‘You may drink, Andrei,’ Nikolasha commanded. Feeling a little like he had done the previous evening, Andrei swallowed. The vodka was like a red-hot bullet in his belly.
There was a loud sigh and then a burp, and George started to giggle; Minka too fought back a laugh that travelled up her nose and emerged as a strangled sneeze that made George shake with laughter.
‘George!’ snapped Vlad.
‘Don’t spoil it,’ added Rosa.
‘Sorry,’ said George.
‘While we’re here at a sitting of the Romantic Politburo, we can quite easily vote out a member,’ explained Nikolasha with the weariness of a severely tried teacher. ‘Now. Let us begin our meeting. Membership of our sacred brotherhood is select and secret. Andrei Kurbsky, what is your choice?’
‘Umm… love or death?’
‘Yes. Andrei, you have been called here to enter our Club of Fatal Romantics. Do you wish be considered for inscription in the Velvet Book of Love?’
Andrei nodded.
‘Andrei, I should explain that in our membership, there are two grades. The first is candidate membership and candidates are welcomed to our meetings. But to play the Game, to wear the costume and bear the pistol, one must be a full member of our Politburo.’
Andrei understood this system perfectly because that was how the Communist Party worked: you first became a candidate member and then a full member – and the whole country was run by the Politburo.
‘One day in the distant future you may be honoured by being considered for full membership but tonight you have been chosen as a candidate member of the Fatal Romantics’ Club. Step forward and place your hand on the leather case on the tomb. Now recite with all of us: LOVE OR DEATH!’
‘LOVE OR DEATH!’
‘Andrei, welcome to our society. I hereby write your name in the Velvet Book of Love.’ Nikolasha scribbled portentously in the book. ‘Toast our new candidate.’
Rosa refilled the glasses.
George swigged back two shots. ‘Can we talk now?’
‘Now for item two on the agenda,’ Nikolasha said, ignoring him. ‘We propose to play the Game in full costume after the Victory Parade on the twenty-fourth of June. On the far end of the Great Stone Bridge where the road will be closed.’
‘Is that wise?’ asked Minka. ‘On such an important day?’
‘Why not?’ answered Vlad. ‘We’ve played it in the street before. People love Pushkin.’
‘So shall we vote?’ asked Nikolasha.
They all raised their hands just like Politburo members at a Party Congress. Nikolasha counted them with his pen. ‘Passed.’
‘So what do you think of my costume, Andrei?’ asked Minka, coming around the tomb. She struck a pose.
‘You look lovely,’ said Andrei, smiling at her.
‘You may watch us play the Game although, as a candidate, Andrei, you may not participate,’ continued Nikolasha, ‘but you realize that the duel in
Rosa said, ‘Who dies tonight? Let’s play…’ Then she recited:
She offered the case to Nikolasha who chose one pistol, and then she handed it to Vlad who took the other.
‘Are you happy with your weapon, Mr Lensky?’ Rosa asked Vlad. He nodded. She turned to Nikolasha. ‘And you, Mr Onegin?’
‘Are the pistols charged and ready to shoot?’ he asked.
She nodded formally.
Vlad and Nikolasha held their pistols upright like crucifixes in church and proceeded ritualistically out into the graveyard where a twenty-yard path was marked out by candles.
‘
Rosa’s voice rang out: ‘
‘
Nikolasha lowered his pistol slowly and, closing one eye, he aimed the barrel at Vlad’s chest, saying as he did so:
Vlad raised his pistol too and took aim. But Nikolasha, playing Onegin, was ahead of him: he started to squeeze the trigger.
