Back at her work in the library, she listened to the avid discussions about the events, contributing the occasional remark. She did not say she had once met Elena – that she had travelled in a car with her and helped arrest a young woman caught making illegal broadcasts. The best thing now was to get on with her work. Life went on; bills had to be paid. You lived with your ghosts as best you could.
There was one ghost that Zoia had not expected, though.
On New Year’s Day, she was crossing a street near the university, on her way to the library, when she saw three people walking across one of the squares – a woman and two men. She glanced at them incuriously, then looked again. The older man had a thin face with a small beard. He had a scholarly look about him, as if he might be a don. The younger man resembled him. But it was the woman who walked with them who drew Zoia’s eyes. Once she had looked at her she could not look away.
The years and deprivations of Pitesti Gaol had stripped the flesh from Elisabeth Valk’s bones, but she had been beautiful twenty years ago, and she was beautiful now, even thin and gaunt, her hair cropped short, her clothes unremarkable. She clung to the arms of the two men, as if she was afraid they might suddenly vanish, and she kept looking from one to the other. There was such deep love and gratitude in her eyes that Zoia felt something slam at the base of her throat. To feel like that, to have endured all that, and to come out and find your heart’s desire still there.
None of the three saw her, but she watched them until they were out of sight. Then she turned round and went on to her work in the library as usual.
The present
‘Matthew saw both his parents as heroes,’ said Petra, into the quiet room. ‘He saw them as idealists and even romantic. Two people who had wanted to save the world they lived in, and who had been hurt in the process.’
‘But she survived,’ said Theo.
‘Yes. She was frail and afraid of the world. They took her to Switzerland and she had five years with them before she died.’
‘And Andrei?’ asked Lesley.
‘He died shortly afterwards.’
‘Did you meet Elisabeth?’ said Theo.
‘Just once. It was a curious experience. I knew so much about her: what she had done, how brave and defiant she had been. What I saw was what was left after the brutality of a Romanian gaol. And yet,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘there was the impression of a light still flickering somewhere. Like seeing a flame through a misted-over window.’
Theo could not think of anything to say, and it was Lesley who reached out for Petra’s hand, and Guff who said, ‘My dear, I’m so sorry.’
‘Things heal,’ she said. ‘But I don’t forget him.’ She blinked, then said, ‘Is that the doorbell?’
It was the doorbell. It was Michael Innes.
‘You suggested I came back this evening,’ he said, looking hesitantly at Petra’s car. ‘But it looks as if you’ve got people here, and I don’t want to intrude—’ He broke off, hearing sounds of crockery from the kitchen where Lesley was helping Guff find something for supper.
‘Please come in,’ said Theo. ‘Stay to supper if you can.’ Not giving Michael time to refuse, he took him into the sitting room. Michael stopped dead in the doorway, and his eyes widened.
Then Petra said in a slightly shaky voice, ‘Hello, Mikhail. This is unfair, isn’t it? I knew you were coming – but you didn’t know I was here. Ghosts of the past gathering.’
‘Petra,’ he said. ‘I had no idea you were here. Oh God, it’s good to see you again.’ He went forward and as his arms went round her. Theo, who had thought his mother was taking this meeting in her stride, saw she was crying. The two of them stood together, locked in a tight embrace. Theo had the sensation that he was glimpsing a tiny fragment of the past: a fragment these two had known and were remembering.
‘Sorry for the melodrama,’ said Petra when she finally stepped back, still holding Michael’s arm. ‘Oh, Mikhail, it’s been so long. I should call you Michael, shouldn’t I? Can you stay to eat with us?’
‘Well, if it wouldn’t be—’
‘It wouldn’t be,’ she said. ‘Please stay. I still haven’t heard the half of what’s been going on here and I don’t suppose you have, either.’
‘And my great-uncle makes a mean omelette,’ said Theo. ‘I’ll tell him to beat up another couple of eggs.’ He went out, wanting to give his mother and Michael some time on their own.
Later, over the omelettes, he said to Michael, ‘I understand now why you didn’t seem surprised that I knew so much about Mara and Zoia and all the other things. At the time it puzzled me quite a lot, though.’
‘I assumed Petra had told you, or that you remembered hearing some of it all those years ago,’ said Michael, ‘when Andrei and Matthew were here.’ He looked back at Petra. ‘Andrei and Matthew poured it all out to you, didn’t they? About Jilava and the Securitate. The Black House. I remember Matthew telling me how patient and understanding you were.’
‘She always is,’ said Lesley and Michael glanced at her gratefully.
‘But for a time it became part of my life as well as yours and theirs,’ said Petra. ‘Remember I was there when the rebels turned on Ceauşescu.’
‘And I was safely here in England,’ he said, with a trace of anger in his voice. ‘I should have been there when they overthrew that evil creature.’
‘You had done a lot towards it,’ said Petra.
‘And perhaps,’ put in Guff, ‘it was safer not to be there.’
‘I would have gone back,’ he said, ‘but I was still at Queens – it wasn’t easy to vanish for a month or so. And there was Mara to consider.’
It was not until they were clearing the table, carrying plates to the kitchen, that Theo, keeping his voice low, said to his mother, ‘I haven’t asked you this yet, but you did meet Mara, I suppose?’
‘I met her once, while Andrei was here. Only very briefly, though. Why?’
The others were in the kitchen – Theo could hear Lesley saying she would make coffee, and Guff asking if anyone knew where the extra cups were kept.
‘I can’t help wondering exactly what Mara might be capable of,’ he said at last, and Petra looked at him thoughtfully.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I do know, though, that I always believed Michael would do absolutely anything to protect her.’
‘From the past, d’you mean?’
‘From her own particular part of the past,’ said Petra.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Mara knew that Mikhail had always tried to protect her and that he had very particularly tried to protect her from her own past. He had brought her to England, out of reach of Zoia and the Securitate, out of reach of the men in Jilava Gaol who had finally made her see – and admit – she was a murderess. After she entered St Luke’s, she had tried to atone for the murder of Annaleise, but she had never been sure she had done enough. Even so, after a while she had felt safe in the convent until Theo Kendal came to Fenn House.
At first Mara had not seen Theo as a threat to her safety. She had assumed he had come to Fenn to arrange for its sale, but Sister Catherine, visiting him that day, had reported he was here for some time. This was deeply disturbing to Mara, because whatever else Theo Kendal might do in Melbray, he was bound to ask questions about Charmery’s murder – questions the police had not asked, but questions that might lead to Mikhail and from Mikhail to Mara herself.
So she had watched Theo as much as she could, going stealthily down the lanes at night and stealing through the gardens of Fenn House. One night, when he was in bed, she had let herself into the house with the key she had taken four months earlier, and had switched on the laptop and read what was typed there. No one knew the quiet Sister Miriam understood computers. She had watched Sister Catherine use the convent’s machine several times. There had been some library records to be transferred and she had sat next to Catherine while it was done. It did not appear difficult. Catherine had explained quite a lot of it as she went, and had later left some of her notes lying around from the computer course. Mara made her own notes from them which she studied in the privacy of her room. It was probably knowledge she would never need, but all knowledge was good, and she was even able to test it on the computer when Reverend Mother was away. No one had known about that. She had struggled a bit at first, but then realized that once you understood the basic principles, it was not so very difficult to open and type a simple document.