Page 99 of The Half Life of Valery K

‘No, he got all the good genes,’ Valery said.

The interesting thing about language, Valery always found, was that some people could communicate well with barely a word in common, and the engineer’s wife was one of those people. She was sociable, and she and Shenkov got on like a house on fire. It was bizarre to understand them both and know they were actually replying quite sensibly to what the other was saying.

‘Oop, I’d better get everything together,’ she said at the tail end of the first glass of wine, and skimmed into the kitchen.

Valery set his glass down, waiting to be asked to help, but her husband didn’t lift a finger and she didn’t seem to expect him to. ‘Um; do you need another pair of hands?’

She actually laughed. ‘Oh, good grief. I don’t know how they did things in Poland, but here you shall sit and be fed properly by a proper hostess.’

Valery sat back, shocked, and glanced at Shenkov to make sure he wasn’t just being stupid.

‘What did she say?’

‘She said men don’t help,’ Valery murmured.

They looked uncomfortably at the engineer. Valery tried to imagine expecting Anna to serve them a meal. He couldn’t even think what a prick he’d have to have been, and yet here was the engineer, a nice man, sitting back and looking actually quite proud that his wife was behaving like his servant.

‘I’m going to make her let me help,’ Shenkov said.

‘Where’s he going?’ the engineer asked anxiously.

‘We don’t … sit around while someone else works,’ Valery explained slowly, aware it sounded accusing. ‘It’s rude. And I know that when in Rome, but you can’t let everything of yourself go, you know?’

‘Oh, goodness. Well, if he feels that strongly I’m sure she won’t mind if he does want to play housewife,’ the engineer said, bewildered.

Valery lifted his eyebrows and decided it would be better not to say anything. ‘What does Cecelia do, by the way? I don’t think I asked before.’

‘Do?’

‘Yes, for a job.’

Frank laughed. ‘Oh, she’s not one of these modern girls. It’s a full-time job, looking after me, really.’

‘Do you think,’ Shenkov said from the kitchen, ‘that they’ll be impressed if we tell them about electricity? Or the wheel?’

‘What’s he saying?’ Frank asked. ‘It’s a lovely language.’

‘He said you’ve got a lovely kitchen,’ Valery fabricated.

‘Better not, they’ll think we’re witches,’ said Shenkov, with total impunity.

But Frank looked pleased. ‘Oh, yes. I put in a new one for Cee when we moved in. She adores that fridge, I feel I’m in rather a polygamous relationship with it.’

In the kitchen, Shenkov and Cecelia were doing their trick of having a conversation in two languages.

‘No, no, I can do that—’

‘You’re the size of a wasp, I wouldn’t give you a full teacup to carry.’

‘I could easily keep you, you know, this is all very chivalrous.’

‘Christ. Valera, tell His Lordship to come and sit down.’

‘Don’t be rude,’ Cecelia said.

‘That is a well-laundered brain you’ve got there,’ Shenkov told her, serene.

Cecelia, brilliantly, got the gist of his tone enough to blow a raspberry at him, which made him laugh. Valery smiled. He had forgotten how Shenkov sounded when he laughed properly; younger.