Two Caravans Part 13

"Was there. I was look. Now I think she gone. Or dead. Maybe dog will find it."

"Where she can go?"

Vulk shrugs.

"Maybe London. Maybe Dover. I still looking. I heffa pa.s.sport for it."

"You have pa.s.sport of Irina?"

"Without pa.s.sport it cannot go far. Maybe on other strawberry farm. Somebody telephone to me yesterday from Sherbury, near this picnic place. Ukrainian girl no pepper. Maybe is same one. I go look. If it is same one, I vill heffit. Or maybe other nice Ukrainian girl vill come to Vulk. Make loff. Make business. I vill give it pa.s.sport. I heffa plenty."

Five Bathrooms

Sherbury Country Strawberries was altogether a different kind of operation from Leapish's ramshackle strawberry farm. The work was better, the pay was better, the caravans were better. There were facilities-a separate barn with a ping-pong table, a common room, a TV, a phone. Even the strawberries were better, or at least they looked more even in size and colour. And yet each morning since I'd been here, I'd woken with a feeling of emptiness, like a big blank inside me where something vital was missing.

No, it definitely wasn't that Ukrainian miner I was missing. There were plenty of Ukrainian boys here, and none of them was of any interest whatsoever. Maybe it was just the scale of the place-fifty or so caravans parked side by side in rows so close together that it was more like a city than a farm. You couldn't see the woods or the horizon, and in the morning it wasn't birds that woke you, it was lorries, and men clattering around with wooden pallets in the yard. You couldn't hear yourself think because people were always talking or playing their radios. My head was full of questions, and I needed a bit of peace and quiet.

OK, I know it seems sn.o.bby, but these Ukrainians were not my type. They just wanted to play pop music and talk about stupid things like who was going to bed with whom. Oksana, Lena and Tasya kept saying, hey Irina, you've made a real hit with Boris. That pig. I've been keeping out of his way. s.e.x for entertainment doesn't interest me-I'm still waiting for the one the one to come along. to come along.

Mother must have thought Pappa was the one the one. The sad thing is, she still does. Last night I phoned her from the payphone, reversing the charges. I didn't want to alarm her, so I just said I'd left that farm and I was on another one. Mother started crying and telling me to come home, and how lonely she was. I snapped at her to shut up and let me be. No wonder Pappa had left home if she went on at him like that, I said. I knew I shouldn't have said it, but it just came out. When I put the phone down I started crying too.

Today after work I was sitting on my bunk trying to read a book in English, but I couldn't concentrate. I'd been crying on and off all day for no reason. What was wrong with me? Irina, you should phone Mamma again. You should say sorry. Yes, I know, but Irina, you should phone Mamma again. You should say sorry. Yes, I know, but...I put on my jeans and my jumper, because it had already turned cool, and I walked out to the payphone. I asked someone for some change. There were a few people milling about there. Then I saw him.

There was no mistaking him, even from behind: the fake-leather jacket; the ratty ponytail. He was standing at the top of the steps, knocking at the door of the office and peering in. My stomach lurched. Was my imagination playing tricks on me? I closed my eyes, and opened them again. He was still there. Maybe everywhere I look from now on I will see him. No, don't think like that. If you let yourself think like that, he's got you. Just run. Run No, don't think like that. If you let yourself think like that, he's got you. Just run. Run.

Dear sister, Dear sister, I am still in Dover where I have become entrapped in the pa.s.sages of Time but I have some tip-top news for you. I am still in Dover where I have become entrapped in the pa.s.sages of Time but I have some tip-top news for you. Yesterday while I was awaiting for Andree at the pier Vitaly that tricksome mzungu from the strawberry caravan suddenly appeared and started urging us to travel into a different town for the slaughter of chickens. Then a great Mult.i.tude thronged around shouting and calling out in tongues some yearned also to partake of the slaughter and some cursed Vitaly and despised his name. One man cried out that Vitaly is a Yesterday while I was awaiting for Andree at the pier Vitaly that tricksome mzungu from the strawberry caravan suddenly appeared and started urging us to travel into a different town for the slaughter of chickens. Then a great Mult.i.tude thronged around shouting and calling out in tongues some yearned also to partake of the slaughter and some cursed Vitaly and despised his name. One man cried out that Vitaly is a moldavian toy boy moldavian toy boy and I committed this saying to memory for I wonder what it means. and I committed this saying to memory for I wonder what it means. But when we went to the chicken place Andree made an outstanding speech about Self Respect saying there are some things you should not do even for money it was like Our Lord chasing the moneylenders from the temple. So the chickens were saved and we brought back with us Toemash and Martyr and Yola who had been hidden there and returned them to Poland. And I was very sad to say goodbye to them especially Toemash and his guitar. But when we went to the chicken place Andree made an outstanding speech about Self Respect saying there are some things you should not do even for money it was like Our Lord chasing the moneylenders from the temple. So the chickens were saved and we brought back with us Toemash and Martyr and Yola who had been hidden there and returned them to Poland. And I was very sad to say goodbye to them especially Toemash and his guitar. In Dover we met the Sp.a.w.n of Satan and Andree asked him the wherebeing of the beauteous strawberry-picker Irina for he is beloved of this lady and he says we must find her before the Sp.a.w.n can seize her and exercise his Foul Dominion over her. So speeding up her Salvation we drove once again through this country which is as green as the plateau of Zomba with many thickets of trees and flowering bushes crowning the hilltops. Then Andree enquired about my country and I told him our hills and plains are outstanding in beauty and our people are renowned for the warmest hearts in Africa and everything is broken. Your country sounds very much like Ukraine he said in a brotherly voice. I told him that in the dry season everything is covered in red dust. In Ukraine the dust is black he said. In Dover we met the Sp.a.w.n of Satan and Andree asked him the wherebeing of the beauteous strawberry-picker Irina for he is beloved of this lady and he says we must find her before the Sp.a.w.n can seize her and exercise his Foul Dominion over her. So speeding up her Salvation we drove once again through this country which is as green as the plateau of Zomba with many thickets of trees and flowering bushes crowning the hilltops. Then Andree enquired about my country and I told him our hills and plains are outstanding in beauty and our people are renowned for the warmest hearts in Africa and everything is broken. Your country sounds very much like Ukraine he said in a brotherly voice. I told him that in the dry season everything is covered in red dust. In Ukraine the dust is black he said. Andree is a good man with a heart full of brotherly love. Although he has a woman's name and his English is feeble apart from Toby Makenzi he is the best mzungu I have ever met. Maybe he has an African heart also his dog. Also he is an outstanding driver for he delivered us from many perils aided by the intercession of Saint Christopher whose medallion I always wear upon my neck which was given me by Father Augustine with a prayer to bring me safely back to Zomba. Andree is a good man with a heart full of brotherly love. Although he has a woman's name and his English is feeble apart from Toby Makenzi he is the best mzungu I have ever met. Maybe he has an African heart also his dog. Also he is an outstanding driver for he delivered us from many perils aided by the intercession of Saint Christopher whose medallion I always wear upon my neck which was given me by Father Augustine with a prayer to bring me safely back to Zomba. Sometimes I dream of the beauties of Zomba and the good Nuns of the Immaculate Conception at Limbe nearby who took me in after our parents died and our sisters went working in Lilongwe and you my oldest proudest dearest sister won your Nursing Scholarship in Blantyre and I was beloned. Sometimes I dream of the beauties of Zomba and the good Nuns of the Immaculate Conception at Limbe nearby who took me in after our parents died and our sisters went working in Lilongwe and you my oldest proudest dearest sister won your Nursing Scholarship in Blantyre and I was beloned. Then good Father Augustine became like a father to me and before I came to England he spoke to me of the Priesthood with gentle words and kindness saying I would make a tip-top priest and I could go to the seminary at Zomba to learn the Mysteries which is very desirous to me for I hunger and thirst for Knowledge. And he said you will say Goodbye to Death for death is only of the body not the soul and you will sing in the Choir of Angels. Then good Father Augustine became like a father to me and before I came to England he spoke to me of the Priesthood with gentle words and kindness saying I would make a tip-top priest and I could go to the seminary at Zomba to learn the Mysteries which is very desirous to me for I hunger and thirst for Knowledge. And he said you will say Goodbye to Death for death is only of the body not the soul and you will sing in the Choir of Angels. But Goodbye to Death means also Goodbye to Ca.n.a.l Knowledge which is an earthly delight and this is why I am turmoiled in my heart dear sister. For I have a Decision to make. But Goodbye to Death means also Goodbye to Ca.n.a.l Knowledge which is an earthly delight and this is why I am turmoiled in my heart dear sister. For I have a Decision to make. So as we drove along I asked my mzungu friend Andree do you understand the heart of G.o.d? He replied no one understand this and if a problem cannot be solve why waste time to worry about it? Then he brought us into the same leafsome place where we stopped once before and we ate like the Disciples of bread and fish. But I was still unsatisfied and I enquired Andree brother did you ever experience ca.n.a.l knowledge? So as we drove along I asked my mzungu friend Andree do you understand the heart of G.o.d? He replied no one understand this and if a problem cannot be solve why waste time to worry about it? Then he brought us into the same leafsome place where we stopped once before and we ate like the Disciples of bread and fish. But I was still unsatisfied and I enquired Andree brother did you ever experience ca.n.a.l knowledge? After some whiling he said Emanuel why for you asking me this question? And I put my turmoil before him for I said if I choose ca.n.a.l knowledge I will walk in the valley of the shadow of death. Andree shook his head and in a voice like a man possessed he said friend why you asking all this big question? Why you always talking about ca.n.a.l? Why you always thinking about death? You too young for this thought. Today is only one big question for us-where is Irina??? After some whiling he said Emanuel why for you asking me this question? And I put my turmoil before him for I said if I choose ca.n.a.l knowledge I will walk in the valley of the shadow of death. Andree shook his head and in a voice like a man possessed he said friend why you asking all this big question? Why you always talking about ca.n.a.l? Why you always thinking about death? You too young for this thought. Today is only one big question for us-where is Irina??? I AM DOG I RUN I SNIFF MY MAN SAYS GO SEEK SMELLS OF RIBBON-ON-NECK FEMALE I SNIFF I FIND A TREE PLACE WITH THIS FEMALE SMELL BUT SHE IS NOT THERE I FIND STINKIN6 MAN-FOOD PAPER WITH FEMALE SMELL I TELL MY MAN HE DOES NOT UNDERSTAND RUN SEEK SNIFF HE SAYS I SNIFF I RUN I AM DOG I AM DOG I RUN I SNIFF MY MAN SAYS GO SEEK SMELLS OF RIBBON-ON-NECK FEMALE I SNIFF I FIND A TREE PLACE WITH THIS FEMALE SMELL BUT SHE IS NOT THERE I FIND STINKIN6 MAN-FOOD PAPER WITH FEMALE SMELL I TELL MY MAN HE DOES NOT UNDERSTAND RUN SEEK SNIFF HE SAYS I SNIFF I RUN I AM DOG Why is this useless dog running around in circles sniffing at old bits of paper and cigar stubs on the ground instead of following her trail? Does it mean she is no longer here? Andriy feels a cold breath on his heart. What was that other strawberry farm Vulk had mentioned-Sherbury? Maybe he should take a look there.

The turning to Sherbury is a few kilometres up the road. As the lane starts to climb, he slows right down and eases carefully into first to take the hill. They pa.s.s the lay-by with the row of poplars and there, down below, he sees their strawberry field, the prefab with its locked door, the men's caravan, even the women's shower screen he built. It all seems so familiar, and yet so distant, like childhood places revisited. At the bottom of the field is the gate where a different, more carefree Andriy Palenko used to watch the pa.s.sing cars and dream of a blonde in a Ferrari.

If she is still alive and hiding, he thinks, maybe this is where she would come. He turns back and drives in through the gate, parking up by the prefab. The field looks neglected. It's obvious that no one has been picking these strawberries for a while; many are over-ripe and rotting on the ground. Weeds are springing up between the lines of plants.

Emanuel jumps down and fetches all the bowls from their caravan, and working up from the bottom of the field, starts to fill them up with strawberries. For every berry he puts into a bowl, he also puts one into his mouth. Should he try and stop him? Never mind. If he has a bit of looseness in the bowels later on, it's not the end of the world.

Someone has propped their men's caravan back up on its bricks, but it has a desolate and abandoned air-dead flies beneath the windows, cobwebs, a smell of must and staleness that he never noticed when they lived there. He looks at his old bunk, the dirty and sweat-stained mattress. He never noticed that either. The Andriy Palenko who used to sleep here was a different man-he has already grown out of him, like a pair of too-tight shoes. It has happened so quickly.

Hm. Here are some signs of recent activity: a couple of gla.s.ses in the sink with a faint whiff of alcohol in them, and a used condom on the floor at the side of the double bed. Some secret lovers have been meeting here. He smiles. Taking the condom, he wraps it in some paper and puts it in the bin before Emanuel spots it. But Emanuel has swung himself up into his old hammock, and lies there with a blissful look on his face, swaying gently. Just for a moment, Andriy stretches out on the double bunk and gazes through the window up the field to where the women's caravan used to be. A misty feeling comes over him. He closes his eyes.

Holy bones! Suddenly it is a quarter past six! He shakes Emanuel awake.

"Come, my friend. Let's go!"

To speed things up, they uncouple their caravan from the Land Rover and leave it to collect later. Quietly, without telling Emanuel, he takes the five-bullet gun from his backpack and stows it in his trouser pocket.

The strawberry farm at Sherbury is only a couple of kilometres further on. It seems more like a factory than a farm, a soulless industrial place with big packing sheds and lorries waiting to be loaded up. There are no strawberry fields here, but behind a low wire fence is a field full of caravans, dozens of them, anonymous oblong boxes parked as close together as cars in a car park. He pulls the Land Rover into the yard and looks around.

The brick building at the end of the yard has some steps up to a door marked 'office'. It is closed, but people are hanging about down below. He approaches them at random-"I am looking for a Ukrainian girl. Her name is Irina." They direct him to one caravan after another, jabbering away about who lives where, keeping him waiting. Come on, come on. Time is pa.s.sing, and they're getting nowhere.

Then he sees it-he is sure it was not there a few minutes ago-the gleaming black curvaceous dark-windowed chrome-barred leather-seated four-by-four, crouching half-hidden at the corner of the barn like a predator waiting to pounce. A pulse starts hammering in his head.

"Emanuel-you start at that side of the field. I start at this side. Knock on every door."

There are Ukrainians, Poles, Romanians, Bulgarians, everybody seems to be here. Some people know Irina, some even worked with her today. Yes, definitely the same girl. Pretty. Long dark hair. Not sure which caravan she is in. Come on, come on, you idiots. Now all his pulses are hammering. He races frantically from one caravan to another. Eventually he knocks on the door of number thirty-six.

"Yes," says the girl, "Irina lives here. Irina Blazhko. But she went out somewhere. And Lena, too. Maybe twenty minutes ago."

"Lena went out for cigarettes," says another girl. "I don't know where Irina went."

They lead Andriy and Emanuel to the common room in the barn, where the cigarette machine and telephone box are installed, but neither Lena nor Irina is there. A crowd of strawberry-pickers has gathered, and now they're all milling around looking for the missing girls in the caravan field, the packing shed, the barn, the yard. There is an air of excitement and chaos. Everyone wants to know what's going on. Then he notices something that makes his heart stop-the black four-by-four has disappeared from the yard.

Is he too late? Where have they gone? Maybe they're already on their way back to Dover. Or maybe, yes-the same place they stopped for lunch. Good place for make possibility Good place for make possibility. That's where Vulk will have taken them. He tries not to think about what might be happening to the girls. Focus on what's possible. Just get there quick. He's glad he left the caravan behind.

"Let's go! Let's go, Emanuel! Dog! Dog!"

The useless animal has disappeared. He'll have to come back for it later.

Without the caravan to slow them down, it takes less than twenty minutes to get back to the gra.s.sy picnic place. He stops a few metres short of the turning, then inches forward, as slowly and quietly as he can. Yes, as he guessed, the black four-by-four is there, parked a little way up the track, beyond the ruined picnic table, pulled well in under the overhanging branches of a tree. He brings the Land Rover in, so they are blocking the exit. Wait-are you crazy, Andriy Palenko? This type's a killer. But the comforting weight of the gun on his thigh gives him courage. He jumps down silently. Emanuel jumps down too. Together, keeping close to the bushes, they sneak down the track.

As they get near the four-by-four, he notices that it's moving-it seems to be bouncing up and down rhythmically on its springs. He hears some m.u.f.fled moaning and grunting from inside. The monster! The devil's b.u.m-wipe!

They creep closer. The light has started to fade. The windows of the vehicle are of darkened gla.s.s and steamed up from inside, so at first it's impossible to see what's going on in there. Then he notices a centimetre gap at the top of the driver's side window. He presses up close, cupping his hands round his eyes. Inside, the seats have been pulled down into a bed and he sees a woman's figure lying there, naked, her pale b.r.e.a.s.t.s casually exposed, her head thrown back, her white knees spreadeagled. And between those fragile girlish knees Vulk's solid rump is hammering away, up and down, up and down. "Stop!"

Rockets explode inside his skull. All his plans and tactics are blown away. All he can do is bang on the window with his fists, howling "Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!"

The couple inside the vehicle stop dead. Andriy glimpses a gleam of purple as Vulk, still ma.s.sively engorged, withdraws from the girl. Raising himself on his forearms, he flings back his head and bellows, "Yrrhaaa!" Then he flops forward onto the girl with a groan.

The girl lifts her head and turns her face towards the window, her eyes like empty wells, her mouth sagging open. But what has she done to her hair? He realizes in that instant that it is not Irina.

As she catches his eye watching her at the window, the girl's mouth opens wider. She screams. She cannot move; she is pinioned under Vulk's vast belly. She tries to raise herself, struggling frantically. Suddenly Andriy is aware of a tremor from Emanuel, who is standing beside him, craning to see through the c.h.i.n.k with apparent enthusiasm.

"Emanuel! Go back to Land Rover! This is not good for you to see."

Emanuel turns to him with a cryptic smile.

"Ca.n.a.l knowledge!"

What has got into him?

Now the couple in the vehicle have started to scramble into their clothes, the girl is covering herself with her arms, her thin childish body trembling, and Vulk is trying to get a grip on his trousers, which are stuck on his boots around his ankles. But he can't do it-he just can't do it in the cramped s.p.a.ce in the back of the four-by-four, so he opens the door, thrusts his thick legs out, and struggles into his trousers with a pained grimace. Andriy is waiting for him.

"What type of devil are you?" he shouts. His rage gives him courage-and the weight of the gun in his pocket. "Why for you take this young girl?"

"You bleddy idiot! I kill you!" Vulk's jaw is twitching, his fists clenching and unclenching as he wrestles to ease the zip over his monstrosity.

"Where is Irina?"

"Not here. It is not here. You bleddy fool. You can see. This is another."

"Where is Irina? I know you been after her."

"Irina is running. Running from Vulk. All time running."

He half expects Vulk to draw a gun on him, but either he has not replaced it yet or he has decided that he needs nicotine more than an armed showdown, for he now gives up the struggle with his zip, lights a cigar with shaking hands, and starts puffing away as though his life depends on it, sucking the smoke in through his teeth.

"Listen," he mutters, "if you find this Irina, I vill pay you for it. Good money."

Andriy feels a mixture of relief and disgust.

"Why for you want her? You have this girl now."

Vulk puffs, enveloping Andriy in a cloud of smoke, his stained teeth chomping on the cigar. His lips are pink and moist. He licks them with his tongue, a quick movement, like a snake.

"Irina is better. Better cla.s.s girl. No boyfriend. Hrr. I like it."

"You degenerate pensioneer. Why you not find nice babushka to f.u.c.k?"

"Young girl is good for old man." Vulk's snake-tongue flicks across his lips. "Mek him nice stifFy. Good business."

Wreathed in smoke, he resumes the tussle with his zip, and breathes a grunt of relief as it slides up at last. Andriy stares, despite himself fascinated by the physicality of the man, those greedy eyes, that smile of possession, that gross bulk stretched tight as a drum above his trouser belt, the little flecks of dandruff like droppings of mortality on his collar. So this is how evil is embodied.

"Is it for love you want? Or business?"

"Loff? Business?" He grins. "Is same thing, no?"

This corrupted old devil-he doesn't understand the difference.

"Maybe you little puppy boy, you like it older?" Vulk sneers, lowering his voice to a coa.r.s.e whisper. "If you vant I can find for you. Good voman. Matoor. Plenty t.i.tty. Better than this one. She mek you nice little stiffy."

Then he reaches into the back of the vehicle, where the girl is pulling on a pair of too-tight jeans, and gives her a slap on the rump.

"This my new girlfriend. Eh, Lena? You like Vulk?"

She shrieks playfully.

"Where is Irina?" Andriy leans forward and asks the girl quietly in Ukrainian. "Have you seen her?"

The girl looks no older than fifteen. Her eyes are completely blank, unfathomable. She shrugs. "You know, this Irina, she doesn't talk to n.o.body. She thinks she is better cla.s.s of person than other Ukrainians." Her voice is girlish and breathy, with a strong Kharkiv accent. Her eyes shift sideways and downwards, avoiding his gaze.

"Little sister, you come with me." He reaches out his hand to the girl. "This is no good for you. I take you back to strawberry place."

The dark eyes flicker upwards briefly in a look halfway between fear and contempt.

"Who you are, Mister Clever-clever, sticking poky-nose in everybody's business?" For the first time he catches the faint whiff of vodka. "Who asked you to come here?"

"Sister, you too young for this type of game. You should be in school."

"I am seventeen. Older than you think." She has climbed out of the four-by-four and is b.u.t.toning up her jumper. She is scarcely more than a metre and a half tall. Her breathy voice has taken on a defiant edge. "And I know this game since age of twelve." In the dusky light, the dead pools of her eyes gleam darkly. "First with uncle. Then with others. You think you so clever. You think you know everything. What you know about life for woman in Yasnygor?"

He thinks of his mother, her face haggard at forty-five, scrabbling to collect droppings of coal from the railway line near their house, of his sister drudging all hours to support her drunk of a husband, then preparing his evening meal when she gets home.

"Sister, only you know your life. But you can try to make it better."

"So I try. This my boyfriend." She strokes Vulk's ponytail, a ghost of a smile on her mouth. "He gives me money. He gives me new job. Better than strawberry-picking. Eh, Vulchik?"

He wishes he could just grab her with both hands and shake her-shake that pathetic smile off her face, shake the deadness out of her eyes. What is happening to his country? It is becoming a human wasteland.

"Sister, this new job is only to make s.e.x for money."

The smile flickers.

"s.e.x for money. s.e.x for no money. Which you think is better, eh, Mister Clever Nosy-poker?"

I AM DOG I RUN I SEEK YOUNG RIBBON-ON-NECK-SMELL FEMALE FOR MY GARLIC-AND-LOVE-p.i.s.s MAN I CAN SMELL HER SNIFF SHE IS HERE SHE IS RUNNING BIG SMOKE-STINK MAN IS RUNNING AFTER HER I BARK HAARR HAARR I JUMP I SNAP I BITE HIS LEG I BITE HIS ARM I SMELL HIS BAD BLOOD HAARR HAARR HE SHOUTS HE STOPS SHE RUNS AWAY I FOLLOW WOOF SHE STOPS I STOP SHE TURNS AND RUNS SHE RUNS I RUN AFTER WOOF WOOF SHE IS RUNNING WRONG WAY RUNNING TOO FAST I RUN IN FRONT OF HER I SIT NOSE ON GROUND WOOF SHE STOPS I COME CLOSER WOOF WOOF SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHICH WAY TO RUN THIS YOUNG FEMALE IS MORE STUPID THAN A SHEEP WOOF WOOF I AM DOG I RUN I SEEK YOUNG RIBBON-ON-NECK-SMELL FEMALE FOR MY GARLIC-AND-LOVE-p.i.s.s MAN I CAN SMELL HER SNIFF SHE IS HERE SHE IS RUNNING BIG SMOKE-STINK MAN IS RUNNING AFTER HER I BARK HAARR HAARR I JUMP I SNAP I BITE HIS LEG I BITE HIS ARM I SMELL HIS BAD BLOOD HAARR HAARR HE SHOUTS HE STOPS SHE RUNS AWAY I FOLLOW WOOF SHE STOPS I STOP SHE TURNS AND RUNS SHE RUNS I RUN AFTER WOOF WOOF SHE IS RUNNING WRONG WAY RUNNING TOO FAST I RUN IN FRONT OF HER I SIT NOSE ON GROUND WOOF SHE STOPS I COME CLOSER WOOF WOOF SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHICH WAY TO RUN THIS YOUNG FEMALE IS MORE STUPID THAN A SHEEP WOOF WOOF SHE TURNS AND STARTS TO RUN ANOTHER WAY I RUN IN FRONT OF HER I SIT NOSE ON GROUND WOOF SHE STOPS SHE TURNS ANOTHER WAY THIS IS THE RIGHT WAY NOW SHE IS RUNNING THE RIGHT WAY I RUN BEHIND NOT TOO FAST WHEN SHE STOPS I COME CLOSE SNAP SNAP SHE RUNS AGAIN SHE IS RUNNING TO MY WHEELIE-HOME SHE RUNS I RUN I AM DOG.

Dear sister, Dear sister, I was blessed today with a joyful Opportunity to witness ca.n.a.l knowledge thanks to that good mzungu Andree who cheered me up with brotherly love fearing I had never seen this sight before when in fact I have witnessed ca.n.a.l knowledge more than once it being common in Limbe though not with the Nuns. I was blessed today with a joyful Opportunity to witness ca.n.a.l knowledge thanks to that good mzungu Andree who cheered me up with brotherly love fearing I had never seen this sight before when in fact I have witnessed ca.n.a.l knowledge more than once it being common in Limbe though not with the Nuns. When the Sp.a.w.n of Satan cried out and cursed his upstanding manhood it brought into my mind the time when Joel the one eyed drover was witnessed in the garden of Mrs Phiri by seven boys from the orphanage who had encircled the adulterers in the hot fever of their sin and hurled mangoes upon them which were ripe and full of yellow juice. That also was a joyful occurrence. When the Sp.a.w.n of Satan cried out and cursed his upstanding manhood it brought into my mind the time when Joel the one eyed drover was witnessed in the garden of Mrs Phiri by seven boys from the orphanage who had encircled the adulterers in the hot fever of their sin and hurled mangoes upon them which were ripe and full of yellow juice. That also was a joyful occurrence. Then occurred the most outstanding occurrence for when we got back to the caravan Andree was still heavyhearted and we came upon the dog which was barking as if possessed and inside the caravan was the beauteous Irina beloved of Andree. And Andree's countenance was filled with Radiance and many joyful embracings followed. And Andree's eyes gleamed in an unmanly way and Irina's also although off course she being a woman it was not unmanly. No it was. It is very confusing. And my eyes also became womanly. Then occurred the most outstanding occurrence for when we got back to the caravan Andree was still heavyhearted and we came upon the dog which was barking as if possessed and inside the caravan was the beauteous Irina beloved of Andree. And Andree's countenance was filled with Radiance and many joyful embracings followed. And Andree's eyes gleamed in an unmanly way and Irina's also although off course she being a woman it was not unmanly. No it was. It is very confusing. And my eyes also became womanly. I AM DOG I AM GOOD DOG I HAVE CHASED AWAY SMOKE-STINK MAN I HAVE BROUGHT MORE-STUPID-THAN-SHEEP RIBBON-ON-NECK-SMELL FEMALE TO GARLIC-AND-LOVE-p.i.s.s MAN HE IS HAPPY SHE IS HAPPY NO W THEY SAY GOOD DOG I AM GOOD DOG I SEE FAT PISEON COME DOWN FOR BERRIES EATS BERRIES TOO GREEDY EATING NOT LOOK-INS I JUMP SNAP DEAD I SIVE TO MY MAN GOOD DOG SAYS SARLIC-AND-LOVE-p.i.s.s MAN GOOD DOG SAYS MEAT-AND-HERB-p.i.s.s MAN I AM GOOD DOG I AM TIRED AFTER ALL MY GOOD-DOG JOBS I REST HEAD ON PAWS BESIDE FIRE WITH MY MAN I LISTEN TO THE SINSINS OF BIRD IT SINSS IN BIRD-LANSUASETHIS IS MY FIELD BUSSERRR OFF THIS IS MY WOOD BUSSERRR OFF FEMALE SAYS HOW BEAUTIFUL IS THE SONS OF THE BIRD SHE IS MORE STUPID THAN A SHEEP THAT BIRD IS NOT GOOD BIRD IF IT COMES DOWN FROM ITS TREE I WILL CATCH IT SNAP DEAD EAT I AM GOOD DOG I AM DOG I AM DOG I AM GOOD DOG I HAVE CHASED AWAY SMOKE-STINK MAN I HAVE BROUGHT MORE-STUPID-THAN-SHEEP RIBBON-ON-NECK-SMELL FEMALE TO GARLIC-AND-LOVE-p.i.s.s MAN HE IS HAPPY SHE IS HAPPY NO W THEY SAY GOOD DOG I AM GOOD DOG I SEE FAT PISEON COME DOWN FOR BERRIES EATS BERRIES TOO GREEDY EATING NOT LOOK-INS I JUMP SNAP DEAD I SIVE TO MY MAN GOOD DOG SAYS SARLIC-AND-LOVE-p.i.s.s MAN GOOD DOG SAYS MEAT-AND-HERB-p.i.s.s MAN I AM GOOD DOG I AM TIRED AFTER ALL MY GOOD-DOG JOBS I REST HEAD ON PAWS BESIDE FIRE WITH MY MAN I LISTEN TO THE SINSINS OF BIRD IT SINSS IN BIRD-LANSUASETHIS IS MY FIELD BUSSERRR OFF THIS IS MY WOOD BUSSERRR OFF FEMALE SAYS HOW BEAUTIFUL IS THE SONS OF THE BIRD SHE IS MORE STUPID THAN A SHEEP THAT BIRD IS NOT GOOD BIRD IF IT COMES DOWN FROM ITS TREE I WILL CATCH IT SNAP DEAD EAT I AM GOOD DOG I AM DOG Dear sister, Dear sister, We feasted tonight upon bread and marrow gin and carrots of which we had an abundance and a fat pigeon which was captivated by the dog and strawberries which were even more delicate than before. We made a big fire and sat on the hilltop from whence we could behold the beauteous sunset (though not as beauteous as the sunsets of Zomba) and the bird sat on the branch singing its cheerful song and the running dog was at rest. Then we fell upon remembering our previous feastings in this place and the songs we had sung and Andree said Emanuel sing something for us. So I closed my eyes and opened my heart and sang the prayer for peace Dona n.o.bis Pacem. And more unmanly tears were shed. We feasted tonight upon bread and marrow gin and carrots of which we had an abundance and a fat pigeon which was captivated by the dog and strawberries which were even more delicate than before. We made a big fire and sat on the hilltop from whence we could behold the beauteous sunset (though not as beauteous as the sunsets of Zomba) and the bird sat on the branch singing its cheerful song and the running dog was at rest. Then we fell upon remembering our previous feastings in this place and the songs we had sung and Andree said Emanuel sing something for us. So I closed my eyes and opened my heart and sang the prayer for peace Dona n.o.bis Pacem. And more unmanly tears were shed. As the first stars p.r.i.c.kled the ferment Irina said she was weary and she returned to the small caravan which had been the women's dwelling place. I guessed that there might be some ca.n.a.l knowledge between these two so I went into the empty caravan which had been the men's dwelling and it was very delightful for me to sleep in the hammock that I had made there. As the first stars p.r.i.c.kled the ferment Irina said she was weary and she returned to the small caravan which had been the women's dwelling place. I guessed that there might be some ca.n.a.l knowledge between these two so I went into the empty caravan which had been the men's dwelling and it was very delightful for me to sleep in the hammock that I had made there. Before I went into sleep I prayed as every night for the forgiveness of my sins and for the Lord to protect me from evil and to be reunited with you dear sister. Then I fell to thinking about Sister Theodosia who was the organist in the convent at Limbe who is fat and beloved of singing and who taught me the prayer for peace which I sang this night and many other beauteous songs. Before I went into sleep I prayed as every night for the forgiveness of my sins and for the Lord to protect me from evil and to be reunited with you dear sister. Then I fell to thinking about Sister Theodosia who was the organist in the convent at Limbe who is fat and beloved of singing and who taught me the prayer for peace which I sang this night and many other beauteous songs. I was enraptured in thought of Sister Theodosia and her musics all the time beating the two pedals up and down with her two small feet which I recalled with great delight when the door of the caravan opened and Andree entered very silently in order not to awaken me although I was not asleep and Andree took off his clothes and lay upon his bed. And I thought that if ca.n.a.l knowledge had occurred between these two it was very speeded up or if it had not occurred at all Andree might be grievous vex. But Andree said nothing. So after some whilings I was smitten with a Sinful Curiosity and I asked whisperingly Andree did you commit ca.n.a.l knowledge? He whiled in silence then he said in a heavy voice go to sleep Emanuel. I was enraptured in thought of Sister Theodosia and her musics all the time beating the two pedals up and down with her two small feet which I recalled with great delight when the door of the caravan opened and Andree entered very silently in order not to awaken me although I was not asleep and Andree took off his clothes and lay upon his bed. And I thought that if ca.n.a.l knowledge had occurred between these two it was very speeded up or if it had not occurred at all Andree might be grievous vex. But Andree said nothing. So after some whilings I was smitten with a Sinful Curiosity and I asked whisperingly Andree did you commit ca.n.a.l knowledge? He whiled in silence then he said in a heavy voice go to sleep Emanuel. Soon I deducted from the long drawn breaths that Andree was asleeping and I too was standing with one foot on the doorstep of Sleep. And as darkness stole me away I returned in my dream to the time before the orphanage and the convent and the mission house to the time when we lived in our small village beside the Shire River with our parents and our sisters and we spoke the Chichewa language which is still the language of my dreams. Soon I deducted from the long drawn breaths that Andree was asleeping and I too was standing with one foot on the doorstep of Sleep. And as darkness stole me away I returned in my dream to the time before the orphanage and the convent and the mission house to the time when we lived in our small village beside the Shire River with our parents and our sisters and we spoke the Chichewa language which is still the language of my dreams. Suddenly I was called back from the dreamworld by an outstanding disturbance which was aroused by the barking of the dog followed by infernal blazings of light and roarings of engines. Andree leaped from the bunk and banged his head uttering some blasphemies in his Ukrainian tongue for it was dark in the caravan with no lightings. I jumped from my hammock and opened the curtains and we saw the blazing was from the lights of a car. Then Andree put on his trouser and I thought that his manhood was upstanding but he had some large heavy item in the pocket and I also put on my trouser for I feared the Sp.a.w.n of Satan was come for Irina. Suddenly I was called back from the dreamworld by an outstanding disturbance which was aroused by the barking of the dog followed by infernal blazings of light and roarings of engines. Andree leaped from the bunk and banged his head uttering some blasphemies in his Ukrainian tongue for it was dark in the caravan with no lightings. I jumped from my hammock and opened the curtains and we saw the blazing was from the lights of a car. Then Andree put on his trouser and I thought that his manhood was upstanding but he had some large heavy item in the pocket and I also put on my trouser for I feared the Sp.a.w.n of Satan was come for Irina. Outside in the field was a pandimonium of barkings and shoutings and blazings and roarings but when I emerged from the caravan I saw it was not the Sp.a.w.n who had arrived but Vitaly of whom I told you before and his accompaniment who was a mature woman of diminished beauty with blond hair arranged like a c.o.c.kerel sitting upon her head. And she was leaning her cheek on the shoulder of Vitaly in a rollsome way which made me wonder whether I was about to witness another ca.n.a.l knowledge. Outside in the field was a pandimonium of barkings and shoutings and blazings and roarings but when I emerged from the caravan I saw it was not the Sp.a.w.n who had arrived but Vitaly of whom I told you before and his accompaniment who was a mature woman of diminished beauty with blond hair arranged like a c.o.c.kerel sitting upon her head. And she was leaning her cheek on the shoulder of Vitaly in a rollsome way which made me wonder whether I was about to witness another ca.n.a.l knowledge. Vitaly!!! What you doing here??? shouted Andree. Vitaly!!! What you doing here??? shouted Andree. I could say same to you!!! shouted Vitaly. I could say same to you!!! shouted Vitaly. Then the c.o.c.kerel-haired woman started to laugh rollsomely and she said to Andree we meet again I thought I told you to beat it. Then the c.o.c.kerel-haired woman started to laugh rollsomely and she said to Andree we meet again I thought I told you to beat it. And Vitaly said yes beat it this place is no longer available. And Vitaly said yes beat it this place is no longer available. And Andree said you beat it you devil's b.u.m-wiper. And Andree said you beat it you devil's b.u.m-wiper. And the woman said looking all the while wantonly upon Andree who was wearing a trouser but no shirt Boys Boys please there's no need to fight. And the woman said looking all the while wantonly upon Andree who was wearing a trouser but no shirt Boys Boys please there's no need to fight. And Vitaly said Wendy this Ukrainian is a no-good. And Vitaly said Wendy this Ukrainian is a no-good. And the woman said in a commodious voice it's OK poppet let's go back home Lawrence won't mind he can watch. And the woman said in a commodious voice it's OK poppet let's go back home Lawrence won't mind he can watch. And Andree said Lawrence the farmer? And Andree said Lawrence the farmer? And the woman said yes poppet he has just come out of hospital and he likes to sit in his wheelchair and watch mind you it's the only thrill he gets these days serves him right the philandering old goat. And the woman said yes poppet he has just come out of hospital and he likes to sit in his wheelchair and watch mind you it's the only thrill he gets these days serves him right the philandering old goat. Then the c.o.c.kerel-haired woman entered the car which was small and red and like a precious jewel in appearance and Vitaly also entered the car. And behold Vitaly was sitting in the driver seat. Vitaly took the keys for the car from his pocket and started the engine with a fearsome roaring and with more fearsome roarings turned the car around. And I saw that Andree was watching Vitaly driving the car and his countenance was darkened with a cloud of desolation. Then the c.o.c.kerel-haired woman entered the car which was small and red and like a precious jewel in appearance and Vitaly also entered the car. And behold Vitaly was sitting in the driver seat. Vitaly took the keys for the car from his pocket and started the engine with a fearsome roaring and with more fearsome roarings turned the car around. And I saw that Andree was watching Vitaly driving the car and his countenance was darkened with a cloud of desolation. Then we came back to the caravan and I saw Andriy take the item from his pocket and put it in the bottom of his bag and go back to his bed and soon he was sleeping again. But I could not sleep on account of the disturbance and after a while I was smitten with a Sinful Curiosity and I looked into Andriy's bag and I saw the item hidden there was a gun. And my heart began to hip-hop like a bullfrog for a gun is the hand tool of Satan for bringing Sorrow and Death into the world. And I took the gun and went creeping into the wood and buried it beneath the p.r.i.c.kly bushes for Andriy is a good man and I would save him from a Mortal Sin. Then we came back to the caravan and I saw Andriy take the item from his pocket and put it in the bottom of his bag and go back to his bed and soon he was sleeping again. But I could not sleep on account of the disturbance and after a while I was smitten with a Sinful Curiosity and I looked into Andriy's bag and I saw the item hidden there was a gun. And my heart began to hip-hop like a bullfrog for a gun is the hand tool of Satan for bringing Sorrow and Death into the world. And I took the gun and went creeping into the wood and buried it beneath the p.r.i.c.kly bushes for Andriy is a good man and I would save him from a Mortal Sin.

So, it has come to this. That mobilfonman Vitaly has a blonde Angliska girlfriend and a red sports car. And what have you got, Andriy Palenko? An old Land Rover that needs a new clutch, a friend who is obsessed with ca.n.a.ls, and a dog-well, actually, the dog is quite superb, there are no complaints about the dog. And a Ukrainian girl, nice looking but showing not the least inclination towards you, which you have to admit is disappointing after all the trouble you've been to. You would have expected some reward, even just a little kiss.

For when you reached out your hand to stroke her cheek, her plump, curved, irresistible cheek, ripe like an apple, but you did it courteously, and in a gentlemanly manner, she jumped back as though you tried to violate her and cried out, "Leave me alone!"

Then she started to cry, and you would have put your arm round her, but you didn't want to provoke another outcry. Why is she behaving like this? Maybe she still thinks she's too cultivated for you. Maybe she just doesn't find you so attractive, Andriy Palenko. Maybe she is still thinking of her boxer boyfriend, or maybe she's dreaming of a smart mobilfon businessman type. Then she wants to go to bed, and you say you'll go back to the other caravan, thinking she will say, no, Andriy, stay with me. But she doesn't.

She only says, let the dog stay with me. She prefers the dog! Well, what do you care? So you go back to the caravan not in a good mood. And just as you're about to go to sleep, Emanuel starts talking about ca.n.a.ls.

The way he touched my cheek-it reminded me of Vulk. You like flower You like flower...My whole body froze. I tried to explain, to tell him what happened to me that night in the woods, how it feels to be hunted. But no words would come. I just started to cry. I was longing for him to take me in his arms and comfort me, make me feel safe. But he just looked annoyed. Then he went off to stay in the caravan with Emanuel. Why didn't he stay with me? I felt so lonely and scared, I asked if the dog could stay with me, even though I didn't like it so much, because it stuck its nose shamelessly between my legs and fixed me with its doggy eyes.

In the middle of the night the dog started to bark. When I woke up and saw the headlights of a car blazing in the field, I was overwhelmed with despair. I thought it was the end. I was sure it was Vulk, come to get me.

My mind told me to run, but I couldn't. Suddenly I felt too tired of running, as though not just my bones but my heart was full of lead. I remembered how light-hearted I had felt when I saw my orange ribbon round the dog's neck. Then I saw our homely little caravan parked in the field. It's in the wrong place, I thought. This must be a dream-the honeysuckle air, the whole hillside bathed in that illusory mauve evening light. The door wasn't locked. Inside, it was warm from the sun, and there was an intense smell of strawberries, and there they were, ranged out on the table, six bowls full. Who were they for? It was like a fairy tale. I couldn't stop myself-I started to eat. But who could have picked them? I looked around. On the floor was a bright green anorak that looked familiar. And here, in the locker above the bunk, was my stripy canvas bag! I looked inside. My nightie, my hairbrush, my spare T-shirt, some dirty knickers, even my money. It looked as though someone had rummaged through it, but it was all there. Even the pictures we'd stuck up on the walls: David Beckham, the Black Virgin of Krakow, a baby seal, a tiger cub and a little panda. Mother and Pappa. They were all here. Then when Andriy and Emanuel turned up, I knew it wasn't a dream, and I thought, this is it. I'm safe at last.

No, I wouldn't run any more. Instead, I crawled under the folding bed, like a hunted animal goes to earth, down into a deep place where it feels safe, and I curled up and pulled all the sleeping bags around me. After a while the noise died down and I must have cried myself to sleep. I can't remember what I dreamt that night. I can only remember it was a dream of emptiness and despair, as though my cup of life had drained to the bottom.

In the morning I was surprised to find myself still alive, and lying under the bed. The sun was shining through the window. I heard Andriy and Emanuel running up and down the field calling my name. When he said my name-"Ee-ree-na!"-it sent a tingle through me. Then the dog showed them where I was hiding, and we all started to laugh. We had breakfast-strawberries, and bread and margarine again. Then he said, "Today we are going to London to find Emanuel's friend, Toby McKenzie. Do you want me to take you back to strawberry farm, Irina? Ee-ree-na Ee-ree-na. Or do you want to come with us?"

"I will come with you."

Dear sister, Dear sister, Today we set out for London with me sitting in front beside Andree and I was cheerful at this opportunity for further questioning but Andree said he could not drive and talk in English at the same time. Today we set out for London with me sitting in front beside Andree and I was cheerful at this opportunity for further questioning but Andree said he could not drive and talk in English at the same time. So I fell to thinking about this English language which sometimes seems like a fearsome slippery serpent sliding this way and that unleashing his scaly coils upon the tongue. Then my first English lessons fizzed into my memory at the orphanage school at Limbe with Sister Benedicta who was not English nor had ever been in England but was from Goa in India and inpartially Portuguese. Who herself had learnt English from an Irish nun who had somehow turned up on their faraway sh.o.r.e by whose exemplar Sister Benedicta herself became a nun and voyaged to Africa because of the many lost souls here to be saved ours among them she said. Sister Benedicta forced education into us through choral chanting from scriptures prayers sermons and other uplifting objects of devotion in order to commit them to memory. Unlike Sister Theodosia who was fat Sister Benedicta was thin and stern with shining brown skin and darting eyes and she wore small gold-rimmed gla.s.ses that hung on a chain around her neck and she was quick to chastise us with her staff. So I fell to thinking about this English language which sometimes seems like a fearsome slippery serpent sliding this way and that unleashing his scaly coils upon the tongue. Then my first English lessons fizzed into my memory at the orphanage school at Limbe with Sister Benedicta who was not English nor had ever been in England but was from Goa in India and inpartially Portuguese. Who herself had learnt English from an Irish nun who had somehow turned up on their faraway sh.o.r.e by whose exemplar Sister Benedicta herself became a nun and voyaged to Africa because of the many lost souls here to be saved ours among them she said. Sister Benedicta forced education into us through choral chanting from scriptures prayers sermons and other uplifting objects of devotion in order to commit them to memory. Unlike Sister Theodosia who was fat Sister Benedicta was thin and stern with shining brown skin and darting eyes and she wore small gold-rimmed gla.s.ses that hung on a chain around her neck and she was quick to chastise us with her staff. So being aged twelve years at the time and you dear sister were already away at Blantyre I fell into wondering about ca.n.a.l knowledge. When I asked Sister Benedicta she shook her staff at me but Sister Theodosia told me to ask Father Augustine when he came from Zomba but Father Augustine said ca.n.a.l knowledge is Sin and the Wages of Sin is Death. And whenever I think of ca.n.a.l knowledge these words rattle in my memory. So being aged twelve years at the time and you dear sister were already away at Blantyre I fell into wondering about ca.n.a.l knowledge. When I asked Sister Benedicta she shook her staff at me but Sister Theodosia told me to ask Father Augustine when he came from Zomba but Father Augustine said ca.n.a.l knowledge is Sin and the Wages of Sin is Death. And whenever I think of ca.n.a.l knowledge these words rattle in my memory.

Andriy is still feeling disgruntled after last night and in no mood for conversation with Emanuel, who is sitting beside him in front of the Land Rover, smiling cheerfully and asking questions about ca.n.a.ls. Where does this obsession with ca.n.a.ls come from? And why was he so excited by that horrible business in the back of the four-by-four? Surely he's too innocent to be interested in such stuff. Or maybe he isn't.