She headed over to the school, where summer camp was still in full progress. The yard was bustling with crisp white Young Pioneer shirts and shining bright eyes, little bodies all racing around and performing perfect cartwheels. Yes, she thought, Zenia was right. These children are the future of Tivil. It astonished Sofia to realise how much she cared. This village had in some strange way nestled tight against her heart.
‘Have you come to read to us?’
It was Anastasia, swinging on the fence with her feet bare, a tendril of hair threaded between her lips.
‘No, not today, Anastasia. Another time, I promise. I need to speak to your head teacher – will you do me a favour and tell her I’m here?’
At that moment she spotted Pyotr’s unruly mop of brown hair. He was over in the shade of a clump of alder trees, obviously demonstrating to a circle of younger boys how to build a cantilever bridge with logs and planks. It looked an elaborate construction to Sofia’s untutored eye and when a child leapt on to the central span and bounced up and down on it, she held her breath. But it didn’t collapse and she felt an absurd rush of pride in him. Anastasia’s eager eyes followed Sofia’s to Pyotr and her small chest heaved in a silent sigh. Then she skipped off to the stretch of parched grass where Elizaveta Lishnikova was timing races with a large stopwatch.
For one vivid second, Sofia wanted the world to stand still. Right here and now. With children at play and Mikhail safe in his bed, the sun shining and Sofia herself in the village street as if she belonged there. Just stop. Here and now in this small moment of happiness. To stay here for ever. But she drew in a deep shuddering breath and moved on to the next moment and the next after that. Because there was her promise to Anna.
But what if Anna were already dead? What if all this was for nothing?
‘What happened last night?’
Elizaveta gazed sternly at Sofia. ‘You were there,’ she said. ‘You have eyes in your head. You saw what happened yourself.’
They were standing in the teacher’s elegantly furnished living room. Pictures lined the walls, old photographs of men in extravagant uniforms and formidable women in large dresses, with medals and jewellery hand-tinted to shine out. Sofia wanted to spend time examining them, seeking out Elizaveta Lishnikova’s strong features in their faces, but such curiosity would not be welcomed. Instead she asked the question again.
‘What happened last night? You are a rational person. I don’t believe you would take part in a ceremony that was… unhealthy.’
‘Is that what you think it was? Unhealthy?’
‘No.’ Sofia shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. But I’ve seen the damage it does to Rafik and the way it makes him ill.’
Elizaveta frowned and ran a finger along the arch of one eyebrow, smoothing out the thoughts behind it. ‘Sit down,’ she said.
Sofia chose a seat on a fragile chaise longue and to her surprise Elizaveta came and sat beside her, her back erect and her hands folded quietly on her lap. The pose made Sofia think immediately of the aristocratic women in the photographs.
‘Comrade Lishnikova, I want to understand more about what it is the gypsies do.’ Sofia looked into the other woman’s proud brown eyes. ‘Please. Help me.’
The eyes didn’t change but the mouth opened a fraction and gave an involuntary smile. ‘I don’t know you, young woman, and this is a dangerous society we are living in, riddled with informers eager to earn a cheap rouble by making up lies about-’
‘I’m not an informer.’
‘You’ve been seen entering Deputy Stirkhov’s office.’
‘Word travels fast.’
‘This is Soviet Russia, so what do you expect? But tell me, if not to inform, why were you there?’ The older woman lifted her chin and peered down her long nose through half-closed eyes.
‘To protect Tivil.’
‘I think you mean, to protect Comrade Pashin.’
‘Both.’
Elizaveta nodded and the firm lines of her face softened. ‘Love is not the best guide, my dear. It makes us do things that…’ She shrugged eloquently.
Sofia laughed. ‘That are not always wise?’
‘Exactly.’
‘I’ll take that risk.’
‘Rafik has taken a risk trusting you, a stranger.’ She held up a hand impatiently. ‘No, don’t tell me you’re his niece because I don’t believe it. But…’ she paused and studied Sofia’s face, ‘Rafik has abilities that are beyond our understanding and I trust his instinct.’
‘Thank you.’
‘So I will tell you what I think happened last night, if you wish.’
Sofia leaned closer. ‘Please,’ she said.
‘You have to understand that Rafik has an extraordinary mind. Whether the skills he possesses are self-taught or inherited from his gypsy ancestry, who’s to say?’
‘Is it hypnotism?’
‘It’s more than that, I believe. He has a power of mind that can transcend the thoughts of others and manipulate them, but it’s at a cost to himself. He once told me it causes haemorrhages inside his skull.’
Sofia shivered. There was a brittle silence in the room. Outside, the sound of children’s laughter belonged to a different world.
‘So you help him, is that it?’ Sofia said quietly. ‘You and the blacksmith and Zenia, to lessen the damage he does to himself?’
‘Yes.’
‘So why choose me?’
‘I don’t know. You must ask Rafik that question. Each night he spins what he calls a thread of protection around the village, pacing out a circle. He says if he could pace round the whole of Russia, he would.’
Sofia smiled. ‘He’s a good man, but has he really helped Tivil?’
‘Good God, yes. We’re still alive, aren’t we? Other villages all around us have been decimated by famine and sucked dry by troops enforcing quotas, until sometimes no children at all have survived. Listen to ours.’ The shouts of the Young Pioneers at play made them both smile. ‘Tivil is still standing,’ Elizaveta said proudly.
‘With your help.’
‘I have no idea whether the input of someone like myself, a dethroned tsarist, or of that godless reprobate Pokrovsky provides any help or not in those ceremonies. But…’ she paused and rubbed two fingertips against her temples, ‘sometimes I feel things. In here.’ Her long fingers traced circles on her transparent skin. ‘When I’m with Rafik, I do believe.’ She shook her head and her voice grew stronger, more certain. ‘I hope that helps.’
‘So you believe the strange ceremony last night with all five of us might have created enough power of… some mysterious kind… to cause Mikhail’s release?’
‘It might. Oh, call it a miracle or call it a freak coincidence if you prefer, but the point is that Comrade Pashin was released.’
She rose to her feet and Sofia understood that the conversation was over.
‘One last thing,’ Sofia said quickly. ‘Tell me, please…’ she hesitated, as a roll-top desk in the corner caught her eye. It was made of exquisite satinwood and the top wasn’t quite closed. Just visible were a square inkpad, an ink stamp and what looked like a large magnifying glass. ‘Tell me whether you know anything about a hut in the forest that-’
‘There are many huts up there that hunters use,’ Elizaveta interrupted brusquely. She walked over to the desk and pushed it shut. ‘I know nothing about huts. Ask the blacksmith, he’s the one who’s often roaming around up there – when he’s out hunting, I mean.’
Sofia watched her and noted the teacher’s unease. Was it the desk? Had she seen something she shouldn’t?
‘In that case I’ll speak to Pokrovsky,’ Sofia said, moving towards the door. ‘Thank you for your time, comrade.’
They smiled at each other. Enough had been said.