No! and a man shouting You bitch, I’ll kill you!
Mykola turned to the conscripts. You couldn’t go and wait in the yard? he said. It’s my roommate. She wasn’t supposed to be back till next week. I’ll be down in a minute.
Is it your wife? said Petya.
It’s a friend who lives in the same house, said Mykola.
Ah, a friend, said Petya. It’s a friend, he said to Taras, tugging his sleeve and turning to go.
Can we help? said Taras, waving the roses towards the door so the leaves and petals rustled.
Mykola smiled and shook his head. The door rattled and the woman screamed again, not a word this time, a higher scream. I’ll come down in a minute.
The boys went back to the lift and Mykola rang the bell. It’s Mykola! he shouted. I’m coming in.
Your mother, said Oleg. What the fuck do you want?
Mykola! called Stella. I came back early.
I’m coming in, said Mykola, pushing the key in the lock.
Tell him to fuck off, whispered Oleg. Tell him we’re busy. He shouted: We’re busy!
Mykola turned the key. He heard feet moving quickly across the carpet, a slamming door and running water. He went inside the flat and closed the front door. He held up his hand in front of his face to see what the stickiness on the doorhandle was. It was that.
Stella had locked herself in the bathroom. It’s Mykola, he said. She let him in. She locked the door behind him and sat down on the edge of the bath. She had a bloodstained wet towel wrapped around her head. She sat there with her back hunched and her hands between her legs. She smiled at him.
Hi, she said. How’s it going?
I thought you were in London for another week.
Yeah, said Stella, hunching further forward and lowering her head. But I couldn’t get his penis out of my mind. So I came back.
Are you OK?
Yeah, I’m OK.
Was he beating your head against the doorhandle?
Stella nodded, folded her arms across her stomach and sniffed.
Here, let me have a look. Mykola put out his hand and Stella pushed it gently away.
I’m fine, Mykola, honestly. He gets jealous.
He’s psychotic. He could have killed you.
Yeah, I suppose he could, said Stella. She smiled.
You’ve got to stop seeing him.
I couldn’t do that! What’d I do then? I’d just be thinking about him all the time. You think I’m crazy. He loves me, you know. I used to think once you were crazy that was it, you were crazy everywhere all the time. But it’s not like that. Now I know what my mind’s like, it’s like a big hotel. Down there in the ballroom it’s murder. But up in your own room it’s all quiet, and peaceful, and organised. You just lock the door, and take a shower, watch some TV, make some calls. She laughed. Then you’re all ready to go back to the ballroom again.
Hard and loud as a gunshot, the heel of a boot smashed against the door. You come out of there, you bitch! screamed Oleg. You and the shitstabber!
Go fuck yourself, you sick bastard! said Stella. Have you got a smoke? she said to Mykola.
No. I think we should call the police.
He’ll be fine, said Stella, putting her hand on Mykola’s wrist.
The boot went in again, twice. The wood began to splinter. Mykola pulled a cylinder out of his jacket pocket and when Oleg smashed through sprayed him in the face with Mace. Oleg screamed that he was blind and spun back through the corridor, stotting against corners and bookcases like a pinball. Stella ran after him, crying his name.
After a couple of minutes of the two of them shrieking together it went quiet. Mykola got up and went to the kitchen. He switched on the light and the roaches scattered across the table like a gang of nightbirds surprised by a helicopter. He rooted through the cupboards and shelves and poked around in the fridge. She’d brought back a stack of Marks & Spencer’s ready-to-eat curries but no coffee. He pulled the bottle of Stolichnaya out of the freezer. It was half empty.
He gathered up the vodka and a loaf of bread and filled a mug with some
Mykola turned to the conscripts. You couldn’t go and wait in the yard? he said. It’s my roommate. She wasn’t supposed to be back till next week. I’ll be down in a minute.
Is it your wife? said Petya.
It’s a friend who lives in the same house, said Mykola.
Ah, a friend, said Petya. It’s a friend, he said to Taras, tugging his sleeve and turning to go.
Can we help? said Taras, waving the roses towards the door so the leaves and petals rustled.
Mykola smiled and shook his head. The door rattled and the woman screamed again, not a word this time, a higher scream. I’ll come down in a minute.
The boys went back to the lift and Mykola rang the bell. It’s Mykola! he shouted. I’m coming in.
Your mother, said Oleg. What the fuck do you want?
Mykola! called Stella. I came back early.
I’m coming in, said Mykola, pushing the key in the lock.
Tell him to fuck off, whispered Oleg. Tell him we’re busy. He shouted: We’re busy!
Mykola turned the key. He heard feet moving quickly across the carpet, a slamming door and running water. He went inside the flat and closed the front door. He held up his hand in front of his face to see what the stickiness on the doorhandle was. It was that.
Stella had locked herself in the bathroom. It’s Mykola, he said. She let him in. She locked the door behind him and sat down on the edge of the bath. She had a bloodstained wet towel wrapped around her head. She sat there with her back hunched and her hands between her legs. She smiled at him.
Hi, she said. How’s it going?
I thought you were in London for another week.
Yeah, said Stella, hunching further forward and lowering her head. But I couldn’t get his penis out of my mind. So I came back.
Are you OK?
Yeah, I’m OK.
Was he beating your head against the doorhandle?
Stella nodded, folded her arms across her stomach and sniffed.
Here, let me have a look. Mykola put out his hand and Stella pushed it gently away.
I’m fine, Mykola, honestly. He gets jealous.
He’s psychotic. He could have killed you.
Yeah, I suppose he could, said Stella. She smiled.
You’ve got to stop seeing him.
I couldn’t do that! What’d I do then? I’d just be thinking about him all the time. You think I’m crazy. He loves me, you know. I used to think once you were crazy that was it, you were crazy everywhere all the time. But it’s not like that. Now I know what my mind’s like, it’s like a big hotel. Down there in the ballroom it’s murder. But up in your own room it’s all quiet, and peaceful, and organised. You just lock the door, and take a shower, watch some TV, make some calls. She laughed. Then you’re all ready to go back to the ballroom again.
Hard and loud as a gunshot, the heel of a boot smashed against the door. You come out of there, you bitch! screamed Oleg. You and the shitstabber!
Go fuck yourself, you sick bastard! said Stella. Have you got a smoke? she said to Mykola.
No. I think we should call the police.
He’ll be fine, said Stella, putting her hand on Mykola’s wrist.
The boot went in again, twice. The wood began to splinter. Mykola pulled a cylinder out of his jacket pocket and when Oleg smashed through sprayed him in the face with Mace. Oleg screamed that he was blind and spun back through the corridor, stotting against corners and bookcases like a pinball. Stella ran after him, crying his name.
After a couple of minutes of the two of them shrieking together it went quiet. Mykola got up and went to the kitchen. He switched on the light and the roaches scattered across the table like a gang of nightbirds surprised by a helicopter. He rooted through the cupboards and shelves and poked around in the fridge. She’d brought back a stack of Marks & Spencer’s ready-to-eat curries but no coffee. He pulled the bottle of Stolichnaya out of the freezer. It was half empty.
He gathered up the vodka and a loaf of bread and filled a mug with some
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