Fellow Travellers

By D.M. Rose

Fellow Travellers is a collection of thirteen entertaining stories featuring amusing, bizarre and often deadly fictional characters and situations from around the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Legend Press
• Release date: Jul 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781787190085

Book preview

Tuonela

LAPLAND’S GOLD

The snow drifted down in gentle flakes against his cheeks as Esa walked along the bank of the river. As was usual at this time of year, it was frozen over and the moonlight gave it a silver gleam. He hadn’t really wanted to come out tonight, but everyone else was going, and it would look very impolite if he were not there to greet the professor from St. Petersburg. Esa bent his head against the sharpening wind as he turned the corner away from the river bank. The snow was piled up against the curb and, even with the grit on the pavement, Esa slipped about and almost fell over. The lamp light fell in pale yellow haloes against the wooden walls of the old buildings, and Esa hurried as fast as he could. This was not his favourite part of town. This street, in particular, always looked to be inhabited by hippies: there were always rusting cars, clearly immovable, parked at the end of the street by the river, and now the sounds of barking dogs pierced the quiet of the night.

Esa trudged onwards towards the warmth of the Terrier Bar, where they would all gather to greet the professor and her assistant. They had arrived by train from Helsinki that afternoon, and Esa’s head of department had driven them to their accommodation and arranged this evening out on the town. Gradually, as the wind rose, the lights of the shopping centre came into view, giving a warmth to the air. The neon signs of the banks, giving alternately the time and temperature (-12°C), blinked on as he paused by the crossing. Within ten minutes, he was removing his coat in the warm red lighting of the bar. The effect aimed at was that of an old English pub, with red flock-patterned wallpaper dotted with pictures of hunting dogs and sporting trophies.

Pekka, the head of department, and Katri, his technician, were already there, together with Professor Kustnov and Fyodor Makarov. They waved Esa over, and just behind him came Anja, one of the older researchers in the department. Esa particularly wanted to avoid Anja’s company. As a researcher, she was a failure, and she spent most of her working life scheming to get funding for expensive conferences and making mischief. Nobody liked Anja. But someone had to sit next to her and, as luck would have it, it had to be Esa.

Pekka was a generous soul and treated the newcomers to beer and replenished the Russians’ glasses. Lapland Gold, number four, he said cheerfully to them. Ever had that before? They both shook their heads. Neither of them spoke. Esa looked them over without letting it show. Even since the political changes had taken root in Russia, the lot of the average citizen had changed very little if these two were anything to go by. Professor Kustnov was badly dressed in an ill-fitting crimpelene dress which looked as though it could have been made in the 1960s. She held an enormous black handbag, which Esa could have sworn would contain knitting. Fyodor, her assistant, was comparatively better dressed. He’d obviously taken the trouble to save up some of his salary and buy slightly better clothes. Sirkka and Päivi arrived. They were two of the young graduate students in the lab. who were just starting out on their doctoral programmes. Sirkka was Pekka’s student; Päivi had the misfortune to have Anja as a supervisor. Esa wondered if she would ever be able to complete her studies, with Anja changing her mind about what should be done every other day. Jussi couldn’t come, said Pekka. He’s got to mind the kids; it’s his wife’s evening school tonight.

Anja was fluttering her not inconsiderable eyelashes at Fyodor, who was gallantly responding by getting her drunk. Esa could have saved him the trouble: there wasn’t enough beer in the bar to achieve the effect Fyodor was aiming at. But he couldn’t be blamed for trying. Esa, who was pale and thin and inclined to acne, was naturally repelled by someone as dark and broad and handsome as Fyodor. He asked nervously: How are your accommodations?

Fine, just OK, replied Fyodor.

Quite adequate, thank you, replied Professor Kustnov primly.

We have adjacent rooms. Fyodor smiled broadly and winked. He pulled out a packet of Russian cigarettes and offered them round. Pekka took one out of politeness and Esa felt he should try his luck. After inhaling once, he reached the conclusion that Fyodor was not only well-built on the outside, but clearly possessed of very strong lungs. It was time for Esa to stand a round, and he ordered more beer, this time the local Christmas Beer. The Russians were duly impressed.

So how goes it in your institute now? asked Pekka, who had visited the Low Temperature Institute in St. Petersburg some years previously.

Professor Kustnov, who might have been expected to reply most fully, simply shrugged and said: Much the same as always. We have the same staff as when you visited us.

But we have more freedom now to pursue our own ideas, offered Fyodor, with a large smile. He flicked his dark fringe away from his large brown eyes and looked directly at Anja. She favoured him with a smile which was a tribute to her dentist. Pekka looked at the professor. She stared at her beer, and seemed about to say something, but thought better of it.

Let’s go and eat, suggested Pekka, to break the deadlock. The Russians both nodded. I thought we’d go across the river to the Cavalier. Is that all right with everyone? Esa groaned inwardly; he simply couldn’t afford the Cavalier. It was only a ten-minute walk across the bridge, even allowing for their slow progress in the snow. Half way across, the Russians turned and stood looking back at the town centre, drinking-in the illuminated signs, like children round a Christmas tree. They had evidently not been in the west before.

The main restaurant at the Cavalier was in the basement: the walls were white and plain, the roof arched, and the tables small. Somehow Fyodor wound up sitting next to Anja and Pekka next to the two female students. Esa found himself wedged between the monosyllabic Katri and Professor Kustnov. He had known it would work out like that. The meal was very good: side salad and a rich and flavoursome beef stew, but the conversation was difficult. Fyodor and Anja were in a world of their own, and although Pekka and the girls tried hard, they were wasting their time on Esa, Katri and the professor. Esa knew he must appear socially inept, but he couldn’t help it; he was always like this in the company of older people. Fyodor proved to be a mine of information on mushrooms: their collection and ways of cooking them. He was certainly a most entertaining man. Pekka remarked: Professor Kustnov, I remember when I was at your department in St. Petersburg, you prepared a marvellous meal on the evening before I came home.

The professor blushed and gruffly replied: I was lucky to get the ingredients, you know. It’s not always been so easy for us.

But things are much better now, interrupted Fyodor. You can get practically anything you want now.

If you have the money, replied Professor Kustnov sourly. For most people, life is a worse struggle than under the Communist Party.

Fyodor shrugged lightly and smiled: Perhaps we’d better not talk about politics now.

After the meal, the party broke up. Pekka offered to drive the Russians to their rooms, as the professor said they were tired after their long day’s journey. Fyodor looked about ready for a night on the tiles, but the professor was his boss. She excused herself to visit the toilets. Pekka paid the bill for them all: it was understood that Esa and the other members of the department would settle up with him the following day. Even a boss’s salary didn’t run to eight meals at the Cavalier. Päivi suggested they could go on to a bar and, madly regardless of the expense, Esa agreed. Katri made ready to go home on her own; she lived in an apartment in the town centre and would be there within fifteen minutes. Fyodor was still chatting away as they all went to put their coats on.

Just before they reached the stand, Esa saw the professor come out of the toilets, and politely waited for her to show her the way. She drew up beside him and looked him through and through. She asked, very quietly, keeping hold of Esa’s arm: What did Fyodor say about me? You talked about the institute while I was away; what did he say?

Esa replied: Nothing, nothing at all. We just talked about things in general. We didn’t mention you. She shook her head, but said nothing. When Esa looked away from her, he saw Fyodor looking intently at them both. Your coat, professor, said Esa, lifting up the garment so that she could slip into it. None of the others seemed to have noticed anything, and Esa managed an embarrassed smile as he bid the Russians goodnight. The incident had made an unpleasant impression on him. He knew the way things had worked in the old Soviet Union. Professors were promoted on the grounds of their political commitment, not on account of their scientific abilities. Some of them would undoubtedly be regretting the change to the new system and worrying about their futures. Esa also knew the way Soviet society had been run: a word here, a hint there, could ruin a person. Despite his distaste for anyone as handsome as Fyodor, he determined not to let him down by offering gossip to his grim-faced boss.

After Pekka had taken the two Russians home, and Katri had walked off, the others went to the Hamburger Bar, a German-style bar, where there was sometimes dancing to a small band. As usual, Anja had come without sufficient money. She was the best paid member of the little remaining group but, due to her extravagances, was always in debt and trying to borrow money from her colleagues. They usually obliged her, and tonight was no exception. They crowded next to an all-male group, who were in the farthest corner of the bar. This was fortunate for everyone except Esa, because all the girls now had dancing partners. Feeling very unlucky, Esa sat nursing a vodka.

If he was unlucky, Anja certainly wasn’t. It turned out that the all-male group worked together in a small savings bank in one of the suburbs. On account of its location, it was probably the only bank in town where Anja didn’t have an overdraft. Since her dancing partner was the manager, Esa thought this omission would probably soon be rectified. At half-past midnight, Esa decided to set off home. His mother would be waiting up for him, and there was no hope of a taxi at this hour and in this weather. He would have to walk. He detached himself from the, by now, very merry group with the excuse that he had a big experiment in the morning, and departed into the heavy snow.

When he got free of the town centre and the crowds spilling from the clubs, he noticed once more the peace which snow underfoot always brought. It wasn’t just the muffling of footfalls, it was as if the snow was blanketing the little city in its sleep.

In the weeks following their arrival, Esa had plenty of time to observe the professor and her assistant in the lab. It was much as he had expected it would be. The professor wasn’t really a good scientist; she was always urging the students to undertake massive agricultural field trial experiments, in which the conditions could not be properly controlled and in which the effects of two or more variables would be inextricably confused. It was, of course, the way she’d always done things: the political relevance of the research swamped any attempt at genuinely understanding the underlying mechanisms being investigated. It had always been necessary to find ways of increasing crop production, even if immediate successes were fortuitous and doomed to long-term failure. Fyodor, on the other hand, was younger and more adaptable. He was into everything, wanting to explore all the equipment, and making copious notes. If not particularly bright, he was willing to learn and to try. Esa decided he must be by nature an optimist. Fyodor’s salary was less than that of Professor Kustnov and nugatory by Finnish standards, but he made the best of what he had and was always clean, which was more than could be said for his boss.

Early on Saturday, as Esa and his mother were shopping in the market square, he gained a clue as to how Fyodor managed so well. There, in the falling snow, not seeming to notice how cold it was, stood Fyodor, surrounded by two huge hold-alls containing bottles of Estonian vodka, which he was selling at a very reasonable price. Not cheap, but very reasonable. Fyodor clearly had a sophisticated appreciation of capitalism. Alcohol of all kinds was expensive in Finland and distribution was controlled by the state owned Alko liquor stores, so Fyodor’s vodka was doubly welcome. Esa and his mother bought some. Fyodor smiled at them unashamedly and presented Esa’s mother with a free bottle. I get it from one of the stewards on the ferries, he remarked. I’m surprised you folks don’t do the same.

Well, said Esa, it is illegal, you know, so don’t get caught.

Fyodor waved the problem aside. So long as the good lady professor doesn’t catch me, I’m OK. She would disapprove.

As they walked home, Esa’s mother said: What a nice young man; why don’t you invite him over for a meal one evening? I’m sure he must be lonely away from home. Esa reflected that even his own mother wasn’t immune to Fyodor’s charms.

Pekka, however, was. On Monday morning Fyodor was summoned to his office and told to end his black marketing. Apparently, he’d been spotted by one of the secretaries, who wasn’t as discreet as Esa. Worse was to follow. Professor Kustnov had been informed; Pekka had felt it his duty to tell her. But I was only providing a service, protested Fyodor. I wasn’t doing any harm. And I would have given you a share. Esa thought that, knowing the Russians, the prospect of not getting a share was probably the professor’s main concern, despite what she said.

You’re letting your country down, behaving in a criminal way. Supposing the police had caught you?

They didn’t, replied a smiling Fyodor. Esa noted, not for the first time, that Professor Kustnov was the only woman he had met who was completely immune to her assistant’s charms. I could have made a lot of money, wailed Fyodor. I’ve got another lot due in on Thursday.

No, said the professor sharply. I do not understand why you find it necessary to act like a gangster.

But Fyodor wasn’t one to give up that easily. It’s not like gangsters. It’s capitalism. The new way. And besides, look how rich they all are here. Look at the shops. You see what they’ve got in the windows.

She turned on him: And why do you think they’ve got all that stuff in the windows? Well, I can tell you why. Because they can’t afford to buy it, that’s why. If they could afford to buy it, it wouldn’t be left in the shop windows, it would be sold. She stomped off, leaving a bemused Fyodor behind her. Given the realities of shortages in the old Soviet Union and present day poverty, whereby affordable items disappeared from the shops the minute they were placed on display or even, sometimes, before, the professor’s logic was irrefutable. Unfortunately, it didn’t take differing circumstances into account.

That lunch time, the group went to the University Café. The display of self-service food was as tempting as always. In addition to a choice of hot dishes, there were desserts, yoghurts and cheese. Three varieties of milk were on sale in the alcohol-free café, and there was an inexhaustible supply of bread. Esa attempted to translate the contents of the menu for the professor and Fyodor while Anja, selfish as always, rushed through the queue with her tray, and was scooping up her complimentary salad before the others had finished selecting their hot meals. As they picked up their bread, Esa noticed that the professor helped herself to six slices and piled up the salad, whilst avoiding spending money on milk and a dessert. Fyodor was much more restrained, and followed the Finns in choosing modest complimentary portions. He seemed to have got over the unpleasantness of the morning, and was back on form again as he gazed pointedly into Anja’s eyes over lunch. Don’t forget, Anja, you said you’d show Sirkka and me how to use the new cooling unit before coffee this afternoon, reminded Esa.

Anja didn’t seem best pleased; she asked absently: Is your experiment on schedule for the cooler?

Bang on, replied Esa. I got in especially early this morning to make sure we were on time.

I should also watch, said Professor Kustnov. I should see all the equipment that is available. Sirkka treated them all to a round of coffee and tried to talk to the professor about the new Russia. But she absolutely refused to be drawn, except to comment that the majority of people were no better off financially, and that she couldn’t see the point of democracy if all it offered was a choice of being governed by one gang of crooks or another. On their way out of the café, she picked up a few more slices of bread.

As the afternoon progressed, Esa was beginning to get nervous. He needed to use the new cooler for his experiment, but Anja was nowhere to be seen, and no one else seemed to know how to use it or where to locate the instructions. Sirkka and Professor Kustnov hovered around uneasily, not knowing what to do. Walking through the lab. Katri reported that she had seen Anja putting on her coat and boots about half an hour previously. She had informed Kari she was just walking into the town centre for a little shopping and would be back soon. Esa was mad with frustration. If he didn’t get his samples into the cooler soon, his experiment would be ruined. This was typical of Anja. All her own experiments were a mess; she was always slipping out to go to the shops or the hairdresser or the bank, and her lunch breaks were legendary. Esa thought she was inconsiderate too; she knew he was relying on her to help him, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to get her to show him the equipment before. She’s always been too busy, and had put him off: When you do an experiment next time, I’ll show you, she’d said. And now he was stuck in the middle of an experiment, and she wasn’t there.

Fortunately, Katri was a sensible person, and she went off to find Pekka. He was, after all, the head of department. Esa was just about to take a chance and try out the equipment when Pekka arrived. Pekka didn’t really know how to use the unit, but his funds had paid for it, and he tried to get it going, to Esa’s considerable relief. Any damage would be down to Pekka, not him. When they had figured out how to introduce the liquid coolant into the tank, the major problem was solved. Katri had obviously thought better of telling Pekka that Anja was the cause of all the trouble, but Professor Kustnov was made of sterner stuff. Professor, you should ensure that your staff are always in the institute during the working times. They should not be allowed, as Anja does, to go and perform private duties. Pekka looked a little nonplussed, and was about to explain that what mattered was the quality of the work they did while they were there, not the number of hours they were on duty, but thought better of it. Oh by the way, where’s Fyodor? he asked with a smile.

It was not until just before five o’clock that it became clear where Fyodor had spent his afternoon. He returned, smoking one of his execrable cigarettes, and asked blithely: Everything OK then? The professor said a few very sharp words to him in Russian, but he merely shrugged, smiled, and settled down at his bench to mark up test tubes and glassware for the following day.

A few minutes later, Anja appeared, wearing a broad smile: Oh, Esa, I am so sorry, I quite forgot about you. I was… busy. Did everything go all right? She started to hang up her fur coat, and turned her back on Esa, to indicate that she really didn’t want to hear his reply.

Sirkka piped up: We had to get Pekka to help with the cooler.

Anja strolled away. Fyodor was chain-smoking and drew out a book of matches from the Marine Hotel to light his next cigarette. The professor sharply reminded him that he shouldn’t have been smoking at all. Sirkka caught sight of the matches and asked loudly: What’s the Marine Hotel like these days then Anja? She didn’t reply or even blush. Fyodor grinned happily. Esa couldn’t understand why: Anja wasn’t particularly good looking, and she was much older than Fyodor. One might consider she had hidden talents, but if the gossip were true, they weren’t all that hidden. Fyodor hadn’t made much of a catch; perhaps he didn’t know.

That evening, Esa’s mother told him to invite Fyodor over during the weekend: He can come to lunch, and we can all got for a walk in the forest, or you boys can go skiing, and then he can stay to supper and watch some Finnish television. The next day Esa dutifully relayed the invitation.

Fyodor expressed his regrets: I’d be really happy to visit you and your charming mother, but, sadly, I have arranged to visit Lapland. You know, see the Christmas Village at Rovaniemi, and go on a sledging tour northwards from there. I’m making a long weekend of it: Friday to Monday. With permission from the boss, of course, he said in the direction of a very sour-faced professor. But please tell your mother I would be delighted to visit you another weekend.

The following Monday, Anja was curiously late into work, and did not arrive until lunchtime. When she did, she made a bee-line for Pekka and sought an early afternoon appointment. She looked radiant, her face was glowing and she was sporting a new full-length sheepskin coat. Katri remarked acidly: "I don’t know how you can afford it, Anja, you’re always short at