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But I can’t accuse him of that! No matter what he’s done, I can’t.
But still, when I next see him at rehearsal, I can’t stop myself:
“Listen, I want to talk to you.”
“Go on, then,” he says with a jaunty smile.
“About money.”
He is surprised: that was the last thing he expected to hear from me, unmercenary since I was a kid, since those three roubles.
“About Beta’s money,” I add.
He gives me a long look and agrees:
“OK, let’s talk. But not here.”
“After the rehearsal.”
“No. We can only have that conversation in one place: Beta’s flat.”
Now it’s my turn to be surprised.
“You’ll understand later,” he explains.
I tell him we’ll have to get the key from Auntie Manya.
“Get it. I’ll give you a ring.”
He is remarkably calm, almost serene. Except for his crafty smile; that’s how
