I’ll swap the government for a kilo of macaroni!

PLACARD AT A DEMONSTRATION

The film was released in cinemas and caused the expected furore. First and foremost, Brilka, I have to tell you that I really was bowled over by my sister and the way she played her role. I sat in the House of Film during the unofficial premiere and watched Daria change into another person. I couldn’t believe that Daria could play a role so convincingly, that she was so capable of transforming herself. The film was good, and it moved me.

At the end, the whole auditorium rose to its feet, and, amid lengthy applause, the actors, including my beautiful sister in a strappy silver dress, were invited onto the stage. The lovely cameraman, Lasha, stood beside her with his arm around her shoulders.

There was something narcissistic about him. He was fashionably dressed and had fine features, but his eyes were cold, as if they could only perceive the world through the viewfinder of a camera — the world, and people. People, with the exception of my sister. He practically devoured her with his eyes. But I thought he was too old for her, and in any case he already had a wife, who had come with him that evening to the screening and hung on his arm throughout for all to see. A woman just as chic as he was, and perhaps as superficial.

What did Daria see in this man, I kept asking myself at the premiere party afterwards, which was held in a restaurant by the river.

Daria would be invited to all the official receptions from then on, so at some point we would have to reveal our secret. It was only four weeks until the film would be released in cinemas, provided the censor didn’t step in before then. But it had been kept very symbolic, its references were more general than direct, and people were fortified by the new wind blowing from Moscow, so the assumption was that everything would go ahead as planned.

That same evening, I convinced Daria to confess everything to Elene and Aleko, reassuring her we could deal with Kostya later.

‘In about two weeks, Daria is going to become a kind of rising star in the acting firmament. I just wanted you to know beforehand, and I want you to support us — I mean her. Daria.’

We were in the kitchen. My mother was washing dishes and Aleko was reading the paper. Daria had locked herself in the bathroom, fearing that a storm was about to break over her.

‘What are you talking about?’ Elene asked, off-hand, still occupied with the dirty dishes.

One thing at a time, in a calm, considered manner, I explained our scheme to her: the trip to Bakuriani without Daria, Latsabidze’s support — right up to the private screening that evening.

‘We weren’t at a birthday party. We’ve just been to the preview of the film, and Daria really is bloody good!’

They stared at me uncomprehendingly. Aleko’s mouth hung open. I thought he would praise me, pat me on the back; he’d always praised me for being what my mother called ‘an annoying clever-clogs’ at times. This time, though, I seemed to have completely confounded him, and there was no support from his side.

‘How could the two of you do something like this? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! After everything I’ve had to go through with your grandfather!’ Elene screamed at me. Her face was twisted with pain. ‘And do you know what will happen because of this? You lied to me! You led us all up the garden path! My own child, my daughter!’

I was surprised, and unprepared for her rage to be directed at me.

‘But Deda, it’s turned out to be a great film: everyone loved it, and —’

‘Oh, bravo, Niza! Do you actually know how old you are? Do you know? How grown-up do you think you are?’

‘It was what I wanted. Niza was just trying to make amends.’ At last Daria had come out of the bathroom to support me.

Elene fell silent for a moment. Then she sat down and buried her face in her hands. For a while we all stood around in silence, waiting for her to look at us again.

‘Make amends? You wanted to make amends … You can’t make amends for anything, that’s just a bloody lie, remember that!’ she said, suddenly quiet.

‘Elene, please,’ said Aleko, trying to calm things down.

‘What? “Elene, please” what? She’s landed us all in a bloody awful situation. And if she thinks she’s so clever, she can come up with another plan as to how we’re going to make amends for this — and how I can stop my father denying me access to the house my daughters live in. Because I’ll be the one who’ll end up paying for all this again.’

‘I think you could give her just a tiny bit of recognition. I mean, at her age … well. You could be the future leader of the Communist Party if you carry on like this, kiddo.’

But Elene looked at him scornfully and went on shaking her head.

‘She lies. She lies all the time. I wonder when it started. What we missed. She plays truant, she sneaks around, she hangs out with Lana’s lazy son — it seems her grades have gone down as well. She could be top of the class with no effort, but apparently that’s too much to ask from this little madam. She’s got better things to do.’

‘He’s not lazy,’ I said, in a small voice, in Miro’s defence.

*

The new General Secretary published an article in Pravda that spoke of ‘class interests’ and ‘general human values’, and was regarded by conservatives in the country as the ultimate renunciation of Lenin’s legacy. The gradual withdrawal of Soviet troops from Afghanistan and the summits with Reagan, the nuclear disarmament treaties being discussed, were further signs of the Soviet Union drawing closer to the West.

There was unrest in the Lubyanka, too. By coincidence, Alania returned to work that day, after his long absence. He only went to the press department that morning in search of a colleague who might be able to tell him about upcoming cultural visits to Europe. He had to get a foothold in the ministry again quickly, so he could apply for another trip as soon as possible. A gentleman and a lady in a mohair jumper were sitting hunched over some newspapers, scanning the foreign press. They went about their work with aggressive boredom — the enthusiasm for this task, which had once been so coveted (you had all the major foreign newspapers at your disposal, an incredible privilege), seemed to have disappeared. Alania even harboured the suspicion that the material they filtered out didn’t even end up in the thick files on their superiors’ desks any longer, because these days no one was interested in what people in other countries were writing about. The threat had shifted: it no longer came from outside the borders of the Soviet Union, but from within.

In passing, Alania’s eye fell on an edition of The Guardian lying on a table. During his time in London he had been a regular reader of the paper, and now a sentimental urge made him reach for it.

‘Comrade Alania? Can we help you?’ the woman asked, unwrapping the tinfoil from a sandwich.

‘I’m looking for Comrade …’ Alania fell silent, holding the paper in front of his nose as if he were being remote-controlled. ‘Excuse me, but …’

The lady rose from her seat, but Alania stopped her with a very firm gesture.

‘When was this paper printed?’ he asked in an authoritative tone.

‘Last month sometime. Three weeks ago. Look, it’ll say on the … oh, right, the front page is missing. What is it, Comrade Alania? Is something wrong?’

Without replying, Giorgi Alania marched out of the room with the newspaper in his hand and went out into the street.

The international music scene is mourning the singer Kitty Jashi. Miss Jashi, who gained enormous popularity in the 1960s with her catchy, heartfelt songs and her political activism …

Alania sat down on the pavement. His legs were shaking. He tried to make some connection between this shocking news and Kitty, the woman who kept him alive, and to whom he had promised to return. His mind started calculating feverishly, he reckoned up the days, the dates, and the single burning question that formed in his head was whether he would have reached her in time if Kostya Jashi hadn’t stopped him. Whether she would still have been alive today.

*

The call came just as Elene had finally plucked up her courage and gone up to the Green House, with Daria and me in tow.

The day before, she had informed her father over the phone that she had something to discuss with him, and now the four of us were sitting in the living room. We could hear Stasia humming in the garden and Nana making dinner in the kitchen. Elene had revealed to him, as calmly and collectedly as she could, that he would soon be seeing his beloved granddaughter on cinema posters, and, more importantly, on a number of screens, and that unfortunately this was a matter of fact and there was now nothing to be done about it.

Kostya drank his strong black tea without saying a word, and nothing in his body language, his outward appearance, showed that he had taken in what Elene had just told him. We could hear the clock on the wall ticking; Daria shuffled restlessly in her chair and kept looking over at our grandfather. I chewed my fingernails, waiting for the lightning that would strike at any minute, and the thunder that would come with it. This was between Kostya and me — I knew that, even before he got up and came towards me with his hand raised threateningly.

‘So you thought this up, did you, you little bitch?’

Elene rose from her chair; it was pure maternal instinct. Then Daria lunged towards him: ‘It’s what I wanted — I wanted it, Grandfather!’

But in the middle of Daria’s shouting, Nana burst into the room. She was stony-faced, and her plump cheeks were flushed. She was holding a saucepan lid in her hand, and her lips were parted.

‘Telephone!’ she stammered, but Kostya didn’t turn round — he kept his eyes fixed on me.

‘Not now!’ he shouted.

‘Yes, now!’ Nana’s voice quivered.

‘I said not now!’

‘For god’s sake, go to the telephone!’ she cried, and fell limply into the chair her husband had just vacated. Kostya moved slowly, suspiciously, towards the door.

‘Who is it?’ he asked, erring on the side of caution.

‘Alania. He’ll tell you himself,’ whispered Nana, and let the lid fall from her hand.

‘Mama? Is everything all right?’ asked Elene.

‘It’s just …’

‘Go outside!’ said Elene, turning to Daria and me, as if she’d just remembered that we were there.

Before we left the room, I heard Grandmother say Kitty’s name.