‘Spasibo, my friend,’ he said softly and Sofia was jealous of the deep affection in his voice. Without looking round he asked, as though it were unimportant, ‘Did you get my letter?’
‘What letter?’
‘I gave a letter to Zenia to deliver to you. I knew I wouldn’t be back until late tonight because I had to finish writing a report. Didn’t you receive it, the letter?’ He swung round and gazed intently at her face.
‘No. I came here straight from working in the fields.’
‘Oh, Sofia!’
She didn’t know what he meant by that. A bat dipped close to their heads as though listening in on their conversation, before swooping up over the grey outline of the stable roof and disappearing into the darkness. The freedom of its movement suddenly galled Sofia. She felt a spike of anger at Mikhail, who seemed to possess that same freedom, able to travel anywhere, but considered it too inconsequential to mention.
That was when she said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Now he was looking at her as if expecting a response, but a response to what? She had the feeling she was missing something here, something big. Mikhail opened his mouth to speak, but just then the horse stamped its foot impatiently and instead he gathered the reins in his hand.
‘Come on, my midnight wanderer.’
Sofia didn’t know if he was talking to her or the horse, but was content when together they left the yard and walked into the sweet-scented stable where she lit an oil lamp. Mikhail unsaddled Zvezda and started brushing him down with long soothing strokes. Sofia filled the water bucket and hay net. They worked in companionable silence, except for Mikhail’s low murmurs to the horse, and Sofia enjoyed the ordinariness of working alongside him; it gave her a sense of satisfaction she hadn’t expected. When eventually he blew out the lamp, they retraced their steps into the yard. She was taken by surprise when he stopped by the trough where she had been sitting earlier.
‘You must be cold after waiting so long.’
He took up his jacket and draped it over her thin blouse, his hands lingering on her shoulders. She could smell the scent of him wrapped around her body and it released some of the tension from her skin.
‘Tell me what was in the letter, Mikhail.’
‘I’m not sure that you’ll want to hear this.’
‘Try me.’
‘It’s about tomorrow.’
Her stomach tightened. ‘You’re going to Leningrad.’ Her voice sounded flat.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Weren’t you going to say goodbye? Or is that what the letter was for?’
‘If you haven’t yet read my letter, how did you know I was leaving?’
‘Pyotr told me.’
‘Ah yes, Pyotr. The boy is unhappy at being left behind in Tivil.’
She stared at him aghast. His face lay in deep shadow.
‘You’re abandoning your son?’
There was an odd little pause, a kind of blink in time, then Mikhail placed a hand on her arm and shook it hard. The movement shocked her, as did his rough laugh.
‘So you think me a deserter,’ he said.
She had offended him.
‘Yes.’
‘The boy will survive.’
‘I’m sure he will.’
But will I?
‘The delegations meet for only a few days.’
‘Delegations?’
‘Yes. It’s the summons to report to the Committee of Soviet Production and Distribution. An annual chore that…’ He stopped, removed his hand from her arm and stepped back. One half of his face slid into the moonlight and she could see that his cheek muscle was taut. ‘You thought I was going away for ever,’ he said quietly. ‘Didn’t you?’
She nodded.
‘You thought I was going off permanently to the bright city to enjoy myself without my son and without saying goodbye… to you.’
Sofia ducked her chin to her chest miserably and nodded again. Then the fact that Mikhail was coming back to Tivil in just a few days sank in and got the better of her. She looked up at him with a wide grin.
‘It wasn’t your going away that I minded. It was that I wouldn’t get to ride on Zvezda any more. I’d have to walk all the way to Dagorsk.’
He threw back his head and laughed, and the unfettered joy of it made her blood pulse. A sudden gust of wind played with his hair as if it would laugh with him. Sofia wanted to touch the long line of his throat with her fingers to feel the vibration inside it.
‘Come,’ he said.
He drew her arm through his, heading out of the courtyard and down the slope towards the silent village. Walking with him at night felt secretive and involving, as though the darkness belonged just to them. She breathed deeply, the rich damp odour of the black earth bringing a sense of belonging into the empty corners of her mind. Her fingers rested on his forearm.
‘Shall I tell you a story?’ he asked.
‘If it’s a funny one. I’m in the mood to laugh.’
‘I think this one will amuse you.’
She lengthened her stride to his. On either side, cabbages looked like shaggy grey chickens roosting for the night.
‘Tell me,’ she said.
‘Well, you recall the steep flight of stairs up to my office at the factory?’
‘Yes.’
He chuckled and she found herself smiling in anticipation.
‘My assistant, Sukov – remember the cheeky bastard who brought us our tea this morning? – he fell down them today. All the way from top to bottom and broke his leg in two places.’
Sofia halted and stared at his delighted smile. ‘What is remotely funny about that?’
Mikhail’s smile widened, but his eyes were dark and serious. ‘He was coming to Leningrad with me in the morning. Now it means there’s a train seat and a travel ticket going spare.’
The river gleamed like polished steel in the moonlight. Sofia waded into it, naked. Even the touch of the chill water on her skin couldn’t cool the heat in her blood.
One week with Mikhail. She was to have one whole week. Just the two of them. It was more than she’d ever dared hope for, much more. Just the thought of it set her heart drumming in her chest and she gazed up at the dazzling array of stars above, as if they’d been put there tonight just for her. She laughed out loud. The happiness wouldn’t stay inside, it just bubbled out into the silent night. She splashed a spray of water up towards the stars and laughed again when she heard a plop in the water where some night creature took fright at her antics.
Sleep had been impossible. She could no more close her eyes than she could close her heart, so she had come down to the river, alone and unseen, and washed away the dust of the fields from her limbs.
Anna, are you looking at this same moon? These same stars? Waiting for me. Oh Anna, I’m coming, I promise. Hold on. I’ll know. By the end of this week together I’ll know if I can ask him to help. Your Vasily. She hesitated, then spoke the words aloud this time so that her ears would have to hear them.
‘Your Vasily. Don’t hate me, Anna. It’s for you. I swear it’s for you.’
She plunged under the surface of the water, a cold black world where it was impossible to tell which way was up and which way was down.
A shadow, among many shadows. The night was full of them: the swaying of branches in the breeze, white drifts of mist rising to swallow the paths, a fox or a vole scampering on its nocturnal run. But still she saw the shadow.
She was dressed and standing on the river bank when the narrow track across the river changed fleetingly from silver to black, then again further along. Instantly she was alert and retreated into the overhanging curtain of a willow tree. From there she watched the shadow and quickly made out that it was a man, and that he was walking away from her. The moonlight painted the back of his head and sketched his long limbs, and for one breathless moment Sofia thought it was Mikhail come to seek her out. But then a wisp of light caught the long back of the ghost-dog at the shadow’s side and she realised it was Aleksei Fomenko with his hound.