‘Well, this applies to you as well, I suppose. Can you tell her, when Bobby isn’t around, that I have some bad news.’
‘What is it?’
‘Can you tell her that we have retrieved Sandra’s body from the river. As I say, when Bobby isn’t around.’
‘Has, um, has her husband confirmed this?’
‘Yes, of course.’ He sounded distracted. ‘Thank you.’
He put the phone down. Shaking, I stood there, blinking. Bobby was pretending to read, his eyes flicking towards me. I gathered the teacups and took them to the kitchen, closing the front room door and the kitchen door. Alison was buttering toast.
‘What did he say?’
I whispered, ‘They found Sandra in the river.’
‘In this weather? What was she doing?’
‘I mean her body. She must have drowned.’
Alison looked at me. ‘On purpose?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Was there a note?’
‘I couldn’t ask anything. He doesn’t want Bobby to hear about it.’
‘Well, I can’t say that is a surprise.’
I watched in disbelief as she just carried on. Alison took the pan and spooned out the beans onto three plates. She looked completely normal as she took them in.
‘Table, Bobby.’
We all sat, but I couldn’t eat my beans. I’d only just seen Sasha, or someone who I hoped was Sasha, and Sandra was found dead. It had to be a coincidence. Whatever Kit said, there was such a thing. There had to be. But there was one line which cut through the rest of my thoughts, the questions, the guilt, the uncertainty – Lenin lived, Lenin lives, Lenin will always live.
I tried to go back to talking when Alison spoke to me, but only single words seemed to make it out of my mouth.
‘You’re taking this quite hard, Martha. Or are you sick? My uncle died after being caught out in the rain.’
I looked at her, wondering what she was talking about, and why she wasn’t surprised by any of this.
‘I’ll phone Kit, shall I? Ask him to send the car for you?’
The rain was still falling as if there was never going to be an end to it.
‘Please.’ I went to put on my wet clothes, then I waited for Pyotr in the doorway of the building.
Sandra’s body was sent back to England. We had a service for her in the embassy before she left. The Anglican Chaplain came over from Helsinki for it, as St Andrew’s was closed. For that week of reflection and preparation, I was expecting someone to come to me and say they’d found a suicide note and I was mentioned in it. I deserved to be blamed for something, but no one ever mentioned a note. In fact, no one ever mentioned suicide, or anything but a tragic accident, a slip and a fall.
Emily stayed next to Sandra’s husband, Albert, throughout the service, and her husband made an odd speech about Sandra that seemed to be applicable to ninety per cent of diplomatic wives in Moscow, but not that one. I thought back to the excitement of her yeti tales and manipulation of the physical world, and remembered her in my own way. We followed the coffin to the airport and, tight-lipped, Albert accompanied his wife home to Britain.
I asked Alison whether he was coming back.
‘I hope not,’ she said. She wouldn’t say anything else about him.
The temperature had dropped to about 14 degrees. It felt as if summer was over. I knocked for Leila a couple of times at her boyfriend’s apartment, just to speak to someone who didn’t know Sandra, but she was never in.
Kit took me to the bar at the Metropol and we sat on the sofa in the corner, with a clear view of the room, drank too much and held hands. It was the closest I’d felt to him since I got here, and I felt a fraud.
‘No more tears, Martha,’ he said.
‘But all the women here, Kit. The men have jobs that they want to do. Why do the women come here?’
Kit kissed my hand and leaned back. ‘Most think their marriage will be better if they do. Which doesn’t always work. Some think they will be valued for their sacrifice, just part of the job description. I don’t think they understand what an impediment boredom is. Maybe they don’t get bored. I don’t know. But are you all right, darling?’
‘Yes. I really am. Sometimes it gets a bit much, but I wouldn’t have missed being here for the world.’
He squeezed my hand. ‘I’m glad.’
My heart was beating hard as I sipped my drink. ‘What have people being saying about Sandra? About why she did it?’
‘Just lonely.’ He smiled in that tight-lipped way that suggested the end of the conversation.
‘She didn’t seem lonely,’ I said. I struggled to phrase my question. ‘Was her husband nice to her?’
Kit looked away. ‘I don’t know him. No one knows why she did it. Emily thinks it’s because Sandra refused to be one of the embassy family. Turned down a chance to be in the choir.’
‘Oh. So did I, but you won’t find me in the river.’
‘Good.’ He patted my hand. ‘You might get a bit more attention for a while, trying to draw you in. But as long as you’re not lonely, I’d ignore her. You’re not, are you? I know I have long hours sometimes.’
‘I like reading, I like learning, I like exploring. I haven’t been lonely. I don’t think I’ll be seeing Alison as much, after Helsinki. She seems to have got into the whole mum scene. Which is fine, as it’s all going to be about the baby for months.’ I shook my head. ‘I will miss Sandra though. I thought she was really interesting. Did you know her?’
‘No. It’s very much a men over here, girls over there kind of place.’
‘Women.’
‘Yes, women.’ He smiled and closed his eyes.
‘Some men seem to cross that line.’
He opened his eyes. ‘Did Alison ever ask about that night?’
I shook my head. She didn’t need to ask. There was nothing I could tell her about Charlie that she didn’t already know.
"Running"
by
E.V. MANN
Snow falls on the streets and I find myself repeatedly tracking back to the Apothecary’s Garden to seek out the palm house, the glass dome of heat which stinks of orchids. I walk slowly around the tropics until I get so hot that it begins to feel like I am being suffocated, as if wrapped in fur, and I go back outside.
I walk the paths under fractured wooden arches and around a solid pond, see leaves frozen into place on the trees until the thaw, when their reflections will return. A fox sits next to the slab of ice, yawning, a stopwatch in one paw. He wears a black beret.
I turn away. My hearing is muffled by my hat pulled low, and I don’t hear the runner before he hurtles past me. I lift my hat to listen to his feet drumming. As the runner passes, I hear the fox talk to him.
‘You will never be a cosmonaut.’
‘I will,’ says the runner, circling back. ‘I am the fastest of my class and strong as a bear, and we can be anything if we try hard enough.’
The runner sprints away and I walk down to the lake. The shallow edge of the lake is white with snow and I can’t see where the land ends and ice starts. It takes me way back to an imagined shadowless world of giants, queens and magicians. That is where I thought I was going all that time ago, not this grey city of concrete and fumes, occasionally made bright like death. I keep walking, marking my trail in the snow, looking for the entrance to that other land.
I see the fox, the same fox, is waiting on the far side of the lake as the runner approaches.
‘You will never be a cosmonaut.’
‘I will,’ says the runner. ‘I study engineering and learn about the stars, and we can be anything if we try hard enough.’
The runner takes a winding path away from the lake. I notice he’s a little slower than before, his steps a little heavier.
I go back to the palm house and I see the fox standing upright, waiting by the door. The fox doesn’t look at me. He puts the stopwatch down on a stone, leans back against the doorpost
and yawns. I wait for the runner.
The runner approaches, his cheeks reddened, and stops in front of the fox.
‘You will never be a cosmonaut,’ says the fox.
‘Why do you keep saying that? I’ve dedicated my entire life to being accepted for training. I’ve done everything I was expected to, and more. I’m fit and I’m dedicated and I have the right kind of soul.’
‘Does your father have the right kind of soul?’ asks the fox, standing upright and stretching his forelegs. ‘Is there anything we should know about him?’
The runner opens his mouth and closes it again. I know that he wants to defend his father, but that he will condemn himself because they don’t ask if they don’t already know. Yet he can’t denounce his father either. His future hangs on this moment. His head sinks downwards, his arms fall to his sides. He nods.
‘Good answer. Follow me, comrade.’ The fox picks up the stopwatch and saunters away. The runner stumbles after him.
I shiver, but I can’t go back to the orchids. I walk away from the runner, back to the bleak honesty of the slushy streets.
21
I began to be quite excited about going to Helsinki. Thinking about Sandra, and being unsure about my part in it all, made me feel that my small circle was beginning to close in on me. A trip away would allow me to reset and see everything afresh. But there were still a couple of weeks left to wait as Alison had chosen to go in the middle of August.
So, I waited. I didn’t go to see Eva. I worked hard at my Russian and started to go to the bread shop on the days Natalya didn’t come. And Kit and I had our films.
Kit had to wait for the Solaris tickets to come through. A Cannes prize winner, yet there was barely anywhere to watch the film in the whole of Russia. It was sold out for weeks, but he managed to get tickets for an afternoon showing after work on Saturday.
I waited on the grass, where I’d sat with Sandra nearly five weeks earlier. The summer had come back for a last fling, and I leaned back on my arms, head raised, making the most of it. I wondered if my blue jacketed friend would remove his jacket. It wasn’t always the same man following me. I’d got much better at spotting them, but he seemed to be the main one.
With my hands on the grass, I couldn’t stop myself thinking about the river hidden beneath me, and Sandra ending up in the Moskva. Albert had come back to work, Kit said. He hadn’t been up to much, but he was there. He didn’t speak about Sandra.
Kit had been working very late, but I didn’t think it was connected to her. He didn’t speak when he got back. He would just open a bottle of wine and pick at some bread. I suspected something was going on at work, and now what Sandra had said about moles and thieves came back to me. It was such an intense place to work, I could imagine everyone being suspicious of everyone else would be exhausting. I couldn’t ask Kit, and he couldn’t tell me. All we could do was try to interpret each other.
I looked at my watch. The film started at two. Kit was late. I looked around for him, but he wasn’t in sight. I’d stopped at the stall by the Metropol for pies, but there wasn’t going to be much time to eat them before we went in. I unwrapped mine and tasted it. Cheese this time, rather than the minced meat from before. I preferred this. I’d also found small bottles of soda water at the Metro kiosk, and opened mine.
I checked my watch again. The film started in twenty minutes. He should have been here forty minutes ago. I stood up and looked past the trees towards the cinema entrance, but he wasn’t waiting there. I was in the open. He couldn’t have missed me.
There wasn’t anything I could do. I sat down again. I noticed someone walking towards me, and realised with horror that it was Sasha. He crouched next to me and held out an envelope.
‘Sandra,’ he whispered.
I shook my head. ‘Sandra gone.’ I waved my hand and struggled for words. I didn’t know what ‘died’ was. I pointed in the direction of the Moskva.
I fumbled for words. ‘Vody. Moskva.’
Water. Moskva.
He shook his head, and held it out again. He didn’t believe me, or he didn’t understand.
‘Pozhaluysta.’
I was reminded of the man outside the Metropol saying please. I couldn’t help Sasha either, just repeat myself and push the envelope away.
‘Sasha, Sandra Moskva. Vody.’
He looked angry then, pushed his envelope back into his pocket. I heard a clock nearby chime twice.
I looked down, watching him from the corner of my eye. He didn’t run. He just walked up the boulevard, back towards where Sandra lived. Maybe she came here a lot with him. Then I saw Blue Jacket approach him from the side and begin to argue with him. Sasha turned back to me and was shaking his head. Blue Jacket was demanding the envelope, then he marched him to the side of the park, where a car was waiting. He took Sasha’s arm. As they walked towards the car, Sasha seemed to realise what was happening and pulled away, shouting and pointing at him. Another man in a grey jacket got out of the car, and Sasha gave in. He was pushed into the car without another sound. Grey Jacket drove him away.
My hands were shaking as I packed everything away. I stood up and walked towards the Kremlin thinking, if Kit is late, I’ll bump into him and it will be OK. But there was no Kit, just the familiar shadow behind me by the time I got on the Metro at Prospekt Marksa.
Alison’s face fell when she opened the door.
‘I thought you were Charlie.’
‘Isn’t he here? I was supposed to meet Christopher at the cinema and he never showed.’
‘Oh. So they might be together?’ Her face brightened. ‘I’ll call the office for you, shall I?’
‘Please.’
I was still holding Kit’s pie and drink. I put them in the kitchen, and waited by the window while she was on the phone. One hand ran over her stomach.
‘They’re both in the office. Emily didn’t say much, just not to expect them back any time soon.’
‘Does Emily usually answer the phone?’
‘Never.’ Alison put her fingers to her forehead.
‘What does she suggest we do?’
‘Stay in and wait.’ She came close and whispered. ‘I don’t like this, Martha. This doesn’t happen. Bobby is sulking in his room because Charlie promised to take him to the zoo this afternoon. And I know he did mean it, this time.’
Whatever had been building for Kit was now here. I clasped my hands together.
‘They’ve got keys. Shall we take Bobby out?’
‘Martha, something bad is happening. I have to stay here. I just want to know.’
‘Shall I just go home and wait?’
‘Yes. I think it’s probably best.’
The apartment was a mess. Kit’s bedclothes were piled on the sofa, and I wondered why he’d done that. And then I realised he hadn’t been here. He’d gone to work before I left.
I went into my bedroom. My clothes were all on the bed. I closed the door.
Kit had warned me that this could happen. People came into your home or hotel room and made it obvious they had been there. I wasn’t prepared for how sick it made me feel. I went back into the front room. The heat had been building in there all day, even though it faced north. I opened the balcony doors, but there was no breeze to speak of. I went into the kitchen and opened the small window in there too. The only way to get any through draught would be to prop the front door open, but anyone could walk in. They clearly had a key, but I didn’t want to make it easier for them, and they would know I was at home on my own.
I wanted to leave, to go and see if Leila was down on the twelfth floor, but I didn’t. I put the radio on for a bit, thinking I might catch some news that would explain things, like a disaster they’d have to deal with. The BBC station was too full of static to make out anything. The buzz unnerved me.
I watched the sun set in the west and the sky stayed that deep dusk, not quite black. I thought of Alison and her almanac. The temperature cooled gradually, and I stood on the balcon
y watching the cars on Leninsky. I saw a group of kids go into the woods behind our block, and heard them whoop with laughter. I went back inside. I waited all night.
He didn’t come home. By the early hours of Sunday morning, I was cursing him for our lack of a phone, and cursing everyone else for not coming to tell me anything.
At just after six o’clock, an hour and a half after dawn, Kit came in, face pale and drawn.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked.
He shook his head. ‘Charlie’s gone.’
The image of Sandra’s body crossed my mind. ‘Dead?’
‘No.’ Kit smiled weakly. ‘They’re sending him home.’
I looked at the record player.
‘They know, and I can’t even tell you,’ said Kit. ‘I need to go to bed.’ He looked at the bedclothes, still piled up, and his shoulders fell.
‘We’ve had visitors.’
Kit shrugged. I noticed his eyes were red. I left him alone.
This could have been my fault. The report I’d written about Charlie could have been taken anywhere and used as evidence against him for a provocation. Kit couldn’t tell me, even if it was linked back to me. After Sandra, it all felt too much. I didn’t feel anything for Charlie, but Alison – poor Alison.
22
Kit couldn’t tell me what Charlie had done, but I knew it must be bad. A step up even from his affairs and general sleaziness. A provocation, they called it, when the other side tried to expose our underbelly. People did turn away from their wives and families, and get blackmailed into doing bad things, or just did them for the money. That was my best guess, but it probably said more about what I thought of Charlie than what I knew about how things worked.
They had two weeks to sort things out and arrange to move back to England. In the meantime, I carried on as usual. Almost as usual. Natalya seemed different from before. She came in on Monday with a look in her eye, and a swagger to her hips. If I was going to bet, I’d have said that she knew something about Charlie. Much more than I did. She left the shopping in the kitchen and instead of starting in there, as always, came in the front room. I was sitting with my coffee, the balcony door open, when she came in and started picking things up and putting them down again. It was as if she was testing me. She pulled out the books, flicked through them, picked up the money box rocket and shook it. Next, she opened the chest in which the bedclothes were hidden.
The Wolves of Leninsky Prospekt Page 16