The Dream Begins Page 7

  ‘Shouldn’t that be “no more Cossack brats”, Nicholas?’ She looked him coolly in the eye. ‘When do you intend to take Alexei to the whorehouse in Taganrog? Or have you already done so?’

  ‘Who says …’

  ‘It’s obvious, Nicholas, as the boy’s refused to visit St Petersburg with you. Did you think I was unaware of the delights you sample on your “business trips”?’

  ‘My personal life is none of your concern.’

  ‘Nor do I want it to be, but my daughter’s and grandson’s lives are. The boy has more sense than you, Nicholas. It’s a pity you can’t see it.’ She swept out of the front door. Sonya was already in the carriage, talking to Praskovia through the open door.

  Catherine had the grace to smile and wave to Nicholas as Praskovia helped her inside.

  Beletsky Dower House

  Evening, July 1870

  ‘You’re family, Alexei, and family don’t use the kitchen door,’ Catherine’s cook, Lyudmila, admonished when Alexei walked into the servants’ quarters of the Dower House.

  ‘If I didn’t, yours wouldn’t be the first smiling face I see, Lyudmila.’ He grabbed her ample waist, kissed her cheek, and waltzed her around the table.

  ‘Get off with you.’ She pushed him away. ‘I suppose you want Kvass and pork blinys?’

  ‘It’s a long, thirsty, and hungry ride from my house, dinner was hours ago, and nectar in heaven won’t match your home-brewed bread beer and savoury pancakes.’

  ‘From the way you talk I swear you live on honey.’ She poured him a glass of her fermented dark beer and set two of her savoury pancakes on a plate.

  He took the plate and tankard, carried them to the window and hauled himself up on the sill before taking a bite from one of the pancakes. ‘Is Sonya holding her English class in the servants’ dining room?’

  ‘She is, but before you ask, Praskovia isn’t with them. Your grandmother has set your love and Yelena to work in the old house.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You’re well informed.’

  ‘I was there earlier today with my father.’

  Lyudmila “humphed.” It was a sound Alexei had often heard his grandmother’s servants’ make whenever the count was mentioned.

  ‘As your love isn’t here you should go and see your grandmother.’

  ‘Is she with anyone?’

  ‘Father Grigor. He came to dinner and brought the charity list for the parish. It’s longer than ever. The way some people expect your grandmother to pay their debts is not only scandalous but sinful.’

  ‘As most of the money owed is to my father I suppose it stays in the family.’

  ‘Not for long the way your father splashes his money around St Petersburg. He thinks we don’t know what he gets up to, but people talk. The seed merchant told me your father dines every evening in the new Nevsky Hotel where one plate costs as much as a month’s food for a family here.’ Lyudmila would have never dared speak to any other Beletsky the way she did Alexei, but the servants knew he could be trusted not to repeat a conversation. Especially one that would land them in trouble with the count.

  Alexei finished his beer and jumped down. ‘I’ll help Sonya with her lesson until Father Grigor leaves.’

  ‘You should sit with Father Grigor and your grandmother. One day you’ll have to take over her charity work. There isn’t anyone else here who will care for the poor.’ Lyudmila managed to discount his father without actually saying his name.

  ‘There’s no need for me to take over because Grandmother will live to be a hundred.’

  ‘Not if you keep worrying Her Excellency with your endless quarrels with your father.’

  ‘The excitement I generate keeps Grandmother young. Thank you, Lyudmila, for a supper that has fed my soul as well as body.’ He handed her his tankard and plate and opened the door to the servants’ dining room.

  Sonya had ranged a row of fruit down the centre of the table. Her students, all female were repeating the English names as she held up each item in turn.

  ‘Apple.’

  ‘Apple.’

  ‘Pear.’

  ‘Pear.’

  Sonya eyed Alexei. ‘You’ve come to disturb us?’

  ‘To help.’

  ‘By flirting noisily with Lyudmila in the kitchen? Family should use the front door.’

  ‘So Lyudmila told me, but I have my suspicions about Boris. He might be in my father’s pay and my father doesn’t like me visiting Grandmother, especially this late in the evening.’

  ‘Boris has been in your grandmother’s employ for over fifty years.’

  ‘He’s just the sort to turn traitor. He knows old age is coming and needs every kopek to keep himself in bread and vodka.’ He pulled a chair out and sat beside Yulia and four Cossack girls, facing Ruth and two Jewish girls.

  ‘Alina, Vera,’ he gave the two Russian Mujiks who were sitting at the head of the table the benefit of his most charming smile. ‘Glad to see you in Sonya’s English class.’

  ‘We’d better get jobs working for the new people after this.’ Alina picked up a melon from the table and said, ‘M-e-l-o-n,’ slowly in a deep, guttural voice.

  ‘Sonya’s a good teacher. I’m sure you’ll all get jobs the moment your new employers hear you speak.’

  ‘Won’t you be missed at home?’ Sonya was irritated because her pupils had begun to primp and send flirtatious glances Alexei’s way.

  ‘No, because my father thinks I’m learning Greek in my study with Father Theodore. The priest fell asleep after dinner.’

  ‘You mean you fed him enough wine to fall asleep,’ Sonya suggested.

  ‘Doesn’t take much. Anyway, I decided I’d make the most of a fine evening, go for a ride, and visit here.’

  ‘Your grandmother is talking to Father Grigor in the salon.’

  ‘Lyudmila told me. I won’t disturb them. That way Father Grigor won’t have to lie if my father asks if he’s seen me.’ He opened the cutlery drawer and lifted out a selection of spoons, forks and knives. ‘Who knows the English names for these?’ He was careful to distribute his smiles and winks evenly among the girls but he was conscious of the presence of only one.

  Ruth sat opposite him, her hands in her lap, her eyes downcast as she repeated the English words after Alexei and the others but he knew she was as aware of him as he was of her.

  Soon, very soon, the sun would sink low and the girls would leave. He’d stay in the Dower House until darkness fell then ride out to the ruined monastery. If he were lucky he’d find Ruth waiting for him in the chapel.

  Two years of secret meetings and still the only time he felt alive was during the minutes he stole from his everyday life to spend with her.

  Chapter Five

  Ships’ convoy en route to the Donbas

  September 1870

  Anna Parry sat opposite John Hughes at a table in the salon, a writing tablet, bottle of ink, and cardboard file in front of her. A dozen other people were in the public area, reading, talking, and drinking tea. The tension was palpable. Every time someone left their seat to look out of a porthole people strained to hear their comments. Land was within sight but it was too distant to make out much beyond a grey strip of horizon.

  Ignoring the excitement, John pressed his fingertips together, a sign he was deep in thought. He hesitated then continued dictating, ‘… and so, Owen, I will finish this letter because we’ll be docking shortly. I will write to you as often as I can, but once we disembark at Taganrog …’

  ‘Please slow down, sir.’ Anna opened her file and copied Taganrog from her spell sheet into the letter she was writing to John Hughes’s son Owen Tudor. The ‘job’ Mr Hughes had given her was to write letters he dictated to his youngest son. After she completed every letter, Mr Hughes encouraged her to add notes of her own composition.

  ‘Owen Tudor will be more interested in what a young girl close to his own age has to say about the sights we’ve seen than his ancient father.’

>   She’d enjoyed writing the letters and looked forward to receiving Owen’s replies to the missives Mr Hughes had posted in the ports they’d docked.

  ‘Ready?’ Mr Hughes checked when she dipped her pen nib in the ink.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘To continue … I will have little free time. I’m not looking forward to the journey from the port …’ he smiled at Anna, ‘no Taganrog that time.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I always mix the letters up.’

  ‘… which will be overland to Hughesovka. We’ll be using bullock carts and it promises to be hard, slow work, as we have a great deal of equipment and machinery to haul. After our arrival, there will be even more to do, not just for me, but also Anna Parry who has been kind enough to pen these letters from me to you. I look forward to hearing from you, Owen, when we are finally settled in Hughesovka.

  Never forget the town is named for every member of our family. Work hard in school, obey your masters and learn from them. Treat everyone you meet, no matter where they were born, what they do, or where they come from, as your equal. Live your daily life truthfully and honestly and no man will ask any more of you. I pray God will look after you and keep you, your brothers, sister, and mother safe. Your loving and proud father, John Hughe s.’

  ‘You can add your bit now, Anna.’ John handed her a sovereign. ‘As this is the last letter you will pen for me on board this ship, it’s time you received your payment.’

  ‘No, sir. I couldn’t.’

  ‘You’ve worked for me and work demands payment.’

  ‘This isn’t work, sir, I’ve enjoyed writing to your son.’

  ‘The best work is the work we enjoy that doesn’t seem like labour, but it still requires payment. Everyone should have a little money in case of emergency, Anna. You may be glad of that sovereign one day. Take it. I hope to see more of you and get to know you even better when we’re in Hughesovka, where I hope you won’t be too busy in the hospital to write my letters to Owen.’ John dropped the coin into her file.

  Sensitive to the needs of others, he’d realised that Anna couldn’t bear to be touched by men, even before Glyn had confided the horrors inflicted on Anna by the Paskey brothers. ‘Have you finished packing?’

  ‘I’ve finished mine, sir, but I should check on Richard.’

  ‘Last I saw, his clothes and the books he’s borrowed were strewn from one end of his bunk to the other.’ Glyn Edwards joined them.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, Mr Hughes, sir, I’d better help him. I’ll give you the letter, as soon as I’ve added my bit.’ She gathered her writing materials.

  ‘I’ll send it from Taganrog.’ He smiled as she ran off. ‘You were right, Glyn, she’s a good girl, and I’ve a feeling she’ll prove to be a hard worker.’

  ‘It’s good of you to spend time with her, sir.’

  ‘She’s been the one helping me, not the other way round. Dictating letters made a pleasant change from poring over diagrams and plans for the furnaces. But,’ he lowered his voice, ‘she’s still nervous around strangers. She’s going to need careful handling, Glyn.’

  ‘I know, and Peter and Sarah know. They’ve done a fine job of nursing her and her brother back to health.’

  ‘Given the state of them when they came aboard, your brother’s performed miracles. It’s obvious those two had it rough without what happened to them just before they left Merthyr. When I listen to Richard talk about coal faces and engineering it puts me in mind of what I was like at his age. Precious little schooling except in the academy of hard knocks and a burning ambition to get on and learn all there is to know about modern industry.’

  ‘Given what lies ahead, we need the ones who’ve learned to survive.’

  ‘Let’s hope they’ll receive their just rewards in Hughesovka. Want to walk out on deck to see our new country?’ John handed Glyn a cigar.

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it, sir.’

  ‘Darling,’ Sarah retreated as far from Peter as she could in their cramped cabin. ‘Would you please find Glyn and Richard and walk on deck with them.’

  ‘I’m not helping?’

  ‘Not one little bit, and I’d like to leave the boat when we drop anchor.’ She took a bundle of shirts from him and dropped them on to their bunk.

  ‘I really can’t help you?’

  The expression on his face reminded her of the naughty child look the trainee nurses had given her whenever she caught them eating the last of the biscuits in the staff cupboard. ‘No, you can’t. Off with you, so I can finish what needs to be done.’

  ‘Love you.’ Peter kissed her cheek and grabbed his coat.

  ‘I’ll love you more when you’re not under my feet.’

  ‘I’m gone.’ Peter walked on to the main deck. John was holding court in the centre of a crowd of men. They were looking at the seven ships sailing alongside their own, all loaded to the gunwales. Four with enormous metal boilers strapped to their decks.

  Peter saw Glyn and Richard leaning on the rail. Like every man present, they were listening to every word John was saying. Steadying himself against the roll of the vessel, Peter joined them. The sun was shining but a stinging breeze dispelled its warmth. He felt the tang of an early autumn in its draught.

  ‘… Problem is we’re landing later in the year than I intended,’ John declared. ‘It’s going to cause difficulties but there’s nothing we can do, except meet them head on. I wanted to leave Britain months ago but so much of the equipment had to be manufactured bespoke it wasn’t possible. A solemn warning, gentlemen: as Mr Edwards and I’ve discovered, winters can be cruel on the steppe.’

  ‘I suspect we’re about to find out just how cruel.’ Peter looked to the horizon and the buildings slowly emerging into view. ‘Is my nose playing tricks or is that the smell of Russia?’

  A few men clamped handkerchiefs over their faces.

  ‘Neither,’ Glyn informed him. ‘As there are no railways going our way, I wired ahead to have bullock carts ready. I know they’ve been kept waiting, but I assumed Huw Thomas would make arrangements to clear the manure.’

  ‘As long as it is just bullock manure,’ Peter qualified.

  The men’s laughter was subdued. No one other than John and Glyn knew what to expect. Peter sensed he wasn’t the only emigrant harbouring doubts at the monumental step they’d taken.

  ‘I’ve travelled widely in Russia and I promise you the country doesn’t smell differently, or worse than Britain,’ Glyn assured Peter.

  ‘You’re so easy to tease,’ Peter leaned on the rail next to Glyn.

  ‘The ferry boats and tugs are leaving port.’ John spotted a flotilla of small craft heading out from land. ‘If you haven’t finished your packing, gentlemen, now is the time. The minute those boats reach us we’ll begin disembarking.’

  The men around them began to drift away.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be helping Sarah?’ Glyn asked Peter.

  ‘She threw me out of the cabin. Said she’d be better off doing everything herself.’

  ‘Given the way she’s taken care of everyone during this voyage, I’ve no doubt she will.’ John studied the approaching boats through binoculars. ‘It’s going to take hours to offload our equipment. The captain warned me the sea’s too shallow to allow ships close to the landing stages at this time of year. We’ll have to transfer everything in the ferries.’

  Peter eyed the massive boilers lashed to the decks. ‘Which is fine for people, not so fine for equipment, especially my instruments. Some are very delicate.’

  ‘Glyn, order the crew to handle all packages marked with a red cross carefully,’ John warned.

  ‘I’ll tell them to watch them with the same care as my photographic equipment. I hate this waiting.’

  ‘Another hour, we’ll be on Russian soil. The waiting will be over and we can travel to the steppe,’ John consoled.

  ‘Are there really no roads?’ Peter looked to John to contradict Glyn.

  ‘If there had been I wouldn’t hav
e bought bullock carts. But,’ John wrapped his arm around Richard’s shoulders, ‘we’ve plenty of young muscle with us. A few days of heavy hauling and we’ll be at our new home.’

  ‘If the rain holds off.’ Glyn scanned the clouds.

  ‘The rest of the journey is going to be rough, isn’t it?’ Peter questioned.

  ‘It won’t be pleasant, but don’t worry about your wife. She’ll hold up fine. As this lad and his sister will.’ John smiled at Richard. ‘Now, I have to visit the captain and finalise the arrangements.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Glyn volunteered.

  ‘So you can stand next to us on the bridge and look important?’

  ‘You know me so well, sir.’

  ‘No hurry.’ John looked back at the shoreline. ‘Give it half an hour.’

  ‘There are some things I’ll never understand about John Hughes,’ Peter said after John left.

  ‘Like what?’ Glyn asked.

  ‘He’s wealthy?’ Peter offered Glyn and Richard his cigarettes.

  ‘Beyond our dreams.’ Glyn helped himself. ‘He has a mansion in Greenwich that’s larger and more luxurious than Cyfarthfa Castle. He has shares in the shipyard in Millwall that produced the Great Eastern in 1854. His wife is rumoured to have jewels the Queen covets, his sons are all studying or will study at university. His daughters are, or will be, debutantes, and he’s invested a fortune in the New Russia Company.’

  ‘So, he can afford to buy whatever he wants,’ Peter continued.

  ‘That must be wonderful.’ Richard was envious.

  ‘As you’ll discover if you live long enough, Richard, money isn’t everything. When you get older your wants diminish,’ Glyn struck a match.

  ‘Why on earth has Mr Hughes embarked on this expedition?’ Peter persisted. ‘If I was his age with his money I wouldn’t put up with all this discomfort and uncertainty, not to mention separation from my wife and family. Especially when you consider this venture could fail.’

  ‘Don’t let John Hughes hear you say “fail”,’ Glyn warned. ‘You haven’t worked it out, Peter?’