it was, and Nicholas's face registered shock as he followed his mother up the stairs, and tried not to feel sick from the awful smells.
“Eghh … this smells ugly,” Sasha said as she walked up the stairs behind Zoya. The driver carried their bags for them, and Zoya paid him from their meager funds. She vowed to herself not to take any more taxis. They would travel on buses now, or walk. There would be no more taxis, no more cars. She had sold the Hispano-Suiza to the Astors.
Zoya showed them into the apartment's single bedroom, and their two beds were there, dwarfing everything else. Their toys were arranged neatly beside them, and the paintings from Sasha's nursery had been carefully hung over her bed. Next to Nicholas's she had put a picture of Clayton, looking handsome in his uniform during the war. She had brought a suitcase filled with photographs of her own, of Clayton, and the children, and others that were yellowing and frayed, of Nicky and Alix, and the children at Livadia and Tsarskoe Selo. She had also brought the treasured imperial egg, it was carefully rolled into a pair of Clayton's socks. She had brought a box of his cuff links and studs as well, but her own jewelry was going to be sold at auction. For those who still had money, there were fantastic opportunities everywhere, diamond necklaces and tiaras and incredible emerald rings, picked up for pennies in auctions or at private sales. One family's desperation would suddenly become another's good fortune.
“Where will you sleep, Mama?” Nicholas looked worried again as he walked around the apartment, and realized there was only one bedroom. He had never seen quarters so small, even their servants on Sutton Place had had nicer rooms than these. The whole place looked so tiny and so ugly.
‘I'm going to sleep here on the settee, my love. It's very comfortable.” She smiled at him, and bent to kiss his cheek as she saw tears come to his eyes. It wasn't fair, having to do this to the children, and she fought back a wave of the anger she had recently begun to feel for Clayton. Others had been wiser than he, less daring, and less foolish than he had been in risking all they had. And if only he had lived, they might have survived it differently … the two of them … they could at least have raged at the fates, side by side, but now she was alone as she had never been before. It all rested on her shoulders now, as she realized it must have rested on Evgenia's. And how brave she had been, how strong, it served as an example to Zoya now, as she looked at her son with a gentle smile, as he offered her his bed in the room he was to share with his sister.
“You can have my bed, Mama. I will sleep here.”
“No, darling … I'll be fine.” And then with a brave smile, “We all will. Now, you must watch Sasha for me while I cook dinner.”
She hung up their coats and her own, glad that she had brought warm clothes for them. The apartment was cold and there wasn't even a fireplace as there had been in the apartment in Paris.
“Why don't you take Sava for a walk?” The old dog was sitting quietly by the door, as though waiting to be taken home again, as they all were.
Nicholas put her on the leash, and told Sasha to be good while he went downstairs and their mother cooked them the chicken she had brought from the house on Sutton Place. But she knew only too well that the provisions they had brought wouldn't last long, nor would their money.
Christmas was a day like any other, except for the doll she bought Sasha and the pocket watch she'd saved from Clayton's things to give Nicholas. They huddled together as they bravely tried not to cry, and think of the enormity of their losses. The apartment was freezing cold, the cupboards were bare, and Zoya's jewelry had gone at auction for pennies. She was determined to keep the imperial egg, but other than that, there was almost nothing left, and she knew she had to find a job soon, but the question of where haunted her day and night. She thought of working in a shop, but she didn't want to leave the children alone all day long. Sasha wasn't in