Ekaterina Visskerchova

Class One

Only daughter of Yuri Visskerch and his wife Olga; named after the city in which they met, though Ekaterina grew up in St Petersburg.

Although she didn’t realise it, matters had been going badly wrong for her father for some months before one unforgettable night just over a year ago: Yuri’s internet postings had attracted the attention of the FSB, and he had been twice taken from his work as a local civil servant, and closely questioned about the political ideas that had led him to be so critical of President Putin’s government.

Fearing for his life, and those of his wife and daughter, Yuri roused little Ekaterina at 1am on the morning of January 23 2006 and told her to dress at once: They had to leave St Petersburg.

It was a long journey – over the border into Latvia, then Lithuania, Poland, Germany and France, her parents taking turns to drive non-stop, until finally they were aboard the Eurotunnel train to England.

Their new home was a tiny flat in Catford, South London; Ekaterina tried to question her father about the need for the trip, and how he had arranged it, but all he would refer to was ‘some friends’.

These ‘friends’ had also arranged a school for Ekaterina; just before her departure on her first day, father had explained, ‘You will be safe at this school; whatever happens to Mother or I, you, my daughter, will be safe’.

Once inside the LCPS, little Ekaterina realised that ‘safe’ meant not being allowed to go home at the end of the day; not surprisingly, she cried.

By great good fortune, she was found not by Sharp Set or Blue Brigade, but by Rosalee Reade, to whom she poured out her whole sorry story.

Ekaterina had not expected anyone to believe her, but Rosalee was all ears, taking in every fantastic word without a blink: When Ekaterina mentioned her father’s mysterious ‘friends’, Rosalee just nodded wisely and said ‘Russian Mafiya; I’ve read about them. Actually I might try and join them after I leave – that’s if there aren’t any jobs for pirates.  Do they all have to be able to speak Russian?  Do you think you could teach me?’

Rosalee added that it would probably be best if Ekaterina joined New School.

Ekaterina’s first meeting with the gang en-masse was a resounding success almost in spite if itself, ‘I wish to join your New School’, announced Ekaterina, standing smartly to attention, ‘I will do all required of me, and I am Russian, which means I am brave’.  This from the mouth of a very pretty newcomer alone in a strange country won her instant affection, if not actually admiration.

‘My name is Ekaterina Visskerchova’, she told them, still at attention, ‘But in St Petersburg, I am called Kitti’.

‘Kitty Whiskers?’ echoed one girl, ‘Nobody calls a kid Kitty Whiskers!’

‘She’s Russian; they wouldn’t understand it over there’, said Rosalee.  ‘Show us how you write ‘Whiskers’ in Russian, Kitti’.

Ekaterina did, but it made absolutely no difference, and she has been ‘Kitti Whiskers’ ever since.  She rather likes it.

Kitti has proved herself something of an asset to New School; her usual demeanour of hard-working innocence thoroughly belies her skills as a chocolate courier, and when a Blue Brigade boy from Class Three tried to bully her for being a ‘Commie’*, she punched him hard enough to make St Petersburg proud, and looked down at him (yes, I said hard) with the words ‘Comrade Trotsky was mistaken perhaps; seems we are not all equal’, before strolling off with her pretty nose in the air.

About the draconian nature of LCPS discipline, and some quite pernicious acts of bullying, Kitti is coolly sanguine.  ‘In St Petersburg my school had, in the basement, a small salt mine.  Here is nothing like this?’

We can only hope she’s right.

[*She’s aware of the Punk girl, Nina, who got beaten up by Blue Brigade for wearing a red star, but the two don’t actually get on.  Kitti’s comment is ‘I think Communism’s a bit stupid really, and anyway, Nina just talks about boys’.]

ALL LCPS STUDENTS ARE OVER 18 YEARS OF AGE