The Lieutenant’s Lover by Harry Bingham Read Free Book Online Page B

unloaded—’
    ‘—at least a bottle, I’d say, I don’t think he knew a thing about it—’
    ‘—old Tupolev just wanted to rip him out. He’d have left his arm right there under the carriage—’
    ‘—’course, the hard part was lifting the carriage again—’
    ‘—I wasn’t going in under there. Any fool could see the winch would never hold—’
    —bloody fool Tupolev—’
    ‘—reeking—’
    ‘—so we sent in our very own bourgeois. Ha, ha, ha! The winch is obviously a true Bolshevik—’
    ‘—the loading pin was too small—’
    ‘—almost had his head off—’
    ‘—came crashing down—’
    ‘—eight tons unloaded—’
    ‘—reeking, absolutely reeking—’
    ‘—bloody fool—’
    ‘—bam!’
    Tonya felt the men swarm around her. Judging by the smell, her father hadn’t been the only one to take a drink that day. The Railway Repairs Yard was an all-male preserve and Tonya felt something charged and predatory in the atmosphere.
    ‘Who is he? Is he here now?’
    ‘No, no, the hospital took him ages ago. You’re a nurse, aren’t you?’ – Tonya’s uniform was visible under her coat – ‘Didn’t they tell you?’
    ‘Not my father. The man who pulled him out. He was hurt? Injured?’
    ‘Ha, ha! Thank the bourgeois, is it? He’s over there.
    You won’t get much sense from him, though. Not with a crack on the head like he got.’
    The men were unhelpful, pressing close. With their oily, leering faces and black beards and moustaches, the men didn’t just seem like another half of the same species, but like a different species altogether: dirtier, noisier, brutish, dangerous. Unconsciously, Tonya held her coat closed at the front and broke away from the men, heading for the welding bay. Behind her, the fool Tupolev began ordering his men back to work, so she was spared the delight of a fifteen-man escort.
    Down in the welding bay, a single man worked with a blowtorch. Showers of flame and sparks were struck into being. The metal glowed red-hot, even white-hot. Nothing of the man himself was visible. He wore a protective suit and had a dark visor to protect his face. Except that he was tall, Tonya could guess almost nothing of his looks. He didn’t see her approach. He didn’t stop work. He was mending a thick metal tube which must have been heavy, but the man handled it with a rare combination of strength and deftness, turning it with his left hand as he welded with his right. Finally the job was done. He cut his torch and the flame died. He pulled his visor up and off. He stepped back and saw Tonya.
    She was the first to react.
    ‘Comrade Malevich!’
    ‘Gracious! Good Lord! Lensky!’
    Tonya saw a bright red weal across Misha’s forehead and the start of what looked like an almighty swelling. She was disconcerted by seeing Misha, of all people. She didn’t know what she felt.
    ‘It’s you… I had no idea… I came because of my father.’
    ‘Your father?’
    ‘My father, Kiryl, the drunken oaf whose life you saved this afternoon.’
    ‘That was your father, was it? Good Lord.’
    As a nurse, Tonya was well accustomed to seeing head trauma, shock, and concussion. She could see at once that Misha had a well developed case of all three. He shouldn’t be working at all, still less handling dangerous equipment. He rubbed his head again, as though trying to clear his mind.
    ‘You hurt your head. None of the imbeciles over there could tell me what happened.’
    Misha shrugged. ‘Your father got himself caught underneath a railway carriage. We had to winch it up and I slid in to get him out. The winch isn’t up to much though, and the whole thing came crashing down again. I only got out because Tupolev got hold of my leg and whipped me out. Somewhere along the way, I banged my head. It’s fine though. Sore, but fine.’
    Tonya felt a surge of emotion, a mixture of tenderness, anger, impatience, compassion. She felt angry with her father for being a drunk. She