‘Jens told me. He said that Alexei is not his son. That my mother got it all wrong and even Alexei’s own mother lied about it.’ The sorrow on her face flickered like the shadow of a night spirit in the candlelight.
‘Oh my Lydia, in that fire you lost your brother as well as your father.’
She smiled at him, a fragile twist of her mouth. ‘Your gods exacted a high price,’ she said. ‘And now they’re stealing you from me again.’
‘Come with me.’
Her eyes widened. ‘To China?’
‘Yes.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Have you forgotten? We decided long ago that while you are fighting for the Communists there is no place for a Western girl dragging at your heels. No world in which I could find a place.’
‘There is one.’
‘Where?’
‘Hong Kong.’
57
The car was crowded and its interior smelled of China instead of Russia. Lydia was pressed tight against the window with Chang An Lo beside her, a barrier between her and the others. His hand had clasped her own the moment they entered the car and though he was arguing fiercely with the one he called Biao, his fingers never left hers.
Her canvas bag lay on Chang’s lap on top of the satchel, as if he would hide her from the Chinese intruders. Biao and another one in black were crowded on the far side of Chang on the rear seat, while three more were in the front. The one in the driver’s seat had a silvery scar where one of his ears should be.
Their voices sounded harsh to Lydia’s ears, a flood of angry Chinese words filling the air between Chang and Biao, friends who were fighting like enemies. She longed to know what was being said but she knew Chang would tell her only as much as he wished her to know. She leaned her head against the window and watched the snow and the streets dissolve behind the mist of her breath. She was frightened of what else might dissolve.
‘Lydia.’
The words had stopped.
‘Tell me what is happening, Chang.’
His hand tightened on hers and he spoke in English, so that none of his compatriots would understand.
‘ Lydia.’ The way he said her name, she knew what was coming wasn’t good. ‘I must leave you, Lydia. No, my love, don’t look like that, it won’t be for long. We agreed,’ he said softly, ‘that we shall meet in Hong Kong. I will be there, I swear. But I can’t travel with you through Russia, they won’t let me.’
She glanced at the heads in front. ‘Not even if we run from these-?’
‘No, no more risks, Lydia. If you and I escape together, these people will hunt us down as we travel the thousands of miles back to China. I won’t put you in that danger. This time,’ he touched her neck, ‘I want you safe.’
‘So what are we to do?’ She glanced at Biao who was staring straight ahead, unwilling to look at her.
‘It is settled.’ He held both her hands in his and so she knew it was bad.
‘Tell me.’
‘I am to travel with the delegation back to China and report to Mao Tse Tung. I have given my word that I shall give them no trouble.’
She smiled at him. ‘Chang An Lo masquerading as a demure lamb, that will be something to see.’ But his eyes held no laughter. ‘What do we get in exchange?’ she asked in a low voice.
‘A guardian for you.’
‘I don’t need a guardian.’
‘Yes, you do. The Russian secret police are searching for you, so-’
‘Who? Who is this guardian?’
Chang glanced at Biao’s sullen profile.
‘No,’ Lydia said sharply, ‘I refuse to have-’
‘Don’t, Lydia, please don’t fight this.’
She swallowed the words on her tongue and saw his dark eyes follow the silent movement of her lips as she struggled to accept what he was saying.
‘Biao will escort you all the way to Vladivostok. With him, you should have no trouble from the Russians. Then down south through China to Hong Kong.’
‘He hates me,’ she whispered. ‘Why would he do such a thing?’
‘Because I have ordered him to do so. I know he will protect you with his life.’
‘Even though he hates me?’
‘Trust him, Lydia. He will bring you safely to China.’
She hung her head and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to him. ‘I would give my heart’s blood to travel with you, my love, but it would just bring more danger down on your head.’ He kissed the side of her chopped hair.
‘You’ll meet me?’ she asked. ‘You’ll be there?’
‘I promise.’
‘You won’t change your mind and go off with your Communists again?’
‘No. Not this time.’
Their eyes held and she believed him. It was a risk but she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t take it. He leaned forward, seeing the belief in her eyes, and kissed her mouth, ignoring the others in the car.
‘Now,’ he said softly, ‘where is your Cossack bear waiting for you?’
The snow had stopped falling. As Lydia walked on to Moscow ’s Borodino Bridge in the southwest of the city, cars rumbled past with chains on their tyres and a pale watery sun sat low on the horizon as though it had no strength to struggle any higher. She felt a rush of relief when she saw the Cossack waiting for her and he bared his teeth at her approach. Had he feared she wouldn’t come? That she wouldn’t keep their agreed meeting, here among the cast-iron boards listing the heroes of the 1812 war?
‘I’m not locked up in the Lubyanka yet,’ she smiled.
Lubyanka prison was the nightmare of Moscow, a handsome yellow-brick mansion where dungeon interrogations took people apart piece by piece in ways they had never imagined possible.
‘Don’t mention that stinking place,’ he growled and his single black eye studied her. ‘You look a mess.’
She ignored him. ‘Hello, Elena.’
The woman standing beside him had her arms folded and she was staring at the strands of hair poking out under Lydia ’s hat, but she made no comment. ‘You got here,’ was all she said.
‘So, Liev. Off to the Ukraine?’
‘Da. It’s still got real people in it. Fuck Moscow. It’s no more than a Soviet machine.’
Lydia put out a hand and touched his granite chest with her fingertips. ‘Take good care of yourself, my friend.’ She looked up at him. ‘Are you feeling better?’
‘Like a spring lamb.’
She laughed.
‘And you?’ he asked, drawing his beetle brows together.
‘More like an old goat.’
He nodded, fingering his beard thoughtfully, and she noticed it was singed into a lopsided mat. Suddenly a narrow face popped out from behind his back.
‘Whose car was that you came in?’
‘Edik! What are you doing here? And Misty.’ She ruffled the pup’s feathery ears. ‘The car belongs to some rather unpleasant companions of my Chinese friend.’
Popkov scowled. ‘They’ve taken him?’
She nodded and stared down at Popkov’s ancient leather boots, the howling wolf tooled on their sides. ‘Liev,’ she said softly, ‘you knew about Alexei all along, didn’t you?’
He grunted.
‘That he wasn’t my brother. You knew all along. That’s why you were such a bastard to him.’
He grunted again.
‘You should have told me.’
‘Nyet. I couldn’t. It made you happy.’
Her throat felt too tight. She said nothing more. A horse and cart clattered past, scattering a spray of filthy grey snow over them, and Misty barked. The world was still moving.
‘I’m going to grow wheat,’ Popkov announced.
‘You?’ Lydia smiled. ‘A farmer?’
‘We’ll learn,’ Elena asserted confidently. ‘Edik is going to help us, aren’t you, boy?’ She gave him a dig in his skinny ribs and he laughed.
‘If you force me to,’ he grinned.
Lydia looked at the family of three, at the warm pride in Liev’s battered face, and she envied them. ‘Be happy,’ she murmured and found it hard to let him go. Liev kept staring at her, then switching his gaze to a laden barge lumbering up the Moskva River, then staring at her again.