by Janet Rogers
Sally replied calmly, and after a moment’s hesitation the woman continued walking. Amelia was about to ask about the brief conversation, but Sally gave a little shake of her head, after which Amelia clamped her mouth shut and followed the others in silence.
The odour of boiled vegetables became stronger and stronger as they walked down another passage until finally they entered the institution’s kitchen. The large room, badly lit, held huge, old-fashioned stoves, counters and what appeared to be the institution’s cook, who was seated in a corner, engrossed in a tatty magazine. The fat woman moved away for a minute and Amelia glanced at Sally, raising her eyebrows.
‘She said she hadn’t seen you here before.’
‘What did you say?’ Amelia asked carefully, not wanting to give any hint of the worry behind her question.
‘Just that you were new. She bought it. For now, anyway, so try not to give her any reason to wonder about you again.’
The fat woman called them over to a long counter on which empty bowls and a tray with a motley collection of spoons were laid out. She addressed her instructions to Sally and it soon became clear that they were to serve the patients lunch. Amelia glanced at her watch – barely 11:15. Rather an early lunch, she thought, but obediently followed the example of the others as they started filling bowls, putting them on trays, taking a handful of spoons and walking back to the wards.
‘Stay with me,’ Sally said. ‘I’ll show you what to do.’
Amelia nodded and wondered how she was to set about her real mission undetected. She followed Sally and started handing out bowls to the patients. Many didn’t respond, and some didn’t even seem to notice the unappetising brown broth being placed in front of them.
As they returned to the kitchen to fill more bowls, Amelia and Sally were alone for a moment.
‘Do you have a name?’ Sally asked.
Surprised, Amelia stared at her. ‘Do you have a name?’ Sally repeated, this time more urgently.
‘Eh, yes. Sergey Alyoshen,’ she whispered as they heard footsteps approaching.
‘Follow me,’ Sally replied and briskly left with a newly laden tray balanced in her hands.
They went about their task systematically. Fervently Amelia glanced around for patient names, but to her despair very few names were displayed on doors or beside beds. Increasingly it looked like this would be a useless effort. What was more, she didn’t even know if Sergey Alyoshen was in fact in this institution. She handed out bowls of the vegetable soup or stew – she wasn’t sure which it was – and kept her eye on Sally who had slowed down and casually started making small talk with some of the patients.
‘E kto ti?’ Sally asked in a sing-song manner. ‘Kto ti? Sergey?’ Who are you? Are you Sergey? She made it sound like a game and more quietly Amelia followed her example, repeating the question at each bed. One by one the patients responded, some by simply shaking their heads, while others saw it was a game and smiled back. Some didn’t respond, but there was nothing they could do about that. Slowly they worked their way down the ward as they handed out bowls of food.
It was Amelia who found Sergey. Softly, urgently she called Sally over as she considered the shrivelled man on the chair by the grimy window. She didn’t recognise him, but when she’d asked him if he was Sergey, he had frozen. His gaze remained fixed on Amelia when Sally arrived at the bed. She repeated the question and his eyes became wider. A slight tremor started in the bony hands that lay in his lap and he continued to stare at Amelia’s face.
‘I think it’s him,’ Amelia whispered.
Sally took over and tried to turn the game’s focus on herself. ‘I am Sally,’ she said and pointed to herself in a sing-song voice. ‘And who are you? Are you Sergey?’ she asked as she pointed at him.
The unkempt man followed her actions wordlessly and after she’d repeated the question several times, he nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes still wide. Sally was obviously smarter than Amelia thought and took the game a step further. How much had Mara told her?
‘I am Sally and my surname is Henderson,’ she said. ‘You,’ she pointed at Sergey who was still following her movements wordlessly, ‘you are Sergey and your surname is . . . ?’
Miraculously his lips started to move and Amelia wanted to lean in to catch the whispered words, but Sally deflected her with a brief nod and repeated the phrase. Sergey was now fixated on Sally’s face and as he stared into her kind eyes, he uttered one whispered word, ‘Alyoshen.’
Amelia’s heart pumped fast as she heard the surname and was about to pepper the poor, bewildered man with questions when they heard footsteps approaching. Without knowing how it happened, Amelia watched as the bowl of soup flew out of Sally’s hands and landed all over the man. He jumped up and gave a shriek.
They all jumped back to avoid the splattering food and at the same time a voice bellowed behind them: ‘Shto takoye?’ What is this? What is happening? What are you doing? The supervisor spoke nonstop as she marched angrily towards them. Amelia was unable to catch everything she said, but again Sally took control and apologetically said that it was her mistake.
‘We will clean it,’ she said, and as the fat woman hesitated, Sally stuck her hand into her pocket and brought out three one hundred rouble notes. She quickly offered it to the woman and immediately half-turned back to the mess on the bed, not wanting to give her a chance to refuse. The woman’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the money and then at Sally again.
‘For the linen,’ Sally said, looking up and pointing to the grey sheets to which several brown stains had now been added, cleverly giving the woman a way to accept the money without appearing to accept a bribe.
Finally the woman took the money and turned around. ‘Okay, clean up this drunk,’ she said. ‘And hurry up,’ she added as she walked out the door.
Sally immediately set about wiping up the food. ‘We don’t have much time. What do you want to ask him?’
Amelia’s heart beat wildly and for a second she couldn’t think what to ask. She had no idea in what state the man’s mind was.
‘Ask him if he remembers the ambassador.’
Sally turned to Sergey who was sitting on a chair next to the bed now. She smiled at him. Calmly she asked the question, but the man’s reaction didn’t match her tone. His eyes widened with fear and a raw whimper escaped from his lips.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ Sally tried again. ‘I am Sally and you are Sergey,’ she repeated the words of their game a few times. It seemed to calm him down and when Sally repeated the question, he simply stared at her.
‘Ask him the same question and this time add “Robert Preston”,’ Amelia said.
Sally stared at Amelia, but asked the question. ‘Do you remember the ambassador, Robert Preston?’
Sergey stared at them with wild eyes, fear emanating from him. After a few tortuous seconds, he nodded briefly, but immediately after the nod he started shaking his head. When he raised his eyes to Sally’s again, they were shiny with tears.
‘Ask him what he remembers of that night.’
Again Sally asked the question, but this time Sergey did not answer. He bent over in his chair, his nose almost touching his knees, and started rocking back and forth. Sally gently touched his shoulder and when he sat up again, his face was wet with tears that streamed down his face. His mouth was stretched wide as if he was wailing uncontrollably, but no sound came from him.
‘Don’t be afraid, Sergey,’ Sally tried again. ‘What do you remember about that night?’
Between the tears and gulps of air, Amelia watched as his mouth began moving, twitching. Words uttered in a hoarse whisper erupted from him in a continuous, unintelligible stream. She leaned closer to try and hear the words, but had no chance as they heard the fat woman’s steps approaching the room again.
Sally gave a sharp shake of her head, mopped up the last drops of food and nodded for Amelia to follow her. They bumped into the fat woman at the door. Her stare was hard as they hurried b
ack towards the kitchen.
‘Sally,’ Amelia panted when they reached the kitchen again, ‘what did he say? We have to go back!’
Sally shook her head. ‘No, we’ve already drawn too much attention today.’ She turned away to place the empty bowl on the counter. ‘Sorry.’
Amelia felt like crying. Was this really another dead end? What had Sergey tried to say?
‘Did you hear what he said? I couldn’t hear very well.’
Sally hesitated. ‘He said something about white water, or something like that. It didn’t make much sense.’
‘What were his exact words?’
‘I think he said “where the white water is very big”.’
On the way back to Moscow, Amelia sat huddled into her coat despite the car heater’s efficiency, listening to the light chatter of Sally and the other woman in the car with them. She felt removed from the world they lived in, caught up in a different reality where she didn’t feel at ease.
She was filled with a sense of acute hopelessness. This wasn’t working. Maybe she should have listened to her parents and friends, maybe this quest was a terrible idea which would bring only disappointment. The tantalising few leads she’d found hadn’t been enough and their discovery had been accompanied by resistance and strange behaviour from even those she considered friends. Apart from her growing distrust of everyone and everything, there was, dare she admit it, an element of fear now. Fear of what she might uncover, but also fear of what might happen to her.
The car stopped in front of the hotel to drop her off. As she said goodbye and got out, Sally followed her. She closed the passenger door behind her and touched Amelia’s arm.
‘Sally,’ Amelia said quietly, ‘thank you so much for your help today. I’m not sure what Mara told you.’
‘Not much,’ Sally said, ‘only that you’re a friend and that I should try to help you. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more today. I can see that you’re disappointed, but if we pursued the matter further today, it would have caused suspicion.’ She started to turn away from Amelia, but then seemed to change her mind and spoke again. ‘For what it’s worth, I don’t think Sergey would have been able to provide you with any useful answers to whatever questions you might have.’
Amelia frowned, wondering what she meant.
‘I’ve been going to the institute for a while, and I saw him just after he was admitted. This would have been more than six, seven months ago. You heard the matron call him a drunk, didn’t you?’
Amelia nodded.
‘Well, I think that’s only part of the reason for his condition. When he came in, he was beaten up, and it didn’t look like just your average street beating. It was pretty severe. I think he’s traumatised and if anyone is ever going to get answers from him, it’ll be a therapist who works with him long-term.’ Sally shrugged. ‘And sadly we both know he’s never going to receive that treatment in the current system.’ She turned away and started getting into the car.
Amelia hesitated, but asked nonetheless, ‘Have you any idea what he meant by “where the white water is big”?’
Sally shook her head, but thought for a second. ‘Maybe a place that is called white water or a waterfall of some sort? I’m sorry, I have no idea.’
Amelia watched the car drove off. Neither do I, not even a clue. She turned towards the hotel, entered through the large double doors and stopped. The thought of going back to her lonely hotel room was unbearable. After the oppressive atmosphere of the institution, she craved air and space.
‘Ah, Mrs Preston, I’m glad I caught you!’
She turned towards the voice. One of the reception desk staff members walked towards her.
‘Someone just delivered this for you.’ The woman held out a large envelope.
Amelia frowned and took the envelope.
‘Who was it?’
‘I don’t know, just some delivery boy. You’ve just missed him, he was here only a minute ago.’
‘Thank you.’ She hesitated and then, to the obvious surprise of the doorman, turned around and rushed outside again, hoping against hope to find the delivery boy. The sidewalk was quiet. A businessman was getting out of a car, an old woman swinging a plastic carrier bag walked past, and a young woman stood chatting on her phone in a receded doorway. Beyond that cars continued to speed by.
She looked down at the envelope. Another note?
She opened it and slid out a single sheet of paper. It looked like an e-mail, but it made no sense to her. Why would Robert have written this?
Unwilling to stare at the troubling words any longer, she looked up at the hotel, then turned in the opposite direction, allowing her feet to find their own way, as far away as possible from everything the day had brought her.
17
‘How did you find me?’ Amelia took a step back. She was immediately, inexplicably furious. ‘What the hell are you doing here? Are you following me?’
Somewhere in her mind she registered the shock and dismay on Nick’s face, but she couldn’t control the overwhelming instinct to keep him at a distance. Around them groups of visiting school children stared at the reason for the sudden change in the museum’s subdued atmosphere.
‘Amelia, what’s wrong?’
‘Was it you?’
‘Me? What’s happened? I don’t . . .’
‘This!’ She thrust the envelope at him. ‘Did you deliver this?’
‘What? Amelia, what . . . ?’
‘How did you find me?’ she demanded again, confusion about Nick’s unexpected appearance drowning out all potential rational explanations. He frowned as he took a bewildered step towards her.
Of course she couldn’t possibly cause a scene, not here in the Kremlin’s Armoury museum. It was the last place where a disturbance would be tolerated. Several groups were viewing the displays of Tsarist life and raised voices would attract far too much attention. And yet she couldn’t stop the rising panic in her chest.
‘Have you been following me?’ She felt strangely light-headed and had to fight the impulse to steady herself against one of the old wooden carriages on display.
‘I’ve given you a fright, I’m sorry,’ Nick said while keeping his distance. His voice was low and urgent. ‘Amelia, I saw you. I went to your hotel, but they said you were out, so I waited in the restaurant. They said they would call me when you came in, but when you didn’t come back, I decided to go. And then, as I was leaving, I saw you across the street on Manezh Square.’ He paused for breath, ‘I had to go through the underpass, so I wasn’t able to catch up with you immediately, and by the time I came out, you’d disappeared. I couldn’t see you straight away, but just in time, just as I was about to give up, I saw you walk across the bridge into the Kremlin.’
Amelia stared at him. His explanation sounded plausible and genuine, but she had no idea what to believe anymore.
‘And this?’ she asked again, gesturing at the envelope.
Nick stared at the envelope in her hand. ‘What is it?’
‘It was delivered to the hotel.’ She studied his expression closely.
‘It wasn’t me, Amelia.’ His voice was flat, devoid of the vigour that had been there a minute ago.
Could she trust him? They’d planned to meet the day before to discuss and make sense of Bruce Jennings and his agenda, but he’d cancelled and since then, she hadn’t heard from him at all. Was he really on her side or was he playing a game she didn’t understand? Could she trust anyone to help her, for that matter? If she couldn’t even fathom the behaviour of an old friend like Ratna, how could she possibly put her trust in a stranger?
And yet, as she looked at his pained expression, something made her want to give him the benefit of the doubt. After Mara’s friend Sally’s support today, she really should be able to believe in the generosity of people, shouldn’t she? She felt suddenly tired, drained by the utter confusion in her mind.
‘What are you doing here? Why were you looking for me?’
‘I w
anted to see if you were all right after today, after yesterday,’ Nick said. ‘I felt bad. I’d promised to meet you yesterday, but something came up and I couldn’t postpone it.’
Amelia didn’t – couldn’t – make a move. Her thoughts went back to the helpless Sergey in the mental institution. She wanted to trust Nick, but she was so afraid that she would make a wrong decision.
When she finally looked up, still undecided, she caught something different in his face. The concern that had been there a minute earlier was now tinged with what looked like frustration. He sighed lightly and looked as if he was about to turn away, walk away from her and the difficulties that came with her. She could see all of it in his face, albeit briefly, and in a moment of clarity she understood the meaning of what she’d seen. He didn’t need her, she added nothing to his life. In truth, she only represented complications. She was the one who needed him.
Immediately she felt ashamed of her behaviour. He’d been doing Mara a favour by listening to her theories and then by getting involved. If he decided to withdraw his help now, she would truly be alone and solely responsible for rejecting what appeared to be a genuine offer of help.
She could see the decision take shape in his eyes. Without further thought, and even though she lacked absolute certainty, she made up her mind. She would stop him while she still could.
‘Thank you. I am. All right, that is. But I could do with a cup of hot chocolate as only the Russians can make it. Would you like to join me?’ She was only too aware of the lameness of her invitation. He seemed uncertain, wavering between turning away and accepting her peace offering. After a long moment he relented. ‘Okay, let’s get out of here. I’m sorry I scared you.’
‘It’s not your fault. I’m sorry for my reaction. Let’s just go.’
In silence they walked past the glass cases with their displays of dresses worn by empresses Catherine the Great, Anna Ioannovna and other famous tsarinas. They went down the grand staircase to collect their coats. Amelia was aware of a certain hesitation, even shyness between them now. She’d finally decided to trust him, but would he let her continue to rely on him, or had her trust come too late?
