З життя
Катастрофа літака в горах: не Гімалаї, але досить високо
Високо в Карпатах розбився літак. Хоч це й не Гімалаї, але достатньо високо, щоб замерзнути. Але замерзати вже нікому було. Всі загинули. Всі, окрім великої рудої собаки та маленького сірого кота. Собака була в багажному відділенні у клітці, і це, напевно, її врятувало. А кіт просто лежав на колінах свого господаря.
Після удару він вилетів з розламаного на шматки літака. Пролетівши метрів п’ятдесят, кіт упав у м’який замет. Отямившись через кілька хвилин, він похитуючись пішов до обгорілих уламків, бо там залишився його господар. Біля купи розкиданих крісел сидів великий рудий пес.
– Не йди туди, – сказав він коту. – Туди не можна. Там нікого не залишилося живим.
Кіт подивився на нього невпевнено і пішов далі. Він ще не відійшов від шоку. Тоді пес підійшов до нього, взяв його зубами за загривок і підняв, тримаючи, поки кіт не перестав махати лапами і шипіти. Потім поставив поруч із собою і сказав:
– Всі загинули, окрім нас. – Пес оглянувся довкола і здригнувся. – Скоро й ми замерзнемо чи зголодуємо, якщо тут залишимося. Треба йти.
– Куди йти? – запитав кіт. – Мені нікуди, адже мій господар тут. Я, напевно, нікуди не піду, залишуся поруч із ним. Ми прожили весь мій вік разом. Кому я тепер потрібен? Ні, я не піду.
Пес уважно вислухав, а потім знову взяв його за загривок і поніс. Він йшов вниз. Туди, де закінчувався сніг і холод, і де були люди. Пес не розумів, чому саме туди йде і звідки йому відомо напрямок. Але це не було головне зараз. Головне — не стояти на місці, а йти.
Коли лапам стало зовсім нестерпно від колючого снігу і льоду, він поставив поруч із собою кота і викопав велику нору, в якій і приліг відпочити. Кота поклав собі під живіт, щоб той не замерз.
Вранці вони продовжили шлях. Пес ніс сірого попутника всю дорогу. А той тихенько скавучав і плакав. Він ні на що не був здатен, крім як сидіти на колінах у свого люблячого господаря.
Коли вони вийшли на велику, залиту сонцем галявину, без жодного снігу, то кіт задихнувся від тепла, запахів і раптового голоду. Навколо метушилося багато людей. Вони всі були в помаранчевих куртках і касках. Всі кричали і метушилися.
– Рятувальники, – сказав пес коту. – Сиди поруч, подивимось, а потім вирішимо, що робити. Може, хтось і їсти дасть.
Високий міцний чоловік з рацією на поясі кричав у переговорний пристрій. Він вимагав точніших координат.
– Ми не можемо просто йти, куди-небудь. Ми не можемо обшукати всі гори. Вишліть ще вертольоти. Нехай шукають дим.
Пес уважно дивився на високого, худого і засмаглого від гіркого сонця чоловіка. Всі пробігали повз. Нікому не було діла до двох тварин посеред цього натовпу.
– Ей, ей! – раптом споткнувся чоловік з рацією. Він як вкопаний зупинився біля кудлатої пари. Потім присів і уважно подивився на собаку.
– Звідки ви? – спитав він, наче сподівався, що собака відповість. І вона відповіла. Пес негучно сказав: – “Гав!”- потім завив і вказав головою вгору.
– Всі тихо! – раптом страшенно голосно закричав високий чоловік.
– Ви ж з літака, так? Як же ж ви, бідолахи, сюди дісталися?!! А покажеш шлях наверх? – говорив чоловік, не зупиняючись, а потім…
Потім взяв на руки кота і пішов у великий намет, а пес пішов сам за ними. Всі рятувальники стовпилися навколо, а ті, кому не вистачило місця, залишалися зовні та обговорювали цей випадок.
За годину високий засмаглий чоловік, який виявився керівником рятувальної групи, вийшов з намету, ведучи на повідку великого рудого пса. За ними, через щілину, спостерігав кіт, який раптово закричав від страху. Він не хотів тепер втратити і цього рудого великого пса.
Чоловік і собака зупинилися і подивилися назад.
– Ну що ти кричиш? Що ж ти так кричиш? – сказав високий чоловік. – Я обіцяю, що ми повернемось. Обов’язково повернемось.
Пес обернувся і тихенько ласкаво гавкнув коту.
Той повернувся в намет і ліг на розкладну ліжко високого чоловіка. Він буде чекати.
А пес знову піднявся на висоту, ведучи рятувальників до розбитого літака. Після того, як з вершини евакуювали останнє тіло, він повернувся вниз.
У наметі їх чекав кіт, і, першою справою, кинувся на пса, почав об нього тертися.
– Ох вже ці котячі ніжності, – зніяковіло сказав пес, глянувши на чоловіка.
– Все добре, – сказав високий міцний чоловік. – Це чудово. Справжній кіт. Буде нас з тобою чекати з прогулянок і подорожей.
Пес усміхнувся своєю широкою собачою усмішкою. Тепер усе було добре.
– Бачиш! Бачиш, – говорив він коту, коли вони разом летіли на вертольоті вниз. А ти не хотів іти, а я тобі казав!
Кіт притискався до нього своєю сірою головою і тихенько муркотав.
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The Carer for the Wife — What do you mean? — Lida thought she must have misheard. — Where am I supposed to go? Why? What for? — Oh, can we just skip the dramatics, please? — he grimaced. — What’s not clear here? There’s no one left for you to take care of. Where you go is none of my concern. — Ed, what’s wrong with you? Weren’t we planning to get married…? — That was your idea. I never said any such thing. At 32, Lida decided to turn her life around and leave her small hometown. What was left for her there? Endure her mother’s nagging? Her mother simply couldn’t stop scolding Lida about the divorce, constantly asking how she managed to “lose” her husband. Yet Vas’ka wasn’t worth a kind word—drunk and a womaniser! How did she end up marrying him all those eight years ago? Lida wasn’t at all upset about the divorce—in fact, she felt she could finally breathe again. But she argued constantly with her mum about it, and they also fought about money, which was always in short supply. So, she’d head off to the county town and land a great job there! Look at Svetka—her old school friend—she’d been married for five years to a widower. Who cares if he’s 16 years older and hardly a heartthrob, at least he has a flat and a decent income. And Lida reckoned she was just as good as Svetka! — Well, thank heavens! You’ve come to your senses! — Svetka encouraged her. — Pack your things, you can stay with us for a bit, and we’ll sort out the job situation. — Won’t your Vadim Petrovich mind? — Lida was unsure. — Don’t be silly! He does whatever I ask! Don’t worry, we’ll get by! Still, Lida didn’t want to stay long at her friend’s place. After just a couple of weeks and her first wages, she rented her own room. And just a couple of months later, she had a stroke of luck. — Why is a woman like you working in the market? — said one of her regulars, Edward Boris, with concern. Lida knew all her regulars by name by now. — It’s cold, it’s hard work—not ideal. — Gotta earn money somehow, — she shrugged, — unless you have another offer? Edward Boris wasn’t exactly a dreamboat in her eyes—twenty years older, a bit pudgy, starting to bald, and with a shrewd look in his eye. He was always particular about choosing his vegetables and paid to the penny. But he dressed well and drove a nice car—definitely not a down-and-out, not a drunk. He also had a wedding ring, so she never considered him as husband material. — You strike me as responsible, steady, and clean, — Edward Boris switched to a familiar tone, — have you ever cared for anyone who was ill? — I used to look after a neighbour, actually. She had a stroke, her children live far away, so they paid me to help. — That’s great! — he exclaimed, and then put on a somber face: — My wife, Tamara, has had a stroke too. The doctors say she has little chance of recovery. I’ve brought her home, but I haven’t got time to look after her. Will you help? I’ll pay you properly. Lida didn’t have to think long—much better to be in a warm flat changing bedpans than freezing on the market for ten hours a day serving picky customers! He even suggested she live there, so no more rent. — They’ve got three spare rooms! You could play football in there! — she delightedly told her friend. — No children either. Tamara’s mother was a real madam—even at 68, she acted half her age. She’d just remarried and was busy with her husband. No one else to care for the invalid. — Is she really that sick? — Oh yes, poor thing can’t move or speak. She won’t get better. — You almost sound happy about it, — Svetka eyed her. — Of course not, — Lida looked down, — but once Tamara’s gone, Edward Boris would be free… — Are you for real, Lida? Wishing someone dead for a flat?! — I’m not wishing anyone dead—I’m just not going to miss my chance! Easy for you to say, you’ve got it made! They had a huge fight and didn’t speak for half a year—until Lida confessed to Svetka her romance with Edward Boris. They couldn’t live without each other, but of course, he’d never leave his wife—not that type! So for now, she’d remain his lover. — So you’re shacking up with him while his wife is dying in the next room? — her friend was appalled. — Do you even see how vile that is? Or are you that blinded by his money—if he’s even got it? — Trust you to never say a kind word, — Lida retorted. They stopped talking again, but she barely felt guilty—well, perhaps just a bit. She cared for Tamara with real diligence, and since her affair with Edward Boris began, she took on all the housework too. After all, a man needs more than just a woman in his bed—he wants a good meal, crisp shirts, a clean flat. Lida thought her lover was very content, and she was enjoying her life too. She barely noticed Edward had stopped paying her for caring for his wife. Not that it mattered now—they were almost like husband and wife! He gave her money for shopping, and she managed the budget, not realising it was tight. And his job paid well enough—but never mind, once they got married it would all become clear. With time, the spark between them dulled, and Edward lingered less at home, but Lida put it down to the strain of having a sick wife. She pitied him, even though he barely spent a minute a day checking on Tamara. Even so, Lida wept when Tamara finally passed away. She’d given a year and a half of her life to that woman—you can’t get that time back. She organised the funeral too—Edward was “too grief-stricken.” He gave her the bare minimum for expenses, but she did everything properly. No one could accuse her of a thing. Even the neighbours, gossiping about her and Edward—nothing escapes them!—nodded approvingly at the funeral. His mother-in-law too seemed satisfied. So Lida never expected what Edward said next. — You understand there’s no need for your services anymore, so I’m giving you a week to move out, — he said on the tenth day after the funeral. — What do you mean? — Lida’s voice faltered. — Where should I go? Why? — Please, do we have to have this scene? — he sighed. — There’s no one left for you to care for, and where you go is none of my business. — Ed, what’s wrong with you? We were supposed to get married… — That’s your fantasy. I never said anything of the sort. Next morning, after a sleepless night, Lida tried to talk again, but he just repeated the same words and urged her to move quickly. — My fiancée wants to renovate before the wedding, — was all he said. — Fiancée? Who’s that? — None of your business. — Oh, none of my business?! Well, I’ll move out, but you’ll pay me for my work first. You were meant to pay forty grand a month. I only got paid twice. So you owe me £8,000. — You can do the sums, can’t you! — he snorted. — Don’t get carried away… — And you owe for cleaning too! I won’t nit-pick, just pay me ten grand and we’ll call it even. — Or what? You’ll go to court? There’s no contract. — I’ll tell Tamila—remember, your mother-in-law owns this flat. Edward’s face changed, but he recovered quickly. — Who’d believe you? — he huffed. — You know what? I don’t want to see you. Get out now. — You’ve got three days, darling. No ten grand, and there’ll be a scandal, — Lida replied, heading for a cheap hostel. She’d managed to save some of the housekeeping money. On the fourth day, having had no answer, Lida went back to the flat. Tamila, the mother-in-law, was there. Lida could see from Edward’s face she’d never get paid. So she told Tamila everything. — She’s making it all up! Don’t listen! — the widower protested. — Well, well, I’d heard rumours at the funeral, but I didn’t believe them — Tamila’s stare was fierce. — Now it all makes sense. And you, my dear son-in-law, don’t forget who owns this flat? Edward froze. — So, I want you out of here within the week. No—within three days. Tamila turned to leave, then paused at Lida. — And you, standing there like you expect a prize? Get out! Lida bolted from the flat, realising there’d be no money for her—not now. Back to the market again; there’d always be work there… **The Carer’s Devotion: Betrayal Behind Closed Doors in Suburban England**
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