Free Sapphire Skies by Belinda Alexandra

day.’
    I thanked Amalya, and Svetlana and I continued on our way. When we reached the door to our apartment, I was surprised to hear my mother playing the piano. She usually put the gramophone on when she was giving dancing lessons. I opened the door and motioned for Svetlana to follow me. The aroma of ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg wafted around us. Svetlana and I grinned at each other. Mama had baked her delicious cookies.
    We took off our shoes and put on the slippers that Mama kept on a shelf by the door. I placed the peaches next to the cookies in the kitchen, then Svetlana and I padded down the corridor towards the living room where my mother gave lessons during the day. At night it became the main bedroom. Our apartment was small but at least we had it to ourselves, a privilege given to my father because of his position at the chocolate factory.
    Mama was playing Chopin when we entered the living room. My brother, Alexander, who was on leave from the air force, was leading Svetlana’s mother, Lydia Dmitrievna, around the living room in a waltz. Svetlana’s father was the manager of a factory and a Party official. Lydia was taking dance and deportment lessons from my mother. Everyone came to a stop when they saw us.
    ‘The gramophone is broken and we couldn’t fix it,’ my mother explained.
    Like me, Mama was blonde with a round face and grey eyes. She was wearing a royal blue dress with a gored skirt and tailored bodice. My mother was always well dressed and made up even when she was doing housework.
    Svetlana’s gaze drifted in the direction of the gramophone.
    ‘Let Sveta try to fix it,’ I told my mother. ‘She can fix anything.’
    Svetlana planned to go to the Moscow Aviation Institute when she finished school. She was fascinated by the way things worked.
    ‘I’ve unscrewed the top,’ said Alexander, whom my father described as a taller, slimmer and more elegant version of himself. ‘But I can’t see what the problem is.’
    Svetlana picked up the screwdriver next to the gramophone and examined the parts. She asked Alexander to bring her a rag. He returned from the kitchen with one and handed it to her.
    Mama started playing the piano again and Alexander and Lydia resumed dancing.
    ‘I’ve fixed it!’ cried Svetlana, winding up the gramophone and watching the record spin. ‘There was too much grease around the spring.’
    ‘Marvellous!’ said Alexander. ‘Can you fix fighter planes as well? Maybe I should take you back to the base with me.’
    Svetlana grinned. ‘Maybe one day I will design airplanes. And Natasha will fly them.’
    ‘Even as a child my daughter preferred building sets to dolls,’ Lydia said proudly. Lydia’s eyes were green like Svetlana’s but lacked their gentle expression. My mother had taught her how to powder her face and create a beauty mark on her temple to draw attention to her eyes, but Lydia’s impoverished upbringing was evident in the smallpox scars on her cheeks and the stains on her teeth. Even though she always smiled at me, I sensed that she disliked me. I didn’t know why. Perhaps she resented sharing Svetlana. Like my mother and me, Svetlana and Lydia were close.
    ‘I’ve made cookies for you girls,’ Mama told us. ‘Go and eat them and then do your homework while we finish here.’
    On our way to the kitchen, I let our dog, Ponchik, out of the bathroom. He was a stray, with fluffy black-and-white fur, that my father had found wandering about on the metro line. Mama put Ponchik away when she gave lessons so he wouldn’t get underfoot. I took him to the kitchen with us and shut the door. We ate the cookies and drank a cup of tea with a spoonful of jam in it. Then we settled down to do our algebra homework at the kitchen table. I noticed the fine line that appeared between Svetlana’s brows as she concentrated and I watched her write down her calculations in her notebook. Her handwriting was so small, so neat, so scientific-looking that I grabbed the