Free The Margin of Evil! by Simon Boxall

eye was swelling up. He propped her up against a pillar. She moaned something unintelligibly at him. He looked around and saw it just in time. One of the assailants had thrown something at them. It was long and had a fuse attached to its end. Instinctively Georgii picked it up and threw it back in the direction it had come from. He threw himself on top of Trofimov and waited. She moaned. There was an almighty explosion, the force of which went upwards towards the ceiling. They lay there through the roar. Glass rained down from on high; a layer of dirt covered them both. Silence eventually returned to the building, they lay there and waited. When he was sure that they were both alone Georgii got up and dusted himself off. He looked down at Trofimov, she was slightly more composed. They were both talking, but they could not hear what the other was saying. He lent down and picked her up and, with his gun at the ready, they both headed for the outside.   
    They walked in silence. Georgii thought the best thing that he could do would be to take her back to his place and get her cleaned up. She shook her head and tried to shake free, but he insisted that they were going back to his place.
    After about ten minutes they walked into a group of Red Army guards who were investigating where the explosion had come from. They told them what had happened and then headed on their way. Georgii was holding Trofimov's arm in a vice like grip.
    They walked into the foyer just as the writer, from upstairs, was walking out. God knows what he must have thought; the pair of them were covered in glass, dirt and cobweb. They shuffled past him and then went up the stairs, Georgii heard Rezhnikov mutter something.  He opened the door.
    They walked in; the place was its usual plain self. He sighed, a heavy sigh of relief; thank god the two kids were not in. Trofimov immediately set about cleaning herself up. When she had finished Georgii offered her a drink. She declined and then said she had to leave. Trofimov slammed the door shut behind her. Georgii stood there in a bit of a daze. He was floored by her lack of manners; she had left without even saying a word of thanks. He looked out of the window and watched her walk off down the street. He turned around and nearly jumped out of his skin. The wardrobe door started to move and then Pyotr and Anna emerged. They had witnessed everything ...
    The following day Trofimov said nothing, she blanked him. Georgii just got on with his work. That night after supper he was sitting at the small table with the two kids. He decided to broach the niggling subject of the man they had seen before.
    The girl spoke first. 'All through the autumn we wandered the streets by day and slept anywhere we could by night. One day we were in Red Square there seemed to be a public meeting of some kind going on ...'
    ' There were hundreds of people there. We were begging for food hoping that someone might take pity on us ...' Pyotr said.
    ' We were near the speaking place and there seemed to be a lot of important persons waiting. We were walking around asking them all if they could help ...' Anna said.
    The boy interrupted. 'We got the usual Bolshevik answer. Clear off 'Besprizorniki [10] ' scum!'
    ' When the man, who we also saw at the dock, turned around, he smiled and put his hand into his pocket and gave us some sweeties. Then he told us to run along,' the girl said.
    ' You would not forget a face like that. His face had shell holes in it and he had a 'Turned Up' moustache!' the boy said.
    ' But he seemed very important. People were always coming up to him and shaking his hand or they whispered in his ear. He also spoke Russian with a funny accent!'  The girl said excitedly.
    ' You say you have seen this man before. Would you recognise him again?'  Georgii said.
    ' Most definitely ...'  The two of them exclaimed.
    Since he gave us the sweets, we have seen him all over Moscow, ' Pyotr said.
    After they had gone to bed