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^= LIBRARY OF SELECTED SOVIET LITERATURE Vera Panova LOOKING AHEAD STALIN PRIZE 1 947 BEPA HAHOBA KPj^>KMAMXA MSAATEJlbCTBO /IMTEPATYPbl HA MHOCTPAHHblX fl3blKAX M o c K B a VERA PAN OVA LOOKING AHEAD FOREIGN LANGUAGES PUBLISHING HOUSE Moscow TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY DAVID SKVIRSKY DESIGNED BY O. K O R O V I N V. CHISTYAKOV VdSS 1122989 CONTENTS Page Chapter One. Listopad 10 Chapter Two. The Chief Designer 30 Chapter Three. Lukashin's Home-Coming ... 46 Chapter Four. Uzdechkin and Tolka .... 78 Chapter Five. Children of the Factory ... 94 Chapter Six. Note-Books 112 Chapter Seven. Eve of Victory 125 Chapter Eight. Mother 154 Chapter Nine. Nonna's Birthday 173 C/mpter Ten. Nonna's Birthday, Continued . 194 Chapter Eleven. Sunday 209 Chapter Twelve. Troubles at Home and at Work 222 Chapter Thirteen. Love 237 Chapter Fourteen. At Night 252 Chapter Fifteen. Ends and Beginnings .... 276 In translucent gold, in ethereal ruby splendour, the sun rises over the broad river. And with it a slow, solemn whistle mounts to the sky, drowning the roar of engines, —the rumble of machinery, and the hum of human voices no sound is laudible las engines cross the factory yard,— cranes drop their loads, and people move their lips The mighty blast lingers over the river land is heard in the town, nine kilometres lawiay from Kruzhilikha. As it blows, a humian tide pours in through the gates; some people came from the settlement on foot, others by tram, but the majority by train. Long tnains from the town land the suburbs pull up at the little station one after lanother. From there the people hurry to the factory, streaming in huge crowds towards the gates. There were sheepskin co;ats, quilted jackets, leather overcoats, great- coats, civilian overcoats, and fur coats; shawls, fur hats with ear flaps, Budyonny-style caps, and knitted caps; men and women, blondes and brunettes, tall and short, gay and melancholy, lively and retiring—ten thousand people of every description and race had come to the factory for the day shift. The whistle dies away gnadually as though coming down from a height, lower and lower; it sinks, spreading over the ground and fading somewhere in the earth's bos- om with a last bass note. The human stream flows by and branches off into the shops. Only the guards are left at the gates —The shift has b^gun. CHAPTER ONE LISTOPAD On a frosty evening in January General Listopad, di- rector of the factory at Kruzhilikha, drove his wife to the m'aternity home. It was la igood miaternity home, the best in the town. Mirzoyev, the chauffeur, had orders to be particuliarly careful. "Miake it seem like floating on air!" Listopad told him. Most lattentive during Klavdiya's pregnancy, Mirzoyev now outdid himself. The car did not run, it floated. "It's almost as if we had carried you here in our arms, dear," Listopiad said, helping her out of the car. They bad stopped at the wrought-iron gates. Beyond was la yard with tall white trees, and deep in the yard stood the maternity home. A Lamp burned dimly over the entrance. The snowdrifts had piled shoulder-high land through them a deep path had been cleared from the gates to the porch. Listopad led Klavdiya along that path. She walked quickly, nervously; Listopad heard her breathing. "Don't be frightened, everything will be lall right," he siaid, giving her elbow a squeeze. "I'm not the least bit frightened. Why d'you think I am?" Kliavd'ya said. They entered the hall together, but Listopad was not allowed to go farther. An elderly woman in a white 10 smock land spectacles took charge of Kliavdiya land told him to leave and take Kliavdiyia's fur coat with him. It Wias a new sealskin co^at, the object of Kliavdiya's pride and oare. "land when "Yes, take it home," Kliavdiya— said, you come for us, bring it with you don't forget." She Laughed happily and Listopad smiled, lalready see- ing himself taking Klasha and the baby home. He wrote down the telephone number of the doctor on duty. Klav- diya held him tightly for la moment, kissed him on the lips land went up the stairs, followed by the woman in spectacles. Listopad returned to the aar. "There," he said with mock annoyance, getting in be- side Mirzoyev land putting the coat on the back seat, "you lalways get something silly for your piains. Never m^arry, Akhmet. Wives lare la nuisance. Now I'll have to take that blasted coat to the theatre with rrie." At the theatre that evening there was la meeting of the town P:arty ^active. Listop'ad larrived Late. As he crossed the foyer, he cauight la glimpse of the crowded stalls through the half- open door land heard Makarov, the first secretary of the town Party Committee, speaking. By the phrases that reached -him, he judged that Makarov wtas we'll on in his report. Listopad went through the wings 'and joined the presidium on the stage. A place wias miade for him at the middle of the long table, which was covered with red plush. Zotov, the director of the laircrait pliant, lat once sent him a note, "Why ^are you late?" Listopad wrote his reply on the same scnap of paper, "Had to take my wife to the maternity home." He watched the note pass from hand to hand and saw the understanding smiles of those who read it. Zotov leaned across the back of his neighbour and said in a loud whisper: "The excuse is quite satisfiactory. Congnatuliations." U "Don't be in such a hurry!" Listopad whispered back, but to himself he thought that it could happen at any minute. He would have to ring up the hospital after the meeting. He waited for the debate. The report did not interest him. Everything M'akarov wias saying had been gone over lat la meeting of the town Piarty Committee bureau, and only that morning Listopad had sent him some of the figures he was quoting. Listopad had taken charge of the factory in 'forty-two land was no stranger in the town. He scrutinized the auditorium. Where were his men— the Communists of Kruzhilikha? Rya'bukhin, the Party organizer, wias labsent. He had been operated on the week before for la phlegmon in his shin caused by a splinter, and Wias still in hospital. Listopiad had had a talk with the surgeon over the telephone the day before. She had siaid there was enough trouble with the splinters in Rya- bukhin's shin to liast for twenty years, and that he would have to return to the operating table more than once. Listopiad miade a mental note to visit Ryabukhin tomor- row. And where wias friend Uzdechkin? Ah, there he was, sitting at the end of the fifth row and scowling at the speaker, while all the time he was thinking of Listopad and dying to steal a look at him. But he was holding himself in check. He had deliberately taken an end seat, to make it easier to reach the rostrum when the debate opened. Oh, Uzdechkin, Uzdechkin, that foolish stubbornness of yours will cost you your neck. You think the workers have more faith in you than in me? You won't be holding down your elective job all your life. You haven't much of a trade and, besides, you've been out of practice for years. It won't be easy for you to return to the bench with your ambition. Uzdechkin looked tense; he was pale, thin, and ugly like lall sickly and badly shaved men. And Listopad, who 12 loved beauty, health land viviacity, eyed Uzdechkin with la frown. Old Nikita Trofimovich Vedeneyev, now, was a pleas- ant sight. He had come to the meeting in a black suit, which, though somewhat old-fashioned, was made from excellent cloth. His starched colliar was snow-white, his dark tie matched his suit, and his moustache and the hair on his temples were neatly trimmed. He looked las if it were his birthday. Grand fellow, Nikita Trofimovich! That's the stuff our people are made of! That's the kind of veteran workers we have at Kruzhilikha! As a matter of fact this was a happy day for Nikita Trofimovich. He had received news of his elder son, Pavel; the younger boy w^as killed in 'forty-three. Pavel wrote to his father land to the Party organiziation lat the shop where he had worked to say that he had recovered, was now wearing lan lartificial limb, and would soon re- turn. And old Vedeneyev had put laside his proud reserve land w:as beaming with happiness. Indeed, who would not rejoice to have la son come back at la time like this, even if that son had lost a leg? Makarov finished his report land returned to his seat in the presidium, his clever, slightly playful gaze slipping across Listopiad's fiace. Listopiad understood. Makarov already knew what Uzdschkin was going to say. But what Listopad wanted to know was whether he would support Uzdechkin or not? The Communists who spoke next were mainly workers from Kruzhilikha land the laircriaft plant. They spoke of what the newspapers call production thorns. Listopad knew where all the thorns at his factory were. They were in sectors to which he had not yet got round or which needed his personal supervision. Old Vedeneyev i3 said that the new press, iabout which there had been so much talk, was not yet in openation.

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