by Joan Lingard
He pulled it out. Iain had been using the slip of thin white paper as a bookmark. It protruded visibly between two pages, about halfway through the book.
‘All right, Alex?’ called up Iain’s mother from below.
‘All right,’ he called back down. ‘I’ve found it.’
He drew out the slip of paper.
‘A search, a journey, and something sharp and bright.’
FIFTEEN
MAY 1918 FLIGHT FROM ST PETERSBURG
It was the month of May now and Natasha, opening her window, was conscious of spring in the air. She longed to get out into the country and smell the fresh grass and the blossom. Once upon a time, they had had a dacha, a country house set in woods where they had spent their summers, but that had been confiscated by the Bolsheviks. They were like prisoners cooped up in this city house. Uncle Leo had said they would have to leave St Petersburg, but first of all plans had to be laid and of these she knew nothing. If she asked questions she was told she would find out when the time came. And of course she must not even breathe any of this in front of Lena.
When she went downstairs she saw Lena deep in conversation with a man on the doorstep. He was dressed like a peasant. Natasha wondered if he might have food for sale. In the old days, the peasants had brought their food to the back gate, but not now.
Lena said something to the man and closed the door. She had a piece of paper in her hand and she was frowning.
‘Is your mother in the salon?’ she asked Natasha.
‘I think so.’
Lena went ahead of Natasha into the salon. She entered without knocking. Eva was with her sister-in-law, Marie, and her child, Kyril. The two women broke off their conversation as Lena entered.
‘I have to go back to my village for a few days, Madame,’ said Lena. ‘A messenger has brought me news that my mother is seriously ill and may be dying.’ She had gone back only once to her village in all the years that Natasha had known her. She always said it was a miserable place and she hated going there.
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Lena,’ said Eva, rising from her chair. ‘But you must go at once, of course. Is there any way in which we can help you?’
Natasha thought her mother sounded strangely sprightly. Perhaps she was just pleased at the thought of Lena’s absence for a few days.
‘I shall have to get a permit to travel.’
‘You of all people should be able to manage that!’ The princess smiled at Lena.
Natasha was worried. Her mother should be careful. She had been hinting that Lena could get what she wanted and that she was in favour with the authorities, which they suspected she was.
Lena, however, was too preoccupied with her forthcoming trip to take notice of such innuendoes. She would travel by train part of the way, then she’d have to find a cart to transport her the last few miles. Trains were infrequent and slow when they did get going. It would take her a whole day to reach her village.
‘I shall go tomorrow. I can’t delay any longer.’
‘You must carry plenty of food with you,’ insisted Eva. ‘I don’t suppose you will find any en route. And you will want a change of clothing. I expect we can find you a suitable travelling bag for your things.’ She went without delay and sought out a handsome leather bag and a fine wool travelling cloak in royal blue. She brought them back downstairs. ‘This shade of blue should suit you, Lena.’
Natasha looked again at her mother in surprise. She seemed to be taking delight in offering these things to Lena. Something was going on that she did not understand.
Lena allowed the cloak to settle around her shoulders. She stroked the material and smiled. ‘This will do very well.’ She eyed herself in the gilt-framed mirror on the salon wall. All round the walls there were empty black-edged rectangles where paintings used to hang. They, like much of their jewellery, had been confiscated by the Red Guard. They had rummaged through the house, taking away everything of value that they could lay their hands on. ‘I think you are right,’ agreed Lena, ‘the colour suits me.’
She took the cloak and the bag to her room and then went out to see about her travel permit and a train ticket.
‘I thought that was your favourite cloak, Mama,’ said Natasha. ‘I’m surprised you’ve given it to Lena.’ For Lena would never return it, they knew that.
‘What does an old cloak matter, Natasha? There are more important things in life.’
The front door opened and Leo came in carrying his doctor’s bag. He raised his eyebrows in an enquiring way at his sister. She nodded. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she told him. ‘Going according to plan.’
‘Good,’ he said, and carried on into the salon to join his wife and son.
‘Come upstairs with me, Natasha, love,’ said her mother.
They went up to her room and she closed and locked the door behind them. She opened the cupboard and took out a carpet bag. It had a well-travelled air to it.
‘I think it probably looks scruffy enough. Though we could dirty it up a little more.’
‘But why?’
‘We don’t want to attract attention, that’s why. Take it to your room, Natasha, and pack a few things, but not too many. It mustn’t be too heavy for you to carry.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Never mind where! It’s enough for you to know that we are going. We shall leave in the morning after Lena has gone and is out of the way.’
‘How did you know she would be going to her village?’ Natasha frowned. ‘Is her mother not ill then?’
‘She may be, she may not. Who knows? She’s elderly.’
‘But the messenger? Did Uncle Leo send him?’
‘Don’t ask questions, Natasha! Better not.’
‘But it doesn’t seem fair that Lena should think her mother might be dying when she’s not.’
‘Natasha, they say all is fair in love and war. This is war. If we don’t get out of here soon it’s likely that we shall all end up in prison or Siberia. Lena would not hesitate to help send us there. Uncle Leo is sure she is in the employ of the Secret Police. And they show no mercy to anyone.’
Natasha was silenced. She knew that what her mother had said was true. No mercy had been shown to her grandfather. He had been given no chance to defend himself. He had been shot one morning at dawn without ever seeing his family again.
‘So,’ said her mother, ‘in the morning be ready. Dress warmly but put on your oldest clothes.’ She went back to the cupboard and brought out two coarse grey shawls. She gave one to Natasha. ‘Wear this over your head. As I said, we must attract as little attention as possible. Our journey is not going to be easy.’
That evening, in her room, Natasha looked at her belongings. What to take, what to leave? She could not carry much, since it had to fit the carpet bag and no more. From the wall above her bed she unhooked the ikon of the Virgin Mary with child, which she prayed to every night before sleeping. It would go with her to protect and console her.
She then put in her sewing basket, but realized at once that it was too awkward and would occupy too much space. Sadly she lifted it out. Her jewelled thimble though, given to her at her christening, would not cause a problem, nor would her amethyst necklace. She would wear her locket she decided, the one with a picture of her mother and father, taken on their wedding day. She slipped it round her neck, under her dress, so that it would not be seen. Next to go into the bag was her small lacquered, beautifully decorated musical box, another christening gift. It had a sweet, melodious tone and when she felt low, she would wind it up and listen to its soft tinkle.
Now for her clothes. She chose a dark blue woollen dress, a couple of changes of underwear and stockings, warm nightgown, and two pairs of stout shoes. They might have to do a lot of walking. She had no idea how they were going to travel. Their carriages had of course gone long ago.
There was no more room left in the bag. She looked at all the other things she would have liked to have taken and would have to leave beh
ind: books, dolls, her scarlet velvet cloak, her best green velvet dress. She closed the bag and put it under the bed, as her mother had instructed. It was lucky that she did for no sooner had she done so than there came a sharp knock on the door and Lena’s voice said, ‘Open the door, Natasha. I want to speak to you.’
Natasha had locked the door. Her fingers trembled as they fumbled with the key. What if Lena had found out about their plans? What if she had discovered that the message brought to her was false?
Lena came in and sat herself down on the edge of the bed.
‘I want you to keep an eye on the kitchen for me, Natasha. You are a smart girl. You will adjust well to the new life here. Your mother and aunt are useless when it comes to anything practical. It is a wonder they can even dress themselves! I am going to give you the key of the food cupboard.’ She passed it over. ‘Make sure that no one takes more than their share. If they try to, tell them that I shall report them for disorderly conduct. Understand?’
Natasha nodded. She weighed the heavy key in the palm of her hand.
‘And now I must go to bed.’ Lena stood up. ‘I have an early start and a long day ahead of me.’
Natasha was sure that the day ahead of them would also be long. She took some time to fall asleep and when she did she dreamt that they were travelling in single file across a vast plain without a horizon. When her mother knocked on her door at first light she found it difficult to surface.
‘Natasha, quickly, get up!’ called her mother in a low, urgent voice.
She jumped out of bed and hastily washed and dressed. Opening the window shutters she saw a grey mist hanging over the Neva. A black coal barge passed by, gliding slowly and soundlessly. It was empty of coal.
Her mother was waiting in her room, dressed in a long dark coat, with the grey shawl draped over her head and shoulders. In her hand she held a sword.
‘Mother,’ cried Natasha, ‘what are you doing?’
‘It’s your father’s ornamental sword, Natasha. He wore it on formal occasions. I had kept it hidden from the Red Guard. And Lena.’
‘But you can’t take it with you.’
‘No,’ her mother agreed sadly, ‘of course not.’
‘What will you do with it?’
‘I shall throw it into the river.’ She picked up a carpet bag from the floor, one similar to Natasha’s. ‘We must get on our way. Lena left an hour ago.’
‘What about Uncle Leo? And Aunt Marie and Kyril?’
‘They have already left. We shall meet up with them later.’
‘And Stepan and Pyotr?’ Natasha hated the idea of leaving them behind. They had been two good and trusty servants.
‘I know, I feel sorry about them too. But they couldn’t come with us. We’d be too many. I’ve left an envelope with some money for them, all we could afford, and a note to say thank you.’
They crept down the stairs, making as little noise as possible. The house was silent and still except for the lone cry of a baby in an upper room. They heard a door open somewhere and froze. A moment later they heard it shut again and they went on down into the hall below. Natasha took the key of the food cupboard from her pocket and laid it on a side table. She did not want the lodgers to be deprived of food for the day. They would have to fight it out amongst themselves.
Natasha and her mother paused for a moment to look up, sensing it would be the last time they would see their home. They then let themselves out into the deserted street, closing the heavy door behind them. After giving a quick glance to right and left, Princess Eva crossed the road and dropped her husband’s sword into the river Neva. With a flash of silver it was gone, into the dark grey waters.
SIXTEEN
SHARP AND BRIGHT
Alex put Cue for Treason in his saddlebag and cycled home, clipping the corners rather sharply. He couldn’t wait to get back to show his father the latest clue. When he turned in at the gate he saw a strange car sitting outside the front door.
His father was in the drawing room with a woman he had never seen before.
‘Alex, this is Mrs Munro. She’s an expert on antiques.’
‘Hello, Alex,’ said the woman cheerfully.
‘Mrs Munro has come to value our antiques. Would you show her round?’
Alex conducted Mrs Munro upstairs and downstairs and she dutifully recorded every piece of furniture and every clock and every picture in her book.
‘You’ve got some pretty nice stuff,’ she observed. ‘Worth quite a lot. You’ve probably never realized that?’
‘We’ve never thought about it.’
In the sitting room her eye was taken straight away by the sewing basket. She went to it and lifted the lid.
‘That belongs to my sister, Sonya.’
Mrs Munro lifted out the thimble. ‘Now this is a little beauty. And valuable.’
‘That belongs to my sister as well.’
‘My instructions were to value everything of worth.’
‘But Mr Malenkov knows it belongs to Sonya.’
‘Alex is right,’ said Duncan. ‘And some things in this house are ours. Even some things of worth.’
Mrs Munro hesitated for a moment, then she put the thimble back and closed the lid of the box. She wasn’t interested in the sitting-room furniture and only made a note of the two Persian rugs that Cousin Boris had fancied.
Finally, she closed the book and stowed it away in her briefcase. She thanked Alex and his father and departed.
They retreated to the library and Alex read out the clue he’d found in Cue for Treason.
‘ “A search, a journey, and something sharp and bright.” ’
‘A lot of books must be about searches,’ Duncan reflected.
‘And journeys. Gulliver’s Travels. Aren’t there arrows and spears in that?’
‘You’re right. Better take a look.’
Alex didn’t take long to find the book. It was an old edition with thin tissue-like pages protecting the illustrations. He had to go through it page by page since a piece of paper might cling to the thin tissue and not easily fall out. He found nothing.
‘Let’s press on,’ said Duncan. ‘Travels with a Donkey? No, that doesn’t seem right.’
Alex checked it out anyway, just to make sure. He drew another blank.
‘Something sharp and bright,’ said Duncan. ‘Let’s think about that. What is sharp and bright?’
‘A knife?’
‘How about a sword?’
‘The Silver Sword!’ Alex jumped up. ‘It’s a story about children who go on a long journey searching for their lost parents!’
He found the book easily. The Silver Sword by Ian Seraillier. And in the middle of it there was a slip of paper. He drew it out.
‘ “Another difficult journey, this time involving four-legged creatures.” ’
SEVENTEEN
MAY 1918 THE START OF THEIR JOURNEY
They sat huddled in the cabin of the barge, the grey shawls wrapped around their heads. It was stuffy in the small space with so many people crowded together. As well as Natasha and her mother there was the bargee’s wife and her five children of assorted ages. The children looked hungry and listless. They leant against their mother, who from time to time cast a sullen glance at the two passengers under lowered eyelids. She had not spoken even when they had greeted her, obviously resenting their presence there. They could not blame her.
After leaving the house they had walked along the embankment to a landing stage a little further down the river. The barge, which normally carried timber, but now had a cargo of only a few bits of scrap, had been waiting for them. The bargee had told them to jump aboard and they had immediately gone down below. Leo had made all the arrangements. He had a lot of friends amongst people he had helped in the past.
One of the children started to cough. It was a raw, convulsive cough, and his nose was running freely. Another was grizzling. Their mother ignored them both. Natasha let her shawl slip back a little from her face and l
oosened her coat. She could feel beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead.
Suddenly they were jolted forward as the boat lurched to a halt. Natasha looked with alarm at her mother. They had not expected to stop so soon. They heard voices above and cocked their heads, straining to listen. Now footsteps sounded overhead; heavy, clumping footsteps. There seemed to be more than one pair. The ceiling was so low that if they were to stretch up their hands they would feel the vibrations. The barge was rocking slightly. Natasha pulled the shawl back around her head, tucking escaping strands of her long fair hair well out of sight.
‘You must hide.’ The bargee’s wife came to life, pushing the children aside so that she could get to her feet. She was a tall thin woman and there was scarcely room for her to straighten up in the cabin. ‘It sounds like the river police.’ She lifted a pile of sacks in the corner. ‘Here! Make haste!’
Natasha and her mother scrambled underneath the sacks. They were old and filthy and Natasha felt her nose begin to prickle with the smell. But she must not sneeze! She must not.
The door to the cabin opened, bringing with it a blast of cold air, and a rasping voice demanded, ‘Who is down below?’
‘My wife,’ said the bargee. ‘And our children.’
Natasha pinched her nose between her thumb and forefinger. The man was coming down into the cabin. She felt the floor sway.
‘You have a lot of children.’
‘Yes, sir. Five in all.’
‘You have no cargo down here?’
‘None. Only what you see on the deck.’
‘And those sacks?’
Natasha sucked in her breath.
‘Just a pile of old sacks. Fairly stinking they are too. I’ve been meaning to get rid of them. They’re left from the days when I used to carry full loads.’
There was a pause and then the harsh voice said, ‘All seems to be in order. You may proceed.’
Natasha and Eva remained underneath the sacks until the visitors had gone and the barge was moving again. The bargee put his head into the cabin and called, ‘All clear.’
