The Pear Field Page 8

  With Lela’s help, Irakli writes out all thirty-three letters of the Georgian alphabet in his notebook. By the time he gets to the final letter, one so rarely used that Marika has to guide his little hand to help him with the shape, Irakli is exhausted. The lesson is over. Irakli says he has a headache, and Lela gives Marika five lari.

  Marika steps out of the gatehouse into a crowd of children.

  ‘I just called to say I love you,’ Levan shouts out.

  Marika can’t help smiling.

  ‘Do you even know what it means?’ she asks him.

  Levan blushes.

  ‘I love you,’ says Marika. ‘Miqvarkhar.’

  Marika’s words cause uproar. The children start shrieking with laughter and Levan pulls a face like he’s sucking a lemon.

  Lela comes out of the gatehouse.

  ‘Clear off, Levan. Leave the poor girl alone, will you?’

  ‘Oh, leave him. He’s all right,’ says Marika.

  ‘Anyway, why would I clear off now? She’s just told me she loves me,’ Levan says, and the children start laughing again.

  The bell rings and everyone runs to the dinner hall. Irakli mutters to himself as he goes, ‘Perfect! Perfect!’

  Lela looks at what’s on the table: boiled potatoes and cutlets. Not meat cutlets but the fake cutlets made from various types of stale bread, onion and herbs, dipped in flour and fried. Next to them there’s a three-litre bottle of sour fruit sauce and some watered-down tomato paste with bits of onion floating in it. The children pounce on the sauce, pouring it out of the bottle straight onto their plates. Lela helps herself to a single cutlet, puts the whole thing in her mouth at once, chews and swallows. She gets up and goes outside.

  She lights a cigarette and walks along the path that borders the pear field. She wanders around the side of the building and stops by the steps in front of the dormitory block. Everyone is still in the dinner hall. Lela flicks the cigarette butt into a corner and goes inside. She heads up to the top floor and walks towards the trampoline room. She’s still some distance away when she notices that the door is open. She goes inside and sees Vaska standing with his back to her in the doorway where the balcony once was, looking down at the ground. He doesn’t notice her come in. She tiptoes over, grabs his top with both hands and gives him a good hard shake.

  ‘Boo!’

  Terrified, Vaska throws his arms out instinctively, like a bird about to take flight. He manages to regain his balance and spins round to face Lela. They fall on each other, arms raised, like two rams locking horns, and grapple long and hard. Vaska grimaces, flushed with exertion. He looks like he’s about to start crying. Lela is spent. Suddenly, simultaneously, they let go. Gasping for breath, they collapse on the beds.

  ‘What’s the matter, did I scare you?’ Lela asks, barely able to catch her breath.

  Vaska straightens his clothes.

  ‘What were you looking at down there, huh? You’ll have a much better view when you fall out and smash your head on the concrete. What are you doing in here anyway? Why did you open the door?’

  Vaska stands and walks towards the door.

  ‘It was already open,’ he says, staring back at Lela. She holds his gaze; his face is calmer now and the smile that was absent during their fight is back.

  ‘It was open, was it?’ Lela sounds doubtful. ‘Don’t come the innocent with me.’

  ‘It was open,’ Vaska says again.

  ‘What about the padlock?’

  ‘Nope.’

  Lela looks at him. His smile is really starting to get on her nerves.

  ‘What are you smirking for?’

  ‘Smirking? Me?’

  ‘No, me. You’re an idiot, you know that?’ She sighs. ‘Don’t you want any dinner? Hurry up or you’ll be too late.’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ says Vaska.

  ‘You know, I can’t work you out,’ Lela says. ‘What are you doing in a special school anyway? Are you actually a moron or do you just act like one?’

  ‘What, me?’

  ‘No, me.’

  Vaska says nothing. He simply turns around and walks off. Lela watches him go, still waiting for an answer.

  ‘Don’t let me catch you up here again, Vaska, or I’ll break both your legs.’

  Vaska disappears down the corridor.

  6

  I’m going to kill Vano before winter, Lela thinks to herself. It’s summer now. Plenty of time. Irakli’s leaving in September and once he’s gone I’ll kill Vano. By the end of winter. After that it might be too late. He’s so old he might just die, all by himself…

  Lela can’t bear the thought. She vows to herself that Vano will not have a natural death.

  It’s a sunny day and there’s a pleasant breeze outside. Lela is sitting on the landing at the top of the fire escape, thinking about the winter when she, Irakli, Levan and Vaska stole firewood from the neighbour’s shed. The owner had caught them in there. He’d locked the shed door and threatened to call the police. He got a bit physical too. Irakli started crying. Levan was too frightened to speak. Vaska, though, gathered all the courage he could muster and said, ‘We were so cold we’ve just burned our shoes and now there’s nothing left to burn! That’s why we’re stealing from you!’

  The neighbour was a gruff, hard-working man who never looked anyone in the eye and had little interest in talking to others, but Vaska’s words had seemed to mollify him. He opened the shed door wide and stared long and hard at the children standing in the moonlight, before loading them up with as much dry wood as they could carry and letting them go. He watched them leave, shaking his head. The children had crept back to the yard, squeezed through the fence, dropped the firewood and heaved a sigh of relief. They had found Stella sitting by the fence, crying, waiting for their safe return.

  They were warm that night. Lela felt herself warming a little towards Vaska too. Not that she said anything. She didn’t even give him a smile. She just let him sit by the stove and talk.

  I’ll move out this winter, thinks Lela, basking in the sun. Once she’s killed Vano she’ll just grab her bag and go. To somewhere more central, maybe. She has a couple of classmates on Lotkin Street. Maybe she’ll stay with them for a while. Or go and find Yana. Or catch a train west, as a last resort. To Batumi, maybe. She could look for Marcel. She’s sure everyone will know Marcel. They’re probably all afraid of him. First she’ll track down Marcel and then she’ll head for the beach. Just the thought of seeing the sea makes her giddy. She can’t swim, but she’ll learn.

  Every June, the cherry tree in Tariel’s garden produces enormous red fruit, and every year Tariel waits patiently for it to ripen. He takes some home to eat fresh and some to stew and preserve, and the rest he takes out to the road to sell. He drags an old wooden table out of the courtyard and stands buckets of cherries on top. If it’s really hot he plants three poles in the ground and makes himself a sunshade with an old cotton sheet. He gets a good price for his cherries and he doesn’t like to haggle.

  This cherry tree has caused no end of trouble over the years. From day one, Tariel has struggled to keep the local kids away. He bought a sheepdog. Then one of the children hid a needle in its meat and the dog died right there in the yard in front of Tariel’s eyes. On another occasion he ran out with his hunting rifle to scare some children out of the tree. He fired a shot into the air and one fell and broke both legs. His wife has been begging him to cut it down ever since, but Tariel won’t hear of it. He just watches patiently as the clusters of cherries burst forth among the oval leaves, and swell and finally ripen. Lela used to steal fruit from Tariel’s tree but he caught her once and tore a strip off her. Since then she’s steered well clear.

  Lela and Irakli are on their way to buy cigarettes from the kiosk. They walk past Tariel’s fence.

  ‘Lela, the cherries are ripe,’ says Irakli.

  ‘If they’re ripe Tariel will take care of them. They won’t stay uneaten,’ she replies.

  Irakli gazes t
hrough the fence at the branches rustling in the breeze and the foliage shifting to reveal clusters of luscious red fruit.

  Every now and then old women emerge to empty buckets of water in front of their gates, as if that will somehow cool the air, leaving passers-by to marvel at how clean and tidy their houses must be if they have time to sweep and rinse off the bare earth outside.

  Irakli sighs.

  ‘How can I go to America without tasting Tariel’s cherries?’

  That evening Lela gathers Irakli, Levan, Vaska and Stella in the gatehouse and reveals that they’re going to steal Tariel’s cherries later that night.

  Tariel now has a large mixed-breed dog called Bandit, a stocky, hairy beast with a square head, broad muzzle, kind eyes and enormous paws. As far as Tariel is concerned, he’s good for nothing. Bandit knows everyone in the street and every child at the school. He attacks nothing and nobody, just lopes around and sprawls in the sun. The neighbourhood cats walk so close that their tails touch his nose and he simply lies there, unruffled.

  At three o’clock the next morning Lela goes up to wake Stella. She is out of bed like a shot, still in her clothes from the night before, half asleep but ready for the task at hand. They tiptoe down the stairs. Irakli, Levan and Vaska are waiting in the dark gatehouse.

  Together, they steal out of the yard, their shadows creeping behind them, elongated black bodies that drift slightly to one side as if trying to pull away but compelled by the moon to follow wherever their masters go. It’s a hot night; the breeze wafting through the branches of the trees is almost imperceptible. They stop by Tariel and Narcissa’s gate. Lela climbs onto the fence and calls softly into the yard.

  ‘Bandit!’

  The gormless mutt pads towards the fence, wagging his tail. Lela climbs back down, pokes her hand through and unhooks a length of twisted wire to open the gate. Bandit sticks his muzzle through the gap. While Lela strokes his nose, Stella grabs his collar and hauls him outside.

  ‘Here, Bandit. Come on, boy,’ she says affectionately.

  Irakli helps her tie a rope to his collar.

  ‘Tariel names this soft sod Bandit, but that witch he’s married to is named after a flower? Where’s the justice?’ says Levan.

  ‘Take him well away from here, and not down by Suliko’s either or he’ll set the dogs off. OK, Stella?’

  ‘I know,’ whispers Stella, and crosses confidently over the moonlit road, holding Bandit tightly by the collar. She’s wearing Nona’s pink frilly dress and it flutters as she runs. Bandit whimpers happily, enjoying his night-time excursion.

  Lela goes into Tariel’s garden and beckons the boys to follow.

  ‘When you spit out the stones make sure they don’t land on the garage,’ she hisses. ‘And if I whistle, you just leg it, OK?’ she says, tucking her T-shirt into her trousers. She tightens her belt. The boys do the same.

  ‘We should get some for Stella first, right?’ asks Irakli.

  ‘If she gets cherries from all of us she’ll also be getting the shits,’ says Levan, and the other boys snigger.

  ‘Button it, smart-arse,’ Lela responds.

  She closes the gate from inside. Now that their eyes are used to the dark they can clearly make out Tariel’s tidy front yard and a simple brick house with a glass door covered by a curtain on the inside. Lela picks her way across the garden towards Tariel’s cherry tree.

  Lela decides to send the smallest child up first. She and Vaska give Irakli a leg-up; he hauls himself into the tree and disappears into the darkness. Then Lela gives Levan the nod and he steps carefully onto their interlocked fingers. He hops straight up, hugs the trunk tightly and inches up into the branches until, like Irakli, he’s swallowed up by the blackness.

  Only Lela and Vaska are left on the ground.

  ‘You go,’ Vaska whispers, and crouches down so she can step up onto his back.

  Lela pushes off with one foot and pulls herself straight up into the tree. She presses her cheek against the rough bark and closes her eyes. She hugs the trunk like a lover, and the tree just stands there, transfixed save for a slight sway as the wind combs through its branches. Finally Vaska too throws his arms and legs around the trunk and works his way slowly upwards. He grabs a branch with one hand, swings his body over and hangs there like a long, thin monkey.

  The cherry tree sways a little under the weight of its nocturnal plunderers but stands firm in the ground; like a mother welcoming hungry children, it caresses them and whispers invocations to protect them from the evil eye. There’s a sudden rustle of leaves and the loud crack of a branch breaking under someone’s foot. Everyone freezes, but the only sound they can hear is the crickets’ chirping under the fence.

  They cram their T-shirts with cherries, tearing off handful after handful, leaves and all, stuffing them down between the fabric and their bare skin. They eat some there and then too. Somebody spits out a stone and it bounces off the slate roof with a loud ping. Everyone freezes for a second time, but again nothing happens.

  Lela edges out along one of the branches to try to reach one that is heavy with fruit, but finds Vaska already wrestling with it. They stare at each other. Lela studies Vaska’s smiling face in the moonlight. He leans back with his full weight to try and pull the branch closer so that Lela can reach it. She grabs it with one hand but it’s thick and strong. Vaska grabs hold with both hands, giving Lela the time she needs. She’s in no rush; she twists off the bunches of cherries, tastes them and throws the stones far away over the garage roof. She fires a few at Vaska, blowing them into his face. He just turns his face slightly to the side so that for a moment he’s lost to Lela in the shade of the leaves, until she finds those hazel eyes again, staring back at her. Lela picks every single fruit from the branch as if she’s testing how long Vaska can hold on, then at last she lets go and moves to another branch. She pulls a thin, flexible branch towards her and lets go. It whips at Vaska’s face and Vaska fends it off.

  They slip quietly back through the gate, their T-shirts stuffed full of cherries. Stella is on the other side of the road, walking Bandit up and down. She runs across to her friends. The moon is so bright it could almost be daytime. Stella unties the rope from the dog’s collar, gives him a stroke and pushes him back through the open gate.

  Lela closes the gate.

  A few minutes later they’re back on school grounds. They climb the fire escape and sit at the top, three on the landing, two on the step below. Stella opens out the skirt of her pink dress and Lela fills it with cherries from inside her T-shirt. Stella’s eyes gleam with delight.

  ‘Bandit was such a good boy. He didn’t make a sound,’ she says proudly, and spits her cherry stone towards the spruce trees.

  ‘He’s a clever boy, Bandit. Not like Vaska. First he broke that branch, then he landed that cherry stone smack bang in the middle of the garage roof,’ says Lela, and everyone laughs. ‘Bringing him along was asking for trouble,’ she says teasingly.

  Vaska says nothing.

  ‘Ika,’ Stella blurts out suddenly, ‘will you think about us when you’re in America?’

  ‘Of course he will,’ says Levan, cos he’ll be so miserable, won’t he, crying himself to sleep every night: Stella, I want Stellaaaaaa…’

  Stella giggles excitedly.

  ‘I just can’t imagine myself in America. I keep thinking none of this is real,’ Irakli says pensively.

  ‘You keep thinking that, son. Thinking it doesn’t make it true, though,’ says Levan.

  ‘Don’t you ever get tired?’ Lela asks in bemusement.

  ‘I most certainly do not! Take me along to those English lessons, Lela, and just watch how hard I work!’

  He elbows Stella.

  ‘Oi, Stella, tell them where you’re going to work when you grow up!’

  ‘I don’t want to,’ Stella says, looking embarrassed.

  ‘The poor girl said it one time and you’re still taking the piss?’ says Vaska.

  ‘Go on, Stella, tell Le
la!’ Levan urges.

  Stella gives a deep sigh. ‘I’m going to work at the College of Light Industry.’

  The boys start laughing hysterically. Stella looks offended.

  ‘Where have you got that idea from, Stella?’ Lela asks her.

  Stella just sighs again.

  ‘Dali was talking about this girl with no family who started working at the College of Light Industry, and cos Stella just parrots everything, doesn’t she, so…’

  ‘Hey, I’m not a parrot,’ shouts Stella, and Lela glares at her. ‘He’s a parrot! Tell him, Lela!’

  ‘OK, OK, just keep your voice down,’ Lela says gently.

  ‘Oi, Stella!’ Levan continues. ‘You know what they say about the girls who work there, right? “If you want a real pro,” they say, “get yourself a girl from the College of Light Industry.” Oh yes, those girls do the best job in town!’

  Even Lela can’t help laughing.

  ‘Cos it’s where the whores go, isn’t it? Real pros, best job in town, d’you get it?’

  Stella looks forlorn.

  ‘Shut up!’ she whines. ‘Lela, tell him that’s not true!’

  ‘OK, OK, it’s not true,’ Lela says reassuringly.

  ‘Stella, love,’ giggles Levan, ‘don’t bring shame on us! Don’t start working there or how will Irakli ever be able to look the Americans in the eye!’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Levan!’ Stella snaps. ‘Just pack it in, will you?’

  She narrows her eyes, ready for Levan’s next insult, but it never comes. He just claps his hands together triumphantly and laughs.

  Eventually Stella falls asleep, there on the top step. Irakli gives her a shake but he can’t wake her.

  Lela picks Stella up. They make their way slowly down the fire escape and back to the dormitory block. Moonlight is streaming into the yard through the spruce trees; it looks as if the ground is covered in a light dusting of snow.

  The boys follow Lela up to the girls’ dormitory. Lela lays Stella on the bed, pulls the covers over her and stares at the cherry leaf she’s clutching.