says they have a big family close by and they also have two grandchildren.’

  Deborah laughs and says something else. Irakli stands there, as stiff as a board and sweating nervously while Madonna translates: ‘Basically, she’s saying you’ve got all the time in the world to get to know each other properly.’

  John smiles warmly at Irakli and asks, ‘What do you think? Do you want to come and see America?’

  Irakli nods.

  Deborah and John want to see every inch of the school; it will help them understand Irakli better. Tiniko and M
adonna lead them off on a tour. Irakli and Lela go back outside and are immediately surrounded by a large group of children desperate to hear every detail.

  The next day Madonna takes Deborah and John to see Tbilisi. They take Irakli too, so that they can get to know each other better. Irakli seems disorientated. He wants Lela to come, but nobody invites her.

  Later that evening Lela goes out to the deserted playground. Irakli still isn’t back. Lela climbs the iron staircase right up to the top. She sits on the top step and lights a cigarette. She sees Deborah and John flash before her eyes, then Irakli, beetroot-red, then Vano as she lures him into the trampoline room and out onto the edge of the collapsed balcony and pushes…

  Can you do it? asks a voice in her head. Can you? Then what the hell are you waiting for?

  I’ll kill him before the end of winter. Once Irakli’s gone, I’ll do it, replies Lela.

  It’s still dusk when, back in the gatehouse, Lela falls into a deep sleep.

  The door opens and Irakli comes in. Lela wakes up. Irakli comes over to the bed and perches, feather-light, on the edge.

  ‘Tell me what you’ve been doing, then,’ Lela says.

  Irakli doesn’t reply. Lela studies his face in the moonlight streaming through the gatehouse window. There’s something strange about how he looks and he is oddly silent.

  ‘What’s up with you?’

  Irakli says nothing.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Lela gives him a shake.

  Irakli grimaces and tries to break free.

  ‘My stomach,’ he mumbles.

  Lela lets go and stands up. She twists the bulb and a yellow light fills the room. Irakli is hunched up on the bed, moaning.

  ‘What’s wrong? What did you eat?’

  ‘Khinkali,’ he moans. ‘Too many.’

  Lela thinks for a minute.

  ‘Are they not sitting well?’

  ‘And shashlik… and lobiani…’

  ‘Was there something wrong with it?’

  ‘It was all fine…’ He groans again.

  ‘Did you eat too much?’

  ‘Yeah,’ says Irakli, starting to cry. ‘I feel sick…’

  ‘Come on, get up. It’s not sitting well and you need to throw up,’ says Lela, helping him to his feet.

  Lela takes him into the toilets in the main building. The smell is so pungent that Irakli vomits as soon as he walks in, sending an array of Georgian delicacies straight down the sewer pipe. He collapses onto the sink, tears streaming down his face, throat burning. Lela turns on the tap and the water comes out so fast it splashes their fronts. Still trembling, Irakli washes his face.

  ‘It hasn’t helped,’ says Irakli when they go outside.

  ‘Look, you’re leaving for America in two days. Stop blubbing over a couple of dumplings!’

  Khatuna, a young trainee from Rustavi, walks across from the dinner hall, carrying a cup of tea for Irakli.

  ‘I don’t want it,’ Irakli says, flapping his hands and talking as if he can’t move his tongue properly.

  ‘Where do you want to lie down, in mine or upstairs?’ asks Lela.

  ‘Yours,’ he answers, and follows her to the gatehouse.

  They go inside. Khatuna sets the tea down and puts her hand on Irakli’s forehead while he lies on the bed groaning.

  ‘Go to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up,’ says Khatuna, adding, ‘Should I call Tiniko or Dali, do you think?’

  ‘No, he’ll be fine,’ says Lela. ‘He just ate a bit too much. His stomach’s not used to the good life.’

  They laugh. Irakli screws himself up in a ball on the bed.

  ‘Where will you sleep?’ asks Khatuna.

  ‘I’ll just perch on the edge. It’s only for two days and then off he goes to America!’ Lela says, rooting around to find Irakli’s arms and giving him a shake. Irakli moans.

  Khatuna leaves. Lela turns the light off and lies down next to Irakli with her head at the opposite end of the bed.

  They lie in silence for a while. Lela’s eyes adjust to the darkness. She watches the room slowly take form: Tariel’s cut-glass ashtray glints in the moonlight, the contours of the mirror emerge and the cross Lela pinned to the frame casts a forbidding shadow across the wall. Irakli is breathing unevenly and Lela knows he is not asleep.

  ‘Hey!’ she says, giving him a sharp kick. ‘Tell me where you went.’

  Irakli squirms, rolls onto his back, but makes no sound other than a moan of discomfort.

  ‘Hey! Did you vomit your voice box out too?’ says Lela, feeling around for Irakli’s face with her foot.

  ‘Shove off, will you!’ Irakli croaks.

  ‘I want to know where you went!’

  ‘We went to look at stuff…’

  ‘Did you go to a restaurant?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What did you eat?’

  ‘Oh God, can we not talk about food?’

  ‘Fine. At least tell me what you saw.’

  ‘We went round Tbilisi, then out to Mtskheta.’

  ‘Is it far?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And? What else? Did you speak English?’

  ‘Yeah, I said OK and no.’

  For a while neither says anything.

  ‘In Mtskheta there was this church and some priests. And there were some statues… We saw a man on a horse carrying a sword…’

  ‘A statue, you mean?’

  ‘Yeah. He was sitting on a big horse and if you stood right underneath you could see these massive balls.’

  ‘What, on the man or the horse?’ laughs Lela.

  ‘The horse.’

  ‘What about his willy?’

  ‘Couldn’t see,’ answers Irakli.

  ‘What’s Mtskheta like?’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘How many khinkali did you eat?’

  ‘Lela, don’t… I still feel sick.’

  Lela takes her cigarettes out of the drawer.

  ‘What did the Americans say?’

  ‘I dunno. Nothing much.’

  Lela gets up and goes outside to smoke. When she comes back in, Irakli is asleep.

  The neighbourhood women can barely conceal their disappointment. Goderdzi’s new bride is nothing like Manana. Irma doesn’t smile like Manana or sway her hips like Manana or, in fact, do anything suggestive of loose morals whatsoever. They struggle to find anything in Irma’s life to criticize at all. Her respectability is stultifying.

  Goderdzi looks happy enough, although he has shaved so enthusiastically that his face has gone red and puffy.

  Nobody seems to know who the toastmaster is this time. He is a tiny self-deprecating man with an expression of mild irritation. He manages to poke fun at himself in his toasts – ‘Gentlemen, please be upstanding, although I will stay seated as it makes no real difference…’ – which the guests take as evidence of true magnanimity.

  Once again, Goderdzi’s cousin is attending with his revolver tucked into his belt. He seems out of sorts. In fact, the entire wedding party seem slightly subdued, as if they are all missing Manana, the woman who by rights should never have married a man like Goderdzi but did so anyway. Nothing would ever top that.

  Irma is wearing a simple white satin dress and sits next to Goderdzi, smiling shyly. She looks more embarrassed than happy. Her mother is not at the table; instead, she is helping the serving staff. It seems reasonable to assume that the minute Irma walks into Venera and Goderdzi’s home she will take off her white wedding dress, take up the yoke of domestic duties and work like a mule until her dying breath.

  The children’s table is laid out in a corner of the dinner hall. As guests of honour, John and Deborah are offered prime position at the top table, but they choose instead to join the children. Dali, who had been about to start eating a piece of fish with her fingers, is confused to discover such esteemed guests suddenly sitting opposite. Her appetite disappears. Dali can only marvel at Madonna’s ability to eat in front of the Americans with such single-m
inded focus while simultaneously holding her own in a foreign language.

  The duduki players come out onto the dance floor and the drum strikes up a steady rhythm. A handful of young women in traditional dresses start to dance. A few minutes later a young man leaps onto the dance floor with his arms outstretched, dances a large circle around the young women and then takes a position right in the middle, scattering the women like a flock of startled hens. Deborah and John stare, transfixed. John is almost moved to tears. Their happiness is tinged with slight unease, with a sense of regret about taking Irakli, their chosen son, from this magical fairy-tale country to a place where nobody, even at a wedding, could ever dance with such passion.

  9

  The day of Irakli’s departure arrives.

  Lela crosses herself in front of the mirror before she leaves the gatehouse.

  Irakli is standing by the gates with the small black suitcase Deborah and John gave him. Around his neck hangs a small cloth wallet with an airline logo on the front and his passport inside.

  The whole school is gathered at the gates.

  Irakli leafs through his brand-new passport while the others look on. He examines each blank page carefully. Finally he reaches the page with his American visa and photo. Irakli lets Stella hold the passport so she can have a closer look. She stares at the visa and then turns to the last page to look at Irakli’s photo. Suddenly Levan grabs at the passport. Stella, holding on tight, yanks her hand back and howls, glaring at Levan so hard that the sinews in her neck stick out.

  ‘You’ll rip it!’ she cries, her face turning a deep red. She raises her arm high in the air and searches wide-eyed for Irakli in the crowd.

  ‘Give it to him,’ he says reassuringly.

  Still angry, Stella gives the burgundy passport to Levan. He opens it carefully, like a love letter, and stares at it.

  ‘Well then, Irakli, look after yourself,’ Dali says, walking towards the children with Tiniko, Madonna, Deborah and John. Levan gives the passport back and asks Irakli to send him a gun from America.