Daria Aleksandrovna Kalinina Bang-bang, beautiful marquise! Daria Kalinina - Bang-bang, beautiful marquise! Bang bang, beautiful marquise

© Kalinina D.A., 2016

© Design. LLC Publishing House E, 2016

Chapter 1

If you diligently prepare for a rainy day, it will definitely come. But for some reason people often forget about this and diligently prepare for something that they want to avoid at all costs.

Being a cheerful person, Vasilisa always looked into the future with optimism. Life was much more fun this way. But, despite her cheerful character, frightening thoughts no, no, and even visited her.

Vasilisa had long turned twenty-five, an age that she and everyone around considered critical. And Vasilisa had an unsuccessful marriage and divorce behind her. And the complete absence of any prospects in terms of children. But Vasilisa wanted children. And definitely a lot, both boys and girls. And I wanted a normal husband. And most of all I wanted a big and friendly family. To brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, nephews and nieces.

Since she has almost no relatives herself, only an old grandmother, and every spring she assures that this will certainly be her last, Vasilisa will have to look for a husband rich in relatives. But Vasilisa was not very successful with this matter, and with each passing day the hope of acquiring this kind of wealth became more and more elusive. All the decent gentlemen had long since gotten married and now humbly sat with their halves. Those who had not yet attracted anyone's attention walked free. Vasilisa didn’t want to pick such people.

Sometimes she even joked about it:

“When I get old, I won’t even have anyone to give me water.”

Although from childhood she remembered an anecdote about an old man who told his old wife: “We lived with you all our lives, we suffered, of course, but I kept thinking that it was not in vain that I suffered with you. I kept thinking, if I’m about to die, my wife will still give me a glass of water. And now, it seems, my time has come, I’m dying. And you know, I don’t feel like drinking anything at all.”

In general, the man suffered in vain, it was not useful.

Of course, Vasilisa didn’t want to live her life like that. But there was no other way. Sometimes this made me very sad.

But in this case, Vasilisa’s grandmother always warned:

– Get all bad thoughts out of your head immediately. Don't let them take root there. They just show up, and you cross them! The holy cross is the best help for a person from any trouble. Honest work and a righteous cross - this is what every person needs for salvation in life.

Vasilisa considered her grandmother a believer, because even in the Soviet years she had an icon in her house. True, it’s the only one, and darkened over time to such an extent that it was impossible to even make out what kind of saint was depicted on it. Grandmother herself always claimed that the icon depicts St. Nicholas.

- And his face darkened from human sins.

It turned out that Vasilisa’s grandmother was a believer, although she never went to church. At first there was simply no church in their village. There was a collective farm and a large cowshed, which provided income to a good half of the village.

There was also a club where they showed movies on weekends and even danced on holidays. And even the chairman of the collective farm managed to cover the main road with asphalt while the collective farm was in existence. And a completely unprecedented thing for the outback - he also managed to lay sidewalks on both sides of the roadway, so that people could feel like white bones even on weekends.

“Our chairman was a caring person,” said grandmother Vasilisa, who did not remember those days, because she was born after the collapse of the Union. – Everything for the people, nothing for myself. So that theft or bribery - such a shame would never be associated with him. He was an honest man; all bosses should be like that.

When the chairman returned from the war as a very young captain, he took off his shoulder straps and pulled the strap. Grandma also usually added: it’s good that the chairman didn’t live to see the 2000s, didn’t see how everything he built was scattered by the wind, stolen by strangers, or even by his own people, and taken away to yards.

“They dragged, it seemed like a lot,” laughed grandfather Pakhom, who served as a watchman on the collective farm and in his life had never even taken a rusty nail from someone else’s fence, laughing at the neighbors. - And when they brought it, they laid it out, and looked around, there was nothing anymore. They stand there scratching their heads. How did this happen? Where did it all go? But I’ve been a watchman all my life, I’ve seen everyone. And I’ll tell you one thing: don’t bother with someone else’s! Because stolen, it never benefits anyone. I've seen so many things in my life, but I've never seen anything that was stolen and turned into a profit. It will leak between your fingers, you won’t be able to track it, you won’t understand where it went. But the shame and disgrace for what was done will remain with you guys forever.

But who listened to him? Does anyone really listen to wise old men, especially if these old men have been simple watchmen all their lives? People wanted to grab more while they still had something to haul. It seemed like this could delay the inevitable. But soon there was nothing and nowhere to drag. And the times have come completely hopeless. There was no longer a collective farm, where it was always possible to get hold of some nice little thing for life. There was no work in the village. There was no more life.

Some of the villagers went to work in big cities and disappeared there. Someone stayed and began to drink moonshine, and then with it - a black melancholy from the soul. The end for those who remained was the same as for those who left. Someone simply died quietly, without going anywhere, without making noise or causing outrage. This is what Vasilisa’s grandmother was now preparing to do.

And, getting ready for a long journey from where there is no return, she called her only granddaughter to her. Say goodbye.

- Come, granddaughter. I need to tell you one last thing. Maybe a couple of days left, maybe a couple of hours. Better hurry up. I need to tell you a secret.

-What are you saying, grandma? What secret?

“It’s high time for my soul to set off on its journey, but the secret holds it and won’t let it go.” Hurry up, granddaughter, I'm sick of sitting here. I should have set out on the road a long time ago and told you the secret before leaving, but I kept putting it off, so I waited until the extreme. Come quickly so that I can hit the road with a light heart.

Vasilisa would have rushed to her even without this request. As soon as she heard about the long journey that her grandmother was going on, Vasilisa immediately understood what she was talking about. And she rushed around the apartment:

- Grandma is dying!

It just so happened that her grandmother was her only close person. Vasilisa did not remember either her father or her mother. She was raised by her grandmother, who spared no effort to give her granddaughter a good education. Although how good is it there, in their outback? But Vasilisa managed to get a gold medal at a rural school and therefore went to St. Petersburg to study further. She studied, got married, got divorced, got married again, unsuccessfully again, but she didn’t get a divorce; she was ashamed in front of her grandmother, who had a hard time withstanding her first divorce.

But now it turns out that very soon it will be possible to get divorced again with peace of mind. Grandmother will no longer know about this, because her voice is very weak and somehow so distant, as if she lives not two hundred kilometers from St. Petersburg, but many tens of thousands, already somewhere completely different places, where her connections come from. then with the world of the living there really is no such thing.

As soon as she hung up the phone, Vasilisa ran around the apartment, collecting things that might be useful to her on the road. It was already evening, but she could not wait until the morning. It’s okay, trains also run at night. It will get there somehow. But what should you take with you? It is unknown how long she will travel. So, you need clothes. Comfortable shoes. Medicines for grandma. Looking at the bag of medicine that she was mechanically collecting, Vasilisa almost burst into tears again. What kind of medications are there if doctors give granny from several days to a couple of hours. No pills will help anymore. And injections won't help. Nothing will help at all.

Vasilisa didn’t even tell her husband where she was going. Artyom was asleep, having taken a dose of his favorite sedative - whiskey, and Vasilisa did not wake him. It is unlikely that he will even notice her absence, even when he wakes up. And if he notices, that’s what he needs. Let him wonder where she disappeared to. Let him worry. Maybe then something in his head will turn in the right direction. Slamming the door behind her, Vasilisa threw her travel bag over her shoulder and easily ran down the steps of the stairs.

She managed to buy a ticket at the station right away. It was as if they were waiting for her there. And there was no line at the cash register. And the train left in just half an hour. Everything worked out so well that Vasilisa even began to think that she would have time to find her grandmother still alive.

On the way, Vasilisa was distracted from her gloomy thoughts. She had long noticed that on the road, in general, all troubles were somehow easier to bear. Even heartfelt grief gives way under the onslaught of new impressions. It is no coincidence that travel is considered the best cure for depression or love blues.

In general, Vasilisa did not have to feel sad on the road. The unknown spirit that accompanied her from home did not leave her. Vasilisa managed to be on time everywhere, even if she had to jump into a departing transport at the last minute.

First, she rushed to the station, then jumped on the train, then took the bus, and then hitched a ride to her grandmother’s house. It was still very early in the morning. It was dark on the streets, but Vasilisa still asked the driver to drop her off in the central square, from which she had to walk to her grandmother’s house.

- Aren’t you afraid? Dark. And every other lantern is on.

-What should I be afraid of? I grew up in these places. If any villains are encountered, they will be exclusively their own, relatives. They won't touch me.

And, throwing her bag over her shoulder, Vasilisa waved to the driver and walked briskly forward. It’s still a quarter of an hour’s walk to grandma’s house, but so much the better. There will be time to clear your head and collect your thoughts before the meeting. There was no time for everything on the road, but now in the fresh air and in the silence of the night it’s all right.

Here is the main street of the village, leading from the Lenin monument to grandma’s house. It never occurred to anyone here that we should get rid of the monument. They just got used to it, it became, as it were, part of the landscape. And the unprincipled people in the village didn’t feel any particular hostility towards Ilyich either.

Of course, the coming to power of the Bolsheviks cannot be called an easy time for our country. And they shot Tsar Nicholas and Tsarina Alexandra. And they did not spare their boy - Tsarevich Alexei. And the girls, the Grand Duchesses, Olga, Tatiana, Maria and Anastasia, were also killed. Eternal shame on the Bolsheviks.

But our people are not malicious, they forgave Lenin and his gang of thieves for this too.

Vasilisa was already walking step by step, delaying the terrible moment, and then she finally slowed down. Something strange seemed to her this night. She stood not far from Lenin, who angrily looked at her from his dais. He clearly also did not approve of Vasilisa’s frivolous behavior. Instead of building a bright future for the entire planet, you are getting carried away with your personal life, my dear, that’s what was read in his eyes.

In the predawn twilight, the face of the leader of the proletariat looked eerie. The facial features became sharper, the eye sockets completely darkened, and Vasilisa’s hand automatically reached out to make the sign of the cross. But without reaching her hand to her forehead, Vasilisa turned to stone. Something incredible was happening to the monument. He started to double!

He suddenly grew a second head, then a third arm, and then two additional legs. Moreover, these legs and arms behaved very strangely, they did not stand straight, but jerked and actively wrapped themselves around two other legs and arms, behaving very decently, as befits the limbs of monuments.

- Mommy! – Vasilisa whispered.

Both Lenin's heads were wearing caps, and the two leaders were also dressed the same - rumpled baggy trousers and an unbuttoned raincoat. One Lenin remained standing in his usual place, but the second jumped to the ground and moved towards the bus station. He walked leisurely, clearly in no hurry. With his hands behind his back, he looked around like a proprietor. It was difficult to say whether the ghost was pleased with what he saw or not. The bright future that the grandfather of all the October children prophesied for the country did not happen here. But the devastation into which Ilyich and his accomplices eventually brought the country was also eliminated.

- Why is this being done? – Vasilisa whispered, watching the leader of the world revolution walking across the square.

Vladimir Ilyich carefully looked at the three stone two-story buildings standing in Karpovka, in one of which there was a store and the only cafe in the village, in the other - the administration, and in the third there was a post office and all other authorities associated with the life of a Russian, such as the passport office, notary, housing maintenance service and others.

The facades of all three buildings have recently been restored. Light peach, soft pink and azure blue – the administration liked these colors more than others.

Near the administration building, painted blue, Vladimir Ilyich stopped and made an obscene gesture, and then spat with relish and seemed to even curse. Trying to drive away the gloom, Vasilisa closed her eyes and pinched her hand. That helped. When she opened her eyes again and looked towards the administration, there was no one there.

The ghost of the Lenin monument disappeared, as if it had never existed. The second Lenin continued to stand in his place. Vasilisa looked at him warily. Of course, she understood that this person was difficult, but so much so! And my grandmother said more than once that something strange had been happening in Karpovka lately, but Vasilisa thought that this was about the thievery of officials or something like that.

“Holy God, save me,” Vasilisa whispered, just in case. - Some kind of devilry.

She trotted away from the terrible place, looking back every now and then to see if anyone was following her.

It is unlikely that Lenin had any reason to persecute her personally. And he didn’t notice Vasilisa frozen in the shadow. He didn't look aggressive either. It’s his right to spit on the administration, but it’s still not worth the risk. Who knows, these ghosts. Moreover, the ghost is so bad, how many innocent lives have been ruined because of it. What if he even covets Vasilisa’s pathetic little soul? I haven’t tried human food in a while, I’m guessing I’m hungry.

Grandmother always said: if you are afraid of something, pray, everything will work out. After reading a short prayer, Vasilisa decided that she was now safe. It was in vain that she asked the driver to drop her off on the night street, in vain she hoped that nothing and no one could threaten her in Karpovka. It turned out that it very well might.

It never occurred to her to pursue the divided Vladimir Ilyich. He has his own business, she has hers.

Vasilisa already had something to occupy herself with and something to think about. And although she understood that she had to hurry if she wanted to see her grandmother alive, she did everything to delay this meeting. The reason is that Vasilisa absolutely did not know what to talk about with her grandmother.

Granny disapproved very much of her first marriage, but she disapproved even more of her divorce. And when Vasilisa got married for the second time, officially, with a stamp in her passport, a veil and a party in a restaurant, her grandmother began to consider her granddaughter as something like a fallen woman. I even prayed even harder for her.

“And I still can’t beg you off, Vaska!” – she complained. “If only I weren’t so sinful myself, then okay.” And so you and I will disappear, girl. But you, you are what you are! I was so miserable, and even after your grandfather I didn’t want to look at a single man. And you?

- What about me?

– I got married for the second time! And even with a living husband!

– The time is different now.

– The time is different, the people are the same.

– Divorce has long been legalized.

- And what? Abortion was also legalized. Has this made life better?

If Vasilisa’s second marriage had been any more successful than her first, she would have had something to answer to her grandmother’s reproaches. But no, and Vasilisa’s second marriage could not be called successful. Her first husband, Antoshka, walked her left and right, didn’t miss a single skirt, and constantly lied. He lied about why he was late from work, why his shirt was wearing women’s lipstick. He lied about why they called him in the middle of the night in women’s voices and urgently demanded something from him.

Moreover, Anton lied so masterfully that at first Vasilisa herself believed his lies. Their union lasted two whole years. Only two years later, the evidence of his infidelities became so obvious that Vasilisa simply could not turn a blind eye any longer. You know, when you find a naked girl in your own bed, hugged by your own husband, there is somehow no room for doubt.

To tell the truth, the husband did not give up even at that delicate moment, he resorted to a tried and tested method and tried to come up with some completely unthinkable story about artificial respiration to justify himself, but Vasilisa did not want to listen to him. She quickly divorced Gulena and married a man who seemed serious and responsible. That's exactly what it seemed.

This shot turned out to have a completely different flaw. Vasilisa’s second husband was not interested in women, he had no time for that. All his interests were absorbed by the bottle.

Alas, Artem drank, and binge-drinking. Between one binge and another, he had intervals of sobriety, during one of which Vasilisa and Artem met. During these intervals, some of which lasted several months, Artyom seemed to be an ideal man, everything in him was just enough so that there was no shortage, but there was no excess either. So the enchanted Vasilisa believed that fate had mercy on her.

At the wedding, the husband did not touch alcohol. I didn't even take a sip of champagne. Vasilisa would have been wary then, but no, she was only delighted at what a rare, downright unique man she got as her husband.

When hubby returned drunk for the first time on Friday evening, Vasilisa was not too upset. It can happen to anyone. Too much, it happens. Moreover, on Saturday morning, after waking up, Artem very convincingly explained to his wife that the embarrassment happened because the canteen in their office suddenly closed, and he didn’t have a drop of poppy dew in his mouth all day.

“And in the evening they sat down to celebrate the boss’s birthday, so I was so lucky.” But this is the first and last time, I swear to you. I don’t like being in this state myself.

Vasilisa believed it. After all, Artem had never touched alcohol before. But already that same day in the evening he went out for cigarettes, and returned late at night and was drunk again. On Sunday he drank what he brought with him on Saturday, and on Monday he did not go to work. And he didn’t come out on Tuesday. And on Wednesday. And on Thursday. On Friday the binge ended unexpectedly. Artem even managed to receive a sick leave from a doctor he knew, who knew well the true illness of his patient. That was all there was to it at that time.

For the next month everything went fine. Artyom showed up sober, was sweet and accommodating, took part in household chores, Vasilisa could not get enough of him. But a month later he broke down again. And this time he drank for two whole weeks, so that the service began to call and ask when the employee would show up and do the job for which he was hired. Vasilisa was afraid that Artem would be fired, but no, somehow everything worked out. It turned out that Artem can lie no less convincingly than Anton. This finally made her think.

Then there was another binge, and another and another. Artem was stitched up, coded, hypnotized, even went to see his grandmother-healer and attended several acupuncture sessions with a well-known Chinese in his circles. But whether it was a healer grandmother or a Chinese man, the result was invariably the same.

At first Vasilisa was sincerely worried and tried to help him in the fight against the green serpent, but then this struggle began to tire her. Yes, I felt very sorry for Artyom, he was a good man, but he died in an unequal battle. But Vasilisa felt sorry for herself. She understood that she could fuss with Artyom for a month, maybe a year, or maybe her whole life. And what? Does she need this? Every day, look out the window, waiting for your loved one, and wonder how he will return?

Now Artyom was just at the peak of another binge and, according to the estimates of Vasilisa, who had already become experienced in such things, he could hardly get out of the tailspin before next week. She was afraid to take him to his grandmother in this condition. I was afraid for my grandmother. It’s better that she doesn’t find out anything. Although you can’t deceive her, Vasilisa was convinced of this a long time ago.

Grandma’s house stood at the very end of the street, from where the river and gentle slopes covered with willow were visible. The house was small, rickety from time to time. Vasilisa once suggested building a new house and demolishing this wreck, but the grandmother seemed even offended by her granddaughter.

“You young people should ruin everything,” she grumbled at Vasilisa. - Wait, I’ll die, you’ll still have time to rebuild a new house.

Although Vasilisa visited here several times every year, she could no longer consider the house her own. Yes, she had to leave, she had no prospects in Karpovka, but she still felt some guilt before her grandmother, whom she left completely alone. It’s not that the grandmother complained to her granddaughter or otherwise made it clear that she was harboring a grudge, but Vasilisa herself was a little ashamed. She lives in the city, albeit not very happily, but she lives. And grandma is here alone...

But, on the other hand, if you compare both of them, the grandmother looked much happier, and certainly a thousand times more peaceful than Vasilisa.

Yes, the collective farm was no longer here. But people began to return. And the church was finally built. They say that there was once a temple on that site, but it burned down during the revolution. Just when the first stone was laid at the foundation of the future temple, Vasilisa’s grandmother started talking about the approaching end. They wanted her to go to the hospital, but her grandmother refused. Vasilisa agreed with her neighbor to visit the old woman twice a day, feed and help. But she was no longer able to become the same grandmother. Although I made it to the window. And she also went out to the kindergarten to warm some bones.

Being a cheerful person, Vasilisa always looked into the future with optimism. Life was much more fun this way. But, despite her cheerful character, frightening thoughts no, no, and even visited her.

Vasilisa had long turned twenty-five, an age that she and everyone around considered critical. And Vasilisa had an unsuccessful marriage and divorce behind her. And the complete absence of any prospects in terms of children. But Vasilisa wanted children. And definitely a lot, both boys and girls. And I wanted a normal husband. And most of all I wanted a big and friendly family. To brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, nephews and nieces.

Since she has almost no relatives herself, only an old grandmother, and every spring she assures that this will certainly be her last, Vasilisa will have to look for a husband rich in relatives. But Vasilisa was not very successful with this matter, and with each passing day the hope of acquiring this kind of wealth became more and more elusive. All the decent gentlemen had long since gotten married and now humbly sat with their halves. Those who had not yet attracted anyone's attention walked free. Vasilisa didn’t want to pick such people.

Sometimes she even joked about it:

I’ll become old and there won’t even be anyone to give me water.

Although from childhood she remembered an anecdote about an old man who told his old wife: “We lived with you all our lives, we suffered, of course, but I kept thinking that it was not in vain that I suffered with you. I kept thinking, if I’m about to die, my wife will still give me a glass of water. And now, it seems, my time has come, I’m dying. And you know, I don’t feel like drinking anything at all.”

In general, the man suffered in vain, it was not useful.

Of course, Vasilisa didn’t want to live her life like that. But there was no other way. Sometimes this made me very sad.

But in this case, Vasilisa’s grandmother always warned:

Get all bad thoughts out of your head immediately. Don't let them take root there. They just show up, and you cross them! The holy cross is the best help for a person from any trouble. Honest work and a righteous cross - this is what every person needs for salvation in life.

Vasilisa considered her grandmother a believer, because even in the Soviet years she had an icon in her house. True, it’s the only one, and darkened over time to such an extent that it was impossible to even make out what kind of saint was depicted on it. Grandmother herself always claimed that the icon depicts St. Nicholas.

And his face darkened from human sins.

It turned out that Vasilisa’s grandmother was a believer, although she never went to church. At first there was simply no church in their village. There was a collective farm and a large cowshed, which provided income to a good half of the village. There was also a club where they showed movies on weekends and even danced on holidays. And even the chairman of the collective farm managed to cover the main road with asphalt while the collective farm was in existence. And in a completely unprecedented thing for the outback, they also managed to lay sidewalks on both sides of the roadway, so that people could feel like white bones even on weekends.

Our chairman was a caring person,” said grandmother Vasilisa, who did not remember those days, because she was born after the collapse of the Union. - Everything for the people, nothing for myself. So that theft or bribery - such a shame would never be associated with him. He was an honest man; all bosses should be like that.

When the chairman returned from the war as a very young captain, he took off his shoulder straps and pulled the strap. Grandma also usually added: it’s good that the chairman didn’t live to see the 2000s, didn’t see how everything he built was scattered by the wind, stolen by strangers, or even by his own people, and taken away to yards.

They dragged, it seemed like a lot,” Grandfather Pakhom, who served as a watchman on the collective farm and had never even taken a rusty nail from someone else’s fence, laughed at the neighbors.

Daria Kalinina with the novel Bang Bang, beautiful marquise! for downloading in fb2 format.

The best way to find a husband is to get involved in some kind of investigation, preferably with young witnesses, a wise investigator and a rich suspect who turns out to be innocent of anything. An important detail: all candidates for husbands in this crime story must be unmarried. It’s not very good, of course, to risk your own grandmother, who could accidentally be killed while you are looking after your betrothed, but here all hope lies in efficient police officers and damp cartridges in the pistols of criminals. And if you and your husband also manage to find a treasure, as Vasilisa did, then there’s only one way out of the investigator’s office: down the aisle!

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Bang bang, beautiful marquise! Daria Kalinina

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Title: Bang-bang, beautiful marquise!

About the book “Bang-bang, beautiful marquise!” Daria Kalinina

The best way to find a husband is to get involved in some kind of investigation, preferably with young witnesses, a wise investigator and a rich suspect who turns out to be innocent of anything. An important detail: all candidates for husbands in this crime story must be unmarried. It’s not very good, of course, to risk your own grandmother, who could accidentally be killed while you are looking after your betrothed, but here all hope lies in efficient police officers and damp cartridges in the pistols of criminals. And if you and your husband also manage to find a treasure, as Vasilisa did, then there’s only one way out of the investigator’s office: down the aisle!

On our website about books lifeinbooks.net you can download for free without registration or read online the book “Bang-bang, beautiful marquise!” Daria Kalinina in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and tricks, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.

Daria Aleksandrovna Kalinina

Bang bang, beautiful marquise!

© Kalinina D.A., 2016

© Design. LLC Publishing House E, 2016

If you diligently prepare for a rainy day, it will definitely come. But for some reason people often forget about this and diligently prepare for something that they want to avoid at all costs.

Being a cheerful person, Vasilisa always looked into the future with optimism. Life was much more fun this way. But, despite her cheerful character, frightening thoughts no, no, and even visited her.

Vasilisa had long turned twenty-five, an age that she and everyone around considered critical. And Vasilisa had an unsuccessful marriage and divorce behind her. And the complete absence of any prospects in terms of children. But Vasilisa wanted children. And definitely a lot, both boys and girls. And I wanted a normal husband. And most of all I wanted a big and friendly family. To brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, nephews and nieces.

Since she has almost no relatives herself, only an old grandmother, and every spring she assures that this will certainly be her last, Vasilisa will have to look for a husband rich in relatives. But Vasilisa was not very successful with this matter, and with each passing day the hope of acquiring this kind of wealth became more and more elusive. All the decent gentlemen had long since gotten married and now humbly sat with their halves. Those who had not yet attracted anyone's attention walked free. Vasilisa didn’t want to pick such people.

Sometimes she even joked about it:

“When I get old, I won’t even have anyone to give me water.”

Although from childhood she remembered an anecdote about an old man who told his old wife: “We lived with you all our lives, we suffered, of course, but I kept thinking that it was not in vain that I suffered with you. I kept thinking, if I’m about to die, my wife will still give me a glass of water. And now, it seems, my time has come, I’m dying. And you know, I don’t feel like drinking anything at all.”

In general, the man suffered in vain, it was not useful.

Of course, Vasilisa didn’t want to live her life like that. But there was no other way. Sometimes this made me very sad.

But in this case, Vasilisa’s grandmother always warned:

– Get all bad thoughts out of your head immediately. Don't let them take root there. They just show up, and you cross them! The holy cross is the best help for a person from any trouble. Honest work and a righteous cross - this is what every person needs for salvation in life.

Vasilisa considered her grandmother a believer, because even in the Soviet years she had an icon in her house. True, it’s the only one, and darkened over time to such an extent that it was impossible to even make out what kind of saint was depicted on it. Grandmother herself always claimed that the icon depicts St. Nicholas.

- And his face darkened from human sins.

It turned out that Vasilisa’s grandmother was a believer, although she never went to church. At first there was simply no church in their village. There was a collective farm and a large cowshed, which provided income to a good half of the village. There was also a club where they showed movies on weekends and even danced on holidays. And even the chairman of the collective farm managed to cover the main road with asphalt while the collective farm was in existence. And a completely unprecedented thing for the outback - he also managed to lay sidewalks on both sides of the roadway, so that people could feel like white bones even on weekends.

“Our chairman was a caring person,” said grandmother Vasilisa, who did not remember those days, because she was born after the collapse of the Union. – Everything for the people, nothing for myself. So that theft or bribery - such a shame would never be associated with him. He was an honest man; all bosses should be like that.

When the chairman returned from the war as a very young captain, he took off his shoulder straps and pulled the strap. Grandma also usually added: it’s good that the chairman didn’t live to see the 2000s, didn’t see how everything he built was scattered by the wind, stolen by strangers, or even by his own people, and taken away to yards.

“They dragged, it seemed like a lot,” laughed grandfather Pakhom, who served as a watchman on the collective farm and in his life had never even taken a rusty nail from someone else’s fence, laughing at the neighbors. - And when they brought it, they laid it out, and looked around, there was nothing anymore. They stand there scratching their heads. How did this happen? Where did it all go? But I’ve been a watchman all my life, I’ve seen everyone. And I’ll tell you one thing: don’t bother with someone else’s! Because stolen, it never benefits anyone. I've seen so many things in my life, but I've never seen anything that was stolen and turned into a profit. It will leak between your fingers, you won’t be able to track it, you won’t understand where it went. But the shame and disgrace for what was done will remain with you guys forever.

But who listened to him? Does anyone really listen to wise old men, especially if these old men have been simple watchmen all their lives? People wanted to grab more while they still had something to haul. It seemed like this could delay the inevitable. But soon there was nothing and nowhere to drag. And the times have come completely hopeless. There was no longer a collective farm, where it was always possible to get hold of some nice little thing for life. There was no work in the village. There was no more life.

Some of the villagers went to work in big cities and disappeared there. Someone stayed and began to drink moonshine, and then with it - a black melancholy from the soul. The end for those who remained was the same as for those who left. Someone simply died quietly, without going anywhere, without making noise or causing outrage. This is what Vasilisa’s grandmother was now preparing to do.

And, getting ready for a long journey from where there is no return, she called her only granddaughter to her. Say goodbye.

- Come, granddaughter. I need to tell you one last thing. Maybe a couple of days left, maybe a couple of hours. Better hurry up. I need to tell you a secret.

-What are you saying, grandma? What secret?

“It’s high time for my soul to set off on its journey, but the secret holds it and won’t let it go.” Hurry up, granddaughter, I'm sick of sitting here. I should have set out on the road a long time ago and told you the secret before leaving, but I kept putting it off, so I waited until the extreme. Come quickly so that I can hit the road with a light heart.

Vasilisa would have rushed to her even without this request. As soon as she heard about the long journey that her grandmother was going on, Vasilisa immediately understood what she was talking about. And she rushed around the apartment:

- Grandma is dying!

It just so happened that her grandmother was her only close person. Vasilisa did not remember either her father or her mother. She was raised by her grandmother, who spared no effort to give her granddaughter a good education. Although how good is it there, in their outback? But Vasilisa managed to get a gold medal at a rural school and therefore went to St. Petersburg to study further. She studied, got married, got divorced, got married again, unsuccessfully again, but she didn’t get a divorce; she was ashamed in front of her grandmother, who had a hard time withstanding her first divorce.

But now it turns out that very soon it will be possible to get divorced again with peace of mind. Grandmother will no longer know about this, because her voice is very weak and somehow so distant, as if she lives not two hundred kilometers from St. Petersburg, but many tens of thousands, already somewhere completely different places, where her connections come from. then with the world of the living there really is no such thing.

As soon as she hung up the phone, Vasilisa ran around the apartment, collecting things that might be useful to her on the road. It was already evening, but she could not wait until the morning. It’s okay, trains also run at night. It will get there somehow. But what should you take with you? It is unknown how long she will travel. So, you need clothes. Comfortable shoes. Medicines for grandma. Looking at the bag of medicine that she was mechanically collecting, Vasilisa almost burst into tears again. What kind of medications are there if doctors give granny from several days to a couple of hours. No pills will help anymore. And injections won't help. Nothing will help at all.

Vasilisa didn’t even tell her husband where she was going. Artyom was asleep, having taken a dose of his favorite sedative - whiskey, and Vasilisa did not wake him. It is unlikely that he will even notice her absence, even when he wakes up. And if he notices, that’s what he needs. Let him wonder where she disappeared to. Let him worry. Maybe then something in his head will turn in the right direction. Slamming the door behind her, Vasilisa threw her travel bag over her shoulder and easily ran down the steps of the stairs.

She managed to buy a ticket at the station right away. It was as if they were waiting for her there. And there was no line at the cash register. And the train left in just half an hour. Everything worked out so well that Vasilisa even began to think that she would have time to find her grandmother still alive.

On the way, Vasilisa was distracted from her gloomy thoughts. She had long noticed that on the road, in general, all troubles were somehow easier to bear. Even heartfelt grief gives way under the onslaught of new impressions. It is no coincidence that travel is considered the best cure for depression or love blues.