‘Don’t mention that stinking place,’ he growled and his single black eye studied her. ‘You look a mess.’
She ignored him. ‘Hello, Elena.’
The woman standing beside him had her arms folded and she was staring at the strands of hair poking out under Lydia’s hat, but she made no comment. ‘You got here,’ was all she said.
‘So, Liev. Off to the Ukraine?’
‘Da. It’s still got real people in it. Fuck Moscow. It’s no more than a Soviet machine.’
Lydia put out a hand and touched his granite chest with her fingertips. ‘Take good care of yourself, my friend.’ She looked up at him. ‘Are you feeling better?’
‘Like a spring lamb.’
She laughed.
‘And you?’ he asked, drawing his beetle brows together.
‘More like an old goat.’
He nodded, fingering his beard thoughtfully, and she noticed it was singed into a lopsided mat. Suddenly a narrow face popped out from behind his back.
‘Whose car was that you came in?’
‘Edik! What are you doing here? And Misty.’ She ruffled the pup’s feathery ears. ‘The car belongs to some rather unpleasant companions of my Chinese friend.’
Popkov scowled. ‘They’ve taken him?’
She nodded and stared down at Popkov’s ancient leather boots, the howling wolf tooled on their sides. ‘Liev,’ she said softly, ‘you knew about Alexei all along, didn’t you?’
He grunted.
‘That he wasn’t my brother. You knew all along. That’s why you were such a bastard to him.’
He grunted again.
‘You should have told me.’
‘Nyet. I couldn’t. It made you happy.’
Her throat felt too tight. She said nothing more. A horse and cart clattered past, scattering a spray of filthy grey snow over them, and Misty barked. The world was still moving.
‘I’m going to grow wheat,’ Popkov announced.
‘You?’ Lydia smiled. ‘A farmer?’
‘We’ll learn,’ Elena asserted confidently. ‘Edik is going to help us, aren’t you, boy?’ She gave him a dig in his skinny ribs and he laughed.
‘If you force me to,’ he grinned.
Lydia looked at the family of three, at the warm pride in Liev’s battered face, and she envied them. ‘Be happy,’ she murmured and found it hard to let him go. Liev kept staring at her, then switching his gaze to a laden barge lumbering up the Moskva River, then staring at her again.
‘What is it, Liev?’
The Cossack stretched his shoulders and rumbled something inaudible into his beard.
‘The thing is,’ Elena said stiffly, ‘he won’t come without you.’
Lydia closed her eyes and swayed back and forth on her feet.
Elena hadn’t finished. ‘He wants you to come with us.’
Lydia rubbed her hands as if it were the biting wind swirling off the river that was making her shiver. ‘Chyort! Liev, are you out of your mind? Me on a farm? Don’t be an oaf. I’m not a peasant with straw for brains. Go and play with your shovels and your hoes on your own, dig your holes without me.’
It was fleeting but she caught the look of relief on Elena’s face.
‘What will you do?’ Popkov’s deep voice was strained.
‘Oh, I’ll be safe, don’t worry. I’m going back to China.’
His black eye narrowed and like an old bull he shook his head, as if it had suddenly grown heavier. ‘You were desperate to get out of China. You said you hated it there.’
‘I lied.’
‘Let the girl be, Liev.’ It was Elena. She was assessing Lydia with a half smile on her lips. ‘It’s not the place she loves, can’t you see? It’s the person.’
‘But—’
‘No buts! Stop fussing over me, you stupid Cossack,’ Lydia complained. She pushed him away. ‘Off you go to the Ukraine.’ She smiled brightly, surprising herself, even laughed a little. ‘Have a good life. Thank you for everything.’
She spun round and walked away. But she’d not gone more than ten paces in the direction of Smolensk Square before she was plucked off her feet. She was dangled over the icy ground, enveloped in a great greasy embrace, and with no breath in her lungs she clung to him. As each second ticked by he crushed her harder to his chest, growling softly in his throat.
Just as suddenly he put her down. She thrust Dmitri’s gold ring into his pocket. ‘To buy some land,’ she said, then walked away and didn’t look back.
Lydia started to walk across the city but soon realised she hadn’t the strength to make it as far as the Arbat. So she climbed into an izvozchik, one of the horse-drawn taxi cabs, and settled its thick rug over her knees, arms wrapped around her bandaged waist. It was an uncovered vehicle, open to the elements, but that suited her. The snow had stopped and she liked the wind, cold in her face. The sky looked grey and old as it hovered over Moscow’s roofs, and she felt a tug of dismay at the thought of leaving this city she’d fallen in love with.
The easy rhythm of the horse’s hooves was slow and restful, and it gave her time to think. She closed her eyes and let her mind open the way Chang An Lo had taught her, but still the images of the raging fire pressed in on her, the flames leaping in her face and roaring in her ears. Instead she clutched at the feel of her father’s hand in hers and the echoes of his voice when he said I love you for coming for me.
‘Papa,’ she whispered, ‘I’ll come back.’
One day she would. She didn’t know when or how, but she would. Russia had entwined itself into the fibres of her being and she could no more stay away from this city of domes than she could from the black soil Popkov and Elena would be churning up in the Ukraine.
A cart rumbled past in the street and the sound of a car’s klaxon brought her back to what lay ahead. She had to see Alexei. He was with Antonina in her apartment and Lydia needed to speak to him. She was angry with him for telling Chang to give her up but - she opened her eyes wide and felt her chest tighten - but despite Alexei, Chang would be waiting for her in China. She drew a deep breath and said aloud, ‘Be there, my love. Be there. For me.’ Once back in China she feared his country and his gods might steal him away from her.
‘Trust him,’ she whispered to herself and felt the wind carry her words to their ears.
The apartment was in chaos. Boxes everywhere. Furs and candlesticks and even a silver samovar overflowed from their gaping mouths. Books were stacked in piles on the floor and paintings propped against the wall. It struck Lydia as obscene that a Communist had owned so much, and corruption seemed to writhe from box to box like the string that lay abandoned on the Persian carpets. She’d found it hard to walk through the door again, as the memories of the last time still weighed too heavy in her mind.
Alexei was surprised to see her. ‘Lydia, shouldn’t you be in bed?’ But he kissed her gently on both cheeks and did no more than raise one eyebrow at the sight of her hair. ‘I’m glad you’ve come because I have something for you.’
He led her to the study where Antonina was seated at the desk going through a drawer of Dmitri’s papers. She looked up and her dark eyes brightened. Then she saw Chang’s work with the knife and she frowned, before coming over to the doorway where Lydia had stopped - she didn’t care to enter that study again.
‘Lydia, my dear girl, you’re . . .’ Lydia was sure the comment was going to be on her bizarre appearance but she was wrong. ‘So welcome.’ Antonina hugged her and for once there was no smell of perfume.
‘You look well,’ Lydia said.
‘I am well.’
In fact Lydia had never seen Antonina looking lovelier. But totally different. Her thick dark hair was tied loosely behind her head and she was wearing a plain blue dress and cardigan that had never been anywhere near Paris. But that wasn’t the only change. Her face was free of make-up and she wasn’t wearing gloves. There were shadows under her eyes as if she weren’t sleeping, but her mouth was free of the tension that ha
d previously kept it hard.
‘Come and have coffee. Alexei, we’ll be in the drawing room.’
Tactfully she led Lydia away from the study, sat her down and drifted off to make coffee while Alexei talked. Lydia found it unsettling to be with this man who was not her brother. She had to rethink him.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked with concern.
‘Sore, but I’ll live.’ She smiled at him. ‘Thanks to you.’
He sat down in the chair opposite and stretched out his long legs in an awkward gesture, uneasy with her gratitude. She changed the subject.
‘You’re packing up, I see.’
‘Yes. They’re starting to ask questions about Dmitri’s whereabouts. It’s too dangerous to remain here, so we’re getting out today.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Antonina is changing her name so they won’t be able to trace her, and we’ve bought new identity papers. But we’re staying in Moscow and moving to a different district.’
‘Of course, Maksim is in Moscow.’
Alexei flicked a glance of annoyance at her and she studied his eyes. It was their colour that had misled her. It made her believe her mother’s assertion that Jens was his father, but how stupid could she be? Jens hadn’t been the only man in St Petersburg with green eyes.
Suddenly she leaned forward. ‘I’m going back to China.’
She heard his rapid intake of breath. ‘No, Lydia, don’t. It will be a mistake. Listen, why don’t you stay with us? Here in Moscow. We’ve found an apartment.’ He waved a hand around the high-ceilinged room. ‘Not desirable like this one, but it has two rooms, so—’
‘No, Alexei. Thank you, but no.’
‘Please, Lydia, don’t do this. It’s all wrong. What are you and I without Russia? It’s in our blood.’
She shook her head. ‘I love Russia. But not enough.’
Their eyes held. How could she ever have thought this man cold? The fire was there, deep in him, hidden behind the wall of pride. ‘I love you, my brother,’ she said softly. She couldn’t rob him of his father by telling him the truth.
He rose from his chair and knelt on the polished floor in front of her, taking both her hands in his. ‘Stay in Moscow,’ he begged. ‘I would like to have you at my side. With Maksim’s support I am going to remain one of the vory and intend to work my way up, so that—’
‘When Maksim dies, you’ll be there, ready to take over. My dear brother, you are nothing if not ambitious.’
He didn’t nod, but she saw his eyes shine and she recognised the thrill that rippled through him at some deep level. He wasn’t a man to conform to Stalin’s straitjacket, but she could already see changes in him and she was frightened. How much of what she loved most in him would disappear if he spent his life with these thieves? It was ironic. She used to be the one who stole and risked prison, not him.
‘Or,’ she suggested, ‘you could return to China with me.’
He frowned at her. ‘No. I’ll not leave Russia.’
Did he think her a traitor, then? Is that what he meant?
‘So what is it you said you have for me?’ she asked.
He scrutinised her face as though searching for something, before standing and removing some papers from a cabinet.
‘Here, new identity documents.’
Her heart thumped. ‘That was fast.’
‘A gift from Maksim.’
‘Thank him from me.’
‘I will.’ He stood looking down at her. ‘One last time, little sister. Give him up. You will make each other unhappy in the end.’
‘I can’t. Any more than I can give up breathing.’
‘Very well.’ He held out a packet. ‘Here’s a form with Dmitri’s personal stamp on it which will enable you to travel freely and buy tickets. And enough roubles - from Antonina - to get you to China.’
She took them. Her hand trembled as she blinked back tears. ‘What can I say, Alexei? You are the brother I always wished for.’
He smiled awkwardly, her words creeping under his guard.
‘And I have something for you,’ she added. ‘I hope it will please you.’ From her pocket she extracted a small folded piece of paper and handed it to him.
He unfolded it. ‘It’s one of Jens’ notes.’
It was the one in which he mentioned Alexei. ‘For you, if you’d like it.’
Alexei nodded and turned away quickly, but not before she saw an emotion she couldn’t read flood his face, making him look young and vulnerable. Carefully he refolded it and kept it in his hand.
At that moment Antonina entered bearing a tray. While Lydia drank the strong coffee and ate one of the warm croissants, Antonina snipped at her damaged hair with a pair of scissors, creating something orderly out of the havoc. It occurred to Lydia that Antonina would always be good at that. She watched Alexei observing every nuance of Antonina’s face as she worked and she hoped they would be good for each other. Afterwards she was taken to the main bedroom where gowns and shoes and sable stoles were scattered across the bed.
‘Help yourself to anything you want.’ Antonina waved an indifferent hand towards the bed and a black velvet box which sat open on the dressing table.
Even from where Lydia was standing by the door she could see the box contained jewellery. Unable to stop herself she was drawn to it, revelling in the glitter of diamonds and the buttery sheen of gold, but she didn’t touch anything. She might not be able to prise her fingers apart if she did.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For the roubles and now this offer. You are very generous. But no, I don’t need more.’
‘We’re going to sell it all. Getting rid of it through Maksim. Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘No desire for blood money, is that it?’
‘Something like that.’
‘I don’t blame you.’ Antonina came over and kissed Lydia’s cheek. ‘At least let me drive you to the station.’
Lydia stepped out of the sleek saloon. The station was thick with travellers, suitcases and porters’ trolleys fighting for space, but she barely noticed them. What she saw were the uniforms. Grey with blue flashes at the collar, diligently checking papers and scrutinising faces. Searching for someone.
‘Security police,’ she murmured to Alexei.
‘It’s not too late to turn back.’
The car door still stood open. All it would take was one step to be safe inside, but that one step would be a journey into her past instead of her future. Chang An Lo had offered her Hong Kong. It was an island teetering just off the mainland of China but it bridged the gap that yawned between East and West, between his world and hers. A British colony, yet at the same time a thriving Chinese centre of activity and growth. There he could still be part of his own country and could take his time to make his decisions. Whether to free his throat from the choking hand of Mao Tse Tung. And there it might even be possible to fulfil the dream she and her mother used to weave of her going to university one day. With a British passport, Hong Kong could be hers. Like an open door. All she had to do was push it wide and find Chang An Lo waiting for her.
She touched the quartz dragon at her throat. None of it would be easy, she knew that, because their love was fierce. It burned as well as bound them. Chang called her his fox; her mother had called her an alleycat - she was good at surviving. But their love? Would that survive what lay ahead?
Yes, she was determined they would make it survive. Each day they would breathe life into it, despite the dangers that circled them like wolves. She looked again at the officer in grey, at the gun holster on his hip, and she fingered the papers in her pocket. She knew that in China she would miss Russia the way she’d miss a limb, but to remain without Chang was impossible. She’d tried that. And almost died of the pain.
It’s not too late to turn back.
The car purred behind her, smelling of leather and cigars.
‘Lydia?’ Alexei asked from inside.
Choo
se.
She closed the door and stamped her feet on the icy ground, smiling as she drew in a deep breath of Russian air and felt her heart race. There was a future ahead, one that she and Chang An Lo would carve together. It was a risk, but life itself was a risk. That much she’d learned from Russia, that much she’d learned from Jens. With a farewell wave to Alexei and a final touch of the Chinese amulet around her neck, to tempt the protection of Chang An Lo’s gods one last time, she looped her bag on to her shoulder and headed for the gateway.
THE RUSSIAN CONCUBINE
Kate Furnivall
‘Wonderful, a gripping love story . . . A hugely ambitious and atmospheric epic novel’
Kate Mosse, author of Labyrinth
1928. Exiled from Russia after the Bolshevik Revolution, the beautiful and fiery Lydia and her aristocratic mother, Valentina, have taken refuge in Junchow, China. With destitution looming, Lydia realises that she must use her wits to survive and resorts to stealing.
When a valuable ruby necklace goes missing, Chang An Lo, a handsome Chinese youth who is under threat from troops hunting down Communists, saves her from certain death. Thrust into clashes with the savage triads of Junchow and the strictures of the white colonial settlement, Lydia and Chang fall in love and are swept up in a fierce fight against prejudice and shame. Forced to face opium-running, betrayal and kidnap, their compelling attraction to each other is tested to the limits.
978-0-7515-4042-0
UNDER A BLOOD RED SKY
Kate Furnivall
Davinsky Labour Camp, Siberia, 1933. Sofia Morozova knows she has to escape. Only two things have sustained her through the bitter cold and hard labour: the prospect of one day walking free; and the stories told by her friend Anna, beguiling tales of a charmed upbringing in Petrograd - and of Anna’s fervent love for a passionate revolutionary, Vasily.
So when Anna falls gravely ill, Sofia makes a promise to escape the camp and find Vasily; to chase the memory that has for so long spun hope in both their hearts. But Russia, gripped by the iron fist of Communism, is no longer the country of her friend’s childhood. Sofia’s perilous search takes her from industrial factories to remote villages, where she discovers a web of secrecy and lies, but also bonds of courage and loyalty - and an overwhelming love that threatens her promise to Anna. But time is running out. And time, Sofia knows, is something neither she nor Anna has.
The Concubine's Secret Page 49
