Did he think her a traitor, then? Is that what he meant?
‘So what is it you said you have for me?’ she asked.
He scrutinised her face as though searching for something, before standing and removing some papers from a cabinet.
‘Here, new identity documents.’
Her heart thumped. ‘That was fast.’
‘A gift from Maksim.’
‘Thank him from me.’
‘I will.’ He stood looking down at her. ‘One last time, little sister. Give him up. You will make each other unhappy in the end.’
‘I can’t. Any more than I can give up breathing.’
‘Very well.’ He held out a packet. ‘Here’s a form with Dmitri’s personal stamp on it which will enable you to travel freely and buy tickets. And enough roubles – from Antonina – to get you to China.’
She took them. Her hand trembled as she blinked back tears. ‘What can I say, Alexei? You are the brother I always wished for.’
He smiled awkwardly, her words creeping under his guard.
‘And I have something for you,’ she added. ‘I hope it will please you.’ From her pocket she extracted a small folded piece of paper and handed it to him.
He unfolded it. ‘It’s one of Jens’ notes.’
It was the one in which he mentioned Alexei. ‘For you, if you’d like it.’
Alexei nodded and turned away quickly, but not before she saw an emotion she couldn’t read flood his face, making him look young and vulnerable. Carefully he refolded it and kept it in his hand.
At that moment Antonina entered bearing a tray. While Lydia drank the strong coffee and ate one of the warm croissants, Antonina snipped at her damaged hair with a pair of scissors, creating something orderly out of the havoc. It occurred to Lydia that Antonina would always be good at that. She watched Alexei observing every nuance of Antonina’s face as she worked and she hoped they would be good for each other. Afterwards she was taken to the main bedroom where gowns and shoes and sable stoles were scattered across the bed.
‘Help yourself to anything you want.’ Antonina waved an indifferent hand towards the bed and a black velvet box which sat open on the dressing table.
Even from where Lydia was standing by the door she could see the box contained jewellery. Unable to stop herself she was drawn to it, revelling in the glitter of diamonds and the buttery sheen of gold, but she didn’t touch anything. She might not be able to prise her fingers apart if she did.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For the roubles and now this offer. You are very generous. But no, I don’t need more.’
‘We’re going to sell it all. Getting rid of it through Maksim. Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘No desire for blood money, is that it?’
‘Something like that.’
‘I don’t blame you.’ Antonina came over and kissed Lydia’s cheek. ‘At least let me drive you to the station.’
Lydia stepped out of the sleek saloon. The station was thick with travellers, suitcases and porters’ trolleys fighting for space, but she barely noticed them. What she saw were the uniforms. Grey with blue flashes at the collar, diligently checking papers and scrutinising faces. Searching for someone.
‘Security police,’ she murmured to Alexei.
‘It’s not too late to turn back.’
The car door still stood open. All it would take was one step to be safe inside, but that one step would be a journey into her past instead of her future. Chang An Lo had offered her Hong Kong. It was an island teetering just off the mainland of China but it bridged the gap that yawned between East and West, between his world and hers. A British colony, yet at the same time a thriving Chinese centre of activity and growth. There he could still be part of his own country and could take his time to make his decisions. Whether to free his throat from the choking hand of Mao Tse Tung. And there it might even be possible to fulfil the dream she and her mother used to weave of her going to university one day. With a British passport, Hong Kong could be hers. Like an open door. All she had to do was push it wide and find Chang An Lo waiting for her.
She touched the quartz dragon at her throat. None of it would be easy, she knew that, because their love was fierce. It burned as well as bound them. Chang called her his fox; her mother had called her an alleycat – she was good at surviving. But their love? Would that survive what lay ahead?
Yes, she was determined they would make it survive. Each day they would breathe life into it, despite the dangers that circled them like wolves. She looked again at the officer in grey, at the gun holster on his hip, and she fingered the papers in her pocket. She knew that in China she would miss Russia the way she’d miss a limb, but to remain without Chang was impossible. She’d tried that. And almost died of the pain.
It’s not too late to turn back.
The car purred behind her, smelling of leather and cigars.
‘ Lydia?’ Alexei asked from inside.
Choose.
She closed the door and stamped her feet on the icy ground, smiling as she drew in a deep breath of Russian air and felt her heart race. There was a future ahead, one that she and Chang An Lo would carve together. It was a risk, but life itself was a risk. That much she’d learned from Russia, that much she’d learned from Jens. With a farewell wave to Alexei and a final touch of the Chinese amulet around her neck, to tempt the protection of Chang An Lo’s gods one last time, she looped her bag on to her shoulder and headed for the gateway.
Kate Furnivall
Kate Furnivall was raised in Penarth, a small seaside town in Wales. Her mother, whose own childhood was spent in Russia, China and India, discovered at an early age that the world around us is so volatile, that the only things of true value are those inside your head and your heart. These values Kate explores in The Russian Concubine.
Kate went to London University where she studied English and from there she went into publishing, writing material for a series of books on the canals of Britain. Then into advertising where she met her future husband, Norman. She travelled widely, giving her an insight into how different cultures function which was to prove invaluable when writing The Russian Concubine.
By now Kate had two sons and so moved out of London to a 300-year old thatched cottage in the countryside where Norman became a full-time crime writer. He won the John Creasey Award in 1987, writing as Neville Steed. Kate and Norman now live by the sea in the beautiful county of Devon, only 5 minutes from the home of Agatha Christie!
It was when her mother died in 2000 that Kate decided to write a book inspired by her mother's story. The Russian Concubine contains fictional characters and events, but Kate made use of the extraordinary situation that was her mother's childhood experience – that of two White Russian refugees, a mother and daughter, stuck without money or papers in an International Settlement in China.
