“Mama? …” Sasha had been talking to her as they got into the taxi, and Nicholas waved at the nurse who stood crying on the sidewalk. She was going to stay with friends, and had already had an offer of a job from the Van Alens in Newport. “Mama … answer me …” Sasha tugged at her sleeve insistently as Zoya gave the driver their new address, her eyes dull, her face wooden. She felt as though she were leaving Clayton again … the house they had shared … the life that had always been so easy. Ten years gone like the blink of an eye, an eye filled with tears now, as she longed for him again. She sat back against the seat and closed her eyes in pain, trying to concentrate on her children.
“I'm sorry, Sasha … what did you say?” Her voice was a whisper as they left Sutton Place for the last time. Gone the beauty and the easy life that had ended so abruptly on that fateful day in October.
“I said who is going to take care of us now?” She wasn't so much pained by the loss of her nurse, as she was curious about who would take care of her. It was all very strange and confusing, even for Nicholas, who was four years older.
“I am, sweetheart.”
“You are?” Sasha looked amazed, and Nicholas looked at his mother with the gentle smile that always reminded her of Clayton. It was almost painful to see it now. Everything was a constant reminder of all they had lost, just as it had been in the days when they had first left Russia.
“I'll help you, Mama,” Nicholas said proudly, holding his mother's hand and trying not to cry. “I'll take care of you and Sasha.” He knew it was what his father would have wanted of him, and he wouldn't let him down now. He was the man of the family suddenly. In one short month, his whole safe, happy world had been turned upside down, but he was determined to rise to the occasion, as was Zoya. She refused to be beaten once again. She would fight for them … she would work … and one day … one day … they would be safe and warm again. She wouldn't let her life end in defeat, like so many others.
“Will you cook for us, Mama?” Sasha asked as she took her doll from her mother and smoothed the hair. Her name was Annabelle, and she looked well loved. Her other dolls were waiting in the new apartment. Zoya had done everything she could to make the place look cozy and familiar, but there was nothing familiar to them about the ugly surroundings as the taxi stopped on West Seventeenth Street. Zoya shuddered as she looked around again, struck more than ever by how dismal it was, and Nicholas's face registered shock as he followed his mother up the stairs, and tried not to feel sick from the awful smells.
“Eghh … this smells ugly,” Sasha said as she walked up the stairs behind Zoya. The driver carried their bags for them, and Zoya paid him from their meager funds. She vowed to herself not to take any more taxis. They would travel on buses now, or walk. There would be no more taxis, no more cars. She had sold the Hispano-Suiza to the Astors.
Zoya showed them into the apartment's single bedroom, and their two beds were there, dwarfing everything else. Their toys were arranged neatly beside them, and the paintings from Sasha's nursery had been carefully hung over her bed. Next to Nicholas's she had put a picture of Clayton, looking handsome in his uniform during the war. She had brought a suitcase filled with photographs of her own, of Clayton, and the children, and others that were yellowing and frayed, of Nicky and Alix, and the children at Livadia and Tsarskoe Selo. She had also brought the treasured imperial egg, it was carefully rolled into a pair of Clayton's socks. She had brought a box of his cuff links and studs as well, but her own jewelry was going to be sold at auction. For those who still had money, there were fantastic opportunities everywhere, diamond necklaces and tiaras and incredible emerald rings, picked up for pennies in auctions or at private sales. One family's desperation would suddenly become another's good fortune.
“Where will you sleep, Mama?” Nicholas looked worried again as he walked around the apartment, and realized there was only one bedroom. He had never seen quarters so small, even their servants on Sutton Place had had nicer rooms than these. The whole place looked so tiny and so ugly.
