The Pear Field Read online

  Stella hugs Irakli fiercely. Vaska comes over and shakes Irakli’s hand vigorously. Dali hugs him next. She is crying.

  ‘We’ve never sent anyone this far away before,’ she says between sobs.

  ‘We have, Dali!’ Levan chimes in. ‘We sent Sergo all the way to heaven, God rest his soul…’

  ‘I’ll deal with you later,’ Tiniko says.

  John takes a group photo of the children with Irakli in the middle. Everyone wants to stand next to him.

  Marika comes into the yard looking tanned and freckly after her holiday. She is wearing a short yellow dress and her hair is loose. The sight of a smiling Marika so skimpily dressed makes Levan freeze on the spot.

  Marika has brought Irakli a small English dictionary as a present.

  ‘Dick-tionary!’ Irakli says, smiling.

  Shalva starts the car. Zaira comes hurrying over with a plastic bag of sweets from her kiosk. She hands them out to the children before pulling Irakli into a tight hug.

  ‘Don’t forget us, Irakli!’

  Tiniko’s husband, Temur, pulls up behind the wheel of a foreign car. He is a thin, bald man with a flat broken nose and a sincere smile. His skin has the pallor of a heavy smoker and every few seconds he lifts his fist to his mouth and coughs violently. Tiniko tells everybody to get in.

  It’s swelteringly hot. Tiniko winds the window down and fans her face with her hands. The cars drive off, leaving Dali standing by the school gates surrounded by her waving godchildren.

  Irakli rolls his window down and turns his face into the wind. Tiniko and Temur are talking in the front, but Lela can’t hear what they’re saying over the noise of the engine. She looks out of the window. She pretends that she’s the one going to America and leaving for good, leaving the school, Dali, the children and all her teachers, leaving Zaira and her kiosk, the neighbours in the block next door, Marika, Koba, Goderdzi and his new wife, Irma. The car turns out of Kerch Street and Lela says goodbye to her old life for ever.

  Irakli is wearing a smart dark blue shirt buttoned up to his neck, jeans held up by a red elasticated belt, and boots from the bag of clothes Deborah and John brought with them. He sits in silence, looking calm, content and, Lela thinks, older. He points out familiar streets and buildings.

  ‘I’ve seen that one before…’

  Lela gazes out of the window absent-mindedly.

  When I get back from the airport I’m going to kill Vano, she thinks. Then I’m getting out of here, just like the others did.

  She imagines herself finding Yana and following her into her one-room flat. Even if they arrest me, she thinks, they’ll let me out before long, or maybe send me to the madhouse… Lela thinks about Yana again, but when she was younger, when she moved out of the school, dressed in that checked shirt done up to the neck. Yana smiles. Her flat is like Mzia’s, with the smell of fresh baking and a sideboard in the hall, and the apron she is wearing is just like Mzia’s too. ‘Come with me,’ Yana says. They leave the flat and go outside to work. Lela is so happy her feet hardly touch the pavement…

  Then she remembers that Irakli is going to America and all thoughts of Yana fly out of her head.

  They arrive at the airport. As they are getting out of the car Irakli tells Lela that his head hurts and he feels sick, but both of them know there isn’t time for him to be ill. Standing in the queue at check-in, Irakli turns to Lela.

  ‘I still feel sick,’ he says.

  ‘You’ll feel better in a minute,’ says Lela.

  Madonna overhears and tells John.

  John disappears somewhere with Irakli. A few minutes later they come back with a large packet of chewing gum. Irakli takes the sticks out and offers them round. The women take a stick each.

  Once they’ve checked in John invites everybody to the airport’s only café. Temur sees one of his relatives and wanders off for a chat. Shalva also declines.

  The waiter pushes two tables together and slaps a couple of menus down in front of them. John orders coffees, some juice and a selection of cakes and sandwiches.

  ‘You don’t look very happy,’ Lela says to Irakli, who is picking unenthusiastically at a cream cake.

  ‘I’m not,’ says Irakli quietly.

  ‘Sure,’ laughs Lela, and cuffs him hard on the back of the head, knocking his nose into his cream cake. Madonna and Tiniko laugh loudly, but John glances disapprovingly at Lela like a father whose child is misbehaving.

  After they leave the café they go to the escalators to see Irakli off. John and Deborah hug Tiniko and Lela, and shake hands with Temur and Shalva. Tiniko throws her arms around Irakli, fighting back tears and trying to make their hug last as long as possible. Madonna hugs him next. Temur puts his hand on Irakli’s shoulder and smiles at him warmly.

  Irakli and Lela give each other a quick, tearless, silent hug.

  John wheels Irakli’s small black cabin bag onto the escalator and turns to wave back at everyone. Irakli and Deborah get on behind him and the three of them travel slowly upwards.

  They are almost at the top when Irakli suddenly breaks away from Deborah and starts walking quickly back down the escalator.

  ‘Irakli! Irakli!’ Deborah calls out anxiously. ‘John, do something!’

  Deborah stands there helplessly watching Irakli weave in and out of his fellow passengers, one of whom has her bag knocked out of her hands. When he reaches the bottom he jumps off, dodges Tiniko and the others and speeds away across the terminal.

  ‘I think he’s feeling sick,’ says Lela, and goes after him.

  The Americans get on the escalator back to the ground floor. Tiniko, Madonna and Temur meet them at the bottom. John is red in the face and looks offended. Deborah is deadly pale and flustered.

  ‘I think he’s gone to the toilet to be sick,’ Tiniko says, as Madonna translates. ‘It’s probably nerves.’

  ‘Let’s move to one side, shall we? We’re in the way here,’ says Temur.

  Shalva appears and speaks for the first time that day: now is his moment for chivalry.

  ‘I’ll go and find them,’ he says, hitching his trousers up and disappearing off into the crowd.

  Lela finds Irakli standing by the entrance to the toilets staring vacantly.

  ‘Are you out of your mind?’

  Irakli says nothing.

  ‘Did you throw up?’

  ‘No,’ says Irakli.

  ‘What did you run off for, then? You almost gave them a heart attack! Don’t start acting like an idiot now.’

  Lela shoves him back against the wall and looks him in the eye.

  ‘Now get back over there and do your best I am sorry for your… parents, do you hear me?’

  Irakli says nothing.

  ‘Boy, do you hear me? Either go and throw up, or get your arse back over there right now!’

  ‘I don’t want to go to America,’ Irakli says in a pitiful voice. He screws his face up but the tears lodge in his throat and turn to bile.

  Lela raises her hand and slaps Irakli hard across the face. He falls back against the wall, sinks down onto his knees and starts to cry. John appears out of nowhere, grabs Lela by the arm and spins her round. He looks like a different man. The kind face and warm smile are gone. He shakes Lela and shouts at her in English.

  ‘What does he want from me?’ Lela asks Madonna, who is trying her best to calm John down.

  John lets go of Lela’s arm and explains that Lela slapped Irakli, then turns to Tiniko and jabs his finger in her face as if he’s somehow blaming her.

  Tiniko goes red. Suddenly her patience runs out. She thrusts her jaw forward and shouts at John in Georgian, ‘I said it was a bad idea, sending one as old as Irakli, but nobody listened, did they!’

  Deborah goes to Irakli, who is sitting on the floor with his head between his knees.

  ‘Irakli,’ she says, gently putting her hand on his arm and lowering herself awkwardly to her knees.

  Deborah beckons Madonna over. Unable to kneel because of her size,
Madonna stays standing to translate.

  ‘Irakli, she’s asking what’s wrong. Don’t be embarrassed if you’re feeling sick. It doesn’t matter, she says. Just go into the toilets and do what you need to. Then come back out and have a bit of a rest… If you want, she says Lela can take you outside for some fresh air. She says there’s plenty of time.’

  Irakli lifts his head. His eyes are red and his face tearstained. He looks at Deborah and shouts, ‘I don’t want to go to America! I don’t want to go!’

  Madonna stands there, numb. Deborah looks up and waits, chin trembling, for her to translate.

  ‘What did he say? What did he say about America?’

  ‘Nothing!’ says Madonna firmly, then screams down at Irakli, ‘Don’t push me, young man! Do not show me up in front of these people. Just shut up, stand up and go with this lady, that’s all we’re asking of you! Just get in the plane and when you get to the other end there’ll be a whole new life waiting for you, a good life… Everything you could possibly want. But they are not going to take you if you keep kicking up a fuss like this…’ Irakli stands up, opens the wallet round his neck and throws his passport onto the floor as if he’s slapping an ace on the table. He walks off without a word.

  ‘What did he say? Doesn’t he want to come with us?’ asks Deborah again.

  Temur helps Deborah to her feet. Tiniko notices her husband begin to stroke Deborah’s pale, soft hand. She marches over, pulls Deborah aside and glowers at Temur.

  ‘We’ll sort it out, Deborah,’ Tiniko says in Georgian. ‘Don’t worry, he’s just a stupid child. What does he know about America?’

  She grits her teeth, clenches her fist in front of her face and glares at her husband. Temur shrugs and steps to one side awkwardly.

  Irakli is still striding across the terminal. Lela, Madonna, Tiniko and Deborah start after him, but John blocks their path.

  ‘Let me go,’ he says earnestly.

  ‘Irakli,’ he says, catching up and taking Irakli gently by the elbow. Irakli shrugs him off.

  ‘Irakli, we’ll do whatever you want. It’s OK if you don’t want to come with us. We won’t be angry. It’s up to you.’

  Madonna follows behind in a weak jog, weaving through the crowds as she translates.

  John puts his hand back on Irakli’s elbow and turns him around. He looks at him warmly and gives a calm, kind smile.

  Irakli pulls his arm free and screams, ‘Fuck you, bastard! I kill you! I kill you!’

  The smile on John’s face vanishes. At first he isn’t sure he has heard correctly. The others finally catch up with them. Irakli stands some distance apart, as if facing down a pack of snarling hounds.

  ‘Fuck you, old bastard! I kill you! I kill you! Don’t touch me!’ Irakli screams at John again, and Lela suddenly remembers Irakli jumping on the bed bases in the summer rain.

  Without warning, Deborah faints. Temur grabs her as she falls and is pulled to the ground along with her. John runs over.

  ‘Deborah! Deborah!’ he cries, white as a sheet.

  Shalva and Madonna try to lift Deborah to her feet while Temur flails underneath her. A woman runs over with a bottle of water, kneels next to Deborah and rubs her forehead and temples with calloused hands. Deborah’s eyes open.

  ‘Is she a foreigner?’ the woman asks with a slow, provincial cadence.

  ‘Oh my goodness!’ groans Madonna. ‘My poor nerves… Yes, she’s a foreigner.’

  ‘Probably exhaustion. Take her outside so she can get some fresh air in her lungs,’ says the woman.

  ‘Where the hell is she going to find fresh air round here? We’re not in the mountains now!’ says a man, presumably the woman’s husband. ‘They probably gave her too much to drink and she can’t handle it…’

  They help Deborah onto a seat. John holds Deborah’s hand and whispers in her ear.

  Lela stands off to one side watching closely. Although the snarling hounds have dispersed, Irakli is still rooted to the spot.

  A voice over the Tannoy announces that John and Deborah Sheriff and Irakli Tskhadadze should report to the departure gate immediately. John helps Deborah to her feet and they make their way to the escalator. The other adults follow, Madonna apologizing in English and Tiniko in Georgian. Temur apologizes in Russian for good measure and watches sadly as Deborah gets ready to leave.

  At the escalator John stops to say a final farewell to his hosts. This time there are no handshakes or embraces. John thanks Tiniko and Madonna. He says they should have spent longer in Georgia getting to know Irakli, but that it would probably be better for everyone this way.

  Tiniko feels someone pull on her arm. It’s Lela.

  ‘We’re gonna go. We’ll make our own way back.’ She looks at Deborah and John, standing mutely by the escalator. With unexpected sincerity, she says, ‘Goodbye, John. Goodbye, Deborah.’

  Lela and Irakli walk out of the airport and pick up a taxi.

  ‘No luggage?’

  ‘No,’ says Lela. ‘Can you take us to Kerch Street?’

  ‘That’ll cost you fifteen lari.’

  ‘I know. We can pay.’

  Lela and Irakli sit in silence in the back. Lela can tell he’s crying. The driver is playing Georgian love songs on the radio and they gradually lose themselves in the intoxicating melodies.

  Irakli leans over towards Lela to say something. The music is so loud that he has to shout.

  ‘Do you think they put my suitcase on the plane?’

  Lela is suddenly furious.

  ‘Do you know what? You and your suitcase can both fuck right off!’

  Irakli says nothing. He presses his pale face against the window and stares at the trees lining the road, wishing he could turn everything over to them, the swearing, the anger, his stupid suitcase and the America he would now never see, and watch as they whizzed past and carried it all far away.

  Lela asks the driver to pull over by a roadside kiosk some distance away from Kerch Street.

  ‘Could you wait here for a minute while I get some chewing gum for my friend? He’s feeling a bit sick.’

  The man pulls over.

  ‘Wait here and I’ll bring you some,’ Lela says to Irakli.

  Irakli knows what’s coming.

  The driver turns off the engine, pulls out a cleaning cloth and starts polishing the inside of the windscreen while he waits.

  Irakli’s heart is pounding. He puts one hand on the door handle and stares at the back of the driver’s neck, at his broad shoulders, his strong, rough hands and fingernails blackened by hours spent fiddling with car parts. The driver folds the cloth and leans over to put it back where it came from and at that precise moment Irakli opens the door.

  They run as fast as they can and they don’t look back.

  They don’t stop until they’re a long way away. There’s no sign of the taxi driver. They don’t even know whether he bothered giving chase at all.

  They spot a row of kiosks nearby. Lela buys a Coke and they carry on walking.

  ‘Is Tiniko going to beat me?’ asks Irakli.

  ‘She’s not allowed to,’ says Lela.

  ‘What about you? Are you going to beat me?’

  Lela hands him the bottle of Coke.

  ‘It’s what you deserve. But what good would it do? It’s not like it would knock any sense into you.’

  Irakli puts the empty bottle in his pocket.

  ‘There’s no deposit back on that one,’ says Lela.

  Irakli takes the bottle back out of his pocket and throws it onto a dusty grass verge.

  Lela stops at the crossroads.

  ‘We’re near the cemetery.’

  ‘What, where Sergo’s buried?’

  ‘No, my aunt Shushana. Yes, where Sergo’s buried! Come on, let’s go and visit his grave.’

  They buy a small, slightly wilted posy of yellow wildflowers from an elderly lady for twenty tetri. She looks like one of her flowers: her small, delicate face is covered in wrinkles and she is wearin
g a flowery yellow headscarf.

  The closer they get to the cemetery, the harder it is to work out which entrance they need. More than once they have to turn back from an entrance because Sergo’s grave will be impossible to access from that side of the cemetery.

  Irakli trudges wearily next to Lela. The flowers are making his palm sweat. Lela stops a man in the street.

  ‘Can we get into the cemetery round here?’ asks Lela.

  ‘The cemetery? Yes, you can. If you go up that path –’

  ‘No, no,’ interrupts Lela. ‘We went up that way just now. We’re looking for one of the other entrances. We were here a few months back. It’s near a tower block that’s half gutted, but there are people still living in the other half. The whole thing’s sinking into the earth.’

  ‘Oh, you mean the Titanic! You need to go up that way. Go past two tower blocks and you’ll see the road surface suddenly gets really bad. As soon as the road gets bad you need to head up the hill and keep going till you hit a huge patch of mud. You go round that and you’ll come out in the yard right in front of the Titanic!’

  *

  Walking through the cemetery, Lela looks at the headstones.

  ‘He hasn’t got a headstone,’ she says, ‘but I remember they buried him next to a Neli Aivazova or something like that. Keep an eye out for her.’

  It’s dusk and the last mourners are making their way out. Lela and Irakli remain inside, walking around, unable to find either Sergo or Neli Aivazova.

  ‘She had a black headstone with her picture etched on. She was laughing and she looked a bit like Dali,’ says Lela.

  They sit down for a rest next to a long-neglected grave with a rusting iron fence and a thick covering of weeds. Lela stares at the listing tower block at the edge of the cemetery where she can already see lights in the windows.

  ‘Lela,’ says Irakli, ‘my mum isn’t coming back, is she? That’s why Tiniko wanted to send me to America.’

  Lela thinks about Irakli’s mother, Inga, and the old Greek woman’s words – ‘Inga no live here any more!’ – and it all seems a very long time ago.

  ‘You never know,’ replies Lela. ‘Anything’s possible.’