East of the Sun

by Janet Rogers

  When they emerged into the afternoon air, Nick’s forgiving nature made her feel even guiltier when he carefully placed a hand under her arm and gently guided her over the icy cobblestones. It was an unexpected and generous gesture.

  Wordlessly, they exited into Aleksandrovsky Gardens. Amelia shivered deeper into her coat.

  ‘Shall we go indoors, maybe have a coffee or that hot chocolate you suggested?’ Nick suggested.

  ‘Not yet.’ Despite the cold, Amelia headed to one of the many benches lining the pathways of the snow-covered gardens. ‘Let’s sit outside for a few minutes.’

  None of the other benches were occupied and few people were out.

  Nick came over and sat next to her, keeping a safe distance between them. He remained silent. What could he be thinking about her behaviour?

  Snow on the ground stood in sharp contrast to the red wall that lay less than thirty metres away. A few chattering tourists, emerging after their guided Kremlin tours, supplied the only noise in the afternoon air.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said eventually, ‘about in there. I lost it, I don’t know why. So much has happened in the last few days. I’m overwrought, I guess. It makes me suspicious of everything and everyone. I don’t even know why I came to the Kremlin. I’ve been here so many times.’

  ‘It’s all right, Amelia, forget it,’ Nick replied and offered her a brief, tight smile.

  ‘You’re kind, generous. I’m not sure I would have been able to do the same had I been in your shoes.’

  ‘You’ve done pretty well so far. I guess I should be surprised that the demons have only started pestering you now.’

  She glanced at him. ‘If only you knew,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Maybe you can tell me what’s in that envelope.’

  She fingered the corners of the envelope she was still clutching. ‘I will, but not right away, if that’s okay.’ Then, neither wanting him to probe nor feel rebuffed, she touched his sleeve gently. ‘Come on, let’s go, it’s too bloody cold out here. I owe you far more than hot chocolate, but it’s a start.’

  Their tread was lighter as they made their way back to the hotel. At Amelia’s suggestion, they decided to order their drinks from her room but talk in a small sitting area in the passage outside. Despite the new tone in their interaction, she still didn’t mention the reason to him: that she was afraid of being watched or listened to. As they rounded the corner of the passage that led to her room, she started looking for the room key.

  ‘Looks like someone left you a message,’ Nick, who was a few steps ahead, said. She looked up, immediately uneasy. And, as she knew she would, she saw it. This time there was no envelope, just a brightly coloured note folded into a neat triangle – just like before. As Nick reached out to retrieve the message, she took a step backwards.

  18

  Nick caught up with her when she was already outside in the street, walking away from the hotel. She strode ahead, a cold dread spreading through her body.

  ‘Amelia!’ he panted next to her, ‘What on earth is wrong?’

  She didn’t answer. All she could manage was to urge her legs to hurry forward, away from the hotel, away from the note and its message and especially away from the unknown person who’d left it for her.

  Two blocks further she stopped, only because her limbs were no longer willing to obey her. She was shaking too much to continue moving. Trying to steady herself, she put out a hand against the marble-clad wall of one of the city centre’s renovated buildings. Her chest heaved uncomfortably and she feared she would lose all the self-control she’d clung to so tightly since her arrival in Moscow.

  ‘Amelia, what is it? Please, talk to me!’ Nick asked urgently, confusion and alarm clear on his face.

  She shook her head, still unable to answer. For some reason, she couldn’t force air into her lungs.

  Behind Nick pedestrians passed, not taking any notice, unaffected by her distress. Only a homeless man loitered a few metres away, his eager eyes weighing the possibility of profiting from their stop on the busy sidewalk. She met his stare head-on and after a brief hesitation he moved off.

  ‘What is it?’ Nick urged her again. He puffed little white clouds into the cold afternoon air.

  She needed to get a grip. Take one deep breath. And then another. And another. At last her breathing slowed down. She looked up at him before her eyes fell to the piece of paper he was still holding in his hand. He followed her gaze and unfolded the bright triangle. Amelia watched his expression as he read the few words.

  ‘It says “You’re still here”.’ He read it aloud again and looked up at her. ‘Amelia, what is this?’

  She started shaking again, began to speak, but struggled to find the words to offer some kind of coherent explanation to him.

  He was quicker than she was, though. Enlightenment dawned in his eyes. ‘Someone’s been threatening you . . .’ He stared at her in alarm. ‘This isn’t the first one, is it?’

  Mutely she shook her head. He exhaled heavily and something like anger flashed in his eyes. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ He was incensed. ‘Or at least someone?’

  Someone she trusted?

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve told no one about this!’ Nick’s voice rose in exasperation.

  Finally she found her voice. ‘And what would they have done? Tell me! How would that have helped?’ Her words came out more fiercely that she’d intended, but she couldn’t take them back. She took a few steps away, breathing hard.

  Nick stared at her wordlessly.

  ‘I don’t know why I didn’t, okay?’

  ‘You didn’t trust anyone, did you?’

  ‘I didn’t want to alarm anyone. I thought maybe it was nothing, or empty, meaningless.’

  ‘Nothing? After all that’s happened to you? And especially after what happened to Robert?’ She felt like a child at the receiving end of an adult’s anger. Nick’s face was burning with annoyance. She was about to attack again – what do you know, how dare you and who do you think you are – but he cut her short with an urgency that preempted any justification she might have wanted to give him.

  ‘All right,’ he said, gripping her shoulders, no longer shy or careful about how he spoke to her, ‘this is what you’re going to do: go back to the hotel and check out immediately. Tell them you’re going to St Petersburg for a few days, that you’ve found a last-minute ticket, and do not, do not – under any circumstances – provide a new address. Give them any hotel name in St Petersburg if they insist. Pack your bags and get out. Make sure you leave nothing behind.’

  He paused for a second, let go of her shoulders and then started scribbling on the other side of the note before he handed it to her. ‘Go to this address.’ He caught her expression. ‘It’s not my place. It should be safe, it’s a friend’s apartment.’

  ‘But what about—?’ Amelia started asking.

  ‘But what about what?’ he shot back at her. ‘Nothing apart from leaving is crucial right now, Amelia.’ Nick leaned closer, his eyes holding hers. When he spoke again, his voice was no longer fury-filled. ‘Please don’t resist me now. We will take care of any complications this might cause later. The only thing that is important now, is that you get out of that hotel.’ He rubbed his chin, and continued. ‘Don’t get an official taxi, take your bags, walk around the corner and flag down a gypsy cab. I will join you as soon as I can, but I’ll have to make a few arrangements first. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Go!’ he urged again, looking deep into her eyes for a moment. ‘Go,’ he repeated more gently, and when she took the first step back to the dreaded hotel, she glanced over her shoulder and saw that he had already turned and was hurrying away in the opposite direction.

  The unfamiliar building had to be approached through a courtyard. Snow was piled high everywhere, but a pathway had been cleared to a heavy steel external door which, she assumed, would lead to the apartments above. When she pulled on it, she
discovered that it was locked. She rang the apartment number, but there was no answer. Alarmed she looked at the piece of paper again. It seemed to be the correct address, but Nick’s note held only a street address and apartment number. Helplessly she stared at the keypad next to the door. In his hurry, he must have forgotten to write down a door code, or at least something that would help her gain entry. What was she supposed to do now?

  For a few uncertain moments, she wanted to panic, wanted to run back to the safety of a hotel, but the realisation that she would have to be registered in the system again, gave her pause. Hadn’t she decided to trust Nick just a few hours ago? She had to believe that her decision had been the right one and would act accordingly now. Still, it wasn’t a reassuring feeling to be so boxed in by the courtyard, the weather and the lack of options. Nick’s emphasis on not leaving a trail stopped her from ringing the other apartments in the building. No one could know where she was. There didn’t seem to be any other option but to wait for him.

  She dragged her suitcase further along the wall into another doorway a few metres to the side of the main one. It looked like a delivery entrance that hadn’t been used in ages. If she waited here, she should be hidden from view, especially in the fading daylight. She pulled out a thick wool pashmina and wrapped it tightly around her coat before she sat down on her suitcase to wait.

  Darkness came early and quickly and still there was no sign of Nick. Anxiety lay in a heavy knot in her chest. Where was he? No one had entered through the courtyard, but if they did, they wouldn’t see her, because she was half-hidden behind a mound of snow someone had made when they’d cleared the pathway to the door.

  What was keeping him? Amelia flexed her toes and fingers continuously to keep them from going numb, but the cold was steadily creeping into her bones.

  Snow started coming down half an hour later. Thick, white flakes fell fast and within a few minutes the path was covered again. Time seemed to slow down as she watched the snow fall. The fleeting thought that Nick might not show up, she left unexamined, unwilling to consider the possibility that she could now be more vulnerable than in the hotel.

  It seemed like an eternity since she’d sat down in the doorway, and she’d almost reached the point where plan B would have become a necessity when she heard someone call out. Carefully she peered over the mound of snow. The tall figure and grey coat looked familiar.

  ‘Amelia!’ he called again. She scrambled to her feet. The thick layer of snow must have dampened the sound, because she hadn’t heard Nick’s footsteps approaching the main door that lay to her right.

  ‘There you are!’ She was disturbed by the relief on his face. Did he think she was in danger even in this quiet courtyard?

  ‘I thought for a second you weren’t here—’ he started to say and stopped as she pointed to the hidden doorway. ‘Good thinking,’ he said instead and handed her the packages he had in his hands before he walked over to get her luggage.

  Within seconds he punched in a code and they were inside, making their way up the concrete stairs. The stairway was unlit and there was no lift, but they didn’t have far to go. A predictable whiff of boiled cabbage followed them as they ascended the stairs in silence. At the fourth and top floor were two doors. Nick stopped in front of the one at the far end of the landing.

  The front door opened onto a short passage. After that, a kitchen lay to her immediate right, and in front of her was a lounge area. Beyond the lounge was a small bedroom which probably led to a bathroom. The place was sparsely furnished, but warm, thanks to the city’s powerful central heating system.

  ‘I’m sorry I took so long,’ Nick said as he carried her suitcase through the lounge to the bedroom. ‘Getting hold of my friend proved to be more difficult than I anticipated. He’s out of town.’ He placed her belongings on the bed and returned to where she still stood in the entrance hall. ‘You must be freezing. Why don’t you take off your coat and things while I unpack those?’ He pointed to the shopping bags he’d brought with him, which she now saw held milk, bread, coffee and a few other essentials.

  As if in a trance, Amelia slowly started unbuttoning her coat, her fingers aching as warmth finally returned to them.

  ‘Nick,’ she started, but the words froze in her mouth and instead she found tears there. Hot, heavy, tears that came out of nowhere. Before she could turn away, Nick was in front of her. Without hesitation he pressed her against his chest. The embrace was tender and strong in equal measure. It had been so long since she’d allowed anyone, much less a man, to hold her this way. The ache in her chest sharpened and to her horror her silent tears turned into sobs.

  Nick said nothing, but stood very still, and only when her tears had subsided, he stepped back carefully. Gently he finished unbuttoning her coat and hung it on a peg in the entrance hall, next to the door. He pulled off her hat, hung it next to the coat and then, still without saying anything, he led her into the kitchen where he pulled out a chair for her at the minute kitchen table.

  Amelia could find no words to speak out loud, no thoughts to voice, and he let her be, let her sit while he started busying himself with pots and pans. She watched as he pulled out a packet of pasta and started chopping onions and tomatoes. After a while, lulled by his quiet industriousness, her gaze drifted outside to where the snow was still falling. She could feel his eyes on her occasionally, and found it, combined with the silence, reassuring. Still there were no words and he seemed to require none from her.

  The pasta sauce started simmering on the stove. She got up to taste it. ‘You can cook.’

  ‘A little, yes.’ He smiled at her and reached for a bottle of wine that still stood unopened on the counter. Holding the bottle in front of him, he raised his eyebrows and to her surprise she found herself smiling and nodding.

  Silently she helped with the last preparations and a short while later they sat down for a simple meal. It was good. Halfway through it proper words returned to her and she finally asked him the question she’d wanted to ask since their second meeting.

  ‘Why are you helping me?’

  Nick’s face became still. He stared at her for a second as if to make sure he understood what she was asking, then dropped his gaze and scooped up another bite of spaghetti. Amelia waited. After what had happened that day, after he had seen a measure of her inner turmoil, she felt a connection with him. She knew that after all that had transpired he wouldn’t answer glibly or easily, but would reveal more of what had compelled him to get involved in her quest. Despite her desire from the start to remain independent and unhindered by ties to anyone, she now craved the honesty that a true connection brought.

  His face was serious when he finally spoke. ‘Well, the most obvious and initial reason was that Mara asked me and although I had reservations about getting involved, I would do a lot for Mara.’ He shrugged. ‘For a whole host of reasons, I don’t like to say no to her.’ Nick paused as if to consider his next words carefully. ‘And this,’ he said, gesturing towards Amelia, ‘was something that I thought I might be able to help with.’

  His words were simple and straightforward and held no element of dishonesty. Amelia nodded, and waited for him to speak about the less obvious reasons for offering his insights and advice and especially for coming to the rescue earlier in the day. She too knew how difficult it was to say no to Mara, but there had to be more than just her request.

  ‘My mother is Russian.’

  Amelia nodded again, already familiar with the fact, half expecting him to tell her how his mother’s family managed to escape the Soviet Union after the Second World War, how they settled in America and how his Russian-born mother had met her American husband later. Instead he said something quite different.

  ‘I should say “was”. She passed away a few months ago.’

  Amelia immediately wanted to say something appropriate, but Nick made a movement with his hand to stop her.

  ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to. She was ill. It was amazing that
she’d lasted as long as she did. We – and she – knew the end was coming.’ Nick pushed his plate aside, the remaining food either forgotten or tasteless now.

  Outside the night held on to the silence that always followed a heavy snowfall. Amelia watched his face as he poured the last of the wine into their glasses.

  ‘If there was one thing my mother had in common with Russians living here today, it was a fierce national pride. But in her case it took a slightly different form. Hers wasn’t blind pride in her country’s supposedly great achievements. She knew very well about all the things that were wrong, and had gone wrong, in this country. There was no arrogance. It was pride without the chip on the shoulder. She always acknowledged that Russia had allowed and unfortunately sometimes still allows people to indulge their basest desires. Her pride was less self-righteous, but more defiant, despite this country’s blemished history. It was as if she dared people to disbelieve that someone as normal, as kind, as self-aware as she was, could have come from here. And she clung to the notion that it had the potential to be a place of great things and people. Not greatness achieved at the cost of human rights, but true, uncorrupted greatness.’ He smiled as he thought of his memories of her, his eyes filling with a gentle expression that bordered on affectionate amusement.

  Amelia didn’t interrupt and he continued. ‘She was never strong and couldn’t travel back here after the country opened up again, but she urged me, sometimes on a daily basis,’ he smiled ruefully, ‘to return and to do something good here. She had great faith in the value of one small good act at a time.’ He took a sip of wine and held it in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed, sat back and looked at Amelia. ‘An attempt to remedy the past, if you will. Even if it was a past she’d had no hand in creating herself.’