The House by the Dvina (15 page)

The whole menage with cradle and cots, nannies and mamkas, tiny exotic birds that flew out and in their cages, the house itself, a veritable museum of fine porcelain and objets dТart, astonished Granny as it had Nelly Ч but over all there was this carefree, cheerful ambience that somehow fascinated and attracted her.

During lunch the conversation, translated by Babushka the best way she could, centred on the serious reports from St Petersburg of riots and strikes. The Finns, long under Russian domination, were taking advantage of the rising. Already there had been a few incidents against the Russians. Oscar was worried and preoccupied and immediately after lunch hurried away to attend a meeting.

The ladies moved into the drawing-room. Grandma settled down beside the tiled stove and produced her knitting. Outside, against the darkening windows, downy snowflakes began to drift. In the distance voices were heard singing some rousing refrain which grew louder as it approached the house. The ladies hurried to the windows and stood watching in silence the shadowy procession of men and women marching along the street carrying flags.

Babushka drew the curtains and went back to her seat. “Please not to worry,” she said to Grandma. “People have now many processions but zee police come and stop zee nonsense. You have come to visit your daughter and see our Russia Ч you will see Russia.” Even as she was talking, outlining their plans and trying to assuage GrandmaТs anxiety, a strange drama was unfolding in the kitchen.

The cook, returning from her shopping, brought the rumour that the Finns were planning to attack the Russians and were marking the doors where they lived. The old nanny, on hearing this, hurried down to the front door and, sure enough, found a white cross chalked on the door. Immediately all suspicion, right or wrong, was directed against the young maid, the only Finnish servant in the house. Pandemonium broke out. The furious Russian servants surrounded the girl and accused her of treachery. Hearing their angry voices, Babushka hurried to the kitchen, followed by Aunt Olga.

Grandma, alarmed and curious, timidly approached the hall. At that moment, the kitchen door flew open, the accused girl rushed out and, running down the stairs made for the door. Pursuing her like a swarm of angry bees were all the Russian servants and Babushka. The girl reached the door and vanished. She was not seen again. Babushka took GrandmaТs hand and led her down the stairs to the street. “You see zee cross,” she said, pointing to the door. “Zee Finns know zet here live zee Russians. Tonight perhaps zey make a revolutzia and some bad men come to zee house and cut our throats.”

Grandma was bewildered, frightened and also very cold, standing in the street with the bitter wind cutting through her. “IТm thinking,” she said irritably, “that if we stand here much longer, we shall all catch our death oТ cold and the Finns wonТt need to cut our throats.” She hurried upstairs back to her warm corner and her knitting. Then suddenly the words spoken by Grandpa when they were travelling in the train to Hull came back to her. “Listen, Mother,” he had told her, “if there is any trouble at all in that country, you will go and seek out the British Consul, you will ask his advice and do exactly what he tells you.” Grandma had paid scant attention at that time to all he was saying, but now the words she remembered brought some relief. Yes, tomorrow, she promised herself, she would go and find the British Consul and follow his advice.

Comforted by this decision, she settled down to her knitting, but not for long. The door opened and Babushka entered, dressed in her travelling cloak and hat. Behind her was Aunt Olga, weeping helplessly. “Madame Cameron,” Babushka addressed Grandma, “please to come with me. You and I must not stay in zees house and be killed like zee rats in zee trap. We will go out and die under zee heaven.” “I shall do no such thing,” Grandma rejoined. She saw no virtue in dying outside in the cold. If she had to die it was just as well to die in comfort. “Mamushka, dearest, please let us all stay together,” entreated Olga tearfully. Babushka was adamant. “I will not allow zee Finns to trap me, I go and die alone. It is better so.”

There ensued a scene described by Grandma as the like of which she had never seen before. “Your Babushka,” she recalled, “blessed your aunt and myself and made the sign of the cross in the direction of the nursery. She then sat down and bowed her head in silence and I thought that perhaps she was going to change her mind. But no, she got up, went down the stairs and out the door.”

Aunt Olga and Grandma ran to the window. For a long time they stood with their faces pressed against the panes. They could see nothing. Somehow, the house became very silent. Only the distant voices of the children could be heard coming from the nursery. Grandma returned to her knitting.

Aunt Olga produced a small feather duster and began, with loving care, to inspect her ornaments. From the dining-room could now be heard the homely tinkling of china Ч the setting of the table. Again the door of the drawing-room opened and there on the threshold, bedraggled, wet and dejected, stood Babushka. “I have come back,” she said a little shamefacedly, “to die with my daughter. I have been much foolish and weak Ч please to forgive me.” Relieved, but perhaps not very surprised, Aunt Olga rushed to embrace her mother. Old Nanny Marfushka popped her head round the door. “Tea is ready,” she announced, a happy smile spreading over her homely face.

The samovar was singing a welcome little song as every one gathered round the table. The elder children and their governess came down from the nursery. Aunt Olga began to pour out the tea, but no sooner were the first few cups passed round than the shrill ringing of the front door bell filled the house. It was followed by an imperative knocking on the door.

Marfushka stepped forward. “I will go down,” she said. “IТm an old woman and have lived my life.” Quietly, with great dignity, she went down the wide staircase and laboriously opened the bolted door. There on the doorstep, angry and impatient, stood Uncle Oscar and, behind him, a smiling young officer at the head of a small contingent of cossacks.

Jostling and laughing, the men ran up the stairs and suddenly the house seemed to be full of soldiers. “An order has been issued,” announced Uncle Oscar dramatically. “All Russian women and children, for reasons of safety, are to be taken to the Fort of Sviborg and these lads,” he added pointing to the cossacks, “are here to protect and escort you. We have one hour to get ready Ч only the barest necessities can be taken.”

And now a happy carefree change began. Relieved of all anxiety, delighting in this unexpected masculine invasion, the women bustled about laughing and joking with the men. “Never did I see the like,” my granny was to recall later. “You would have thought they were all getting ready for a jaunt to the country.” The rules of hospitality, of course, had to be observed. The young captain was invited to join the family at the table.

More food was brought. He ate all he could and flirted outrageously with the young governess. Uncle Oscar, anxious and impatient, was urging everybody to hurry and arguing with Aunt Olga who, running out and in the drawing-room, was surreptitiously pushing some mysterious objects into her travelling case.

In the end, everyone had packed and was ready to go. My cousin Jenya, three years old at the time, was to remember quite vividly being held in the arms of a smiling cossack, who stood in the crowded hall on that night when all the Russian women and children, along with the only British lady, were evacuated to the Fort of Sviborg. “It is now time for us to go,”

announced Oscar, “but first, we must all sit down.” All moved into the drawing-room. Those who could find seats sat down and others stood in groups around the room. It was a sombre moment. The soldiers removed their fur hats and for a short time no one spoke. “Now let us go,” again announced Oscar. Quietly, all wound their way down the staircase and out into the darkness. A procession was formed in the middle of the road with the women and children in the centre, the cossacks protecting them on either side. Only old Marfushka remained behind and stood watching the exodus of the family. She had refused to go, saying that someone had to remain to take care of the empty house, all the treasures and feed the little birds of which my aunt was so fond. She also did not believe that the Finns would harm an old woman like herself.

The captain called out an order in a clear, loud voice and the group moved off. Immediately behind the captain, arm-in-arm with Uncle Oscar, walked Aunt Olga. She was carrying her small case and refused to let anyone touch it. Behind them trailed the two mamkas carrying the babies, the nannies holding the hands of their young charges and the governess with the older children. In the rear, her shoulders braced back, the feather in her hat waving defiantly in the wind and her steps firm, walked Grandma. Beside her, protectively holding GrandmaТs arm, was Babushka, the folds of her cloak flapping around her. Some twenty minutes later, the family approached the waterfront. Not surprisingly, they were the last to arrive.

The boat ferrying the women and children was packed and the barge to be towed behind it was rapidly filling up. Officers and sailors were shepherding the passengers over the shaky gangway into the barge. Granny found herself being lifted from the gangway and lowered gently into the depths of the barge. A young sailor smiled and said something. He pointed to the place where, rising out of the sea, grey and forbidding against the dark curtain of the night, was the Fort of Sviborg. Now the boat was gently easing out of the harbour. The barge, a large clumsy duck, followed behind. To Grandma the whole scene was grey, forbidding. The dark, starless sky sent no comforting light. She was surrounded by strange waters where she herself was a stranger in the midst of people whose language she could neither understand nor guess. Somewhere far back was a warm fireside and comfort. It was best not to think about it.

The crossing to the fort was short. They found themselves being helped ashore and led inside the protective walls. They were directed to a spacious hall where mattresses were being spread on the floor and where groups of women and children were already settling down. The family took over a large corner of the room and the nannies began to busy themselves arranging the mattresses and bedding. Granny sat down on the mattress she was to share with Babushka and looked around. Here she saw no anxiety or fear but rather a cheerful philosophy with patient resignation that is peculiar to the Russian temperament. It had sustained them in the past and would sustain them again in the future dark years.

In this room many friends were congregating or calling across to each other, but to Grandma, listening to their voices, it had been a long day and intense weariness was setting in. Shadows danced on the walls as the women prepared themselves and the children for the night. Babushka removed her blouse and skirt and slipped on a short white jacket. She then went down on her knees and began to pray. She prayed long and earnestly, oblivious to her surroundings, crossing herself with a wide sweeping gesture and bowing to touch the floor with her forehead. Finally she took the small gold cross hanging on a chain around her neck, pressed it to her lips and, wishing Grandma a peaceful night, lay down beside her.

The lack of privacy disturbed Grandma. Yet she had no intention of sleeping in her clothes and in the end, after carefully removing her dress, she slipped on her dressing-gown and curled down for the night.

There, in the darkness, she folded her hands and whispered the LordТs Prayer and, thinking that perhaps she ought to say something more, she repeated the twenty-third psalm. After that, feeling comforted, she tucked the quilt around herself and closed her eyes.

The following morning, after rumours and speculations, came the news that the situation in the town was contained. The threatened danger was over and the women and children were taken back to the mainland. Soon after the family returned to the house they were surprised by the arrival of my father. The serious situation in the two capitals and the general unrest spreading over Russia had alarmed Gherman. He had decided to go to Finland to escort the two ladies back to Archangel. Boarding the first available train, he had arrived two days later on the doorstep of his sisterТs house.

That same afternoon, Grandma, accompanied by my father, called on the British Consul. She was prepared to follow his advice, even if it meant her having to abandon all her plans and return to Scotland. The consul held a more optimistic view and advised her to go on to Archangel, where everything was comparatively quiet. At the same time he cautioned her to avoid spending any time in St Petersburg or Moscow and to travel north as quickly as possible.

The next morning, Babushka, Grandma and Gherman caught an early train for St Petersburg and arrived there after an eight-hour journey. With great difficulty, and only after offering an exorbitant fare, Gherman succeeded in finding two cabs. The little group set off for the station lying at the other end of Nevsky Prospect. A deathly silence, like the stillness before a storm, lay over the city. Not a shop or restaurant was open. The streets were empty. As the two solitary cabs approached the station, galloping horses came up behind them. The frightened drivers drew to the side of the road. The stern-faced riders thundered past without a glance and vanished.

After many disruptions and delays, they arrived at the terminal for Archangel. Tanya met them and confirmed what they already suspected Ч the river was half frozen and could only be crossed with difficulty by rowing boat. That abortive revolution of 1905 was the first crack of a chasm which would eventually engulf the whole of Imperial Russia. Had their previous plans not miscarried because of it, my family would have arrived a fortnight later and crossed the frozen river in comfort. Now they were faced with the dilemma of having either to cross through ice-floes and dangerous waters or accept TanyaТs willing hospitality in her small house until the river froze completely. Both Babushka and Gherman were anxious to get back to their homes. In the end they decided to leave their luggage with Tanya and attempt the crossing.