LadyD's Edit and Proof

What was the destiny of a Cossack child, a boy, born on the threshold of a great war? Yakov was just an infant in 1812, when his father Maxim Guzikov volunteered to enlist as soon as military recruitment for the war against Napoleon was announced. The competition to be accepted was fierce: many applications were turned down. It was unusual for the Ural Cossacks to volunteer in such large numbers. After all, military service was just one Cossack duty. The first duty was to God. The second duty was to the Tsar. The third duty was to family. And then all other duties followed: to the Army, to the country… Army service was just a business — a way to make money, if you had no other business talents.

A magic moment

Leaning against a hotel wall that faced the magical museum of The Louvre we were engaged in a friendly discussion that as usual I had difficulty following. But I didn’t care anyway!

Looking around me, there were well-dressed businessmen rushing from one meeting to another; groups of chic Parisian girls strolling along with arms linked, and giggling at some shared joke; tourists assembling for photographs or simply standing and gazing in awe… I took stock of this magic moment. I turned back to Constance, to Monsieur Mus, and looked at my hotel badge and my liftboy uniform and I realised I was so proud of working there. Ultimately, I had accomplished my goal that I’d set a few months before, to work in Paris. Now every single day for me was Sunday and I promised myself that one day I would come back.

Don’t kick Nanny’s leg. And of course, James did. Kick Nanny’s leg.

Bill had once said to his wife, “I wish there was an ultimate deterrent for kids.”

This was back in the 1980s, so the ultimate deterrent was a nuclear weapon. If a country had one, they could just flag up the possibility of using it. Remember what happened in Japan in WWII? Well, if you keep pissing us off, that is what will happen to you. But there was no ultimate deterrent for kids. They had tried spanking (it was the 1980s after all) but nothing seemed to stop James from doing the exact opposite of what he was told.

“James!” shouted Jo, Bill’s wife. “Stop that now or there will be trouble.” There wasn’t, and James knew it. Not real trouble anyway. This was before the days of the most dreaded punishment of all: not being able to play with a Tablet or some other device.

It had started off so well, as Christmas usually did. Happy kids pulling items out of their Christmas stockings; the parents energised a little by their happy faces, which was useful as they had been woken up at various times throughout the night and early hours of the morning. “Is it Christmas yet?” “No, go back to bed.”

But it was only 11am and the turkey was, as turkeys do, taking a long time to cook. Jo had prepared, the night before, the potatoes, parsnips, and carrots to roast with the turkey, but they had only just been put in the dish. It had already been a long day, or at least it felt like it.