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Rising from the damp and overheated bedding, Wanda said she had duties in the house. She kissed me. She asked me if I felt better. She told me she had been a virgin. She had always loved me. Now I would not need to go out for my consolations. With an awkward wink and a blown kiss, she left me. I slept for an hour or two and woke to find the room in cold, pale twilight. I thought, now that my temper had cooled, of going to visit Katya. The prospect of having two lovers, as she had had, pleased me. But I realised it would be hard to accomplish. Wanda was in a position to watch - and watch jealously - my every move.

I felt vengeful towards Shura. I had confided in him. I had told him I loved Katya. He had given me cocaine, white clothes, ivory, to distract me from his dark plots. He had pretended to be my friend and mentor in the ghetto and had exposed me to its worst aspects. All the while he had laughed up his sleeve. I could not beat him in a fight. He was too strong. I could not go to the police and say he was a criminal. I had been involved in some of those crimes, as had friends of mine in the Moldovanka. Not that I regarded them any more as friends. Probably they had all known about Shura’s making a fool of me and been amused. I had been treated as a naïf. A village idiot. There must be half-a-dozen good stories about Max the Hetman all over Odessa. I had lost face. I wondered how I could in turn humiliate Shura. Nothing came to mind. He was too certain of himself. Anything I did he could turn to his advantage. There was only one person to whom he owed something, whom he respected (aside from Misha the Jap) and that was Uncle Semya. I grinned to myself. It would be nothing less than dutiful to go to Uncle Semya and ‘warn’ him of Shura’s involvement in crime. My uncle would be horrified. He would send for Shura. He would punish him. It was an ideal revenge because it showed me in a good light and Shura in a bad one.

I turned my attention to Katya. I might be able to involve her in the revenge by mentioning her to Uncle Semya as the hussy who had led my cousin into evil ways. But Uncle Semya was not shocked by such things. He was tolerant of young men who sowed their wild oats. What would he think if I told him Shura was Katya’s pimp? It would not make Uncle Semya take reprisals on Katya. Somehow I would have to work out my own revenge on Katya.

I am not very proud of those thoughts. But I was a hurt youngster believing himself utterly betrayed by his friends and by a race. I behaved in a bigoted fashion. I have not a bigoted bone in my body. My dislike of Jews, my anger at being identified with them, was because we Ukrainians were inundated by Jews. The Revolution was directly inspired by Jews. To be a Slav in Odessa was to be in a minority. As a member of a minority, I am anxious to disassociate myself from those of Oriental origin who control our press, our publishing, our radio and television stations, our industry, our engineering plants, our financial world. How many Ukrainians occupy such positions in England?

Katya could quite easily be reported to the police. But that would mean her arrest and deportation (since she and her mother were from Warsaw), possibly her imprisonment. Even in my most vengeful moments I balked at my little Camille of the ghetto going to prison. Also I wanted a more personal revenge.

I remembered the clown from Magasin Wagner which now lay smashed on her floor. I would send her another Christmas present. From an unknown admirer. I knew she hated spiders: spiders horrified her more than anything. I would collect together a huge box of them and I would send it to her, wrapped in wonderful paper. She would open it on Christmas Eve and her screams would bring the whole Moldovanka down about her ears.

In the meantime I was distracted from my vengeance. Lovely, simpering Wanda brought me tea and cake, stroked my body and made herself familiar with my private parts as if she saw them as being quite independent of me, as if she played with a tame mouse, or a snake, which she would kiss, fondle and laugh at. She had something Katya had never possessed: while Wanda made love to me I could continue to exist in my private mind, keep myself to myself. It is a great advantage of such girls. I have always valued it.

Another advantage to Wanda, of course, was that she had slept with nobody else. She was clean. I did not have to take precautions with her. This was a relief. That night I did little but scheme against Shura and Katya. Uncle Semya had to go out to dinner, so I was not in a position to betray either Shura or myself. After our meal, Aunt Genia played some popular Jewish melodies on her gramophone. Wanda and I made an excuse and retired early. I was in a far better position with her than I had been with Katya. With Wanda, the relationship between Katya and myself was reversed. I became the teacher, instructing my wonderful, passive pupil in every delicious debauchery.