The Art of Waiting Read Online Free PDF

trailed back between the tombs, then out through the heavy iron gates and back along the sodden streets to Mrs Ilieva’s house. Some time later, each of them left with a small wooden spoon and a handkerchief bearing the name of Nadia, so that they might remember her while they salted their soup with their tears.
    Katerina arrived home as the rain began to fall again in the dark. She looked across to where the boy had been that morning, the window now dark and empty, impenetrable with condensation. She banged on the door of her house but no one came. She thought about visiting the Mushroom Woman, then laid the fish on the step next to her. It had stiffened during the course of the day and lay in a rigid curve, its mouth still open. She nudged its tail and it rocked gently back and forth. There was a noise from across the courtyard. She looked up to see the door closing. A cat had been put out in the rain. It stood watching the door indignantly for a second or two and then crouched, chin low to the ground, coughing up fur-balls. Then itscurried off. The door across the courtyard twitched ajar and Katerina saw a pale face watching her from within.
    â€˜Hey, stupid,’ she called out. ‘What are you looking at?’
    The face didn’t reply. The door closed slightly, then opened again, a little wider this time. The boy came out and walked tentatively across the courtyard to where Katerina sat on the doorstep of her home. ‘What’s that you’ve got there?’ he asked.
    â€˜A fish.’
    â€˜I know that’s a fish. That . . . there.’
    â€˜It’s a spoon.’
    â€˜Oh.’
    â€˜Can’t you see it’s a spoon?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜So why did you ask me what it is? I got it at Mrs Ilieva’s.’
    â€˜You got it at Mrs Ilieva’s?’
    â€˜Is that all you do? Ask questions?’
    â€˜No.’
    He was already half-way back to his door. He went inside and the door closed and Katerina sat in the rain. She got up and went to the Mushroom Woman’s shop but it was shut. She came back and sat on the step. A little while later the door opened again and the boy poked his head outside.
    â€˜Why don’t you go inside?’
    Katerina considered the question beneath her dignity, too stupid to merit an answer.
    â€˜Why don’t you go in?’ he asked again. ‘You’ll get all wet there.’
    â€˜I am all wet.’
    â€˜Why don’t you go in, then?’
    â€˜Because I haven’t got a key, you idiot. Why do you think?’
    The boy came outside again, not venturing quite so close this time. He stood in the rain and looked at Katerina. He was a little older than she’d first thought, maybe around ten.
    â€˜You’ve got teeth like a horse,’ she said.
    â€˜I know.’ He shrugged. ‘What am I supposed to do about it? Anyway, you’ve got teeth like a rabbit.’
    â€˜No, I haven’t!’
    â€˜Look in the mirror. Like a rabbit. I’m going inside. You can come in if you want.’
    Katerina followed him in. She had never been in the house opposite before, not even when the Krilovs had lived there. Natalia Krilova had been a good friend of Katerina’s mother, but the Krilovs had moved out a couple of months before and the boy’s family had moved in. The other couple that lived in the house, the Ivanovs, had been there for years and were notorious in the neighbourhood. The husband, Vassili Ivanov, worked on ships and was away for months at a time. On his return, sales of vodka in the local shops and bars rose significantly and the ensuing disorder often woke the inhabitants of all the houses around the yard and required the assistance of the local officials to bring under control. It was because of incidents such as this that Mrs Krilova had never invited Katerina’s mother to visit her at home.
    â€˜You wouldn’t like the neighbours,’ she’d say, and