She nodded. ‘I did order breakfast, but it didn’t come. Or I didn’t hear the door.’ She looked distractedly out of the window again. ‘I thought you might have gone without me, but I knew you wouldn’t. Not unless you really couldn’t help it.’ She fiddled with her napkin. ‘Just leave me a note, or something. Just so I know. Have you heard anything from Christopher?’
‘No.’ If I told her about being warned off spending time with her, it wasn’t going to make her feel better
I ordered coffee and bread with butter, wishing that toast was on the menu. There’s something comforting about the idea of toast, especially when you can’t have it.
‘Still fancy seeing the afternoon film,’ I asked, ‘the Czech comedy?’
‘Yes. Christopher will know where to find us, if he has anything to say.’ She reached for my hand. ‘Are you worried about Alan?’
‘I’m sure Alan is fine. I’d just like to know what happened.’
She picked up her coffee with both hands, sighing. I saw the coffee ripple.
I said, ‘If he has to stay in hospital or something, I can get Christopher to give him my address and yours. Or I can take your address, and let you know. I know that you didn’t have contact between festivals, but I don’t have anyone who would mind if I got letters from abroad.’ I thought of that Barry, and frowned. ‘If I get the letter at all. My fellow lodger likes to open my post and only hands it over if I ask for it. If I’m not expecting something I might never know. Maybe I’ll give you my work address instead.’
‘Why do you stay in that house?’
‘I don’t know. It’s handy for work. I need to move.’
‘Ah,’ she said, half-standing, ‘it’s Christopher.’
He sat down next to me at the table, palms on his thighs. ‘I don’t have long, but I wanted to let you know that Alan is being flown home.’
Ursula clenched her fists. ‘Is he dying?’
‘No, nothing like that. We’re sure he’ll be fine in the long run. We do, however, suspect that he has ingested a substance which made him ill.’
‘Someone did it on purpose?’ I said.
‘Of course not,’ said Ursula.
‘We can’t say,’ he said, but he kept looking at Ursula.
‘On Friday, when he was with us?’ she asked.
Christopher looked at his nails. ‘We know that he ate with you both on Friday night, returned to his room at eleven o’clock, and two hours later he collapsed. There was no food or drink in his room. The British doctors attached to the embassy can’t see any underlying physical reason for his symptoms, so we’re just going to be cautious and get him back home.’
‘Is he speaking, has he said anything?’ I asked.
Christopher looked at me. ‘Yes, he is speaking. He doesn’t remember anything after he got back to the room.’
‘Why would someone do this?’ said Ursula.
‘It could be completely innocent, an unknown reaction to something he is unfamiliar with.’ He clenched his hands together. ‘It could be that he consumed something meant for someone else. We don’t like to speculate.’
I raised my eyebrows. He had no problem with speculating about me the previous night. Ursula frowned at me.
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘I think it all sounds like a bit of an over-reaction, that’s all. I mean, he’s not young, is he?’
‘He’s fifty-seven.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Ted. Why would you say that?’ Ursula shook her head.
Christopher said, ‘Exactly what is the cut-off past which we shouldn’t concern ourselves with people being ill and just put it down to incapacitation by old age?’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘Let’s just focus on Alan,’ said Ursula. ‘Can I do anything? Do you need someone to pack up his room?’
‘Thank you, Ursula, but that is all in hand. Until we know the root of the problem, we’ll be taking precautions with his possessions. I can, of course, verbally convey any messages you’d like to send.’
‘Tell him that I hope he feels better very soon, and I hope to see him at another festival.’ She covered her face and started crying. ‘I won’t, will I? I won’t ever see him again.’
I turned away from her despair. Christopher looked like he was waiting for me to speak.
‘Just tell him that I hope he gets better too.’
He spoke quietly. ‘Is that all you want to say?’
‘I’m not good at this.’
He put his head near my ear. ‘I showed you where I worked from the bridge. Should you feel the desire to say more, I am available for a chat. Any time. They know how to contact me.’
I whispered back, ‘I don’t know anything.’
It was silent. Ursula was staring as if she’d never seen me before.
‘What is going on?’
Christopher leaned back, one finger on his mouth. I opened my hands.
‘Nothing.’
She pushed her chair back and walked away.
I pointed at Christopher. ‘Why did you do that? You’ve made her think I’m involved in this.’
He folded his arms. ‘Are you? I don’t like coincidences, Ted. Those two, they’ve been coming here for years, and then you turn up and something happens to Alan. That’s one thing, but you’re seen with Eva Mann, of all people, and here we are.’
‘I don’t know a thing about Eva Mann. I had a short chat with her about translators which was entirely relevant to why I’m here.’ I was missing something important, I suspected. ‘Why, though? Why would I want to hurt Alan?’
‘If I knew that, Ted, we wouldn’t be talking about this here. Stick with people you know to be official festival British attendees and we won’t have any more problems. Try to remember what you’re here for. It is not to make friends.’
He carefully pushed his chair back, and then slid it under the table again. He was going to do it again, walk out on me. I wasn’t going to watch him this time. I hunched over my coffee and lit a cigarette. The coffee was cold. I drank it anyway, ordered more and watched the grey shapes of Moscow walk along the roads in the slight drizzle that speckled the window.
Was it strange that I hadn’t been approached by a Russian? I hadn’t expected to be. I had assumed those were extreme situations that I was being warned about. And Eva Mann — well, there was nothing to that, whether or not Christopher believed she was British enough. Ursula wasn’t remotely British, and my favourite person here, so I wasn’t going to be taking his advice on that. And there was no reason why anyone here would approach me. I’d been mistaken. I wasn’t anyone, not here, not at home. Nowhere. I wasn’t going to abandon Ursula. She might abandon me after this, though.
I got ready to walk over to the Rossiya and knocked on Ursula’s door to see if she wanted to come. There was no answer. I tried to ask her attendant where she was but was waved away. She’d probably gone over without me. I didn’t believe that, but I wanted to.
Outside, the drizzle was a little heavier than it had looked. My sock was going to be soaked again, and the embarrassing squelch would follow, but I was going to be down to mere pennies soon enough. I would have to live with it.
Dark clothed Russians walked, head down, while the occasional umbrella singled out a foreigner, someone who didn’t belong. London was full of people from every continent, but you couldn’t pick them out in the same way.
The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I got with Christopher. He’d taken a couple of unconnected events and put me in the middle of them on a hunch. I was still preoccupied when I entered the lobby of the Rossiya, and bumped into a man in a grey jacket standing just inside.
‘Sorry,’ I said. He ignored me and turned away. ‘Fine. I’m not sorry.’ He didn’t respond to that either.
I stamped up the stairs to the cinema and slumped into a seat near the back. I couldn’t see Ursula, I was damp, and I was not in the mood for a comedy. I kept my hands in my pock
ets and scowled at the screen.
CHAPTER 26
The film had made me laugh, despite my resisting it, and Christopher had faded to the back of my mind as an upper-class idiot. Ursula just needed a little time alone, then she’d be back. She knew me.
I decided to stay for the evening film too, and back in the usual café I found an empty seat on a table of Chinese people. I relaxed and enjoyed my blini and tea with lemon. I noticed the group of translators walk past the window and remembered that tomorrow was the day for the Romanian film and, maybe, Ingrid acting as a translator. I wasn’t confident that I’d find the right woman and solve the mystery, but I was still curious.
My table companions left, and a couple of Spanish or Portuguese-speaking men took their seats. South American, maybe? There were films from Peru and Venezuela. Could be from there. I was back to guessing nationalities to stop me thinking about Alan. Then the fourth seat was taken by a tall, thin man with heavy stubble. I started a little as he pushed his hand towards me. It was cold when I shook it.
‘Tovarisch Terence,’ he said. He looked even more serious than Christopher.
‘Tovarisch?’
‘It means comrade. It’s a joke. I’m not a communist. It relies on the context for humour.’
‘Yes.’ I tried to smile. I wasn’t sure that was how the Russians used ‘comrade’ but I felt it could lead to a long and boring discussion. ‘I’m Ted.’
‘Yes. No Alan tonight?’ He looked around, as if checking.
‘No. I think he’s unwell.’
He nodded. ‘Yes. I heard that too. And that black woman?’
I wiped my mouth. ‘If you know Alan’s name, you probably know her name.’ I wondered if Christopher had set this up. ‘Are you watching the next film?’
‘Yes. Shall we go in together? We could discuss it after.’
‘No, I have plans tonight.’ I stood up. ‘Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.’
He stood too. ‘You wouldn’t want to have a meal later?’
‘No, sorry. Plans.’
Finally I got to walk out on someone, but I didn’t have anywhere to go. I’d promised myself that I would wait until the morning to try to contact Ursula, and it was too early to go to my room for the night. I left the hotel and wandered down to the river thinking, if I timed it right, I could slip into the film without him seeing me. I had wanted to see it, but didn’t want to sit anywhere near him, even wearing headphones. I didn’t generally make snap judgements about people, but there was something unsavoury about him.
It had worked. I had watched the film, made a few notes for the look of things, and darted out the second the credits came up. I still wasn’t hungry yet, so I walked around the wall of the Kremlin and along the street I’d taken with Ursula. Shops stayed open later here, yet only the Beriozkas seemed to be open at this time. I went inside, bought a peace offering bottle of wine for Ursula, one for myself to help me sleep, and headed back to the hotel. Outside the Beriozka, I thought I saw the same man that I’d bumped into earlier at the Rossiya, but I wasn’t sure.
I slowed my pace to see if I could catch sight of his face so I would recognise him next time. Maybe he’d walk past me. I passed an open door to a kind of bar that I’d seen before and stopped, as if I was considering going in. A few men stood around eating, but most seemed to down their vodkas and walk straight out. In the corner I saw Christopher and Terence in conversation. Christopher looked towards me and I walked on. The man in the jacket was standing at the corner ahead of me, lighting a cigarette. I could smell it was one of those Russian ones.
I could hear running behind me, and someone grabbed my shoulder. Terence was panting heavily.
‘Ted, I thought you’d gone home. Join us for a drink in the pivnaya.’
‘Thanks, but I’m off to bed.’ I shrugged my shoulder from his hand and my bottles clinked together.
Terence looked at the bag. ‘I see.’
I sighed and walked on. The man in the jacket had gone.
I walked into the Natsional, one eye on the doorman, but wasn’t asked for my papers this time. I was still sure he was watching me. I plodded up the stairs, then crept back down a couple of steps to see if he was still looking. He wasn’t. He was outside, talking to a man in a grey jacket.
I ran up the stairs to Ursula’s room and knocked on the door. And knocked again.
She opened it, her eyes swollen, her blue shawl around her shoulders.
‘Are you ill?’ I asked.
She shook her head, and glanced at the attendant.
‘Can I come in? Just quickly.’
She opened the door and I slipped past her, the bottles knocking against the door frame.
‘I’m not drinking tonight,’ she said.
I looked at her open cases, full of clothes, and waited for her to speak.
‘What do you want?’
‘I wanted to see how you were. Are you leaving?’
‘Yes.’
‘I wasn’t involved with anything, I promise.’
She sat in the chair by the window, her bare feet tucked under her.
‘I like Alan. I like you. I’m being followed in the street, Christopher is trying to pair me up with Terence, and I don’t know what’s going on.’
She looked out into the darkness. The red stars on the Kremlin towers, the headlights of cars, the heavy swoosh of the street washing machine — I don’t think she noticed any of it.
‘Is there anything I can do for you?’
She cleared her throat. ‘No. It’s over. I’m going home.’
‘I brought you a bottle of wine. You could take it with you.’
‘No, thank you. I don’t feel safe eating or drinking anything here now.’
‘Have you seen Alan? Did he say something?’
She looked at me. ‘I’m not saying it was you. I’m saying that it all coincides with you.’
The same as Christopher. Had I actually done something?
She stood up and gestured to the door. ‘I need to finish packing.’
‘I’m sorry, Ursula.’
She had already turned back to the window.
The attendant on Ursula’s floor watched me walk away from her room, and my attendant watched me approach for my key.
‘Dokumenty,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Dokumenty.’
‘I’ve been here for days. I gave you the key this morning. You know who I am.’
‘Dokumenty.’
I got my chit from my pocket and waved it at her. She held out her hand until I gave it to her, and she inspected it. I shifted my bag to the other hand. Finally she returned it with my key and I opened my door. Back pressed against the wood, I felt tearful. I should eat before I started drinking, but I didn’t have much of an appetite.
I put the bag on the floor and went to the bedroom to take my jacket off. There was a plain brown booklet on the bed. I picked it up. The Wolf Sleigh by E. V. Mann.
I stormed out of my room and up to the attendant. ‘Who left this on my bed?’
‘Ne ponimayu.’ She shook her head.
‘This,’ I pointed to it, ‘who put it,’ I pointed to my door, ‘there?’
‘Ne ponimayu.’ There was a slight smile.
‘Fine,’ I said, ‘I’ll ask at the embassy.’
She nodded, and went back to staring into the distance.
Back in the room I tore the booklet into tiny pieces and lay on the bed, wondering how everything had gone so wrong. Had Alan eaten something meant for someone else? Why was Christopher trying to blame it on me? And why had Ursula believed him so quickly?
I’d had enough of today. I turned the light off and tried to sleep, before remembering that I hadn’t ordered my breakfast. I forced myself up and wrote down every breakfast option on a bit of paper; bread, butter, soft eggs, hard eggs, ham, cheese, orange juice, mineral water, black coffee, coffee with cream, tea and yoghurt. I handed it to the attendant with a straight face. She glanced at it an
d nodded.
I went back to bed and looked through the photos in my Moscow guide until I fell asleep.
CHAPTER 27
I didn’t quite get what I’d asked for. Just tea, white bread, butter and jam. I ate it, but I was still hungry. I half-thought about giving the festival a miss today and staying in bed, but of all the questions I had, this was the only one which might be answered: was Ingrid going to be a translator at the Romanian film?
I stretched out on the bed. I was feeling a bit better than yesterday, a bit less paranoid. Every other man had a grey jacket on, for God’s sake. And Ursula had to make her own decisions. One more week and the festival would be over and I’d be looking at my last night. My pockets were feeling light, so it was probably a good thing to spend time alone. I’d just use the vouchers, go to the films, study what I could of Moscow and that was it. Before the film I would go to the Tretyakov Art Gallery that I’d seen in Москва Moscow and most articles on Moscow. Smith had not been glowing about this place, but I’d never been to a gallery in a state of dizzy chaos. His description just made me want to go more.
After getting directions and a sketched map from the reception desk, I walked to the museum. It took me on my usual route, past the Kremlin and the Rossiya, but then across the river. The buildings felt more human-sized, as if people could actually live here. Two or three storeys high, the line of buildings was broken up by the occasional tower and plenty of trees in small parks. Where the buildings did rise to four or five levels, they were brief interruptions in the skyline. The weather was good again, and the sun brightened the worn paint and made the windows shine. One building with a large number 19 had an archway and, although it felt like an official building, the two plaster faces on either side suggested that it was a place of quiet beauty.
On the left the street opened up to another green space with a round, glassed Metro station. I was starting to recognise these without understanding the individual Russian symbols. This meant I had taken the wrong road from the river, but as long as it was Novokuznetskaya Metro station, the map would still work. The woman on reception had given me directions for taking the Metro as well as walking. I walked on until the crossroads and turned right.
The Starlings of Bucharest Page 16