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In the house in Nutley Street, after they had all listened to the news on the radio, Lloyd turned to Daisy and said: "Well, that's that. Can we get married now?"
"Yes," said Daisy. "As quick as you like."
vi
Volodya and Zoya's wedding reception was held in one of the smaller banqueting halls in the Kremlin.
The war with Germany was over, but the Soviet Union was still battered and impoverished, and a lavish celebration would have been frowned upon. Zoya had a new dress, but Volodya wore his uniform. However, there was plenty to eat, and the vodka flowed freely.
Volodya's nephew and niece were there, the twin children of his sister, Anya, and her unpleasant husband, Ilya Dvorkin. They were not yet six years old. Dimka, the dark-haired boy, sat quietly reading a book, while blue-eyed Tania was running around the room crashing into tables and annoying the guests, in a reversal of the expected behavior of boys and girls.
Zoya looked so desirable in pink that Volodya would have liked to leave right away and take her to bed. That was out of the question, of course. His father's circle of friends included some of the most senior generals and politicians in the country, and many of them had come to toast the happy couple. Grigori was hinting that one extremely distinguished guest might arrive later; Volodya hoped it was not the depraved NKVD boss Beria.
Volodya's happiness did not quite let him forget the horrors he had seen and the profound misgivings he had developed about Soviet Communism. The unspeakable brutality of the secret police, the blunders of Stalin that had cost millions of lives, and the propaganda that had encouraged the Red Army to behave like crazed beasts in Germany had all caused him to doubt the most fundamental things he had been brought up to believe. He wondered uneasily what kind of country Dimka and Tania would grow up in. But today was not the day to think about that.
The Soviet elite were in a good mood. They had won the war and defeated Germany. Their old enemy Japan was being crushed by the USA. The insane honor code of Japan's leaders made it difficult for them to surrender, but it was only a matter of time now. Tragically, while they clung to their pride, more Japanese and American troops would die, and more Japanese women and children would be bombed out of their homes, but the end result would be the same. Sadly, it seemed there was nothing the Americans could do to hasten the process and prevent unnecessary deaths.
Volodya's father, drunk and happy, made a speech. "The Red Army has occupied Poland," he said. "Never again will that country be used as a springboard for a German invasion of Russia."
All the old comrades cheered and thumped the tables.
"In Western Europe Communist parties are being endorsed by the masses as never before. In the Paris municipal elections last March, the Communist Party won the largest share of the vote. I congratulate our French comrades."
They cheered again.
"As I look around the world today, I see that the Russian Revolution, in which so many brave men fought and died . . ." He trailed off as drunken tears came to his eyes. A hush descended on the room. He recovered himself. "I see that the revolution has never been as secure as it is today!"
They raised their glasses. "The revolution! The revolution!" Everyone drank.
The doors flew open, and Comrade Stalin walked in.
Everyone stood up.
His hair was gray, and he looked tired. He was about sixty-five, and he had been ill: there were rumors that he had suffered a series of strokes or minor heart attacks. But his mood today was ebullient. "I have come to kiss the bride!" he said.
He walked up to Zoya and put his hands on her shoulders. She was a good three inches taller than he, but she managed to stoop discreetly. He kissed her on both cheeks, allowing his gray-mustached mouth to linger just long enough to make Volodya feel resentful. Then he stepped back and said: "How about a drink for me?"
Several people hastened to get him a glass of vodka. Grigori insisted on giving Stalin his chair in the center of the head table. The buzz of conversation resumed, but it was subdued: they were thrilled he was here, but now they had to be careful of every word and every move. This man could have a person killed with a snap of his fingers, and he frequently had.
More vodka was brought, the band began to play Russian folk dances, and slowly people relaxed. Volodya, Zoya, Grigori, and Katerina did a four-person dance called a kadril, which was intended to be comic and always made people laugh. After that more couples danced, and the men started to do the barynya, in which they had to squat and kick up their legs, which caused many of them to fall over. Volodya kept checking on Stalin out of the corner of his eye--as did everyone else in the room--and he seemed to be enjoying himself, tapping his glass on the table in time with the balalaikas.
Zoya and Katerina were dancing a troika with Zoya's boss, Vasili, a senior physicist working on the bomb project, and Volodya was sitting out, when the atmosphere changed.
An aide in a civilian suit came in, hurried around the edge of the room, and went right up to Stalin. Without ceremony, he leaned over the leader's shoulder and spoke to him quietly but urgently.
Stalin at first looked puzzled, and asked a sharp question, then another. Then his face changed. He went pale, and seemed to stare at the dancers without seeing them.
Volodya said under his breath: "What the hell has happened?"
The dancers had not yet noticed, but those sitting at the head table looked frightened.
After a moment Stalin stood up. Those around him deferentially did the same. Volodya saw that his father was still dancing. People had been shot for less.
But Stalin had no eyes for the wedding guests. With the aide at his side he left the table. He walked toward the door, crossing the dance floor. Terrified revelers jumped out of his way. One couple fell over. Stalin did not seem to notice. The band ground to a halt. Saying nothing, looking at nobody, Stalin left the room.
Some of the generals followed him out, looking scared.
Another aide appeared, then two more. They all sought out their bosses and spoke to them. A young man in a tweed jacket went up to Vasili. Zoya seemed to know the man, and listened intently to him. She looked shocked.
