East of the Sun

by Janet Rogers

  ‘Perhaps I’ve become paranoid.’ Amelia glanced up and smiled apologetically at Mara. ‘Clearly I’m going mad, Mara. Nothing feels right.’ She shook her head, as if she could shake off the confusing thoughts.

  Mara walked with her to the front door and hugged her before she opened the door. She hesitated before she spoke. ‘You know, even if others think you’re going crazy, it’s worth keeping in mind that you could be right about the things you fear you’re only imagining.’

  For a long moment Amelia looked into Mara’s eyes. She nodded slowly. ‘Okay, I hear you. Thanks, Mara.’

  ‘Be careful,’ Mara said one last time. Amelia went down the stairs, but when she glanced back, Mara was still standing at the top. Her expression held something unsaid, the same thing that Amelia felt with her every step. Careful she would be. She would not let them, whoever they were, take her too.

  13

  The reception room located at the back of the Canadian embassy was already buzzing as Amelia stepped inside. Women stood around in small groups, chattering excitedly. It was a familiar scene, one that had been an established part of her earlier life, but for the first time since Amelia’s departure from Russia the year before, the stark difference between her and these seemingly carefree women struck her with force.

  Instinctively she took a step back, wanting to leave the room again, but she had forgotten that she, the wife of an ambassador, had once been a minor celebrity in the expatriate community, and she was recognised before she could escape.

  While many hung back, a few women stepped forward immediately and surrounded her with exclamations of ‘How are you?’, ‘You’re so thin!’ and ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ She smiled determinedly, reaching back to those depths of composure she’d once had so readily available as the ambassador’s wife, and tried to answer all their questions as calmly as she could.

  When the onslaught had diminished somewhat after what felt like an eternity, she felt a cool hand on her arm and turned towards its owner.

  She looked into a familiar face. Cathy, Patrick’s petite wife, who now looked even more fragile than the previous year. Amelia was shocked to see that her downy blonde hair looked wispier still than before and that an intense pallor made her look ill.

  Immediately she reached out and pulled her old friend into a hug. Cathy’s body felt alarmingly brittle and when Amelia stood back, there were sudden tears in the other woman’s eyes.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked the question she so dreaded being asked herself.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Cathy said weakly. ‘It’s just so good to see you.’

  ‘And you,’ Amelia replied, still alarmed at the noticeable physical changes in Cathy’s appearance.

  Someone started speaking at the front of the room and the women around them began taking seats to get ready for the talk. When Amelia turned back to Cathy, she looked forlorn.

  ‘Do you want to stay . . .’ she began, gesturing towards the rows of chairs, ‘or . . . ?’

  ‘Let’s not, if you don’t mind,’ Cathy replied immediately, sounding relieved. ‘I’d rather have some time with you. Besides, I’ve heard this speaker before. Her talks aren’t exactly riveting, if you know what I mean.’ She gave a brief, wan smile, a mere shadow of her old bright laughter, and turned towards the door.

  As they exited, Amelia noticed Ratna standing at one of the room’s high windows that looked out on the embassy’s inner courtyard. She hadn’t taken a seat and was watching the activity in the room distractedly. She seemed far away, staring through Amelia and the people around her. Amelia gave a quick wave, but she couldn’t be sure that Ratna had seen her. There was the smallest flicker in her eyes, but it was impossible to read the expression on the other woman’s face.

  She thought of the brief conversation they’d had just before Amelia’s meeting with Legault. Ratna had seemed unusually down, unable to make light, as she usually did, of her continuing difficulties with Ravi’s father and her parents.

  Again Amelia felt a pang of guilt. It seemed that the women who’d been part of her life in Moscow only a year ago all needed some support now. While she’d been wrapped up in her own heartache, unable to think of anything other than the mystery of Robert’s disappearance, life hadn’t paused for them. If she ever wanted a normal life again, she couldn’t allow herself to remain stuck in her own tangle of obsessions. She made a mental note to go by Ratna’s office before she left the embassy. She knew only too well what it was to feel alone. As she cast one last glance in Ratna’s direction, she resolved to make herself available to her old friends while she was in Moscow, despite the importance of her task.

  She led Cathy to a few chairs that were placed haphazardly outside the reception room. When the doors closed behind them, they could hear only a murmur of activity and applause before silence returned.

  ‘How are the children?’ Amelia asked in an effort to give Cathy time to collect her thoughts. Something was clearly the matter, but Cathy looked so fragile that she would have to give her space to talk about it in her own time.

  Cathy’s eyes brightened. ‘They’re troopers, as always. I think they miss home, though . . .’ she trailed off and Amelia guessed that it was in fact Cathy herself who was pining for Toronto.

  ‘Is Moscow getting to you?’

  Cathy nodded, lifting her eyes from her lap where her fingers lay knotted together in her lap. ‘You could say that.’

  Amelia said nothing, hoping Cathy would use the silence to voice what was bothering her, but she said nothing and her eyes dropped to her lap again. Only when she saw Cathy’s shoulders shaking did Amelia realise she was crying.

  She leaned forward and gently touched the other woman’s arm.

  Cathy lifted her head slightly. Shiny streaks of tears made tracks down her cheeks. She started shaking her head. ‘I’m so sorry, Amelia, I should be consoling you. Instead . . . look at me, I never cry and here I am, crying like a silly child!’

  It was true, Amelia realised. Despite her gentle nature, she’d never seen Cathy cry before.

  ‘Don’t worry about me right now.’ She pressed Cathy’s hand. ‘Would it help if you told me what it is that’s upsetting you so much?’

  Cathy let out a shuddering sigh and continued shaking her head. ‘It’s Patrick.’

  Amelia sat back. This wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. As far as she could recall, Patrick had always doted on his fragile wife, had always been protective and obviously caring towards his family. Her thoughts went back to her confrontation with him and briefly wondered if she was the person with whom Cathy should be having the conversation. She was still annoyed with Patrick about his actions, but she could hardly leave Cathy in such a state, alone with her tears and turmoil.

  She tried again. ‘Did something happen?’

  Cathy was still unable to get full sentences out, but she shook her head. It was clear that there was no point in trying to get her to talk yet, so Amelia remained silent, waiting for Cathy to become calmer.

  From inside the room applause was audible again. When Cathy’s shoulders grew still and the tide of emotion subsided, Amelia led her to a cloakroom tucked into a corner away from the reception room. To her relief it was empty. She held some paper towels under cold water and started wiping away Cathy’s tears. After several long minutes Cathy seemed to relax more.

  ‘It’s nothing, really.’

  ‘Clearly.’

  Cathy looked into her eyes and smiled faintly. ‘Okay, it’s probably nothing big. I’m emotional today for some reason.’

  Wordlessly Amelia took in Cathy’s swollen eyes.

  ‘Listen,’ she said as she handed Cathy more paper towels, ‘whatever it is, it goes without saying that I will keep it to myself should you want to talk about it. And if it helps in any way, I remember what life in the diplomatic service can be like. I know it can be beyond difficult.’

  Cathy took a deep breath before she spoke. ‘Thank you. You’re very kind. I
feel disloyal to even be talking to you about Patrick, but I’ve found that I don’t have anyone to talk to here.’ She shrugged and looked in the mirror at her blotchy skin. When she turned to Amelia, her tears were barely under control. ‘For the first time in my married life, I’m . . .’ Tears threatened to spill over again. ‘We’re not so good right now. Things are different somehow these days.’ She shrugged again, and shook her head. ‘The worst part is that I’m not really sure why things are the way they are.’

  ‘Moscow is a tough place. Don’t forget that. Relationships go through sharper ups and downs here.’

  Cathy sighed deeply, turning back to her reflection in the mirror. ‘Maybe. It just, it feels like this is more than a normal “down”, you know. It’s certainly lasted longer. But of course it could be me. Maybe it’s my imagination.’

  ‘Cathy,’ Amelia said, putting her hand on the other woman’s arm, ‘the biggest mistake you could make is to blame yourself. That’s way too much pressure. This life is taxing, and Patrick has probably had to carry a heavier load since Robert, since last year.’

  Cathy was quiet for a moment. With visible effort she took control of her emotions. ‘Thanks. I’m probably being ridiculous, things just seem a little abnormal at the moment.’

  Amelia was about to reply with more encouragement when the door was flung open and several women came into the cloakroom. Apparently the talk was over already. She hadn’t realised she and Cathy had been talking that long.

  ‘She’s here!’ one of the women called over her shoulder. ‘Ratna’s looking for you,’ she said to Amelia and disappeared into one of the cubicles.

  After leaving Cathy in the company of a group of women with the promise of returning soon, she went back into the reception room, but there was no sign of Ratna. When she didn’t see her in any of the groups standing around drinking tea, she made her way up to Ratna’s office. As she reached the top of the stairs, she glanced down the passage. Ratna was coming out of one of the offices further down. She wore the same dazed expression of earlier in the reception room. Her face appeared heavy, almost slack. Amelia was reluctant to break into what was clearly a deep inner focus.

  When Ratna had almost reached her, she spoke. ‘I heard you’re looking for me.’

  Ratna raised her head. For a moment she looked confused. She frowned and continued walking towards her office slowly.

  ‘Ratna?’

  Amelia followed Ratna into her office where the other woman sat down behind her desk without a word.

  ‘Are you okay? Someone downstairs said you were looking for me.’

  ‘It’s nothing. Sorry, I don’t need to speak to you after all.’

  ‘Are you sure? You look—’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

  There didn’t appear to be anything else to say. She glanced at the ambassador’s closed door. Maybe Ratna was having a bad day? She hesitated, not feeling comfortable about leaving her like this, but she also sensed that any further prodding would be unwelcome.

  ‘Okay. Well, if you’re sure? I’ll be downstairs for a while longer, if you change your mind.’

  ‘Fine.’ Ratna sighed and turned to her computer screen. ‘Thanks,’ she added as Amelia left the room.

  What was that about? It was clear that all wasn’t well with Ratna, but perhaps she was reading more into it because she felt so bad about not having been a presence in Ratna’s life for the past year. Maybe the conversation with Cathy was causing her to see things that didn’t exist. Ratna’s had moods before. It was probably best if she just left her alone. She would try to talk, or rather, listen, to her when they met for a drink. She sighed, wondering what was happening to her old friends, unable to suppress a small stab of frustration at the many things that seemed to be distracting her from the real task at hand.

  Amelia walked down the stairs and on the spur of the moment, she turned to go to Patricks’ office. He was sitting behind his desk, a document open in front of him, a pen in his hand.

  ‘Hi,’ Amelia said carefully, lingering in the doorway.

  Patrick looked up and when he saw it was her, he put his pen down. For a long moment he seemed uncertain about what to say. ‘Am I forgiven?’ he asked at last.

  She nodded. ‘Of course. I think you understand my position. And I think I now understand what motivated your actions.’ She entered the room and sat down opposite him.

  ‘Thank you. Your understanding means a lot to me,’ he said. ‘What brings you here?’

  ‘I’m here for a Canadian women’s meeting downstairs and thought I’d pop in.’

  ‘I’m glad you did. I felt bad.’

  ‘So did I.’

  For a brief moment she looked into his eyes and sensed that his relief matched her own. She needed her old friends and she was glad she still had one in Patrick.

  ‘Did you see Cathy?’ he asked, putting the heavy subject of their argument aside.

  ‘Yes, I did. It’s good to see her.’

  Patrick leaned forward, locking his fingers on the desk in front of him. ‘How did she seem to you?’

  Amelia was surprised by his question. She took a deep breath. Truth was what she’d demanded from him, so how could she respond with anything less?

  ‘She seemed a little stressed. Is Moscow working on her nerves?’

  Patrick sighed. ‘I’m not sure what it is. Cathy’s always coped well with this life, but things have been less than perfect lately.’

  Amelia was silent, wanting to be a friend, but was also loath to get involved in a marriage where both parties were her friends. Who knew what had really happened or was still happening between the two of them?

  ‘To be honest, I’m not sure what to do anymore. I’ve tried to spend more time with her and the children, but it’s hard,’ Patrick said, pointing at the piles of documents spread out on his desk. ‘Sometimes it’s near impossible. Things have been absolutely hectic here since last year.’

  ‘I don’t know if this will reassure you, but ultimately Cathy knows this life. She knows the demands on you. Maybe all she needs is a break from this place or a little reassurance that things aren’t going to be like this forever.’

  Again Patrick sighed heavily. ‘Maybe. I just don’t know. I feel like I’m pulled in all directions, but maybe it’s me. Maybe I’ve changed.’

  ‘What makes you say that? Do you think you have?’

  Patrick hesitated for a second before he replied. ‘Sometimes I think that what happened to Robert has changed me on a level I don’t fully recognise. I still feel guilty about that night.’

  ‘Why?’ Amelia asked, a sudden thrill of shock going down her spine.

  ‘I don’t know, maybe because Robert dropped me off that night. Perhaps I was meant to be in that car too or maybe the long detour Robert had to take might have caused what happened to him.’

  Impulsively Amelia leaned forward and squeezed his hand. ‘I don’t think you should beat yourself up over it, Patrick. I have a feeling that nothing would have prevented what happened to Robert.’

  ‘You’re very kind to say that, given the loss you’ve suffered.’

  Amelia sat back, waving his comment away, unwilling to reexamine the extent of her loss again. She’d done so much of that already. What she needed more of was action.

  ‘I have a question for you.’

  Patrick sat back, looking equally relieved to let the difficult subject go. ‘Shoot.’

  ‘The Prism-Sibraz thing.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You know that when Robert first got involved, Sibraz hired several people to represent them in the negotiations? Wasn’t there some sort of dealmaker involved? I’d really like to know who he was.’

  Patrick’s raised eyebrows spoke volumes, but to his credit he didn’t object immediately or try to talk her out of it. Instead he was silent for several long moments.

  ‘Please, Patrick.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, clearly not happy about giving her the information, ‘several
people were involved, as you already know, but the one who was most obviously on the Sibraz side was a guy by the name of Igor Popov.’

  ‘Any idea where I can find him?’

  Patrick’s hesitation was even longer this time. ‘Last I heard he was running a small so-called strategy firm. It’s called something like Popov & another name . . . Popov & Sheshin, yes, I believe that’s it. I think they work out of one of the offices in the Lotte Plaza centre.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Amelia said quietly. ‘I appreciate this.’

  Patrick nodded. His expression spoke of his unvoiced concerns.

  Amelia smiled. ‘I know, be careful and all that.’

  ‘Don’t be flippant. Popov may have surrounded himself with the trappings of a legitimate strategy consulting firm, but there is no saying what he or his people are capable of. What’s more, rumour has it that he may have political aspirations. If it’s true, he’ll be even more cagey.’

  ‘Okay. If it makes you feel any better, I’m learning about misleading appearances and trappings very quickly. I know now to tread carefully and to trust no one.’ Amelia stood up.

  Patrick didn’t reply immediately. ‘These people, Amelia . . . Popov made no secret of the fact that he scorned Prism and anyone who had any association with it.’

  ‘Got it,’ she said, moving to the door quickly. ‘And thank you again.’

  Although the group of women who had gathered in the reception room had diminished considerably by now, a chance to speak to Cathy again never came, because Amelia continued to be surrounded by both well-wishers and the curious and after a while Cathy had to leave to pick up her children from school. They made promises to meet again and before long, Amelia also had to leave.

  She’d agreed to meet up with Nick again to try and make sense of her conversation with Bruce Jennings and perhaps come up with ideas of where they could turn their attention next. Her thoughts returned to the meeting in the man’s sleek office. She was eager to go over it again. Somehow she knew that Jennings was involved.

  Deep in thought she collected her coat and prepared to leave the embassy. She was the last of a small group of chattering women to exit and the cold air hit her in the face. She hung back for a few seconds, letting them move away, tired of the barrage of small talk.