Nobody remembers who and when built the house standing at the very end of the village. It was said to have been built at the beginning of the last century, possibly by a rich peasant, a revolutionary committee chairman, or a bandit who fled from Moscow—a murderer, or maybe even earlier. Its solid stone foundation and brick walls, now used only by the ‘new Russians’, attested to the building’s substantial construction. The roof was already in disrepair, clearly patched up several times before. Nonetheless, the house was almost always empty. Walking down the street, which was the entire village, everyone hastened their steps when passing this house to take a shortcut to another village. The house emanated a certain coldness, a threat, perhaps. The fence had long since fallen around the yard, but few dared to enter to pick the crumbling raspberries that had overgrown behind the house.
They said the raspberries tasted awful, and anyone who tried selling them would end up paying more than they earned—so the villagers whispered among themselves. Several times, tenants moved in, distant relatives of the owners or whoever they were, but after staying a day or two, they hastily packed up and left, not even waiting for the regular bus to the nearest station.
Lisa had been on the train for two hours from Moscow to this nearest station. A beautiful red-haired woman, she stared blankly out the window at the passing stops and crossings, barely registering or seeing anything—not the beautiful landscapes or blooming cherry trees—as she pondered her misfortunes. But why, why had all troubles and miseries fallen upon her head at the same time?
Half a year ago, her mother had died from a massive heart attack; saving her was impossible. Her husband, Mikhail, had tormented her with his nitpicking, not even giving her a break on the day of her mother’s funeral. And last week, he showed up with a vulgar-looking girl (Lisa was no prude, but to wear something like a nightgown, black stockings, and booties…and to paint herself with all the colors of the rainbow) and declared that this was his mother’s apartment and he wished for her and her son to leave immediately. He had said it just like that, “I wish it.” Where to go? Why, it was his son too. To which Mikhail retorted—prove that he’s my son. It cut deep, like a knife through the heart. A DNA test could have been done, but how could HE! She wasn’t even registered here but somewhere in the Moscow region. Getting registered in Moscow on a permanent basis was problematic.
Even for the registration in the Moscow region, she had paid a fee. Her mother’s apartment was far away, with many contenders, and she still needed to enter into the inheritance. Convincing her husband to let her retrieve her children’s and her own essentials in a second trip, she took her son Vanechka to her savior, her mother’s old friend, Aunt Glasha, Glafira Sergeyevna, then returned for the rest of her belongings. The new lady love was already prancing around in her peignoir, and Mikhail declared that he was the one who had bought it.
Fortunately, as she left with her son, she had managed to pack her little box with documents and a couple of jewelry pieces her mother had given her. The items she couldn’t retrieve, the “lady” had gathered into two bags and left.
Aunt Glasha, or rather Grandma Glasha, did her best to calm Lisa, but Lisa understood that she needed her own place, even a rental. And then Vanya started to get snotty, all at once. Lisa wanted to ask for an advance at work on Monday, although she knew the company was barely afloat due to the crisis. Well, on Monday, the boss called her and another employee into his office and told them they were fired from tomorrow. Lisa was employed under a “grey scheme” and seeking justice was not realistic. They paid her half her salary, and that was ALL. It was a complete disaster; Lisa had never felt such hopelessness. With a 4-year-old child, it was unlikely that anyone would hire her; everywhere was downsizing.
She didn’t tell Aunt Glasha, leaving on Tuesday to look for a job, which she desperately needed. But ahead was the summer, practically the dead season… And then a man called her, introducing himself as the city notary, inviting her to come the next morning with all her documents to receive an inheritance and provided an address.
It was a house, built before 1917, in village B… in the Volokolamsk district of the Moscow region. The envelope contained all the legal documents, a receipt for the duty payment, and a key. And a letter from a distant second or third cousin aunt, who had written in a postscript to the will: “I hope the house will accept you. Take care of it.” Agreeing with Aunt Glasha that she would look after the child, the woman didn’t wait for the weekend; she went to see her inheritance.
She reached Volokolamsk by train, then was directed to switch to a diesel train, and after three stops, she got off, where a bus waiting near the diesel pulled up. The bus ran three times a day.
After 40 minutes, winding through little villages, the bus stopped at her stop.
Lisa, flicking her naturally red hair in gratitude to the driver, entered a shop that sold everything from soap and shovels to smoked sausage. She asked the saleswoman how to find such-and-such house number. The saleswoman was very surprised by the question, kept silent, and simply pointed down the street.
— All the way to the very end.
It wasn’t far to walk; there were only about 30 houses, no more. Stopping by the yard or what could be considered a yard, she, as her mother once taught her, asked to no one in particular: “May I enter?”
Then she unlocked the lock with the key she received, which opened surprisingly easily, and entered the house. The house was dirty and neglected, with dusty cobwebs hanging, and someone’s belongings and dishes scattered about. Entering the empty house, she said to herself—hello. And she began to look around. Then she sorted through all the scattered belongings, found some plastic bucket, a basin. Not far from the yard, she saw a well, which she went to fetch water from. Then she returned to the shop and bought the simplest cleaning agent, household soap.”
“Well, did you find it? What are you, cleaning up or something?” asked the shopkeeper.
“Yes, I decided to clean up. There’s nowhere to even sit,” Liza replied.
She had to go for water several times while she washed down the house and windows, rinsing something like curtains in cold water. Several dusty paintings hung on the wall. When she wiped them down, to her surprise, she saw… herself, with the same red braid and green eyes, only in strange, antique clothing. There was no electricity, but there was a large stock of candles. Liza worked so hard that she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
At night, she dreamt as if someone said, “So, the MISTRESS has come!” The emphasis was on the word ‘mistress.’ Liza wanted to open her eyes and see who was speaking, but sleep overcame her again.
In the morning, Liza woke up well-rested. After snacking on some sandwiches, she tried to start a fire in the stove. She wasn’t successful and lacked experience. The paper would light up and then go out. She remembered something about house spirits. She thought if one were here, it would surely help. Suddenly, the flame intensified, raced through the small twigs, and in about 5 minutes, the fire in the stove was cheerfully burning. Liza found an old pot, brought more water, and set it to heat to tidy herself up. She liked the house, and despite its dilapidation, it felt solid and reliable. If only she could find a job, it might be possible to move here.
But this is a village, what kind of job? With her education as an accountant-economist… And Moscow is about 4 hours away. This thought lodged in her head. After tidying up, the woman went back to the store, figuring out how much more she could spend, as she was almost out of money. From previous guests or owners, there was petrified sugar, pasta of unknown expiration, and coffee that had lost its smell.
At the store, the shopkeeper stared at her.
“Did you spend the night here? Missed the bus? Well, how is everything?”
“What do you mean, how? What’s wrong? This is my house by law; what should be wrong? And tell me, how’s the job situation here? Very difficult or not even worth trying?”
“Do you want to stay here?” the shopkeeper wondered, as people usually didn’t stay longer than a week. Regarding jobs – look, the chairman just arrived, he was dropping off the accountant at the maternity ward for preservation, ask him.
Liza approached the chairman’s car, who appeared to be 50-55 years old, and they talked. In principle, he wasn’t against it, but only if the tenants in this house didn’t stay long. He set a condition – if you live here a week, then you can settle in. They decided on that.
Returning to the house, Liza sat at the table and said aloud, addressing the house.
“So, as I understand, you’re not just any house. I have nowhere else to go, I’ll take care of you. But I have a son, Vanechka. If I bring him here, will we get along? You wouldn’t throw a child out into the night?”
Suddenly, a gentle smell of lily of the valley and jasmine wafted through. Liza took it as an agreement and brightened up.
“Interesting, will you reveal your secrets to me? Especially about that girl who looks so much like me?” Again, the scent of lily of the valley in response.
“Oh, so we can communicate,” Liza smiled. For some reason, she wasn’t scared at all. When she went to the well for water again, an old woman approached her. They greeted each other and started talking. It turned out the grandmother lived almost across the street, slightly askew. The young woman briefly explained the situation, that the house was inherited, that she was jobless, and that the chairman promised an accountant’s job if Elizabeth lived here for a week. But what about Vanechka? Not to bring him to work with her.
“Well, don’t worry about that. I live alone, my son went off to chase a long ruble in Moscow, haven’t heard from him in 15 years. I’d be glad to help, but I must say, I won’t set foot in your house.”
Grandmother Maria told a story that her grandmother used to tell about a girl who lived in this house. Her parents wouldn’t let her marry her beloved Ivan, conspiring with the elder to send him to war. The girl was pregnant by him. The parents didn’t want the disgrace and bribed the midwife to smother the child at birth. In the end, both the daughter and the newborn granddaughter died during childbirth. Of course, the village found out about it. When Ivan returned from the war, he cursed everyone who was in this house and all their descendants, then went off to fight again, this time for the Reds. They say he was furious at all the kulaks, shooting them without trial or inquiry. Since then, all the women somehow related by blood to the house’s owners have died in childbirth. Five or six women have died already.
“That’s all very sad. But I saw the painting of the girl in the house, practically the same face as mine. Come with me, I’ll show you.” Grandmother Maria reluctantly entered the house, Liza brought the candle close to the painting. Then the grandmother shifted her gaze from the painting to Liza, from Liza back to the painting, and crossed herself.
“That’s her, the master’s daughter, whom the midwife destroyed. You turn out to be of this bloodline. By the way, if my memory serves me right, since my grandmother is long gone, her name was also… Elisaveta, I believe. Or Elizaveta. And the child then? How did you give birth to him, was everything normal?”
“Yes, I gave birth normally and quickly,” Liza replied, surprised. “I guess I’ll be the eighth then.”
After looking around the house, Grandmother Maria promised to bring a couple of rugs, a fresh pillow, and a blanket. When she returned home with the treats, she told Liza to order a memorial service for Ivan and Elisaveta in Moscow, to be held simultaneously in three churches.
At that moment, both women, the old and the young, distinctly heard a sigh of relief; even the candle flickered.
Liza did everything she needed to do, moved her son to the village, and later moved their belongings. The chairman, as promised, gave her a job and even paid some starting bonuses. Liza knew her job well. She took some goods on credit until her first paycheck, which, by the way, was quite decent, and used it to buy groceries in the store. Then, part of the inheritance was paid out to her, enough to replace the roof in August. She had never been as happy as she was now. However, her friend called saying that Misha was looking for her, wanting to reconcile, but that scoundrel had fleeced him and stolen from him. But Liza said – don’t you dare give him my address.
Life slowly began to settle down. Every morning Liza took Vanechka to the neighbor, Grandmother Maria, and by 4 o’clock, she would leave the village in the collective farm van along with a couple of colleagues. They were driven to and from the central estate, as they referred to the administration, and back to the village. Liza only asked for leave to go and receive her share of the inheritance, as her presence was needed there. She still didn’t understand if they had settled honestly with her or not, but those 250,000 rubles were very much needed. The roof might not have lasted the winter, and there were already stains on the ceiling. After consulting and asking those who understood these matters more than she did, she encountered specialists and, seeing what materials were used for the roofs in the area, decided on euro-slate and a team of 3 workers.
Two of them were from out of town, the third from the regional center. They agreed on a price, arranged that they would not sleep in the house, and would find accommodation elsewhere. Liza did not want to let three men into her house, which had its own character. It was strange that as soon as she had arranged with them, a weak but unpleasant smell appeared in the house. Liza immediately knew where it was from and told the house that she needed to find specialists; these were inexpensive and wouldn’t be sleeping in the house. She also wanted to install a wood-burning boiler in the house to keep it warm. If they didn’t start in September, the rains would begin, and time would be lost, but the smell lingered in the house.
The roofers worked quickly, two on top, the third from Volokolamsk handed and held the sheets like a helper. During the day, Liza was at work, Grandmother Maria watched over the workers, for which Liza was very grateful. After three days, the team leader, Tolik, as he introduced himself, began asking the hostess why she, a young woman, lived here, where was her husband.
She naively replied that her husband was in Moscow, and she needed to somehow arrange a divorce, the house was her private property, inherited.
Tolik was intrigued, the house was sturdy, if put in order – excellent, the young woman was very attractive, as he decided naive, if anything, no one to protect her, the child – not a problem. He decided to act.
At dinner, he spoke up that male hands were needed here, that a new stove and a new fence should be installed. It would also be good to build a small barn for livestock, chickens, and ducks. Liza just sighed and spread her hands, all this was not realistic for her yet. Then Tolik decided to force the issue. The fact is that back in his sunny Moldova, from which he had come, he had left a wife and child. In Russia, he was looking for an opportunity to get citizenship by marrying. I don’t want to cast a shadow on the citizens of Moldova; I know some wonderful people. But every family has its black sheep.
Tomorrow they were supposed to finish the work, the house was small by current standards, and Tolik had no time to waste. Tolik’s grandmother was a local witch-silversmith (one of the peoples living in Moldova, famous for their fortune-tellers and witches if I slightly misname it, I apologize), she had helped arrange his first wife and now gave him a vial, told him to use it if necessary.
So Tolik offered to make tea their way, scooped his tea into the teapot, poured boiling water over it, and secretly dropped a few drops from the vial. Liza was supposed to fall madly in love with Tolik instantly and spend the night with him, according to his plan.
Just as she brought the cup to her lips, she shuddered – such a stench came from there that she felt nauseous. Just as she put the cup on the table, realizing that she couldn’t drink from it, the cup suddenly cracked in half and the tea with the potion spilled out. Tolik jumped up from his chair with a scream and a curse, a snake rising from his cup and hissing threateningly. The house stood up to protect its mistress.
In the morning, only two came to finish the roofing, Tolik flatly refused to approach the house.
In the evening, Liza settled up with the workers as agreed. She said nothing, just thanked them for not poisoning her. By the way, the smell disappeared as soon as Tolik did.
A week later, another calamity – Mishenka showed up. He had found her through the registration, and apparently, her friend had given Liza away. Seeing the new roof and a nice house, chubby-cheeked Vanechka, he began to pour out, saying, “When will you come home,” to which Liza replied that she was filing for divorce with child support. She was filing in her district, by her registration, there would be no division of property, as he said – the apartment belongs to his mother, and her small house was inherited and not subject to division. There was nothing jointly acquired. She cut him off, adding, if he doesn’t come to the trial, they would divorce him in absentia the third time. If he doubted that the child was his, he should get a genetic test. Where she got the strength to respond to her husband like that – she didn’t even know.
Mishenka fumed and fumed and went back to Moscow, not having enjoyed his bread much.
A young woman came home, sat at the table, embraced her head with her hands, and cried that she had no protection, she was alone in this world. Then her shoulders were caressed by a warm breeze, and the scent of lilies of the valley and jasmine was felt. Of course, the house protected her, but she also longed for a man’s shoulder.
On Sunday at the store, where Liza went for milk and jelly for Vani, she bumped into a man at the door, so much so that the milk bottle fell from her hands, luckily, it was plastic. They both rushed to pick it up and bumped heads. They laughed, joked, and introduced themselves. He had come by car, looking for a place to build a house, and in the car sat a girl, as it turned out, his niece.
Somehow, looking at him, Liza’s heart clenched. Then the girl got out of the car and asked her aunt where the toilet was here. Liza led her to her yard, and the man asked for some water to drink. Liza decided to test him with her house, whether it was worth getting to know him. They entered, and such a pleasant scent of jasmine and lilies of the valley that she smiled and said, “My name is Liza, and yours?”
“Mine is Alexey. How about you treat us and my niece to some tea!”
Well, Liza found her happiness… the house helped her.