‘Gleams?’
‘With belief. His certainty of the future he’s building gleams like gold.’
‘Tell me again what he said.’
‘Oh, Anna.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Why? It only hurts. Just remember that he gave the jewels for me to use to help you.’
‘I want to hear it again, what he said.’
‘He said Vasily is dead and gone… We must put aside personal loyalties… This is the way forward, the only way forward.’
Anna closed her eyes. ‘He’s right. You know he is.’
‘Anna,’ Mikhail spoke in a low voice so as not to wake Sofia, ‘she is not as strong as she pretends.’
‘You mean the wound in her stomach.’
‘Yes.’
‘She won’t tell me how it happened.’
Mikhail sighed. ‘It was a group of soldiers. They were taking our horses and she… tried to stop them.’
A soft rain was falling, muffling their voices as it pattered on the canvas stretched over their heads. Anna was sitting upright in her effort to breathe quietly beside Sofia, who was fretful and restless in her dreams. Mikhail stroked her shoulder, a gentle touch so tender that it made Anna want to cry.
‘Sofia mentioned a dog,’ she prompted.
Mikhail nodded. ‘Yes, there was one, an unwanted stray that she adopted and fed. It was extraordinary. When the shot was fired, it leapt in front of her and died from the bullet.’
‘Maybe it just jumped up with excitement.’
‘Maybe.’
‘But she was hit in the stomach anyway.’
‘Yes, but only a shallow wound. The bullet went through the dog first and then into her. An old man we were with at the time – the one who let us take one of his rifles – removed it and stitched her up. He said she was very lucky because at that range the bullet should have ripped holes through her vital organs but…’ He brushed the tangle of pale hair off Sofia’s sleeping face and the lines of his mouth curved and softened.
‘But what?’
‘But I don’t believe it was luck.’
‘So what was it?’
‘Something more than luck.’
For a while they were silent, watching the rain, then Anna whispered, ‘Mikhail, where are we going?’
A shadow crossed his features. ‘To Tivil, because I have a son there. Sofia and I have it all planned… we’ll collect him and after that we’ll use the remaining jewels to buy tickets for all four of us, as well as travel documents and new identities. And medicines for you. We’ll go somewhere safe and start a whole new life down by the Black Sea, where it’s warm and your lungs can heal.’
‘My father had a dacha down there.’
The mention of her father silenced him and she regretted it. They sat for a long time listening to the wind in the forest and Sofia’s murmurs in her sleep.
‘Will we make it, Mikhail? To Tivil?’
‘The truth is…’ he paused and leaned closer, ‘it’s unlikely, Anna. But don’t tell that to Sofia. She is so determined to make it and I’ll do everything in my power to get us there, I swear, but we’re fugitives. Our chances are…’ He didn’t finish.
‘Poor?’
‘I have only four shells left for the rifle.’
‘And the pistol?’
‘Two bullets.’ Something seemed to loosen inside him and he shuddered. ‘I’m saving them.’ He looked at Anna and then at Sofia, and it was obvious what he meant. ‘Just in case,’ he murmured, lowering his head to kiss Sofia’s hair.
No wonder Sofia was beautiful. To be loved like that would make anyone beautiful.
‘Thank you, Mikhail,’ Anna whispered.
‘Can you taste the air, Anna?’
It was night. A three-quarter moon lit their path through the forest and Mikhail walked ahead with the rifle while the two women rode the horse. For hours Sofia had walked stride for stride at his side but now she was seated behind Anna, holding her firmly in place. Anna couldn’t recall how or when that had happened. Dimly she had a memory of falling off.
‘Yes, I can taste it.’
‘What does it taste of?’
‘Of wild animals and wild birds and wild berries. Of nothing in cages.’
‘Wrong.’
‘Of clean water and soap and scrubbed fingernails.’
Sofia laughed. ‘Wrong.’
‘It tastes of hope.’ Anna took in a great mouthful of air, then leaned back weakly against Sofia’s warmth behind her. ‘Sweeter than honey on my tongue.’
‘Better.’
Anna sighed. She didn’t mean to, but when she saw a sliver of moonlight fingering the soft brown hair that rippled in the shadows ahead of them, it sent a shiver of longing through her. She loved Vasily so fiercely. Would she ever stop missing him? Even though he’d made it plain he didn’t want her, didn’t yearn for her the way she yearned for him, she knew she could never let him go.
‘Shall I tell you what the air tastes of, Anna?’
In the dark Anna nodded, and the muffled sounds of the horse’s tread faded to nothing. Sofia’s breath was hot on her ear and Anna could smell excitement in it.
‘The best taste in the world and the worst. Sweet and sour in the mouth at the same time. It’s the taste of choice. You can choose, Anna. Do you remember how? I had to relearn after all those years without it. It was frightening at first, but now,’ Anna could sense her friend’s gaze seeking out Mikhail in the dark, ‘I’m not frightened to choose any more.’
Anna tipped her head back on a bony collarbone.
‘There’s something else,’ Sofia said, as if the contact had triggered the words, ‘something I wasn’t going to tell you but now I feel I have to.’
‘What?’
‘Something I kept to myself because I didn’t want it to hurt you by raising your hopes.’
‘Tell me.’
A pause during which, somewhere nearby, an animal snapped a twig and made both their heart rates jump.
‘Vasily keeps a lock of your hair under his pillow.’
Anna’s breath stopped. She coughed, wiped blood from her mouth with her sleeve and felt something roar into life inside her. She stuck out her tongue to savour the cool night air and it tasted of happiness.
Nights merged. Anna could no longer separate them from days, as darkness settled in her mind and refused to lift. She could feel her body shutting down and she fought it every breath of the way.
‘She can’t travel any further, Sofia. It’s killing her.’
‘Mikhail, my love, we can’t stop. It’s too dangerous.’
‘Dangerous to stop and dangerous to go on. You choose.’
Sofia’s voice dropped to a fierce whisper, but Anna heard the words as she lay strapped to the horse’s back.
‘She’s dying, Mikhail. I swear on my love for you that I won’t let her go without seeing him one last time.’
The horse walked on and each step jarred Anna’s lungs, but she didn’t care. She was going to see Vasily. Sofia had sworn.
61
Tivil January 1934
‘A horse is coming.’
Pyotr stamped his valenki in the snow. ‘I can’t see any horses,’ he complained, screwing up his eyes to peer into the white fog that lay like a sheet over the valley.
‘They’re coming,’ Rafik repeated.
‘Is it Papa?’
Rafik frowned, his black eyebrows twitching under his shapka. ‘It’s him – and he’s not alone.’
‘How do you know, Rafik?’ Pyotr asked.
But Rafik didn’t answer. He and Zenia were standing with hands linked, muttering strange words that made no sense to Pyotr. To the boy it seemed that the words turned into something solid in the cold damp air, rising like his breath to merge with the fog over Tivil. He didn’t like the feeling. He began to throw snowballs to warm himself up.
They’d been waiting there an hour and his fingers had frozen, but that didn’t worry him. What worried him much more was that his hopes had frozen. He could feel them caught in a hard icy lump inside his chest. He’d been curled up at home in front of the warm pechka, the stove, when Zenia had come bounding in, cheeks glowing, bundled him up into his shuba coat and dragged him out into the snow. Over recent months he’d never quite grown used to the gypsy girl’s sudden bursts of energy. Often he wondered if it had anything to do with all the strange herbs she ate.