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indignantly. "Not like the director! He asked about everything like a human being, tested us on how much
we knew..."
"No flies on our director," Luka said. "You won't find a director like him all the way along the coast,
from Sevastopol to Rostov! He's been asked to take over the Ilyich Works and the Ukrainian Trust, but
he wouldn't go. 'Let me get this works into shape,' he says. 'I want to introduce proper working methods
here and get rid of the legacy the foreigners left us.' It was his idea to raise the foundry roof. 'Let the most
harmful shop have the most fresh air,' he says. Haven't you seen the fettling shop we've built since he's
been director? It's a lovely sight! In the old days, under Caiworth, people working in that fettling shop
used to die of consumption by the hundred. They used to clean the castings in little huts, all the dust used
to get in their lungs. But now it's a pleasure to look at. It's light, it's clean, and all the dust is sucked out by
pipes... And the pasting he gave those Trotskyites last year! He made their feathers fly all right! Don't try
to compare Ivan Fyodorovich with Zuzya, lad."
"What is he, does he come from the working class?"
"Ivan Fyodorovich?"
"No, Zuzya!"
"He's a footballer," Luka said calmly.
"What's football got to do with it?" Petka put in.
"Just this," said Luka. "Zuzya was the best centre forward in the whole of Zaporozhye, but at the
Communard Works they didn't think much of him used to work as la stoker, or something. But our
chief engineer, he's crackers on football. He went to Zaporozhye once and watched Zuzya playing.
When he saw Zuzya was a nippy fellow, he got him to come here. Of course, as soon as Zuzya arrives,
he gets promoted assistant manager of the personnel department. Now he draws a decent salary,
enough to feed himself up for kicking that ball about..."
"The chief engineer he's a grey-haired man, isn't he?" I asked cautiously, remembering what
Angelika had said about her father.
"That's him," Volodya affirmed, "your neighbour. Rather a queer chap, but he likes football."
"His daughter's a good-looker," Petka put in with some satisfaction. "Vasil knows her already.
They've been holding hands on the beach."
"Well, I'm blowed!" Volodya looked at me with surprise and respect. "You're a fast-worker, I see,
don't let the grass grow under your feet! But watch your step if Zuzya gets to know about, he'll break
your shins for you. His kick's like a cannon-ball, lad. He can break a cross-bar with one of his shots..."
Not far away, in the harbour, a ship gave a sharp blast on its siren. Then another, and a third.
"The Dzerzhinsky's off to Yalta," Luka said.
We had never seen a real steamer in our lives, only in pictures. I very much wanted to run down to
the harbour and watch the ship leave, but Petka would go on trying to take the rise out of me. Nudging
Bobir, he asked Volodya: "Is Zuzya a friend of the engineer's daughter?"
"Sure he is! He's always going round there taking her out on his bicycle. One of the family."
"I think they must like him because he's a footballer," Luka remarked.
"You don't mean to say the engineer's daughter plays football?" Petka gasped.
"She's a football fan! If you ever go to a match, don't sit in front of her," Luka advised, "she'll punch
your back till it's black and blue. Football's the only thing she cares about, like her old man."
"Now, now you're going a bit too far. . ." Gladyshev, who had been silent until now, came to the
defence of my acquaintance. "If you ask me, she knows her own mind all right, that girl does. She's read
a lot of books. As for being keen on football, what's wrong with that? Who of us isn't! Some go in for
pigeons, others prefer football. The chief doctor down at the sanatorium, is he a fan? Of course, he is!
The harbour master, Captain Sabadash? Of course! Madame Kozulya? Not half! That one from the
dancing-school... what's her name.. . Madame Rogale-Piontkovskaya? Nuts on the game! Even
Lisovsky the priest, as soon as there's a match, he shuts up his church and goes off to the ground with his
old woman.. . Our town's such a crazy place!"
Gladyshev had mentioned a name that took me back at once to the old days, in far-off Podolia.
"That Rogale-Piontkovskaya you mentioned, she isn't a countess by any chance, is she?" I asked.
"Goodness knows whether she's a countess or not, but she's certainly the queerest fish in this part of
the world," Gladyshev replied.
"Rules the roost up at the dancing-school," Luka added.
"Well, why are we sitting here, friends, talking ourselves dry?" Volodya exclaimed suddenly. "What
about going to Chelidze and having a glass of beer, eh?"
"We'd better go, hadn't we, Vasil?" Sasha whispered to me. "They'll be offended if we don't." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]