Chapter 11

Mid-April 1965

I drifted awake, my hand sliding across the pillow, seeking Imbi’s soft fur; its absence flicked my eyes open. This wasn’t my room; it was one of Aunt Anastasia’s bedrooms. I lay there, sleepily wondering if Imbi had found his way to Mutti’s bed to compensate for my absence. Faintly through the window, I heard pallets clattering down the alley at the rear of the building. Someone was up and moving early in the city, despite it being Easter Sunday.

I glanced at my alarm clock: half-past six and time for me to be up and running. I had put the front door key on a ribbon and slipped this over my head, shuddering from its cold slither down my breastbone under my t-shirt.

Outside, the city was waking as I trotted down to the Botanic Garden. Once there, I did my stretches and set off, enjoying the cool morning air. The trees left the paths in filtered sunlight, though the exotics were shedding their crimson and gold leaves as autumn approached. I completed several circuits before heading to Aunt Anastasia’s flat.

By the time I had showered, I could hear Aunt Anastasia moving. I started the samovar process and turned on the oven to heat the hot-cross buns I’d picked up yesterday. Aunt Anastasia appeared shortly after, wearing a yellow robe embroidered with red and blue in a Chinese style.

“Oh. That’s gorgeous.”

Aunt Anastasia smiled, glancing down at the glistening wattle-yellow material with its Chinese motifs. “It is rather gorgeous, isn’t it? It’s silk, from China. Come and feel it.”

I fingered a sleeve, the silk encouraging my fingers to slide until the rich embroidery at the cuff stopped them. “It’s smooth.”

“Smooth as silk.” Aunt Anastasia smiled. “You’ll find a similar red one in the wardrobe in your room for you to wear.”

“Oh, thank you.” I’d seen it hanging there when I unpacked on Friday. That I could use it was overwhelming: a robe like that would be expensive. I turned away to hide my embarrassment and organised breakfast. With the tea poured, I pulled out the hot-cross buns, placing one on Aunt Anastasia’s plate. As I munched mine, trying to stop the melted butter from dribbling down my wrist, Aunt Anastasia looked across at me. “I heard you leaving early for your run this morning. You are an unusually committed girl, Karlota. Do you run every morning?”

“Yes.” I gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I tried to be quiet.”

“It’s all right, Karlota. You didn’t wake me; I had been awake for a while.” Aunt Anastasia paused for a moment. “As I’ve grown older, I seem to need less sleep.” She returned her gaze to me. “But that’s not important. We need to talk about the Easter Ball next Sunday.”

“Ball?” I almost squeaked with surprise – there was no mention of this when we had talked with Mutti about my staying with her.

“Every Easter, the Russian Club holds a grand ball.” Aunt Anastasia’s gaze held a certain haughtiness. “You’ll be accompanying me and we need to make sure you are appropriately dressed.”

Images of grand balls from the previous century flitted through my brain and I shifted uneasily in my chair. “I don’t think I have anything...”

Aunt Anastasia waved a dismissive hand. “Of course you don’t.” She gave me a conspiratorial smile. “I’ve arranged for Olga to bring some suitable dresses round after lunch. I’m sure we’ll find something amongst them she can alter in time.”

This was embarrassing. “Umm ... I don’t think we can afford a ball gown...”

Aunt Anastasia leant across and patted my hand. “It is most kind of you to come and spend Easter with me and this is my treat, Karlota.” Her smile was reassuring. “You are my guest and I want you to turn the heads of all the young men at the ball.”

“Thank you.” I stammered out.

There was only one head I wanted to turn...

By the time Olga left that afternoon, I had tried on eight different ball gowns. After much deliberation, Aunt Anastasia selected a full length, high-waisted cream gown. It had a threaded black velvet ribbon motif above the hem, across the bodice and around the half sleeves.

With the choice made, Aunt Anastasia’s eyes swept up from my feet. “You have beautiful, dark eyes, Karlota, and the black ribbon enhances them.” She paused, looking at my arms. “You have been in the sun too much and your skin is rather dark, but that can’t be helped.”

I rubbed my arms self-consciously. “I’m out in the sun a lot, swimming and running...”

Aunt Anastasia pursed her lips. “Well, in my day, we stayed out of the sun to preserve our skin.” Her eyes examined my face and arms. “You young things today seem to luxuriate in the sunshine. You should look after your skin.”

I’d have to ask Lizzie about this. Her mother would know...

At breakfast on Wednesday morning, Aunt Anastasia announced we were going shopping. We had to find me a pair of suitable shoes, a clutch bag and a few other things for the ball. I helped Aunt Anastasia downstairs — quite a delicate performance, as she’s rather uncertain on anything other than a level floor, but we made it into a waiting taxi without mishap. The taxi took us to Finney-Isles, the most exclusive and expensive department store in Brisbane. I’d looked in their display windows before but never ventured inside. There was never a price on anything displayed, reinforcing its reputation. I was glad to have Aunt Anastasia chaperoning me through the store, as I was awkward amidst its elegance.

Aunt Anastasia led me to the lady’s department and sat herself at a counter.

A well-dressed sales lady came over. “Good morning, Miss Zaytseva. How can I help you today?”

Aunt Anastasia was a well-known customer, it seemed. She gestured towards me. “This is Karlota. She is accompanying me to the Easter ball on Saturday and she needs a few things. New lingerie, stockings, a clutch bag, shoes and such.”

“Certainly, madam.” She turned to me. “Please come with me Karlota and well find some lingerie first.”

I glanced at Aunt Anastasia.

“Go along, Karlota.”

I followed the sales lady into the lingerie section, where she looked me up and down.

“I’m Sandra.” She smiled. “Now, what sort of dress are you wearing for the ball?”

I described it and she selected several sets of matching underwear. “Let’s try these for a start.”

Despite having minimal breasts, Sandra found a delicate bra that “enhanced my assets”. I returned to Aunt Anastasia with matching underwear and two pairs of shear stockings with cream elasticated garters to hold them up.

Aunt Anastasia pulled a sample of my dress material from her bag. Sandra soon returned with half-a-dozen clutch bags from which we made a selection.

“Now for shoes.” Aunt Anastasia hooked another chair round with her cane. “Sit down and take your shoes off, Karlota.”

I sat there with my shoes on the floor, wriggling my freed toes.

Aunt Anastasia smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Give one to the lady.”

A discussion occurred about the right shoe colour – to match the dress or the black ribbon? After a while, Sandra returned with several boxes and a junior assistant bearing several more. All had much higher heels than I was used to wearing and I wobbled on them. After some back and forth, Aunt Anastasia decided black shoes would detract from the ribbon in the gown’s hemline. We settled on a pale cream pair to match the gown. Sandra placed a Finney-Isles bag on the counter, packing the boxes containing our purchases into it.

Aunt Anastasia waved at the bag. “On my account, please.”

“Certainly, Miss Zaytseva,” Sandra replied.

“Come along, Karlota.” Aunt Anastasia pulled herself up using her cane and the countertop. “We’ve more to do yet.”

Sandra handed me the carrier bag. “Enjoy the Ball, Karlota.”

“Thank you.” My uncertainty about all this was growing and Sandra must have sensed that.

“You’ll be fine,” she smiled. “But you should practice at home with the shoes until they feel natural.”

I trailed after Aunt Anastasia, worrying about the money she was spending.

The ‘more to do yet’ comprised having my ears pierced and fitted with gold studs. The piercing hurt for a moment, but I didn’t bleed much. We spent about half-an-hour with Michelle, a make-up specialist, who started out by helping me select a fragrance and telling me where to dab it. She called them ‘pulse points’, places where the blood was close to the surface and would warm and spread the fragrance.

Michelle and Aunt Anastasia debated lipsticks. Aunt Anastasia shook her head at a variety of reds. “Those are too old for a girl. She needs something subtle, delicate...”

Michelle smiled and produced some gentle pinks; we agreed on one of them. She led me through my make-up for Sunday.

“You have a compact?” She asked.

I gave her a blank look.

“Oh, you’ll need a compact to touch up your make-up at the ball.” She retrieved a silvery compact from under the counter, opened it and slipped in a make-up disc of the same shade she had used on my face.

“Here, let me show you.” She drew the puff across the disc and demonstrated on her face.

“Be careful how you use the puff – barely brush the skin.” She passed the compact to me. “You try it.”

I copied Michelle, using the mirror in the compact lid to watch myself.

“Excellent – remember, only a little make-up on the puff.”

Aunt Anastasia lifted my left arm and gestured with it to Michelle. “Do you have something for her skin? I am worried all the sun will damage it.”

Michelle lifted my arm and ran her hand softly from wrist to elbow. “You are out in the sun a lot?”

“I swim and run ... and walk to and from the tram...”

“I can see you have excellent muscle tone.” Michelle’s thumb massaged the skin near my elbow and she turned to Aunt Anastasia. “Sunlight is good for the skin – and the person – but it can be drying. I would recommend a milk to massage into the skin every night.” She looked at me. “Would you like to try some?”

I nervously glanced at Aunt Anastasia – the money she was spending on me was rapidly mounting. She patted my hand in reassurance.

Retrieving a bottle from beneath the counter, Michelle deposited a few drips of milky fluid on my forearm. “You have beautiful skin and this will help it stay that way.” Her hand smoothed the milk across my forearm, spreading the milk as the skin absorbed the moisture.

“As you can see, a little goes a long way. Use this after your evening shower on all the skin that sees the sun – not your face. I’ll get you cream for that.” She dripped several drops onto my other arm. “You do this arm.” She reached below the counter, pulling up a container of face cream.

I smoothed the milk out, rubbing it into my skin and glanced up. “It leaves my skin feeling like silk.”

“Excellent.” Michelle gave me an encouraging smile. “You understand how to do your make-up for the ball?”

My smile was uncertain. I was not used to make-up and was a little unsure if I could replicate Michelle’s deft touch.

Michelle glanced at Aunt Anastasia, who smiled. “I’m sure that we’ll be fine.”

Michelle produced a hairbrush and deftly flicked my hair around, trying various looks before returning to the style given me on the ship. “This style is simple to maintain and it suits you.” She turned me towards the mirror where I saw the subtle effects of the makeup and the glint of the studs adding several years to my age.

Aunt Anastasia turned the chair towards her, gazing at my face. “Yes, that is excellent, Karlota.” She looked up at Michelle. “Please call us a taxi.”

“Certainly, madam.” She waved at her assistant, who went to another counter to make the call. Meanwhile, Michelle packed everything into a soft bag. She produced a small bottle of the fragrance we had selected. “Put this in your clutch bag with the compact and lipstick for the ball, Karlota. That way you can refresh your make-up and perfume during the evening.” She added the bottle to the soft bag and zipped it up. “Here you go.” She handed me the bag with a smile. “Have fun.”

“Thank you.” My return smile was a little more confident this time.

The taxi was waiting at the front of the store. Helping Aunt Anastasia up the stairs to her flat was awkward, but we made it safely. At the top, I realised it would have been easier had I left the Finney-Isles bag at the foot of the stairs. The outing seemed to have tired Aunt Anastasia; I sat her in her chair and got to work on the samovar before serving lunch.

After I had cleaned up the meal, Aunt Anastasia gave me a commanding look. “Karlota, put on your ball shoes. You need to wear them in and get used to them. We can’t have you spoiling things by falling over.”

“Sandra, the saleslady told me the same thing.”

For the next few days, I wore the shoes with their high heels around the flat for several hours and by Saturday, I was walking securely. Aunt Anastasia had me practice the dance steps I had learned on the ship and at school.

Polish classes, swimming and the German book club had all closed down over the Easter holidays. I only left the flat to do some shopping at Aunt Anastasia’s direction and for my regular morning runs. We spent the rest of the time in work on my Russian: conversation, taking dictation and reading aloud. Aunt Anastasia pounced on any mispronunciation.

“You don’t want to sound like a peasant, dear.”

This immersive ten days significantly improved my Russian. By Friday, I had moved from restraining myself to pushing ahead. I could see Aunt Anastasia’s pleasure in my rapid progress.

When I returned from my Saturday morning run, Aunt Anastasia was already up and I made tea before heading to my shower. Returning wrapped in the red silk robe, I made breakfast for us both.

“Olga is arriving soon for a last fitting of your gown, Karlota. You will need your ball shoes as well. I suggest you put on the lingerie for the ball and wear that robe for now to make things easier for the fitting.”

I went and changed, delighting in the way the bra enhanced my modest breasts. Wrapping the gorgeous red silk robe round me, I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror as the robe swirled and settled against my legs – such elegance.

Olga arrived with the dress and sent me to get my ball shoes, which I’d forgotten. With the gown on, she fussed with the hem and had me walk up and down the lounge room before looking over at Aunt Anastasia. I angled the full-length oval mirror standing at the front door and inspected myself, surprised by the young woman returning my gaze. I walked towards Olga and Aunt Anastasia, taking small steps rather than my normal walk, which Aunt Anastasia called ‘an unladylike stride’.

Aunt Anastasia noticed, smiling in encouragement, and turned to Olga. “Thank you, that will do nicely.”

Once I had changed into ordinary clothes, we spent the rest of the morning in more Russian lessons. As we finished lunch, Aunt Anastasia told me she would go to the midnight Easter service at the Russian St Nicholas Cathedral.

“I’ll be going alone, Karlota. It would not be appropriate for you to attend. You don’t have to wait up for me.”

“Okay.”

“I will sleep late on Sunday morning.” She continued. “I have arranged for us to be picked up at six o’clock tomorrow evening. We will eat early, about four o’clock, before getting dressed for the ball.”

We spent the afternoon in more Russian – reading, writing and speaking. I could see the pleasure she had in watching me mastering her language.

“Do you speak other languages, Aunt Anastasia?”

She smiled. “Well – I lived in China for twenty years. I speak and read Mandarin and I learned English from a tutor in Vladivostok as a child.” Her eyes looked far away. “I tutored several English children from the community in Tsientsin.”

That evening, Aunt Anastasia dressed in dark clothes, leaving in a cab at half-past nine. The cab driver knew her and came up to help her down the stairs. “It’s all right, Miss. I’ll bring her home and help her up the stairs again.”

I went to bed early with Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings and didn’t wake when Aunt Anastasia returned from the service. As usual on Sunday morning, I was up and running, trying not to disturb Aunt Anastasia’s sleep. As I circled the Botanic Garden, I heard a trumpet sounding somewhere in the distance. After a shower at the flat, I made myself breakfast and sat, reading more Tolkien. Aunt Anastasia appeared at about half-past ten.

“Would you like tea, Aunt Anastasia?”

“Thank you, Karlota. But I’ll wait to eat until this afternoon. We’ll eat early and ready ourselves after that.”

For the rest of the morning, we sat reading in quiet company. I was feeling nervous by the time we ate that afternoon.

Aunt Anastasia noticed me nibbling at my food. “You need to eat, Karlota. There will be canapés at about nine o’clock at the ball ... and that’s all.”

I clamped down on my nerves and – to be honest – a growing excitement. I emptied my plate, gaining a nod of approval from Aunt Anastasia. With our few dishes cleaned and put away, we went to get ready. Reproducing Michelle’s subtle makeup artistry took me half an hour, but I was finally satisfied with my appearance in the dressing-table mirror. I wrapped myself in the gorgeous silk robe. I wanted Aunt Anastasia to check my work before I finished dressing. She was sitting in her chair in her yellow robe.

“Could you check my make-up, please?”

“Certainly, Karlota.”

I knelt beside her chair and she turned my head left and right, inspecting my work.

“Very good, Karlota.” She smiled into my eyes. “I’m sure you’ll experiment in the future, but remember, for a young thing like you, less is more.”

I grimaced. There’d been women with overdone make-up around the city. I had no desire to look like them.

Aunt Anastasia set her cane securely and levered herself up, towering above me. “Come, Karlota, time to dress.”

In my room, I was about to remove my gown from its dust bag but remembered I hadn’t put on the perfume. I carefully dabbed it to my ‘pulse points’ as Michelle had called them, being careful to use it sparingly. As I did, I wondered how I was supposed to freshen some of these spots later in the evening ... and decided I would have to limit it to wrists, throat and behind the ears.

Once I dressed, I walked out, but Aunt Anastasia was not there. Should I sit down? Would that crease my gown? I was still pondering this when Aunt Anastasia walked out and sat at the table.

“Come here, please, Karlota.”

I stood beside her, still worried about creasing my gown.

“Sit down, dear.”

“Won’t that crease the gown?”

Aunt Anastasia smiled. “Of course not, dear. Sit down.”

I sat down and Aunt Anastasia opened a long black box, revealing a slim gold and diamond necklace with matching earrings.

“Oh,” I breathed out softly. “That’s gorgeous,”

“Indeed.” She glanced down at the jewellery, a wistful look on her face. “My father gave this set to me for my first Ball when I was sixteen.” She looked at me, a misty smile in her eyes. “I want you to wear them tonight.”

I gasped. “They must be worth a fortune. What if I lose them?”

Aunt Anastasia patted my hand. “You won’t.” She looked at my throat. “You’ll need to take off your gold chain.”

My hand found its way to my throat.

Take off Willi’s necklace? I hadn’t removed it since that morning in Lancaster.

Aunt Anastasia saw my reaction. “It has a special meaning for you? From someone special?”

I couldn’t speak.

Understanding filled Aunt Anastasia’s eyes and she leaned towards me. “You aren’t betraying him if you put it back on tomorrow, Karlota,” she whispered.

I took several calming breaths as I examined my feelings. She was right, I realised after a few seconds.

Willi’s necklace was a reminder. My feelings for him were the core.

I reached behind my neck and undid the clasp, wondering what to do with it, as its box was at home.

Aunt Anastasia saw my hesitation and gestured at the jewellery case. “Put it there. It will be safe for the evening.”

I laid it beside the diamond necklace.

“Put the earrings on, Karlota.”

My ears were still a little tender, but I’d been following the care instructions. I removed the studs and put them next to my necklace before fitting the delicate earrings, each with their single glittering diamond.

“Come and stand here.”

As I moved round the table, Aunt Anastasia used her chair to help herself to her feet. The necklace glistened as she lowered it over me and drew it up around my neck.

“Turn round, Karlota.” Emotion muffled her voice.

I could see in Aunt Anastasia’s eyes this moment held great significance for her.

Her lips trembled. “I never had children. This set has been waiting in its box for a girl like you.” A trembling hand moved my head slowly from side to side, taking in the earrings. “It is a set for a beautiful young woman like you, Karlota.”

Impulsively, I flung my arms round her, hugging her. For a moment, she was rigid. I started to pull away, embarrassed that I’d misjudged her, when her arms came up and pulled me against her. We hugged for several seconds, each suffused by the emotions of the moment before Aunt Anastasia pushed us apart.

She held my forearms and smiled. “You’ll certainly turn heads tonight, Karlota. Look at yourself in the mirror.”

Were those tears in her eyes?

I spent a minute in front of the full-length mirror. I could scarcely believe this young woman was me. The diamonds in the necklace and earrings caught the light, drawing the eyes. I wasn’t beautiful, but with the gown and jewellery I certainly wasn’t the flat-chested, ugly duckling I had felt alongside most of the girls at school.

When I turned round, Aunt Anastasia was opening another jewellery case.

“Could you help me with this, please?” She lifted a necklace of what I suspected were emeralds and rubies, holding it against her. “Fasten the clasp for me, Karlota.”

Aunt Anastasia wore her hair up and after a second’s fumbling with the unfamiliar clasp, I had it fastened. Aunt Anastasia added emerald earrings from the case.

She walked to the mirror and adjusted the necklace. “This was my mother’s. It’s more suitable for an older woman.” She fingered the necklace, inspecting her reflection and turned.

“Come along, Karlota. Get your clutch bag. The taxi will be here in a minute.”

Not long after, the bell rang, announcing the taxi’s arrival. Getting Aunt Anastasia downstairs was more difficult. I hadn’t practiced stairs in my high heels, but we made it safely.

It turned out the Russian Club was on the other side of the Gabba cricket ground from the German Club. I helped Aunt Anastasia from the cab and held her elbow up the steps into the club.

A tall, white-haired man bent and kissed Aunt Anastasia’s hand, greeting her in Russian.

“Anastasia, your presence honours us.”

“Thank you, Dmitri. This is my guest, Karlota.”

He turned to me, speaking English. “Welcome, Karlota. I am the club president, Mr Mikhailov. Have a pleasant evening.”

I smiled, answering in Russian. “Thank you. I am sure your club will make me feel welcome.”

Mr Mikhailov smiled broadly and turned to Aunt Anastasia. “She speaks excellent Russian, Tasia. You have been teaching her, I suspect?”

“Indeed – and she is an excellent student.” She smiled with almost parental pride.

Mr Mikhailov glanced over my shoulder. “Please excuse me, other guests are arriving. I have reserved your usual table, Tasia.”

“Thank you, Dmitri. Come with me, Karlota.”

We walked through into a long room decked in white, blue and red tricolour ribbons. I recognised these from my east German history lessons as the colours of the Tsarist flag. At the far end was a small stage, set with music stands for an orchestra. A black and gold double-headed imperial eagle hung above the orchestra stage. Beneath the eagle hung portraits of, presumably, Nickolas and Alexandra. Aunt Anastasia led me across to a table half-way along the side wall, set into the central bay window. As we sat, a waiter appeared with two champagne flutes and an ice-bucket containing a bottle of champagne. At a nod from Aunt Anastasia, he carefully filled the two long-stemmed glasses.

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