32

‘Go to bed, Lydia.’ It was Elena’s voice, soft from behind the curtain.

‘Not yet.’

‘There’s no point waiting.’

‘There is.’

‘He won’t come, girl. Not tonight. He can’t. He told you that he’s watched every moment.’

‘You don’t know him.’

A low chuckle. ‘No, but I know men. Even the most devoted won’t walk into a lion’s mouth if it means no chance of walking out again. Give him time. You’re in too much of a hurry.’

‘Chang An Lo is not like other men.’

‘So you say.’

‘It’s true, Elena.’

There was a sudden somnolent snort from Liev on the far side of the curtain. Their talk had woken him. ‘Fuck this. Go to sleep. The pair of you.’

‘Shut up, you old goat,’ Elena chuckled fondly, and the bed-springs creaked as she settled down beside her man.

Lydia leaned over from the chair beside the window and blew out the candle on the sill. But she remained there, staring out into darkness.

Chang saw the light go out. He was in the courtyard below, a black shadow among black shadows. He had no way of knowing it was her window, or her candle, but he was as certain of it as he was of his own heartbeat.

He knew she would be waiting but he moved no closer. A bitter wind moaned under the roof tiles, the night spirits urging him on, trying to steal his senses, setting fire to his blood. Nevertheless he remained totally immobile on the courtyard cobbles as bit by bit through the soles of his feet he felt a part of himself sneak away, lift like smoke on the wind and trail across the window pane, seeking cracks to whisper through.

Coming here was a risk but he could not stay away. It was no hardship for him to slip out of the hotel bathroom window, scale the drainpipe and prowl like one of the city cats over the rooftops. No, that was only a small danger. The big danger was here, on her own doorstep. Did she really think she could become friendly with one of the Party elite, the man with the wolf eyes, and not pay the price? She would be watched. Every moment now. There would be someone to report on who she met, where she went, what she did and, above all, who came to her living quarters. Day or night. But here in the shadows he was invisible.

My Lydia, my love. Take care.

He returned to his hotel the same way he’d left it, the roof tiles lethal in the dark under their coating of ice. As he swung in through the bathroom window once more, he listened but all was quiet. It was four o’clock on a winter’s morning and the hotel’s clients were slumbering contentedly under their thick quilts.

While still in the bathroom he changed into the nightwear he’d carried in the leather satchel on his back, and pushed his shoes and clothes into it instead. He ran water from the tap to indicate to any hidden ears that the bathroom was in use, stilled his heart and opened the door. The corridor was empty. On bare feet he padded silently to his room, slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

‘So you’re back.’

In the dark Chang’s hand slid to the knife at his waist, as with the other he turned on the light.

‘Kuan,’ he said. ‘What are you doing in my room?’

She’d been sitting in a chair and had risen to her feet. Her face was flushed and he knew her heart well enough to recognise it as the fire of anger.

‘Waiting for you to return.’

‘I am here now.’

‘Where have you been?’

‘That is my business, Kuan, not yours.’

She was wearing a plain blue cotton wrap and he saw her hands sink into its pockets, bunching into fists, but her voice was low and controlled.

‘Chang An Lo, you could be arrested for what you’ve done tonight.’

Chang drew in a slow breath. A sadness swam into his blood and he felt it pulse through his veins. It was too late to take back her words.

‘We could all be arrested for what you’ve done tonight,’ she continued in a tense whisper. ‘Leaving the hotel secretly indicates you are doing something you don’t wish the authorities to know about.’

‘Kuan,’ he said so softly she had to take several steps closer to hear, ‘if this room is fitted with listening devices, which is very likely, your words have just condemned us to a labour camp in Siberia.’

Her flush deepened. Her dark eyes widened in alarm and darted round the room as if the devices might be visible.

‘Chang,’ she whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Go to your room now. Get some sleep.’

‘How can I sleep when…?’

He opened the door and held it ajar. ‘Goodnight, Tang Kuan.’

Without looking at him she bowed, sidled through the gap and left the room. He turned off the light and sat down on the bed. He closed his eyes, focused his thoughts and let Lydia come to him. He filled his mind with the image of her dancing in his arms tonight, the flames of her hair burning away all sense of caution, her amber eyes drawing his spirit to hers once more, tightening the thread that bound them. He pictured again the way she turned her head, chin held high; the way her mouth curved up at the corners even when she wasn’t smiling. His thoughts lingered on the feel of his hand on her back as they moved across the floor, each fragment of his skin aware of her young muscles rippling under his fingers; of her ribs, of her long straight spine.

For the sake of China, for the country he loved, he’d given her up once already. Not again. Not this time, may the gods forgive him. He opened his eyes and stared out into the blackness.

The cold was like a slap in the face as Lydia walked out into the courtyard. The sky wasn’t yet light, that was still several hours away, so the yardman wasn’t in his usual position, leaning on his snow shovel, puffing on a cigarette stub and complaining about the carelessness of the women at the pump spilling water over the cobbles. It made his job harder, hacking at the sheets of ice. Liev claimed all yardmen were paid informers for OGPU, keeping a careful watch over the comings and goings of their building’s inhabitants, but whether or not that was true, Lydia was eager to avoid his lecherous gaze.

She set off at a fast pace, retracing the route she and Elena had taken to the Housing Office. The night sky had cleared, stars glittering as bright and numerous as the sequins on Antonina’s black dress in the Hotel Metropol yesterday evening. The thought of Antonina and Alexei together was one she chose not to dwell on, but there was something about the woman that she liked. She was an individual, unwilling – or was it unable? – to conform, not yet jammed into the Soviet mould despite being married to one of Stalin’s elite. And now the certainty that Alexei was heading for Moscow too.

Hurry, brother. I’ll be waiting. At the Cathedral today, I promise.