Читать книгу Mummy, Come Home: The True Story of a Mother Kidnapped and Torn from Her Children - Oxana Kalemi - Страница 10

Soon after Pasha left I got a job in a café through a new friend. Her name was Marina and she lived on the same street as us. She was seventeen, tall and slim with long black hair and beautiful eyes but most of all she was kind. Marina could see how hungry I was and fed me whenever I went to visit her at her parents’ home. I was so happy to have a friend. A lot of people didn’t want to know me because of Sergey but Marina didn’t care. I’d felt so old and tired but with her I could almost feel like a real teenager again.

Soon we had started working in the café together, a place owned by a Muslim man called Aziz. At first Sergey hadn’t been at all happy about it, but he changed his mind when he heard about the $3 I would be making every day. My shifts lasted twelve to fourteen hours, so now I could put food on the table. One day, I hoped, I would save enough tips to rent my own room and leave with Sasha.

Sergey looked after Sasha during the day but one night he decided to come and pick me up and, as he waited outside, saw me joking with Aziz. He quickly flew into a jealous rage.

‘Why were you kissing that man? Are you fucking him?’ he shouted as we walked home.

‘You know I’m not and I didn’t kiss him,’ I replied.

‘Yes, you did and now I know why you don’t want to have sex with me anymore.’

‘Oh, come on,’ I said wearily. ‘I’m just tired.’

Sergey slapped my cheek. ‘Don’t lie to me,’ he said.

‘Why are you doing this?’ I started to cry. ‘I promise you that I haven’t done anything wrong. You know I’d never cheat on you.’

‘No, I don’t,’ he shouted. ‘And today is your last day at work. You can’t go back.’

I didn’t argue with him as we walked back to the summer kitchen and got into bed. But when I woke the next morning, I got up to dress for work as usual and put some money on the table before leaving. Sergey would realise he was better off if I worked when he saw it.

Marina was waiting for me outside as I closed the door and it was quiet as we started walking. But yells suddenly filled the air and I turned around to see Sergey running towards us.

‘You fucking bitch,’ he shouted. ‘I told you that you couldn’t go back to that place. What the fuck are you doing?’

Marina looked so confused. I’d never told her the truth about Sergey. I didn’t talk to anyone about it and, although she’d been shocked when she saw how we lived in the summer kitchen, she had no idea how things really were.

‘Let’s go,’ I said as I started running. We managed to stay ahead of him for a while but as we reached the road, Sergey caught me. Blows flew into my body as I fell to the ground.

‘Why didn’t you listen?’ he screamed. ‘I meant what I said, you know. Fucking bitch!’

A fist smashed into my stomach. ‘Please help me,’ I cried to Marina, but she was scared and didn’t know how to stop Sergey as he ripped at my clothes. ‘Why are you doing this?’ I screamed at him. ‘We need the money. I can’t just leave my job.’

‘Whore! You’re doing all those Muslims and now you don’t want me.’

‘What are you saying?’ Marina suddenly shouted. ‘It’s not true. Stop this. Leave her alone.’

Sergey said nothing but the punches stopped as suddenly as they’d begun and I looked up to see a car parked beside us. Two customers I knew from the café were getting out as Sergey walked quickly away. I lay on the ground and pulled my cardigan around me, trying to hide my underwear as I sobbed.

The customers were kind and helped me up. I managed to put my dress back on and hold the rips together until I could pin them at the café. My eye had started to blacken by the time Aziz arrived and Marina told him what had happened.

‘Is he crazy?’ Aziz asked when she’d finished.

I said nothing. All I could think about was going home later. I was so scared. What would Sergey do to me this time? I knew what he was capable of—a belt, a knife, he didn’t care what he used to hurt me. But, however much I wanted to run, I couldn’t leave Sasha.

Later that evening, I stood outside the door to the summer kitchen and held my breath. I’d been standing there for a few minutes trying to make my hand reach out and turn the handle. I knew I couldn’t fight back if Sergey beat me. I’d tried in the past and look what had happened. I was weak and he was strong—I’d never win.

But the summer kitchen was in darkness when I finally opened the door. Maybe my neighbour Janna would know where Sergey and Sasha were. She made vodka and so Sergey often went to see her.

‘Oxana,’ she exclaimed when she opened the door.

‘Do you know where Sergey is?’ I asked. ‘He’s not at home and I want to find Sasha.’

‘The baby is here with me. But don’t you know what’s happened?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Sergey is in hospital.’

‘What?’

‘In hospital,’ Janna exclaimed, her eyes widening in excitement.

‘But why?’

‘He got beaten up. Some men arrived earlier to see him and the next thing I knew Sergey was staggering out of the summer kitchen covered in blood. Barely walking. Half dead.’

I felt sick as I stared at Janna. Finally Sergey knew what it was like to be beaten but, although I knew I should be happy, all I felt was fear. What had he done now? Would those men come back for me?

It was too late to go to the hospital that night but I told Marina I wouldn’t be going into work when she came to pick me up the next morning and I arrived at the hospital to find Sergey lying in bed. His lip was split, his jaw was black and he’d bruised his kidneys.

The muscles in his face twitched as he looked at me.

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘Well, you should know.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Didn’t you send them?’

‘Who?’

‘Your fucking Muslim lovers,’ Sergey spat. ‘The ones who did this to me. Men from the café you love so much.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I whispered. ‘Of course I didn’t send anyone. I knew nothing about it.’

‘Well, we’ll see about that won’t we? I’ll be home soon and then we’ll know the truth about your customers.’

How could that be true? I didn’t believe him. At work, I said to Aziz, ‘My husband seems to think you sent some men to beat him up. Is he crazy?’

Aziz looked me straight in the eye. ‘No, Oxana, he’s right. I sent my men to teach your husband a lesson in respect. I will not tolerate him treating you that way, or making his scandalous accusations against my good name. Now he knows we’re watching him and if he touches you then all you’ll need to do is let us know.’

I gasped. So it was true! But this was terrible. Rage coursed through me. ‘And then what?’ I screamed. ‘Are you going to feed my baby every day, look after him, put money on the table when you’ve killed my husband?’

Aziz frowned and said nothing.

‘No? So how will I live? How will my baby eat without a man to bring home money or someone to look after my child while I work for you? Can’t you see what you’ve done? I can never come back here now, and my husband will probably kill me for it.’

‘No, Oxana, you’re wrong. Stay here and you’ll be safe. I promise.’

‘I can’t.’ Shaking with anger, I turned around and slammed out of the café. Aziz might have thought he was protecting me but this wasn’t an end—it was only just the beginning. I was sure of just one thing. The moment we were alone Sergey would have his revenge.

It was like waiting for a bomb to go off when Sergey came home after a week in the hospital. I didn’t know what would trigger the explosion but knew it would come soon and so I became more and more scared when he was silent. It was as if nothing had ever happened and neither of us mentioned Aziz or the café. But the relief I felt each night when I went to sleep without a beating was replaced by fear as the waiting started once again the next morning.

I missed working at the café—the money I’d earned, the food we’d eaten, the friends I’d made—but couldn’t go back. My door into a new world had slammed shut and I was as trapped as ever on the wrong side. I still saw Marina and she brought me bits of money and food whenever she could but we didn’t talk about what had happened. Our lives were just too different and I wanted to forget mine when I was with her.

But as days turned into weeks, I began to wonder if Aziz had been right after all. I’d always known Sergey was scared of other men and maybe fear of what might happen again was enough to keep him away from me. I wasn’t sure but, like an actress playing a role, I gave him sex when he wanted, didn’t say a word when he went out drinking and never mentioned getting a job again. Things went back to how they always had been and, even though I couldn’t believe that Sergey would forget so easily, I began hoping he might leave me alone.

A couple of weeks after he got back from hospital we finally moved from the summer kitchen into the main house with Sergey’s sister Ira and her husband Alex. The tenants had left and Ira had decorated the house ready for us. I liked her. She and Alex worked on a market stall selling wedding dresses and, although they couldn’t have children of their own, had taken in their niece Vica when her mother had committed suicide.

They had a good life and it was almost like being part of a family again. Our new home might not have had running water or an inside toilet, but it had a proper corrugated iron roof, white walls and maroon floorboards. There was also a living room where Vica slept and two bedrooms—one for Ira and Alex and another for Sergey, Sasha and me. But although I enjoyed sitting together with Ira in the evenings, I still wasn’t sure whether I could really trust her or not. She was Sergey’s sister after all, even if she didn’t seem to like him much. But she was also kind—she gave Sasha and me food whenever she could and looked after her niece Vica when she could easily have put her into an orphanage just as I had done with Pasha.

I hadn’t forgotten my little Pasha, of course. I thought of him constantly but even though I longed to see and hold him, I was too scared to go the orphanage. I was consumed with guilt for leaving him there, and terrified of what he might be suffering. I couldn’t bear to think about his tiny body undergoing an operation and dreaded to think of how he might look at me when I visited him. So I was a coward and, despite my longing, I did not go.

He’s better where he is, I told myself firmly. And he’ll be coming home when his six months at the orphanage are up, and then I’ll be a better mother to him.

Soon after Pasha left, I discovered I was pregnant again. I could not refuse my husband what he wanted and did not have the money for contraception. But even though I worried about feeding another mouth, I was also happy. I just knew everything would be different this time: I would be a good mother and this baby would be easy and healthy where Pasha had been sick and unhappy. I would prove that I could be a good mother and, when Pasha came home, he would have a new baby brother or sister to love.

Sergey didn’t say much about it when I told him but I didn’t care as long as he left me alone. I had done what he wanted—given Pasha to the orphanage and stopped working—and so he seemed happier now. All I could do was pray that he would continue to leave me alone.

This time though, God wouldn’t hear my prayers.