I became convinced that I was being watched, and turned around to look at the building over my shoulder. That caused another wave of nausea and I slowly fumbled for my map. I unfolded it slowly, thinking how I must look drunk, and traced my way back to the Metro.
I was woken by a ringing telephone. I sat up, still groggy, thinking, I’ve missed it. I don’t know who called. But we didn’t have a phone. The room was dark, but a little daylight seeped around the edge of the door. I dragged myself to the kitchen. Kit was eating a sausage sandwich.
‘Darling, what’s wrong?’
‘Please can I have some water?’
‘Go and sit down, I’ll bring it to you.’
I lay down on the sofa and stared up at the man and dog, who in turn stared up to space.
‘Here you go.’
I sat up and drained the glass.
‘Are you sick?’
‘Yeah. I don’t know what it is. I just feel awful.’
‘Were you out today?’
I nodded. ‘I went to see Eva Mann.’
Kit went over to the record player, placing the needle on the record. La Traviata, again. Then he came at sat on the floor by my head. I put the back of my hand over my eyes, partly because of the light, and partly so I didn’t have to look at Kit.
‘What did she say?’
‘She was angry with me. She said I didn’t understand and that the Soviet Union was the new Roman Empire. Or something like that.’
I heard Kit blow air from the corner of his mouth. ‘Right. Did she give you anything to eat or drink?’
I uncovered my eyes. He was serious.
‘Tea.’
I felt sick again. She had put something in my tea. She had done this.
I whispered, ‘She poured all the tea from the same teapot, though.’
‘It doesn’t mean that there wasn’t something already in the cup. Could you see?’
‘No. Not from that angle. Oh,’ I realised, ‘she changed cups. She was going to use china and then used glass. But, no. That’s silly. Of course she hasn’t poisoned me. I think she’s lonely, Kit. I don’t think she’d poison me. She wants me to come back. I think.’ The end was all a bit hazy.
Kit stood up, went to the writing table, and came back with a piece of paper.
‘Draw her apartment for me. Everything that you can remember. And write down what she said.’
‘Kit, it doesn’t make sense anymore.’
‘Never mind. We can go over it tomorrow.’
‘She must be important to get a place like that to live. It was really stunning.’
Kit snapped his fingers and pressed the pencil into my hand.
‘Martha, do it now, before you drop off again. I’m going to get you some bread and water. I think that’s all you should have tonight.’
‘OK. I will.’
14
I felt weak for a long time. Kit phoned the UPDK office to cancel Galina for the week, and I didn’t even hear Natalya come in on her days. We’d been taking it in turns to leave our sheets for Natalya to wash, but Kit didn’t want to move me. He put his sheets out to be washed again.
When he sat on my bed with soup or tea, I tried to answer his questions about Eva, but it was all fuzzy.
‘You won’t go again, will you, Martha?’
I shook my head, but I couldn’t hold his gaze. I noticed that the way Kit looked at me had changed, and I wondered if I had spoken aloud when I was ill. The next time I opened my eyes, he’d gone again.
I dreamed of wolves in birch forests, the trees growing cherries and stars. Sometimes, I woke convinced that I wouldn’t go there again, and sometimes I was desperate to go back. Eva was one of the most interesting things about Moscow. That little seed of the booklet, which I read and reread, was a riddle I wanted to solve.
Eva was special. She knew both what it was like to live in England and in Moscow, and I wanted to know what it was that had made her jump from one to the other. Was she a communist? It was so hard knowing that she couldn’t speak freely, but she wanted something from me. She’d given me the booklet. But then, I’d realise, she hadn’t. It was a trap. I’d walked into it and she’d poisoned me. I’d get to a point when I couldn’t process any more questions, and fall back to sleep.
When I could stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time, I thought of home. I imagined Pa coming in from work to sit at the table for dinner, while Ma discussed the village gossip. Her letters had covered nothing of note, but it seemed so much more informative than mine. The neighbours’ gardens, the local history group and the latest on the bypass. I’d read them all three times, but learned nothing about my parents’ lives.
I finally made it out of bed and into the kitchen to find a pan full of scarlet borscht. Either Natalya had been here this morning, or it had been sitting there since the day before. I touched the saucepan. It wasn’t warm, but I heated it up and took a bowl to the table. After I finished, I went back for more, but this time I looked for the sour cream in the fridge and rye bread to wipe the bowl clean.
That made me feel much better. I checked the time and saw Kit should be home in an hour. I hoped I’d left enough for him.
I opened the doorway to the balcony for some fresh air. It was very fresh indeed. I pulled my cardigan tight over my nightdress, and quickly closed it again.
I heard the key in the lock and was pleased Kit had come home early. But it wasn’t Kit. Charlie stood in the doorway to the front room, swinging Kit’s keys around his finger.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Christopher lent me his keys.’
‘Why would he do that?’
Charlie sat in the armchair and smirked. ‘He explained how sick you were, and I’m pleased to see that you are better than he suggested. He knew he was going to be late, so I said I’d call in on you. And here I am.’ He looked at my nightdress and I pulled the cardigan tighter.
‘Thank you for calling, but I’m still not feeling very well, so I’d like you to leave.’
Charlie stood and took a few steps towards me before putting the keys on the table and holding his hands up. I was trapped by the balcony door. If I screamed, would anyone come?
‘You didn’t tell him that I called before. Why would you keep that a secret, unless you like,’ he smiled, ‘secrets?’
Another step, and he held me by both wrists.
‘Charlie, get off me.’
‘Oh, Martha, you don’t mean that. I saw the way you looked at me, and Christopher – well, he’s Christopher. Isn’t he?’
He pulled my wrists behind his waist so I was holding him. I twisted, but I couldn’t free them. He leaned in to kiss me. I turned, and I could hear him breathing. And, I realised, people were listening to this.
‘I’m being assaulted!’ I shouted. ‘Help me!’
He let go of one hand and grabbed my face. ‘There’s no point to this, Martha. Everyone knows you don’t have a proper marriage. I can do things for you that Christopher can’t.’
He pulled my face towards his and I screamed, tried to knee him in the groin, and pulled away. He still held my right hand, but with my left I picked up the tin money box and held it up.
‘Listen! Someone is trying to kill me!’
‘Why are you saying that? Come on, Martha, I just want a kiss.’
‘His name is Charles! He’s married, he has a child and he works for the British Embassy.’
He let go. ‘You little cheat. Is there someone here?’
He went into the hallway to check the kitchen and the bedroom. I slammed the door behind him and pressed myself against it. He turned the handle and pushed back.
‘Martha, come on. It was just a bit of fun.’
‘Get out of my house!’
There was a final bang against the door, and then I heard the front door open and close. I stayed where I was, the money box cutting into my hand where the tin hadn’t been smoothed off on the edge. I waited until I had stopped shaking, listenin
g. He wasn’t that patient. He must have left, but still I waited.
The room grew darker, but not dark. I was glad it wouldn’t go dark, but I thought of Alison raging against the light and stuck with that pig of a man. And I thought, thank God for the KGB.
Eventually I got up, stiff and shaky, and sat on the sofa to wait for Kit.
I woke up to banging, and it took me a while to work out it was the front door. I held onto the money box, went into the hall and listened.
There was laughter, and then I heard Kit say, ‘No, I really can’t find them.’
I opened the door.
‘Oh, darling, thank goodness.’ Kit fell towards me and I held him up.
‘Ow, you scratched me.’ He half stood, examining the long scratch on his hand. ‘Why are you holding that thing?’
I looked at the money box and put it on the floor so I could hold him with both hands. He stank of papirosy and drink. Behind him stood a man whom I recognised from the opera, the man who had spoken to Kit at the interval. Kit turned to him, losing his balance.
‘I forgot. This is Martha. I have a wife. This is my wife. I suppose you don’t want to come in.’ He held a hand to his mouth. ‘Excuse me.’ He staggered to the bathroom. The man and I listened to him vomit over and over.
‘Who are you?’ I asked.
‘Sergei.’ He gestured, as if touching a cap. ‘Good night.’
I shut the door and fetched a glass of water, which I left by the sofa for Kit. I thought about making up his bed but decided not to bother.
I sat against the wall on my bed and left the light on, my knees under my chin. Silence again. They would be recording this too, this embarrassment of Kit, and who knew what he’d been doing before he got home. They’d know. I expected he didn’t even remember giving the keys to Charlie.
Charlie. I looked at the marks on my wrists. I was furious.
I picked up a fresh piece of paper and wrote about what had happened with him. I could give it to Sir Alec and he’d have to send him home. Wouldn’t he? But that could mean making things worse for Alison, stuck with him, for now at least. I finished writing and put the pages inside The Brothers Karamazov, with the short stories.
15
By the following Wednesday, I was much stronger and desperate to go out, so I’d asked Kit to arrange a time for me to pick up Bobby on Friday. I did think about whether this was a good idea, but I liked Bobby and Alison, and I wasn’t going to let Charlie ruin that. And I wanted to check that he hadn’t taken it out on her.
It was a lovely temperature, about 22 degrees, after the rain the day before. I didn’t want anything to happen while I was in charge of anyone. I walked slowly, testing my body after so long inside, but there were no signs anything was wrong.
I knocked on the door to the apartment. Alison answered, Bobby next to her.
‘Let’s go,’ she said.
‘Oh, you’re coming?’
‘Yes. I got Charlie to get Inturist tickets and everything.’
‘For what?’
Alison put one finger to her lips. ‘We’re going to see that statue of Lenin, and then we’re having an ice cream.’
The mausoleum – but Bobby couldn’t know it was a body.
Bobby led us to the Metro station, pointing in the direction of the park we’d last been to. I’d since found out from Galina that it was named for the 50th Anniversary of the revolution. Or the ‘Great October Socialist Revolution’, according to Galina. So it was only six years old. I could only assume that there had been some kind of park there earlier.
We got off at Prospekt Marksa and I looked at Alison to see if she was impressed by the silvery marble, but her eyes were on the people around us.
‘No one’s smoking,’ she said.
‘They’re not allowed to on the Metro.’
She looked stunned. ‘It’s so clean.’
The battalions of old ladies who kept the floors swept and cigarettes unlit had done their job.
We left the station and turned around to get our bearings. A large red building was in front of us and, to the right, a corner tower of the Kremlin. We walked up to the statue of a man on a horse and saw to the left another enormous red building.
‘Do you know what they are?’ asked Alison.
‘No. The maps are a bit rubbish, so I draw little ones for my Russian teacher and she tells me what the buildings are. If I’m allowed to know. One time she just said, “There’s no building there.” Like I’d hallucinated it.’
‘Is Inturist not any use?’
‘They might be, but they just want you to go to certain places too. I like exploring.’
Alison pulled Bobby’s hand towards her more tightly and spoke quietly. ‘There might be a good reason for keeping to their directions, Martha.’
I lowered my voice too. ‘I only take him where I tell you I am going.’
Bobby was looking from one of us to the other.
‘This way,’ I said.
We walked between the first building and the Kremlin wall, along the grey cobbles. There were a lot of people standing in line. They queued everywhere here.
‘Oh, St Basil’s,’ said Alison. ‘It always makes me happy to see it’s still standing.’
More of the domes were revealed as we walked up the incline, and then the square opened out and we walked into the middle of it.
‘Wow,’ said Alison.
The red wall of the Kremlin faced the creamy walls and arched windows of another massive building.
‘Don’t you think it looks really French?’ I asked.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s GUM, the department store.’
‘That is GUM?’
‘Goom,’ repeated Bobby. ‘The goom of doom.’
‘Isn’t it weird? All those pictures of the politicians standing on the Kremlin wall, and they’re facing that shop,’ I said. ‘We can go in after.’
‘Are we allowed?’
‘It’s a shop, Alison.’
I turned to look at the mausoleum behind us, and worked out what the queue was for. It bent in right angles, up the side road, along the back of the first red building, then at a right angle into the square, and another right angle to the entrance itself. Some people had flowers, and I was relieved to see not all the women had headscarves. I hadn’t thought about covering my head.
A guard in a blue uniform was patrolling the line, telling people off for having their hands in their pockets or for talking.
‘Do you have the tickets?’ I said.
Alison looked through her handbag, pulled out the tickets and a piece of folded paper. ‘Sandra’s address.’
I nodded and looked up and down the line.
‘Alison,’ I whispered, ‘there are no children in the queue.’
‘I noticed that.’
The guard spotted us, walked back in our direction, and took a man’s hat off on the way. We stopped talking. Alison still had hold of Bobby’s hand, but he was starting to jiggle.
‘Stand still,’ Alison hissed.
‘What is the man shouting for?’ Bobby shouted.
‘Shhh!’
Did I have my passport? Did Alison?
‘Inturist?’ he said, pointing at the tickets which were still in Alison’s hand.
She nodded. He tapped his watch.
‘Sunday,’ he said. ‘Nine forty-five.’ He pointed back to the cobbled hill we’d first walked up. ‘Nine forty-five,’ he said again, and made a cutting motion with his hand.
‘Spasibo,’ said Alison.
Someone further up the queue lit a cigarette. Our guard ran over, snatched it from his mouth and threw it to the ground while shouting with such rage I found myself thinking it must be an act. Could you get that angry every day about the same things?
‘Can you use the tickets again?’
‘I’m not sure. I’ll ask Charlie. It’s free really, just foreigners can pay $5 to jump the queue. So, technically we could line up now and wait for hours, b
ut I’d rather not.’
‘Are you disappointed?’ I said to Alison.
‘Not really. Charlie must have forgotten to pass on that bit about timings. He’s been really distracted.’
Good, I thought.
She continued, ‘But I’m a bit relieved. It was stressful enough coming here with Bobby, without actually going in to see a man in a box.’
‘A man in a box?’ repeated Bobby.
‘How about an ice cream?’ I said, pointing at the stall near GUM.
‘Yes.’
We crossed the square, and I ordered three white ones, which I hoped were vanilla.
‘This is disgusting,’ said Bobby.
Alison had already creased her face up, and was rummaging in her handbag for a tissue.
‘Spit it out,’ she said.
I was trying to think what taste reminded me of. Art classes, brushes.
‘It tastes of turpentine,’ I said. ‘Well, how turpentine smells. The one I had the other day was lovely.’
We took them back to the stall, and the man held out a bucket for us, full of discarded cones.
‘It happens quite often,’ Alison said. ‘Not this, exactly, but things made near the end of the month are dodgy. It’s the monthly targets, they’ll do anything to hit them. I get that. But why does he keep selling them?’
‘He can’t imagine what else to do with them, I expect. Shall we go in?’ I pointed to the GUM doors.
‘Yes,’ said Bobby, and dragged Alison after him.
It was like entering a magnificent train station, the glass roof flooding the place with light. Bobby ran his free hand over the reddish-brown surround of the fountain.
‘I want to go in this,’ he said.
‘No way,’ said Alison.
He pulled her back. ‘I want to swim in this.’
‘Well, you can’t. Can you see anyone else swimming? It’s just for looking at.’
Bobby dipped his hand in the water.
The Wolves of Leninsky Prospekt Page 11