'Right, pay attention because I'm only going to say this once,' barked Olga, pointing a peeling knife straight at Natalya's chest, the tip digging in ever so slightly. 'You sit in that chair and peel my vegetables. They then go in that bucket with the water.' She gestured to the nicer of the two buckets. 'Peelings go in the other one.'

'Got it,' promised Natalya with a nod, keeping her focus completely on the drill sergeant in front of her. Natalya had never been in any form of military, but she wouldn't be surprised if Olga had, given her propensity to spit orders.

That, and her kitchen was as pristine as it could possibly be seeing as this was a labour camp in the middle of Siberia. It was relatively large, like that of a luxurious apartment back in Moscow. A doorway led in from the barracks that Natalya had entered through, and another led her directly outside to a parade of bins. There was a sizeable island right in the middle, covered by carefully organised knives, boards, spoons and mixing bowls. That was very clearly the prep area.

Scrutinising her, Olga looked her up and down. 'Can you make bread?'

'Basic loaves, but yes.'

Olga cackled. 'We only do basic here. Anything even close to fancy is up at the Commandant's house. And trust me, you won't ever set foot there.'

Natalya smiled. Olga's laugh was dirty, crude and entirely infectious. 'Do you want me to clean too?'

'Certainly not. I have a dedicated person for that. You won't serve the men their meals either. She does that too. You're here solely to aid me with whatever I need you for.'

'Noted,' said Natalya.

'No smoking in my kitchen,' said Olga. 'It masks the cooking smells.'

'I don't smoke,' said Natalya.

Wrinkling her nose, Olga pulled one from her pocket. 'Not at all?'

'I preferred vodka to cigarettes.'

Laughing, Olga stuck the smoke between her teeth, then made her way to the outer door. 'If you get your hands on any of that, you'd better share.' She struck a match up the door frame and sparked up. 'Go stir the oats for me. Whatever her name is will be here soon to dish up.'

'You don't know her name?' Natalya asked, dutifully going to the large pots over the stove.

Olga waved her hand flippantly. 'They change all the time. No sense in committing it to memory.'

Leaving Olga to her break, Natalya kept her eye cast over the bubbling pots of gooey gruel. It spoke of how shit the prisoner's food was that these watery oats looked so tantalising. She hadn't allowed herself to think of anything resembling real food since she'd arrived.

What Natalya wouldn't give for sweet rolls dipped in cocoa. And tea. She hadn't had good strong tea in so long. Yakov's weird blend of roots certainly didn't count. She knew Olga had some somewhere; she could smell it on her breath again.

'I'm surprised you haven't asked me about extra food rations,' said Olga, her smoke now finished and the door slammed shut. Could she read Natalya's mind or was she looking at the porridge that longingly? 'It's usually the first thing a new kitchen hand asks about.'

'I'll take anything you give me,' said Natalya, turning to look at her. 'But I guess I already do better than most.'

Her eyes studied Olga's curious expression. Such an interesting woman. She couldn't be anything but Russian and yet there was something about her that seemed misplaced. Perhaps it was simply the red hair and freckles. Such striking features did tend to stand out amongst the masses.

'And I didn't want you to think I was rude,' continued Natalya. 'I promised Kaleena I'd behave.'

'What a good little monster you are,' cooed Olga, then barged her out of the way to take over the stirring. 'Get to making the bread. I want to see how well you do with one hand.'

With a firm nod, Natalya rolled up her sleeves, trying not to hiss too loudly when she caught her bad thumb at an odd angle. She refused to give Olga any reason not to keep her. Grabbing the largest mixing bowl, she measured the flour, yeast, water and salt by eye before she began mixing it altogether with her able hand.

It was certainly soothing to be back to this sort of work. Even though she'd never made bread in quite this quantity, the familiarity was a comfort. Her fingers sunk eagerly into the soft, sticky mixture, puffs of flour wafting up to her from the depths of the bowl. The smell of damp yeast somehow cut through the permanent stench of frost and iron that encompassed the camp. If she shut her eyes, she was back in the hut, being glared at by starikan for waking up too late to have laid breakfast out exactly when he wanted it.

'You have quite the eye for that,' said Olga, slicing through Natalya's day dream. 'I expected you to panic at the lack of measuring equipment.'

Scraping as much of the mixture off her hand and into the bowl as she could, Natalya dipped her hand in the bag of flour and fanned it across the work surface. 'I didn't have scales in Pikhtovka either.'

'Where?'

'North West of Perm Krai. Right in the middle of the Taiga.'

'Hmm,' said Olga, seemingly impressed. 'No wonder you had no scales.'

Turning the bread out of the bowl, Natalya began to knead. She rolled and massaged her rough dough, her shoulder pierced by a sharp twinge. Her arm already felt tired, but she wouldn't show it. If she didn't think it would do damage, she might even chance using her broken left hand.

Tsking her, Olga shooed Natalya away. 'You'll take forever with one hand.'

'I'll manage,' insisted Natalya. 'You wanted to see how I coped-'

'Yes, but I haven't got all day.' Olga bumped her with her hip. 'Kaleena was right. You're still healing. Go and stir the pots. When you can use both hands, then you can do the bread.'

Wiping her hands on the apron Olga had shoved on her the moment she'd walked through the door, Natalya returned to the pots. 'So, I'm not fired then?'

'Afraid not. You're the only one of these stupid girls whose walked in and not set my teeth on edge. Since Kaleena anyway.'

'Why?' asked Natalya, giving the nearest pot a hefty stir. 'They can't have been that bad.'

Olga cackled again, making Natalya's mouth twitch at the corners. 'They always send me the delicate, retiring little mice who can't hack it elsewhere. The one's who think I'll pity them or go easy. I like your grit.' The movement of her hands over the dough was so rhythmic and soothing. She was a conductor to this orchestra of ingredients. 'And zolotse clearly cares for you. She's a kind young thing, but for her to take to someone the way she has with you is so rare.'

'Everyone says that,' sighed Natalya. 'I'll be honest, I don't deserve it.'

'Why? Because you're a grumpy pouting monster?'

Natalya smirked. 'Not just that.'

Pausing her efforts, Olga stared at her. 'Don't dangle the carrot without feeding the donkey. Tell me.'

There certainly wouldn't be anywhere to hide with Olga. Not like with Yakov.

'Because I'm fairly certain that the reason Kaleena is here is just some bullshit excuse made up by men with little cocks. And I'm in here because I'm actually a shit person who did something wrong.' Flexing her aching hand, Natalya switched saucepans. 'Not that that was the reason on my papers, but still. Kaleena is a truly good person, and I'm, what did you say? 'A grumpy pouting monster' with a criminal record.'

There was a small silence.

Olga kneaded her dough, contemplating what her little monster had said. 'Do you think zolotse cares about that?'

'She said she doesn't...'

'Right, then let her make her own mind up.' Olga stared straight at Natalya, her efforts not paused. 'She likes me well enough and I'm one of the longest serving criminal prisoners in here. Besides her husband, that is.'

Blinking rapidly in surprise, Natalya kept her mouth firmly shut. It made absolute sense that Olga was of the criminal class. All the best privileges went to those prisoners because they kept everyone else in line. She didn't know of a single trustee that was a political prisoner.

'Didn't peg you as emotional,' teased Olga.

'Not emotional. Just realistic. Kaleena deserves a lot more than my shoddy friendship.'

Olga tipped her head to one side. 'I don't know. You're already particularly loyal. I'd say she's picked a good one in you.' Grinning, she doused the surface in more flour. 'Though I'm not going to listen to such a defeatist approach to life. So, cheer up or fuck off.'

Puckering her lips to a pleading pout, Natalya feigned sobs. 'Does this mean you don't want to be my new mum, Olga Nikolayevna?' she said through overly choked words. 'But I'm just a meek little mouse and need your protection-'

She promptly shut up when a hand full of flour hit her right in the face. Spitting it out, Natalya wiped her face with her apron, hiding her chuckle.

'Can't imagine why Kaleena is having such a hard time finding you a husband,' said Olga, though she still seemed amused.

'I hear you're quite the matchmaker. Fancy a go?'

'It was easy with Kaleena because she practically sells herself by being a genuinely perfect human being. You would be like selling an angry little dog with a propensity to shit on the carpet.' Shaking her hands out, Olga reached for a clean bowl and towel to let the dough prove. 'But I do like a challenge.'

There was a knock on the outer door.

'That'll be the server,' sighed Olga. 'Go and start on the vegetables, monster.'

'Anything for you,' said Natalya as sickly sweet as she could muster. She was happy she earned another laugh from Olga as she settled on the peeling chair. Satisfied, she began her next task.

***

Kaleena poked her head around the inner door at 7:30PM, a warm smile on her face. 'How are my two favourite ladies getting along?'

Dumping the peelings out of the back door, Natalya grinned at her as she strode past Olga who was having her tenth cigarette of the day. 'She didn't kill me. So that's a good sign.'

'Only because I enjoy torturing you too much,' said Olga, swatting at Natalya's legs as she scurried away.

It truly had been a wonderful first day. Despite the persistent burning ache in her bad hand, Natalya had adapted well to kitchen work. It was incredibly simple in comparison to hauling coal around the mines and avoiding the wandering hands of the other mine leaders.

Olga certainly had a frosty temper. No matter who she spoke to, she was curt and snappy. That included any of the guards she'd conversed with, who seemed to know better than to irritate her. It didn't concern Natalya in the slightest. It would be entirely hypocritical to be wary of someone who was exactly the same as her. Instead, the two women fell into an easy rhythm, throwing sardonic comments at one another as easily as they did jokes.

It was refreshing to fit so neatly into something. Although Natalya had continually burrowed her way into these different walks of life she was repeatedly thrust into, it had always taken an adjustment period. Olga's kitchen, by comparison, was like a home from home.

She reminded Natalya of both Yakov and her grandmother in so many ways; somehow a perfect mixture of the two mentors Natalya had clung to. Not that Olga was attempting to nurture her in the slightest. But still. She was fun to be around.

It certainly eased the ache of her grandmother's absence. She'd received so few letters from her whilst in Pikhtovka; post was so slow it barely moved. But she'd still been able to look forward to them. She wasn't allowed to receive anything here.

'Why am I not surprised that you get along so well?' said Kaleena, coming to lean on the kitchen island.

'Because you have a good sense for such things,' said Olga, blowing out a long line of smoke before she flicked the butt away and shut the door behind her.

'And you behaved?' Kaleena asked Natalya, grabbing her bad hand as soon as Natalya had set the bucket down. 'You didn't over use your hand?'

'I was very well behaved!' said Natalya indignantly, taking her hand back and soothing it from Kaleena's prodding. 'Well, for me anyway.'

'I'd beat her if she got out of hand,' promised Olga, slumping into the peeling chair with a satisfied groan. 'Are you here to collect her?'

'If that's all right?' asked Kaleena. 'I don't really want to leave her to walk back alone, and this way, she can come have dinner with all of us.'

'Why? Afraid she'll go on the rampage and bite someone?'

Chuckling, Natalya looked over her shoulder at Olga. 'It's nice that you believe in me.'

Olga waved her hand as she tipped her head back and closed her eyes. 'Off you go. My monster has barely stopped all day and she  more food than the bread I managed to shove down her throat.'

'And here I was trying to impress you,' sighed Natalya, undoing her apron before she darted to hang it up and pull on her coat.

'You did,' sighed Olga, still not opening her eyes. 'Now fuck off and leave me in peace.'

'See you tomorrow!' called Natalya as she and Kaleena made for the mess hall. 'Kaleena, that woman is incredible.'

Chuckling, Kaleena linked her arm through Natalya's. 'I know. Such a force.'

On instinct, Natalya wanted to pull away from her. She refrained. Kaleena seemed to need the physical contact. She never asked for anything from anyone, always giving without taking. If this was all Kaleena needed from her, then Natalya was all too happy to give it. She knew what it was to need constant affection. Once upon a time, at least.

As they pushed past the queue of waiting inmates, the bunk house one girls waved them over, cheering loudly on sight of them. She was surprised she could hear them at all through the ruckus everyone else was creating. Perhaps it was just her week in quarantine, but the buzz of the mess hall was deafening. Weaving their way through the crowd felt claustrophobic and unwelcome, the tightly packed bodies of big sweaty men rubbing against her whether she welcomed them or not.

At least Kaleena didn't let go of her hand the entire time. Always her anchor in a stormy sea.

'She survived her first day!' called Sveta, tugging Natalya from Kaleena's grasp to sit between her and Monja.

Kaleena tucked herself beside Jolanta, giving a small wave to Pol, Adella and Teresa who were deep in conversation about something in fevered Czech.

'You sounded less impressed when I returned from the mines,' said Natalya as she reached for the cup of lukewarm borscht in front of her.

'Yeah, because you had silachka taking care of you,' said Monja, gesturing to a proud and beaming Jolanta. 'In the kitchens, you're alone with the starukha.'

'I wish you wouldn't call her that,' chastised Kaleena. 'She's not even that old-'

'Olga knows I mean it affectionately,' huffed Monja. She looked at Natalya. 'You'd best not call her that though.'

'If the world gets too much, I might just do it,' teased Natalya. 'At least then it would be a swift death.'

'I'm sure she can burn a person just with her eyes,' said Sveta, everyone nodding in agreement. 'Fearsome old bat that she is.'

'How do you know her?' asked Natalya, attempting to distract herself from the disgusting soup. 'I thought only Kaleena worked with her.'

'Ah, well you see, Olga was one of the original bunkhouse one members,' said Sveta.

'Really?'

'Yeah. She was part of the very first female cohort to arrive. Crazy suka has been here for nearly twenty years.'

'She petitioned for her own room when she took over the guard's kitchens,' said Monja with a gasp as she chugged the last of her soup. 'That was a good seven or eight years ago. Before your time, krasotka.'

'And they just gave it to her?' said Natalya in disbelief.

'Grigori Demyanovich thinks she's funny,' said Kaleena. 'Or that's what Olga maintains.'

'I like her,' sighed Jolanta wistfully. 'Such an impressive woman.'

'Calm down there, big woman,' laughed Monja. 'Anyone would think you-'

'Hello,' came a rough male voice from behind them.

The women all glanced up to be met with a male inmate. He looked around his late thirties, and despite looking tired and standoffish, he was relatively handsome. He had thick blonde hair and a rough stubble that accentuated his strong chin.

'How can we help you, handsome?' asked Monja, her voice practically a purr.

'I'm looking for Natalya Dmitryevna,' he said, his voice terse. He didn't sound like he wanted to be there at all. 'Goes by medvezhonok, apparently.'

'That's me,' said Natalya, wiping her mouth and spinning on the bench to face him. 'Who are you?'

'Alik Nikolaevich,' he replied, his eyes scanning her face. 'Come closer, so I can see you.'

Natalya coughed out a choked laugh. 'Excuse me?'

'I want a closer look,' he repeated with a biting tone.

Monja pushed Natalya to her feet, silently encouraging her despite her hesitance. Trying her best not to roll her eyes, Natalya consented to stand still while Alik perused her.

'Take your coat off,' he instructed.

'Anything else?' Natalya bit at him. 'Want me to bend over and show you my arsehole too?'

'Oh Natalya,' muttered Sveta under her breath.

Alik glared down at her, his arms folded across his chest. A rather broad chest, she couldn't help but note. Though, his sour face was rather distracting. 'Well that is sort of why I'm here, so if you're willing, why not?'

'Who sent you?' asked Natalya, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny. 'Andros or Dmitri?'

'Just take your damn coat off!' spluttered Monja, tugging at the sleeve.

Begrudgingly, Natalya tore it open before she dropped it to the floor. 'Happy?'

'Do you know how to be polite?' he asked, incredulous to her attitude. 'Andros made out that you'd be a fun little wife, but you don't seem to be making that much of an effort here.' This man made Natalya's blood boil. His audacity was up in the clouds and didn't seem to have a limit on the plane of existence.

'You've barged in on me eating and instructed me to put on a show. Don't you think prior warning would have improved the performance?' snapped Natalya.

'What she means is she was startled,' said Kaleena, standing from the bench and drawing their focus.

Alik scoffed, rolling his eyes at Kaleena before they rested back on Natalya. 'Volodya said you were a little suka. I should have listened to him.'

'Then why bother me at all?' asked Natalya. 'I'm sure someone as gorgeous as you has their pick of the girls.' She made sure to drawl the word as she took a step closer to him.

In response, Alik also stepped closer to her. 'Everyone says you've got a good face. I like my women pretty.'

Just as Natalya inched ever closer and opened her mouth to rebuttal, Sveta tugged her back.

'That's a lovely thing to say, isn't it, medvezhonok?'

Whipping round to glare at Sveta, Natalya saw the imploring gazes of her fellow bunkmates gazing back at her. She knew what they were trying to say. Here was a willing, if not bitterly angry, potential husband. And all she was doing was ruining her own chances.

Swallowing her pride, Natalya turned back to Alik. 'Yes, that's nice. Thank you.' The words might have been hissed through gritted teeth, but she got them out.

His head tipped to the side, his shoulders relaxing slightly. 'So you do know when to be polite.'

Was this man deliberately goading her or was he just an arsehole? 'Seems so.' Flexing her fingers to ground herself, she tried to think of something to say that wouldn't insult him. 'So, have you had a wife before?'

'Yes. My last one just got released and I'm not spending the next few years without one.'

'Of course not,' said Natalya. 'Well, Andros is right. I'd be a great wife.'

Alik snorted. 'Yeah, for someone who likes to mix pain with pleasure.' He rubbed his temples quickly. 'I'm just looking for someone to visit who'll lie still and not cause me trouble.'

She wanted to suggest to him that a corpse sounded more like his ideal woman, but she just about managed to restrain herself. 'I can be that.'

'Maybe,' he sighed. 'I'll think about it.' He turned to leave, before thinking of one last thing. 'You'd be a lot prettier if you smiled.'

Mustering her best forced grin, Natalya beamed up at him. 'Better?'

He simply huffed irritably, then left.

Curling her lip at him behind his back, Natalya returned to her seat between Monja and Sveta. Monja had her head on the table, Sveta's face was shoved into her palms, and Kaleena and Jolanta were just staring at her opened mouthed.

'What?' asked Natalya nonchalantly.

'You're such an idiot,' muffled Sveta into her hands before she dragged them down her face. 'He was an actually good looking young man and you were so rude!'

'He was rude first.'

'They're all rude!' said Monja. 'Surely he's a better option than Volodya?'

'Perhaps, but-'

'If you had tried even a lick of charm, he would have committed right there and then,' continued Monja.

'If he was won over by charm, then surely he would have been polite to Kaleena,' Natalya pointed out. 'I think he's just a bitter shit.'

'So what?' said Sveta. 'Surely someone without an emotional attachment is a good option?'

'I'm with medvezhonok,' said Jolanta. 'He a grumpy arsehole. He might treat you bad.'

'Jolanta, you've never had to deal with this sort of shit,' sighed Sveta. 'He's by no means a good option out in the real world, but he's a veritable stud in here.'

'And Andros wouldn't have sent him if he thought he would hurt you,' said Kaleena. 'I think he'd be a good one to pursue.'

'Yeah,' grumbled Natalya running her hand through her short, fuzzy hair that was just long enough to tickle her fingers. 'You're right. I'll try and fix it.'

'It's for your own good,' said Monja, patting her shoulder. 'Believe me. You don't want to learn the hard way.'

Like her?

Natalya didn't want to ask how she knew. It would be too depressing. Instead, she went back to her stone cold borscht, and began imagining sweet nothings she might entice Alik with the next time she saw him.