Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope (22 page)

T
HE THREE OF THEM DIDN’T GO UNNOTICED AT THE
airport—far from it. Dragomira was the main focus of attention with her striking travel clothes: a crimson suit with a fitted coat of purple velvet, the whole outfit crowned by a matching hat. She was dragging an enormous brown leather suitcase on wheels behind her and over her shoulder she wore a bag which she hugged tightly to her side. Gus and Oksa might have been less conspicuous, but they were much more excited than the eccentric, yet calm, Dragomira. Oksa felt as if she were fizzing—large bubbles of happiness were popping all over her body. After the conflicts and tensions of the past few weeks, she couldn’t deny she was desperate for a change of scene. This short trip would do her the world of good. Gus’s feelings were much more conflicted. There was no doubt he was delighted to be visiting Leomido with his best friend and to have the good fortune to witness what was likely to be an amazing “apprenticeship”. But, at the same time, he hated having a secret which he couldn’t share with his parents and this was weighing heavily on his conscience.

The Bellangers and Pollocks headed for the departure lounge, which was the scene of some emotional displays of affection, during which Pavel Pollock sighed long and hard. At last, the plane took off.

“We could almost have flown there, that would have been cool!” said Oksa once they were above the clouds. 

“You don’t say!” replied Gus. “Especially if we wanted to be mistaken for UFOs and pursued by the Air Force…”

“Oh, you—you’re so down to earth, aren’t you?” retorted Oksa
ironically
, nudging him in the ribs.

“I can see my granddaughter hasn’t hidden anything at all from you, my dear Gus,” remarked Dragomira.

“Everything I know, he knows,” said Oksa proudly.

“Er, yes, that’s true,” muttered Gus, who didn’t know if Dragomira thought this was a good or a bad thing.

A few hours later, they were sitting by a crackling fire in a vast hearth. Leomido had picked them up from the airport in his car and driven them back to his home, some thirty miles away in the middle of the Welsh countryside. This was no ordinary house, but a former church built four centuries ago, then converted into a monastery. He’d bought it before it had collapsed into ruins and had turned it into a magnificent, comfortable home which would have resembled a manor house more than a religious site, were it not for the small cemetery extending along the back of the property. Situated in one of the winding lanes along the coastline of the Celtic Sea, a couple of miles from a small, peaceful village, the incredible building was set in vast grounds sheltered by heather-covered valleys. The furthest hill led down to a small sandy inlet. Oksa hadn’t been here for two years, which felt like a lifetime. Leomido’s property looked even more beautiful than she remembered, with its small lake, its rolling hills and the wind rippling through the long grass.

“This place is totally unreal! Do you really live here?” asked Gus enthusiastically.

He couldn’t help looking open-mouthed at the stone walls hung with modern art and the enormous black crystal chandelier suspended above
the huge room. Comfortably ensconced in an immense worn leather armchair, Leomido smiled.

“Yes, Gus, I
really
live here. Ever since my dear wife died, twelve years ago. This place brings me peace, I feel free here, and no one disturbs me.”

“Don’t you ever get lonely?” continued Gus, gazing at him in
fascination
. “This house is huge.”

“Ten rooms, plus this room, which used to be the chancel of the church… but no, actually, I don’t get lonely,” replied Leomido.

“Well, it’s really kind of you to train me, Leomido,” said Oksa. “Thank you so much.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, my dear,” he said, tapping his chin with his fingertips. “I just hope I’m not too rusty; it’s a very long time since I taught anyone. A very long time… since Edefia, to tell you the truth.”

Everyone could hear the nostalgia tinged with regret in those last few words. The large living room fell silent for a few seconds. Oksa and Gus made no secret of their impatience to find out more—which Leomido soon realized.

“As you know,” he began in a slightly hoarse voice, “Dragomira, Abakum and I were ejected from Edefia in October 1952 and arrived in Siberia. We immediately realized that the differences between the Inside and the Outside were far greater than anything we could have imagined or discovered through Malorane’s Dreamflights. In the first few months, the drastic change was unbearable. Siberia was too harsh for me from every point of view. I watched my little sister Dragomira suffering in silence and making a heroic effort to cope with the shock of our escape, while Abakum was putting all his energy into helping us to adapt to our new living conditions. I didn’t let my feelings show, I wanted my sister to be able to lean on me as our mother had asked. But I failed to keep my promise.”

“Stop it, Leomido,” interrupted Dragomira, frowning. “You mustn’t blame yourself like this after all these years. I didn’t turn out so badly, did I?”

“Not at all. You’ve made a great success of your life. But that’s no thanks to me,” replied her brother gravely.

“Anyway,” Oksa butted in, “it’s still down to you that Baba and Abakum were able to leave Russia.”

“That’s right, Dushka!” cried Dragomira. “Thanks for reminding that stubborn individual who never wants to take credit for anything he does. But do go on, Leomido, please.”

“Eight months after the Great Chaos, during the summer of 1953, I travelled across Europe and settled in England. It was with
considerable
sadness that I soon realized my memories of my country of origin were fast receding. I could see my mother Malorane’s face less and less sharply in my mind’s eye and these memory losses concerned and upset me. I didn’t find it hard to adapt to England. A few months after settling in London, I was hired by a prestigious orchestra and I married my beloved Lisa. My professional career took off, while Edefia faded from my thoughts and my memory. But not from my heart… All this was very unsettling and I was consumed by nostalgia, I missed Abakum and Dragomira terribly. In 1955, when Cameron, my first child, was born, I really started thinking seriously about the need to pass down our heritage, because even if I didn’t see myself revealing my origins—I wasn’t ready for that—it seemed vitally important to leave behind some trace of what we are. It took a few more years before I was able to talk about it, first to my wife, then to my children. It wasn’t easy, I can tell you. When I was finally reunited with my dear Dragomira and Abakum, I found it much easier to come to terms with my past and I now feel ready to teach you everything I know, my dear.”

“Thank you, Leomido,” murmured Oksa, moved by her great-uncle’s story.

She wondered if her father had benefited from this training too. Obviously not: didn’t Leomido say that he hadn’t taught anyone since Edefia? She was about to ask her great-uncle why, when she noticed a now familiar silhouette.

“Have you got some Lunatrixes?”

“I do indeed, a couple and their child. They’re busy in the kitchen, preparing a feast for us.”

“Aha!” exclaimed Gus. “At last I’m going to see these famous Lunatrixes with my own eyes.”

“I hope they’re as good at cooking as Baba’s,” said his friend.

“Yes, you’ll see, they’re first-class cooks! But coming back to your question a while ago about being lonely, Gus, the reason I don’t feel alone is because
I’m not alone.
This house may be isolated, but that’s just as well, both for me and mainly for my creatures. That way, they can live their lives without having to hide and with no fear of being seen.”

“Creatures? What creatures, Leomido?” exclaimed Oksa and Gus.

“Follow me.”

“I
HOPE YOU BROUGHT YOUR
B
OXIMINUS
, D
RAGOMIRA?”
asked Leomido.

“Of course I did. And I have to say there’s a revolution going on in there!” replied his sister, tapping the bag she was still hugging to her side.

The four of them left the magnificent room and entered a corridor lined with stained-glass windows on one side and massive metal-studded doors on the other. At the very end, they came into a windowless room filled with compartments of all sizes, cosily padded inside, then into another room cluttered with gardening equipment and jars of grain. At the back of the room, they glimpsed the wall of flat stones bordering a small garden.

“Where have they gone?” said Leomido. “Ah, perhaps they’re in the vegetable plot.”

He pushed open the door and his two young guests were greeted by a totally unexpected sight: the small plot of land was inhabited by all kinds of creatures, each stranger than the last. Real live talking creatures! Creatures which were
very
alive and
very
talkative. Some were busy doing odd gardening jobs, others were polishing the leaves of the fidgeting plants while chatting to them while others were simply enjoying the sunshine, stretched out on enormous pumpkins. 

“Come here, come here!” said Leomido. “My dear creatures, allow me to introduce you to the girl I told you about, Oksa, my great-niece. And this is her friend, Gus.”

The creatures stopped what they were doing and gathered in front of Oksa and Gus, who were both rooted to the spot in amazement at this sight.

“Hello, Young Gracious! Hello, young friend of our Young Gracious! Hello, Old Gracious!”

“That’s not very polite,” cried Leomido indignantly. “Please forgive them, Dragomira. I’m terribly sorry.”

Dragomira laughed heartily, not in the least annoyed.

“Don’t worry, that’s what my creatures call me too.”

“Oksa, Gus, may I introduce my small companions. Getorixes! Would you both like to come over here?”

Two creatures about a foot high stepped forward and bowed their large heads in greeting to the two friends. Which meant they actually bent over double, since their bodies seemed to be formed of nothing but this large head; they looked like brown potatoes covered with a voluminous tuft of tangled hair, from which emerged two long arms dragging on the floor and two incredibly long feet.

“I’d better warn you right now,” said Leomido. “The Getorixes like to joke around and they love driving some of their comrades mad. Like the Incompetent, for example.”

“Hey, Incompetent! Fire, fire, send for the fire brigade! Your crest is burning!” one Getorix started yelling while the other imitated the siren of the fire engine.

“Huh? What? What’s going on? Where’s the fire?” shouted the butt of their jokes.

The other creatures began laughing in stifled guffaws.

“Don’t worry, Incompetent,” said Leomido comfortingly, taking the small creature by the hand.

Oksa and Gus bent down to examine the creature called the Incompetent. A little bigger than the Getorixes, it looked terribly awkward. Its flabby,
yellowish body bristled with a crest running the length of its back and ended in a defenceless walrus head which had no tusks. It gazed at the two friends lazily with large, gentle eyes.

“The Incompetent has a brain which is, how should I put it… a little soft,” explained Leomido.

“Soft in the head, soft in the head!” yelled both over-excited Getorixes.

“It’s a little slower than the others,” continued Leomido. “But it’s an extremely sweet-natured, useful creature, as you’ll soon see.”

“Every creature has its uses, is that what you mean?” asked Oksa,
stroking
the downy body of the Incompetent, which was smiling blissfully.

“Exactly right,” said Leomido. “Squoracle, come here please!”

A reddish-brown hen no bigger than a canary came over to Leomido’s young guests and addressed them in a shrill tone, waggling its little tuft frantically:

“You! You come from the south-east, a land much milder than this freezing country lashed by the west winds. I know it! I know it! Because I can sense it! Is it warmer where you come from? I’m sure of it! I’m certain of it! Winter won’t be long in coming now. For pity’s sake, why won’t they take me to the tropics? Why don’t they stop telling me ‘when hens have teeth!’ Because I do have teeth! Why do they leave me here with chattering teeth? Why aren’t I allowed to join my migratory cousins?”

“Why don’t you take a good look at yourself. You don’t look anything like a swallow, my dear. You don’t even know how to fly!” said a strange grinning frog which had a magnificent pair of dragonfly-like wings on its pustule-covered body.

Oksa and Gus looked at each other, taken aback, but fighting the giggles. Leomido picked up the hen and settled it comfortably inside his fleece-lined jacket.

“I have to say that the Squoracle is very prone to hysteria, my dears, a hysteria which is often caused by its sensitivity to the cold. And also by the Croakettes’ wicked sense of humour,” explained Leomido, casting
an amused look at the four flying frogs which were bobbing up and down in the air.

“It must have been unhappy when you were in Siberia,” remarked Oksa.

A long groan came from Leomido’s jacket.

“A name to avoid, if you don’t mind, Oksa,” continued Leomido in a low voice. “It’s something of a ‘chilling’ memory for our poor Squoracle, which spent a few years confined to the edge of the hearth in Dragomira and Abakum’s forest cabin. But if you disregard its phobia of the cold, this little creature plays a very interesting role as a revealer of the truth, because it looks beyond appearances. On Edefia, the Squoracle was used as a lie detector and also as a kind of meter to gauge how much work everyone did.”

“That’s amazing!” exclaimed Gus, thrilled by these introductions.

“I totally agree, my boy.”

“Hey, there are the Lunatrixes.” cried Oksa suddenly. “Look Gus!”

Two Lunatrixes resembling the ones Oksa already knew had just walked into the vegetable plot. They had a smaller one with them, which was immediately greeted by cries of enthusiasm from the three guests.

“That child is gorgeous!” exclaimed Dragomira.

“May I hold him? Please Leomido?” implored Oksa. “He’s so adorable!”

“Blue-eyed boy, blue-eyed boy!” chanted the Getorixes.

“Who are you?” asked the Incompetent looking at Gus, whose hand it had been obediently holding for a good ten minutes.

Oksa bent over to pick up the chubby little Lunatrix with his rumpled, coppery skin. He smiled at Oksa with big eyes fringed with woolly lashes, looking delighted.

“I think it’s time to let you out, my friends,” said Dragomira, talking to the box whose boisterous movements she was finding it harder and harder to control.

She undid the leather strap securely fastened round the box and carefully opened the lid.

“One by one, please, no pushing!”

Oksa and Gus leant over and saw the same creatures as the ones in front of them but tiny, as if they’d been reduced to miniature versions.

They stared wide-eyed and gaping.

“This is a Boximinus, children,” explained Dragomira, seeing their intrigued expressions. “When we had to flee Edefia, Abakum—who must have more foresight than any man I know—collected various specimens which he reduced in size using this amazing invention. The main purpose of the Boximinus was to save space and we used it to store foodstuffs or bulky archives. But only Abakum knew it could be used for living things. Which was lucky, because this way we were able to bring a large number of plants and creatures from Edefia with us to the Outside. Certain varieties of plant didn’t survive the journey through the Portal or the shock caused by the drop in temperature when we arrived in Siberia. But, in the main, they’re all here.”

One by one she brought out the small-scale creatures, which resumed their original size as soon as they were out of the box.

“What a revolutionary invention,” Gus murmured to Oksa.

“You’re telling me!”

Dragomira’s Lunatrixes bumped their prominent stomachs with Leomido’s Lunatrixes, a clear sign they were glad to see each other again. The Getorixes raced over to the grass, where they rolled around
happily
, until they looked like a great ball of tangled hair. As for Leomido’s Incompetent, it nonchalantly made its way over to Dragomira’s one.

“You look like someone I know,” it said feebly, looking at its mirror image.

“I think I’ve seen you somewhere before,” replied its alter ego, its funny-looking eyes rolling languidly in their sockets.

A Squoracle fluttered out of the Boximinus and immediately joined the one keeping warm inside its master’s jacket, while some octopus-like creatures with flies’ heads intertwined their many legs.

“Hey, I’ve seen one of those things before,” exclaimed Oksa.

“They’re Polypharuses, children, phosphorescent Polypharuses, brighter than a flashlight,” explained Leomido. “We used them frequently for public lighting or as interior lamps. Would you believe that, when they reach adulthood, the light they produce is so intense that you can go blind if you look at it for more than a few seconds.”

“That’s so cool! And what’s that?” Oksa pointed to the last specimen, a completely hideous skeletal cockroach-like creature. Bound and gagged, it was writhing at the bottom of the Boximinus.

“That’s an Abominari,” said Dragomira, sounding upset.

“Strange name,” remarked Gus. “And why is it tied up?”

By way of an answer, Dragomira took it from the box and removed the rope tightly binding it. As soon as it was free, it leapt to its feet and stood there, yelling.

“You’ll pay dearly for this, you old bag! If you come near me again, I’ll tear your rotting body to shreds after I’ve drained its antiquated blood and ripped out its mouldering guts, which will be no more than you deserve!”

Beside itself with rage, the Abominari threatened Dragomira with its long, dirty, razor-sharp claws as it delivered this unpleasant verbal attack.

“What’s the matter with it?” asked Oksa.

“What’s the matter with me?” hissed the Abominari. “WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH ME? That decrepit, disgusting old shrew has no respect for what I am.”

“And what are you?” ventured Oksa, frowning.

“WHAT AM I? You ask what I am? You’re as stupid as that washed-out old hag! You deserve to be disembowelled on the spot. I’m the faithful Abominari of Ocious, the one true master of Edefia.”