East of the Sun (32 page)

28

‘N
ick?’ Amelia called out as she stepped through the door.

No answer came. The apartment was quiet.

‘Nick, where are you?’

She walked into the small lounge and saw immediately that it was empty. Beyond it she could see that he wasn’t in the bedroom either. The bed was neatly made, all signs gone that they’d shared it the previous night.

‘Nick,’ she called out hopefully, ‘are you here?’ but knew before she asked the question that there would be no answer. Disappointment engulfed her. She’d started depending on him and now he wasn’t here.

She hung up her coat and walked into the deserted kitchen. All that awaited her was a note propped up against a coffee mug. His handwriting was strong, with long, pointed letters:

The apartment felt alien without him there. She was too restless to savour the time alone to consider and digest all that Ratna had confessed to. The instinct to keep things to herself, to handle them on her own, had changed so drastically from those first days back in Moscow. Now she felt adrift, unable to summon the single-mindedness with which she’d arrived.

What should she do next? Call Nick? No. Much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t call. She didn’t want to seem needy.

After the kettle had boiled, she nursed cup after cup of tea, hoping in vain for his return. Eventually the hardness of the chair drove her to the sofa where she fell asleep and into a tangle of dreams filled with images of winding streets, snow globes and a handful of roubles scattered on pristine snow.

She woke up to a grey morning and a text message from Henry Gunn on her phone.

She sighed. Even though the e-mail between Robert and Chris Ross continued to niggle at her, it seemed irrelevant now that she knew what happened. She didn’t believe that Robert would have done anything questionable. His moral compass had always been infallible.

Still there was no sign of Nick. Where was he? And why hadn’t he contacted her? The previous night she hadn’t wanted to pester him, but now worry overcame her reservations and she dialled his number. The call went straight to voicemail. Either his phone was switched off or it had run out of battery and she knew of no other way to get hold of him. Unease about the thin lines of communication between them lingered as she showered and dressed, all the while hopeful that she would hear a key in the lock. The building, however, remained silent.

As the minutes passed, she couldn’t bring herself to pick up her bag and coat to leave for her lunch date with Patrick and Cathy. She knew she was going to run late, but was reluctant to go before she’d seen Nick or at least spoken to him about Ratna’s terrible revelations.

One more time she hesitated, thinking of the night they’d spent together, the comfort of his body next to hers. Did he regret that closeness now, however innocent it had been? Was he hesitant to return because of that, fearful that he’d given too much of himself or that she would expect something from him now?

There was so much that made sense after her conversation with Ratna; so much she wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t help but wonder if the events of the past few days had taken their toll and she’d become a burden to him. Could he be avoiding her? She sighed, ignoring the small shard of rejection she felt.

Irritated with herself, she shook off the doubts. He’d done enough, far more than she’d expected, and she
had
finally learnt the truth, and even if it was painful, she was glad that she did. She glanced at the note she’d left for him on the small kitchen table where they’d spent the previous number of evenings analysing the details of Robert’s disappearance. She’d kept it brief.

She hoped it would be enough.

Her watch told her she could no longer delay her departure. Resolutely she left the apartment. Half an hour later, as she rounded the corner from Sivtsev Vrazhek onto Starokonyushenny Pereulok, she saw that Patrick’s car was already waiting in front of the embassy. Worse, he was sitting inside, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, an irritated look on his face. She hurried forward.

‘Sorry,’ she said as she opened the passenger door, giving him an apologetic look. ‘Did I keep you waiting long?’

‘It’s nothing,’ he replied, fastening his seatbelt after he offered her the briefest of smiles.

‘I’m really sorry,’ she said again, ‘I just couldn’t get myself together this morning.’

Patrick shook his head in response, and appeared to also attempt to shake off his mood. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m just grumpy, that’s all.’ He pulled a face and smiled wryly.

‘Everything all right? I mean at home?’

He shrugged slightly. ‘Oh, I’d say things are about the same.’

He didn’t elaborate, but focused on getting his car out of its parking space. For several minutes they drove in silence. Amelia watched as he made his way from one back street to another without hesitation. After years in Moscow, he seemed to know all the routes that would help him avoid the traffic on the straighter route to the main highway.

‘Did she like the gift?’ Amelia asked.

‘What gift?’ Patrick frowned.

‘You know, the one you were buying the other day when we ran into each other at that new shopping area.’

‘Oh, yes! Where’s my brain?’

Amelia observed him as he drove. Patrick seemed different this morning. She wondered if things were worse than she thought.

‘Cathy did speak to me, as you know,’ Amelia said, broaching the subject gently. She felt faintly disloyal and more than a little awkward to be having the discussion she’d been trying to avoid with him again, but he really looked like he needed to talk to someone.

‘What did she say?’ Patrick asked, looking at her quickly before turning his eyes back to the road again.

Amelia thought for a moment. ‘I don’t really want to get into too many details. I don’t want to betray her confidences. Like I said the other day, I truly think you should talk to her yourself, ask her, but if I had to interpret and maybe summarise the gist of our conversation, I think she feels that there’s increasing distance between you. That perhaps your focus has shifted?’

Patrick frowned as he stopped at a red traffic light. ‘Focus?’

‘Yes, I think she feels that while work has always been important to you, you focus on it even more these days.’

‘At the cost of family life, she means, right?’ he asked. Amelia was surprised to hear resentment, even bitterness in his voice, and waited for him to say more.

‘You know,’ he continued, ‘better than most, how hard life in the diplomatic service is.’

‘I certainly do,’ Amelia said gently, hoping to convey empathy.

He didn’t seem to hear her, however. ‘I’ve
had
to make that decision, I’ve
had
to step up and increase my focus,’ he said, his voice rising, ‘Sometimes there are unforeseen obstacles on your path and you simply have to do the things necessary to advance in life. Sometimes there
is
no choice but to become more focused.’ He sounded angry now.

‘Or the choice is a very hard one to make,’ she said, thinking of the difficult choices that Robert had to face in his last weeks as ambassador.

Apart from a glance in her direction, Patrick didn’t reply and for several minutes she watched in silence as he negotiated the start of the heavy mid-day Sunday traffic. When he spoke again, he seemed not only calmer, but unwilling to pursue the subject.

‘Sorry about that, I’m just frustrated that there are so many balls to juggle at the moment. What about you? You look better. You looked wrecked last night, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

‘I was,’ Amelia replied, hesitant to revisit the events of the previous day. There would be plenty of time during the course of the afternoon to discuss Ratna’s revelations with him. Undoubtedly there would be repercussions for Ratna, and Patrick was a good person with whom to discuss the situation.

‘If I was short with you last night, I apologise. I
would
like to tell you what’s been happening. Maybe you can help me find a few final answers.’

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue. ‘It’s not urgent. Not anymore.’ She could feel his gaze on her, but the energy to talk about what she’d learnt in the last few days was absent.

They continued the rest of the trip to the highway in silence. Amelia watched as he deftly made his way through Moscow’s notorious combination of traffic and one-way streets. She knew he was gradually heading to the ring road that surrounded the city centre. After that they would take the Volokolamskoye highway out to Patrick and Cathy’s home in Pokrovsky Hills, where many foreign families lived in compounds close to one of the city’s international schools.

‘I’ve been finding some answers,’ she offered at last, when he joined the stream of cars leaving the city centre, still aware of an inner hesitation, but not wanting to be rude. She probably owed him some kind of explanation of what she’d been up to and perhaps it was better to do it without Cathy present.

Patrick glanced at her questioningly and she continued. ‘About Robert’s disappearance. That’s the only reason why I came back.’

‘I thought as much,’ he said softly, ‘when you asked about Popov and that last night at the Marriott and the embassy reports. I didn’t think admin and emotional closure were all you were after.’

‘It’s been . . .’ Amelia started, searching for the right words. ‘Let’s just say I’ve discovered that things – and people – aren’t always what they seem.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I don’t think one can, or should, always trust those whose loyalty you’ve taken for granted before.’ She sighed, feeling sick again at the knowledge of Ratna’s actions and their terrible consequences. ‘People’s agendas aren’t always easy to understand, it seems.’

Patrick looked at her again, but he said nothing at first, simply seemed to consider her statement. Then, at length, he said, ‘Perhaps those agendas exist for specific reasons. Perhaps there are times when people don’t see a choice, when they feel forced in a certain direction.’

Amelia looked at him sharply, wondering if he had knowledge or at least suspicions of Ratna’s involvement, and had chosen not to expose her. Was he being defensive because of his own lack of action? Or was his mind still on the conflict between him and Cathy?

She was about to ask him, but the traffic came to a sudden stop and Patrick had to apply the brakes hard to prevent hitting the car in front of them. She held back and decided to let him focus on driving. There was after all no hurry now. She knew how Robert had been betrayed.

If only she could find where his life had ended, where his final resting place was. The thought had bothered her since the previous evening, but she doubted she would ever find the answer to that particular part of the mystery. And perhaps it was better that she never found out.

Soon they reached the turnoff to Pokrovsky Hills. More slowly now Patrick made his way down the narrower road that ran alongside the Pokrovskoye-Glebovo forest. Once past it, it was only a few hundred metres before they reached the compound’s gates. A security guard peered out and seemed to recognise the car. He waved them through and withdrew into the warmth of his booth.

Few people were about. Despite the fact that the houses seemed to be squeezed together in a very limited space, a quiet tranquillity hung over the place. In the small park in the centre of the complex a handful of people were out, either with pushchairs or dogs on leashes, but otherwise the narrow streets were empty. Most people were inside, hiding from the cold.

‘It’s quiet.’

‘Yes, many families have already left for the Christmas holidays,’ he explained as he parked the car in front of the garage attached to their house. The air seemed different here, cleaner, and Amelia took a few deep breaths before following Patrick into the house.

She was immediately struck by the silence inside. It was evident that Cathy and the girls weren’t home. Amelia was surprised. Normally the house would have been filled with the aromas of Cathy’s wonderful cooking and Cathy herself would have welcomed her with excited chatter.

‘I think the girls had a play date this morning,’ Patrick offered by way of explanation. ‘I’m sure they’ll be home shortly.’

Amelia looked around. ‘The place looks great. I haven’t been here in so long.’

Her eyes fell on a row of photos in a display cabinet. She walked over to look at them more closely. There were photos of Cathy and Patrick’s two small daughters and a few of Cathy and Patrick alone. Amelia picked up one of these. They seemed to be on a beach, their faces shiny with happiness. The contrast between Cathy’s blonde hair and green eyes and Patrick’s darker colouring and clear blue eyes was a striking one.

‘What a lovely picture of the two of you,’ Amelia commented.

‘That was years ago,’ he said. ‘She used to call me “the man with the eyes” then,’ Patrick said, looking wistfully at the picture, ‘“man with the oh-so-blue eyes”.’ His brief smile seemed tinged with something like sadness. He started moving away. ‘Listen, Amelia, please make yourself at home. There’s something I have to check on quickly, but I’ll be back down shortly.’

She watched him disappear up the stairs and then returned her gaze to the photograph. Something tugged at her memory as she looked at their smiling faces. Where had she heard that before? The man with the eyes? She couldn’t place her finger on it and put the photo back in its place.

Upstairs Patrick was silent. She walked to the picture window overlooking the park. She hoped Cathy and the girls would be home soon. She wasn’t sure she wanted to continue the conversation about the state of their marriage. Of course she wasn’t without sympathy, but it really was something they had to figure out themselves.