He was half on the bed, his back against the headboard, the television on but with the volume low. He got up at once, coming to her, and Natalia reached out and clung to him, her head against his chest, and found herself crying – like so much else without knowing why.
Charlie smoothed her hair and she felt his lips against her forehead. He said: ‘You’re OK. You’re safe. What is it?’
Natalia shook her head, still against his chest, and said: ‘Nothing.’
‘You’re crying!’
‘I could hardly wait to get here. I’ve been so miserable, so angry, with myself all day. I don’t know…’ Natalia foundered to a halt. Why were the words in her head at other times never there when she needed them!
‘I don’t…’ started Charlie.
‘I’m sorry,’ Natalia interrupted, wanting to say it all. ‘So very, very sorry. Last night was a nonsense – I was nonsensical – and I can’t understand…’ There was another momentary stumble. ‘…I’m ashamed and sorry and say you’ll forgive me.’ Babbling like a fool, Natalia thought: I’m babbling like a fool – I am a fool – and making myself appear a bigger idiot.
Charlie pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length. Natalia was red-eyed and red-nosed and serious-faced. He said: ‘That it?’
She jerked her head up and down, not speaking because she couldn’t get the words in the correct order.
He smiled at her and said: ‘You’ve got a dew-drop on the end of your nose.’
Natalia gave a cry and swivelled away from him, scrubbing her hand across her face and said: ‘My god…I don’t believe it!’
‘Actually you didn’t have.’
‘But…’
‘I had to do something to stop you cutting your wrists and bleeding to death.’
She smiled back at him shyly. ‘Oh I love you so much!’ And she did: utterly and completely. How could she have the previous night…she began to think and then stopped, because she didn’t have to go on. He’d forgiven her, made a joke about it and he was the most wonderful man she’d ever known and she was going to be with him for the rest of her life. For ever and ever and ever.
He led her further into the room, to the only easy chair again, and said: ‘Last night was a nonsense, wasn’t it?’
Natalia gave a helpless shoulder lift. ‘I don’t know why…’
‘… You already told me.’
‘You haven’t said you forgive me.’
‘You haven’t definitely said you’re going to stay.’
‘I’m going to stay, my darling,’ assured Natalia fervently. ‘Of course I am going to stay.’
‘You haven’t told me about Eduard,’ Charlie reminded solemnly.
‘Perhaps because I don’t want to.’
‘What happened!’ demanded Charlie, misunderstanding.
Natalia told him of Eduard’s last leave and of her son’s coarseness and of how much the boy had reminded her of her abandoning husband. ‘He was awful! Disgusting! I hated it!’
‘He’s still your son,’ frowned Charlie, in another reminder.
‘He doesn’t want me, need me, any more,’ insisted Natalia. ‘I’m sure his only reaction to my not going back will be to worry about his career. And under Gorbachev I don’t think that will be affected: that he’ll be affected.’
‘There’s a lot to plan. To work out,’ said Charlie. ‘I’ll do it all.’
‘I won’t defect,’ Natalia announced.
Charlie stared at her, bewildered. ‘What!’
‘I’ll run with you. Stay with you. But I won’t go through the debriefing routine: tell your people things that will make me a traitor.’ The determination had not been so positively formed in her mind the previous night – she hadn’t had such a determination the previous night – but Natalia abruptly wondered if subconsciously that hadn’t been partially responsible for what she now considered an aberration. Maybe Charlie would understand. Maybe he wouldn’t. It was, after all, illogical, although not at all to her. Technically she would be a defector, a traitor: fit the description of all the denunciations that might be made against her. But not in reality, according to her own definition. She was remaining in a foreign, alien country with the man she loved and who loved her, in return. But that was all. She didn’t intend disclosing any details of her previous operational life, any secrets. She felt for the Soviet Union as only a Russian could feeclass="underline" could understand, even. She wouldn’t betray or disgrace it.
‘I see,’ said Charlie doubtfully.
‘I hope you do.’
‘There’ll be pressure.’
‘I won’t need to apply for asylum, if I’m your wife,’ pointed out Natalia.
‘No,’ Charlie agreed, but still doubtfully. Professional decision time for him as well, he realized. There was no point in discussing it with her now, overcrowding her with ideas of change and sacrifice.
‘I can’t avoid the way I feel,’ offered the woman.
‘I said I understood.’
‘When?’
The decisive question surprised Charlie. Even more surprising – astonishing – he realized that although he’d been consumed with her staying with him he hadn’t given any thought to the mechanics of achieving it. He said: ‘I’ll need to think. To sort it out.’
‘It can work, can’t it?’ Natalia demanded, doubtful herself now.
‘Of course it can,’ said Charlie encouragingly.
‘We are going to be happy, aren’t we?’
Charlie leaned across the narrow space separating them and pulled her to him, on the bed. ‘I don’t have to tell you that.’
‘I want to hear you say it.’
‘We’re going to be happy,’ said Charlie obediently. ‘It’s going to be difficult and involve a lot of adjustments and there are going to be disputes and arguments but mostly we’re going to be happy.’
‘I know that,’ said Natalia. ‘I’m prepared for it: all of it.’
Was she, wondered Charlie. He said: ‘How closely are you watched?’
Natalia hesitated. ‘Fairly closely,’ she conceded. She felt enormous relief at having committed herself. And anxiety, too. Anxiousness to do it: positively to flee and set up home with him. For the first time Natalia realized that in Moscow she’d never thought of their relationship as being properly settled and established: that it was as transitory as it had proved to be.
‘Is there the possibility of your getting away from the group to be completely by yourself?’
Again there was not an immediate reply. Then she said: ‘I’ve never actually tried it, not here. On the other trips there were shopping expeditions but everyone had to go in parties of three or four. And there always seemed to be someone from the local embassy, ostensibly to help with any language difficulties.’
‘When do you think you’ll have most time?’
Natalia considered once more. Then she said: ‘Towards the end, I suppose. The days we go to the air show are fairly regimented.’
‘What about feigning illness? Staying behind one day?’
She shook her head at once. ‘They’d call the embassy doctor. Even if I managed to fool him someone from the embassy would stay with me. I might attract attention to myself, trying to do that.’
‘The end then,’ agreed Charlie.