‘That’s very careless,’ the Colonel said when Iain told him about the photo.
‘Don’t think he knew it was taken.’
‘Have you got it?’
‘No,’ Iain hesitated. It hadn’t occurred to him to ask for a copy, ‘It was difficult as it was, Sir!’
‘Alright Collins, have a good return trip.’
10
It took Maija only to the first tram stop to tell Iain about Pia’s accident at the Linnonmaas’ house. Iain looked at Maija’s eager face.
‘I’m so relieved that Pia isn’t involved in anything, you know, what you thought.’ She straightened herself up slightly and looked out of the window. ‘Otherwise, I wasn’t sure if I’d have been able to come out tonight.’
‘I’m so glad,’ Iain said. The tram came to a corner and the movement shoved him nearer to Maija. She looked up at him. She looked so fragile. Iain bent down and kissed her mouth. He put his arm around Maija and said, ‘She’s a good girl, your Pia.’
Maija reached for a hankie in her handbag and blew her nose loudly. Iain took his arm away. He’d never get used to the manners of the Finns, even after marriage to one, it still took him by surprise how natural they found all their bodily functions. For sex, of course, it was liberating. The image of Kerttu’s full breasts flashed quickly in front of him. Iain glanced at Maija. He mustn’t feel guilty; it was just sex. Iain shook his head, this must not do. Concentrate on the task. He started talking about the film, Heaven Can Wait, they were about to see. Of course, in Britain it had been showing for weeks already, and he’d read the reviews in the papers at the Council. Just the sort of romantic thing Maija would like, he thought.
‘So, tell me, what did Pia say she’d done at Anni’s?’ Iain was taking a chance, asking too much might make Maija suspicious, but he could not think of any other way of getting the information. The Colonel had told Iain about the ‘incident’ at the Linnonmaas’ flat. Iain’s new brief was to forget about the Linnonmaas and concentrate on Kovtun and Pia. But how could he when the two seemed intertwined?
‘They’d been messing around in the snow outside, you know kids’ stuff, really too childish for them, and had fallen sideways onto some rock or other,’ Maija said.
‘But you said she had marks on her wrists?’
Maija looked sharply at Iain.
‘The ropes on the sleigh were around her wrists.’
When they arrived at the Kino there was already a queue for tickets. They heard a commotion, someone shouting ahead of them. Iain leant across to get a better view. He felt Maija’s body next to him, also stretching to see. A man in a shabby coat was talking to the ticket seller in a loud voice. The woman behind the glass was shaking her head. She looked frightened. The man was holding a bottle of clear liquid, and waving it at the woman inside the booth. He said something and stuck the bottle in his pocket. A real drunk, Iain thought. The man turned around and Iain could feel Maija freeze. She moved swiftly back in line with the queue. The man had both his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He was standing still, staring at Iain and Maija. People behind him in the queue were nudging him to move and eventually he did, walking slowly past the queue and past Maija and Iain. When he was level with them, he looked at Maija and smiling said, ‘Dobryj večer’.
Iain watched the man, who kept his eyes on Maija as long as he could, walk out of the glass door. The queue was moving quickly forward. Iain glanced at Maija. She was facing forward, with her head held high. She hadn’t reacted in any way when the man had spoken Russian to her.
‘Did you know him?’ Iain asked, trying to sound casual.
‘Who?’
‘The Russian man.’
Everyone in the queue turned to look at Iain. He coughed and looked down at his boots. He’d forgotten Finns didn’t use that word.
‘Of course not,’ Maija said, lifting her eyes to Iain and then looking pointedly at the people around them. Iain nodded and placed his hand around Maija’s waist. She was still tense.
When Iain paid for their tickets, he said, ‘What did the drunk want?’
The cashier looked at Iain in surprise.
‘Come on, the film is about to start,’ Maija said anxiously, taking hold of Iain’s arm. But Iain wasn’t budging. He glanced at the clock above the ticket booth and saw they had plenty of time yet. The woman behind the glass was looking from Maija to Iain. A couple behind Iain in the queue started to shuffle closer to him. Eventually the ticket seller coughed and said, ‘Oh, he just wanted to buy a ticket to the cinema with a bottle of vodka. Like many of the Soviet citizens we get here, he had no Finnish marks.’
Just as the film was about to start, Iain made an excuse. ‘Sorry Maija, need the loo,’ and found a telephone in the foyer of the Kino Theatre. He was glad to see it was empty. Even the lady selling the tickets had left her post.
‘We need to talk to the girl again. She’s becoming a nuisance, isn’t she,’ the Colonel said.
Iain had considered telling the Colonel of the little incident with Maija and the Russian, but decided against it. He needed to work out what it meant first.
Back in his seat, next to Maija, Iain put his arm around her. The film had barely begun, but he needed to get back to Maija’s flat as soon as possible. He started to cough violently, taking his arm back and reaching for a handkerchief in the pocket of his trousers. A few people around them started to shift uncomfortably in their seats. Iain’s throat hurt. Maija whispered, ‘Should we leave?’
Iain insisted that, as recompense for missing the film, he should take Maija right back to her flat instead of saying goodbye at the tram stop on Erottaja. Iain thought he might get in to check, and hopefully talk, to Pia about that night’s events. In the tram to Kasarminkatu, Iain was thinking how close he was to telling Maija all. She didn’t lack intelligence; he feared she’d soon see through the stupid excuses he had to invent to speak to Pia. If only there were fewer days until the Geordie gunboat sailed back to the UK. Iain didn’t know how long he could keep up this act.
Pia woke to the sound of a door slamming. She was fully clothed, but covered by a blanket. For a moment she didn’t know where she was. She held her breath and listened for any noises. She’d been dreaming of being shut in a ship, sitting amongst crates of machine guns, surrounded by the faint scuffling of rats and dirt, hiding from the Gestapo. The hold of the ship smelled musty and all Pia could hear were the echoes of somebody’s heavy boots walking on the deck above her.
Pia sat up and looked around the room. The street light cast an orange glow through the Venetian blinds. She put her bedside lamp on and saw a note had been pushed under the door.
‘I’ve gone out to the cinema with Iain. Have the tinned pea soup and rye bread for supper. Mum.’
Pia looked at her watch and saw the red marks on her arms and suddenly remembered. No wonder she had the Gestapo dream! Pia didn’t want to leave her room in case someone was lurking behind the sofa in the living room. She shook her head, determined to ignore the fear. Light, she thought. That will make everything look normal. Now the room looked safe, with no hidden corners, just the piles of clothes on the floor, the school books on the desk, reminding Pia of the Finnish homework she had to do for the Old Crow.