Russian

An evening in the flat in late September: sit down, what's happened, nothing bad, we're going to have a baby, really, when, in May, I'm at eight weeks, and you said nothing, I wanted to be sure first, so in seven months, we'll need more money, the workshop this autumn, one thing at a time.

Sunday lunch at Sokolniki: we have news, say it and don't torment us, Mum you're going to be a grandmother, congratulations to us all on the future grandchild, a May child toils all its life they say, nonsense I was born in May myself, who will look after the baby while you both work, that's why I'm opening the workshop, we'll talk about that.

The antenatal clinic in October, Sam beside Katya: how many weeks, nine, you need to register before twelve weeks, that's why I'm here, you'll need to give blood and have an ultrasound, may I come to the ultrasound, of course husbands may, take the vitamins and lift nothing heavy, she lifts patients, not any more.

The kitchen table in October, with numbers: let's count, count, the school pays forty thousand and tunings at people's homes thirty more, the rent will eat it all, the first months yes, but then I'll have the only workshop in the centre, you don't know our bureaucracy, Dima will help, give me till New Year, then we count again.

A talk with Galina Petrovna in her kitchen: if I were you I'd wait a year, in a year I'll have a baby and no time, and the money, the wedding gifts and what I've saved, you'd do better to keep the contract at the school, I'll keep it, mornings at the school and afternoons at the workshop, stubborn like Katya, all right, a former pupil of mine lets out premises.

Courtyards off Chistye Prudy with Dima and an advertisement: the second courtyard off Pokrovka, let's go in through the archway, not that one, go through the courtyard and round the house, here, to let, ground floor, sixty metres, a grandmother on the bench is watching us, in Moscow there's always a grandmother on a bench, shall I go up and ring, no, better call the number.

The viewing with the landlord, a shoemaker's closed since summer: sixty metres and a separate entrance, what was here, a shoe repair and the man retired, the floor isn't level, the floor is as it is, a piano weighs three hundred kilos and the floor has to be levelled, that's the tenant's business, and the damp in the corner, dried out in summer, the windows replaced last year.

Bargaining the rent with the landlord: eighty thousand a month, in this state twenty thousand cheaper, seventy and a deposit of two months, a bit cheaper sixty-five and I level the floor myself, you bargain like a Muscovite, I was taught by a grandmother from near Suzdal, sixty-five for the first year and then we'll see, shake on it.

The lease at the kitchen table, Katya reading the small print: read me point five, the tenant is obliged to pay by the fifth, in case of late payment a penalty of a percent a day, cross it out and ask for a tenth, the landlord may raise the rent at any time, never sign that, once a year, not more than ten percent, you should have been a lawyer.

Signing day in the courtyard, the keys in Sam's pocket and the neighbour on the bench: so you're the new one, a musician, a piano tuner, a workshop, I'm not saying anything but the shoemaker was quiet, my windows are right above you, not that I'm complaining, I'll work from ten to seven, some people, as it were, sleep till eleven, then from eleven, Nina Pavlovna, I didn't ask for anything.

Sam's first visit to the tax office to register the workshop: the purpose of your visit, I want to register as self-employed, your status, a residence permit through marriage, then an individual entrepreneur, the submission of an application, the payment of the fee, what's the difference, come back with the receipt, window four.

Window four at the tax office, with the receipt and a surname spelt two ways: tell me whether I've filled it in correctly, the surname in Russian letters as in the permit, Cooper with one P and here you have two, the translator wrote two, then the translator is wrong, may I correct it here, carefully, check whether anything else is missing, nothing, three working days.

Uncle Vova is down from the dacha with his tools to level the workshop floor: hold the level and don't let go, the floor slopes towards the window, everything in Moscow slopes, pass me the hammer, not that one, hold this board a moment, is it straight now, your piano won't roll away, how much do I owe you, tune my accordion and we're quits.

The first piano arrives in Igor's studio van and will not fit through the door: where do you want it, through the door to the far wall, it won't go through, take the door off its hinges, it's the landlord's door, we'll put it back, lift, set it down slowly, it's in, the first piano in the workshop, then you tune mine, free.

A woman from the next entrance stops at the workshop door: is it you who tunes pianos, we opened on Monday, how much is a tuning, three thousand for a tuning at your home, my neighbour's man took two, and how does it sound, terrible, then three thousand and it will sound, if a string has snapped it comes to four, tomorrow at five, flat twelve.

A customer who wants his grandfather's grand to sound like new and trusts no tuner: it's not only a tuning, the strings are rusty, everyone says that to charge more, but I'm telling you what I see, come and look yourself, five thousand and the repair we'll see when I open it, you'll open it and find a hundred problems, or ten, after all it's you who decides, just tune it for now.

Nina Pavlovna comes down with a pie and does not complain about the noise: I've baked pies, take some, you tune till seven, till seven as we agreed, only yesterday someone played one note two hundred times, that's the work, of course, it would be nice if the notes were different, I'll try to vary them, I'm not asking, eat the pie while it's warm.

The ultrasound at twenty weeks, Katya on the couch and Sam beside her: lie down and relax, everything is fine, can you see who it is, do you want to know, yes we do, a girl, she'll be a pianist, or a doctor, she'll become whatever she wants, twenty weeks and everything on schedule.

Sunday lunch at Sokolniki and the question of the name: a girl, what will you call her, we haven't decided, name her after me, Valentina Cooper is hard for Portland, then after my mother, Maria, Masha, Masha sounds right in both languages, and the patronymic, Semyonovna, from Sam comes Semyon, Maria Semyonovna, now that's a name.

January, and the landlord phones to raise the rent: from January the rent is seventy-five, according to the contract you have the right to raise it once a year, prices have gone up, heating and taxes, I understand and I have a contract, contracts are written by people, and signed by two, point nine, all right then from the autumn, in writing please.

Water drips from the ceiling onto a piano and the neighbour upstairs has noticed nothing: my ceiling is leaking, it's the second time, perhaps the roof, you're on the second floor, oh the tap, turn it off or I'll have to complain, I'll pay for the piano.

The difficult customer is back with his grandfather's grand: you tuned it and it's worse, worse how, it went out of tune in a week, I warned you the pins are loose, you should have said so straight away, I did say and it's on the receipt, I should have called you, I wasted my money, I'll retune it once free and give you a price for the pins.

The repair deal for the grandfather's grand: how long will the repair take, within six weeks, by the end of March, four and no more, the parts come from Germany, a hundred and twenty thousand with half in advance, you know my work, forty in advance and the rest when I hear it, fifty and a receipt for every part.

Igor calls about the studio grand before a night session: the grand is out and the session is at ten, my wife is in her seventh month, two hours of work and I'll send a car, for the rush and the night one and a half times, twice would be robbery, it'll take an hour and a half, and dinner, you'll be fed, done but back by one.

The baby shop, a cot that turns into a bed till seven: we need a cot and not furniture till school, the mattress is orthopaedic and forty-five thousand together, every mattress here is orthopaedic, too expensive and the plain cot is enough for us, then twenty-two, that's enough and delivery, for a tired husband delivery is free.

The dacha in May and Baba Valya's omens: you bought the cot before the birth, Katya chose it and it's already in the flat, one mustn't buy in advance and it's a bad omen, Katya's a doctor, doctors are born too so cover it with a sheet, a child needs cucumbers, and the pram, the pram too and no need to look at them, all right I won't.

What the neighbour wanted all along: you're busy of course, not today, there's a piano nobody has touched since my husband, you mean you'd like me to tune it, I'm not asking and don't want to trouble you, Nina Pavlovna do you want it yes or no, yes but it can't be tuned any more, everything can be tuned, tomorrow at eleven.

Renewing the workshop's lease with the landlord: for a year then seventy, sixty-five as it was since I levelled the floor, you levelled it for yourself, and for the next one all the more since I pay on the first, true but the sign isn't my department, talk to them in exchange for a tuning, you've turned into a Muscovite so sixty-seven and the sign, sixty-seven and shake on it.

Packing the hospital bag with Lena while Sam's parents call from Portland: documents on top, slippers and a gown and chargers, Mum asks whether they should fly on the fifteenth, the twentieth because babies don't read calendars, in case it's early, if by any chance it's early there's Lena, Dad asks whether he may smoke, the neighbour will tell him herself, if anything call.

The night in May: Sam wake up it's started, what time is it and is it time, three and every seven minutes so it's time to go, don't forget the bag, where to at this hour, the maternity hospital because my wife is in labour, hold on I'll go by the embankments where there are no lights, every five minutes now, we're there, breathe, I'm not going anywhere.