‘What is it, Liev?’
The Cossack stretched his shoulders and rumbled something inaudible into his beard.
‘The thing is,’ Elena said stiffly, ‘he won’t come without you.’
Lydia closed her eyes and swayed back and forth on her feet.
Elena hadn’t finished. ‘He wants you to come with us.’
Lydia rubbed her hands as if it were the biting wind swirling off the river that was making her shiver. ‘Chyort! Liev, are you out of your mind? Me on a farm? Don’t be an oaf. I’m not a peasant with straw for brains. Go and play with your shovels and your hoes on your own, dig your holes without me.’
It was fleeting but she caught the look of relief on Elena’s face.
‘What will you do?’ Popkov’s deep voice was strained.
‘Oh, I’ll be safe, don’t worry. I’m going back to China.’
His black eye narrowed and like an old bull he shook his head, as if it had suddenly grown heavier. ‘You were desperate to get out of China. You said you hated it there.’
‘I lied.’
‘Let the girl be, Liev.’ It was Elena. She was assessing Lydia with a half smile on her lips. ‘It’s not the place she loves, can’t you see? It’s the person.’
‘But-’
‘No buts! Stop fussing over me, you stupid Cossack,’ Lydia complained. She pushed him away. ‘Off you go to the Ukraine.’ She smiled brightly, surprising herself, even laughed a little. ‘Have a good life. Thank you for everything.’
She spun round and walked away. But she’d not gone more than ten paces in the direction of Smolensk Square before she was plucked off her feet. She was dangled over the icy ground, enveloped in a great greasy embrace, and with no breath in her lungs she clung to him. As each second ticked by he crushed her harder to his chest, growling softly in his throat.
Just as suddenly he put her down. She thrust Dmitri’s gold ring into his pocket. ‘To buy some land,’ she said, then walked away and didn’t look back.
Lydia started to walk across the city but soon realised she hadn’t the strength to make it as far as the Arbat. So she climbed into an izvozchik, one of the horse-drawn taxi cabs, and settled its thick rug over her knees, arms wrapped around her bandaged waist. It was an uncovered vehicle, open to the elements, but that suited her. The snow had stopped and she liked the wind, cold in her face. The sky looked grey and old as it hovered over Moscow ’s roofs, and she felt a tug of dismay at the thought of leaving this city she’d fallen in love with.
The easy rhythm of the horse’s hooves was slow and restful, and it gave her time to think. She closed her eyes and let her mind open the way Chang An Lo had taught her, but still the images of the raging fire pressed in on her, the flames leaping in her face and roaring in her ears. Instead she clutched at the feel of her father’s hand in hers and the echoes of his voice when he said I love you for coming for me.
‘Papa,’ she whispered, ‘I’ll come back.’
One day she would. She didn’t know when or how, but she would. Russia had entwined itself into the fibres of her being and she could no more stay away from this city of domes than she could from the black soil Popkov and Elena would be churning up in the Ukraine.
A cart rumbled past in the street and the sound of a car’s klaxon brought her back to what lay ahead. She had to see Alexei. He was with Antonina in her apartment and Lydia needed to speak to him. She was angry with him for telling Chang to give her up but – she opened her eyes wide and felt her chest tighten – but despite Alexei, Chang would be waiting for her in China. She drew a deep breath and said aloud, ‘Be there, my love. Be there. For me.’ Once back in China she feared his country and his gods might steal him away from her.
‘Trust him,’ she whispered to herself and felt the wind carry her words to their ears.
The apartment was in chaos. Boxes everywhere. Furs and candlesticks and even a silver samovar overflowed from their gaping mouths. Books were stacked in piles on the floor and paintings propped against the wall. It struck Lydia as obscene that a Communist had owned so much, and corruption seemed to writhe from box to box like the string that lay abandoned on the Persian carpets. She’d found it hard to walk through the door again, as the memories of the last time still weighed too heavy in her mind.
Alexei was surprised to see her. ‘ Lydia, shouldn’t you be in bed?’ But he kissed her gently on both cheeks and did no more than raise one eyebrow at the sight of her hair. ‘I’m glad you’ve come because I have something for you.’
He led her to the study where Antonina was seated at the desk going through a drawer of Dmitri’s papers. She looked up and her dark eyes brightened. Then she saw Chang’s work with the knife and she frowned, before coming over to the doorway where Lydia had stopped – she didn’t care to enter that study again.
‘ Lydia, my dear girl, you’re…’ Lydia was sure the comment was going to be on her bizarre appearance but she was wrong. ‘So welcome.’ Antonina hugged her and for once there was no smell of perfume.
‘You look well,’ Lydia said.
‘I am well.’
In fact Lydia had never seen Antonina looking lovelier. But totally different. Her thick dark hair was tied loosely behind her head and she was wearing a plain blue dress and cardigan that had never been anywhere near Paris. But that wasn’t the only change. Her face was free of make-up and she wasn’t wearing gloves. There were shadows under her eyes as if she weren’t sleeping, but her mouth was free of the tension that had previously kept it hard.
‘Come and have coffee. Alexei, we’ll be in the drawing room.’
Tactfully she led Lydia away from the study, sat her down and drifted off to make coffee while Alexei talked. Lydia found it unsettling to be with this man who was not her brother. She had to rethink him.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked with concern.
‘Sore, but I’ll live.’ She smiled at him. ‘Thanks to you.’
He sat down in the chair opposite and stretched out his long legs in an awkward gesture, uneasy with her gratitude. She changed the subject.
‘You’re packing up, I see.’
‘Yes. They’re starting to ask questions about Dmitri’s whereabouts. It’s too dangerous to remain here, so we’re getting out today.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Antonina is changing her name so they won’t be able to trace her, and we’ve bought new identity papers. But we’re staying in Moscow and moving to a different district.’
‘Of course, Maksim is in Moscow.’
Alexei flicked a glance of annoyance at her and she studied his eyes. It was their colour that had misled her. It made her believe her mother’s assertion that Jens was his father, but how stupid could she be? Jens hadn’t been the only man in St Petersburg with green eyes.
Suddenly she leaned forward. ‘I’m going back to China.’
She heard his rapid intake of breath. ‘No, Lydia, don’t. It will be a mistake. Listen, why don’t you stay with us? Here in Moscow. We’ve found an apartment.’ He waved a hand around the high-ceilinged room. ‘Not desirable like this one, but it has two rooms, so-’
‘No, Alexei. Thank you, but no.’
‘Please, Lydia, don’t do this. It’s all wrong. What are you and I without Russia? It’s in our blood.’
She shook her head. ‘I love Russia. But not enough.’
Their eyes held. How could she ever have thought this man cold? The fire was there, deep in him, hidden behind the wall of pride. ‘I love you, my brother,’ she said softly. She couldn’t rob him of his father by telling him the truth.
He rose from his chair and knelt on the polished floor in front of her, taking both her hands in his. ‘Stay in Moscow,’ he begged. ‘I would like to have you at my side. With Maksim’s support I am going to remain one of the vory and intend to work my way up, so that-’