Sapphire Skies (6 page)

W
hen Adam was alive Lily had looked forward to weekends. Now she dreaded them. On Saturday, she distracted herself by visiting stations in the Moscow Metro. Lily had read that the metro carried over seven million people a day, making it one of the most utilised city transport systems in the world. It was also one of the most beautiful. Stalin had ordered that it should reflect the glory of the Soviet Union, and Lily marvelled at how many of the stations resembled grand ballrooms with their marble walls, high arched ceilings and ostentatious chandeliers. Her favourites so far were Novoslobodskaya, with its floral-themed stained-glass panels, backlit and etched in brass, and Ploschard Revolyutsii, where statues of soldiers, workers and collective farmers flanked the archways. She took a photograph of a statue of a partisan with his dog to send to her parents. Everyone must like that one, she thought — the dog’s nose had been rubbed to a high shine.

The statue made her think about the old woman and Laika again. Where did she live? Lily realised that she’d asked the name of the dog but not its owner. That wasn’t unusual for Russia: people didn’t like to be asked questions. Russians could appear reserved on the surface but that was the result of years of hiding their true feelings. If you could break through that outer layer, Lily had found, they were usually genuine and warm.

When she returned to her apartment, the light on the answering machine was flashing. The message was from her father: ‘Nothing urgent,’ he said. ‘Mum and I are just calling to see how you are.’ Lily glanced at her watch. It was too late to call Sydney now. She stretched out on the sofa and felt a twinge of guilt. Her parents had asked her for pictures of her apartment and Lily had sent them exterior shots of the attractive pink stucco building and the park opposite. The interior was too gloomy and too at odds with Lily’s minimalist taste for them not to worry. Even though Oksana had offered to pay for any changes she wanted to make, Lily couldn’t muster the energy to redecorate.

She remembered Betty’s email and went to her handbag to retrieve it. After the rant about cats and rabies, Betty gave her news about what everybody was up to in Australia.
We all miss you like crazy, of course
, she wrote.
I told Mum that I’m going to visit you next year and she freaked. I’m trying to understand the relationship our parents have with Russia — they seem to revere it as a magical land but they fear it too.

Lily knew exactly what Betty meant. When she’d told her parents that she was going to work in Russia for two years, her father had been supportive but her mother had worried herself sick. She was terrified that Lily would be arrested by the secret police. ‘What your father and I did was highly dangerous and illegal. We smuggled a Soviet citizen out of the country! Don’t forget
your
name was in my passport too and we never took the return flight to Sydney.’

Lily loved her mother and would never deliberately hurt her, but she’d stood firm on coming to Russia. It was a new era in the country’s history and she was certain that she wouldn’t be arrested. After Adam’s death she didn’t know who she was any more. She needed to flee somewhere — she couldn’t stay in Sydney and watch her friends get married. She was pulled towards Russia in a way that she couldn’t explain. Perhaps the country was in her genes. After all, she’d grown up speaking Russian at home and among the Russian community in Sydney.

Betty ended her email with questions about Moscow. How was Lily settling in? Were the people at work nice? Was she making new friends?
Please write us more than one line, okay? I want to know how you’re really doing
.

A knock at the door jolted Lily from her reading. ‘It’s me, Oksana,’ her landlady called.

Lily opened the door and invited Oksana inside. Before Lily had met Oksana she’d imagined that somebody who lived with thirty cats would be like the crazy cat lady from
The Simpsons
— a spinster whose disappointments in life had led her to shun people and hoard cats. That description couldn’t be more wrong of Oksana. Statuesque, with auburn hair and long red finger nails, Oksana was university-educated and cultured. She was in her late fifties but her pale skin was unlined and her style in clothes was tastefully funky. That afternoon, Lily noticed, she was wearing a crinkly floral blouse, black leggings and red ballet flats. She smelled of Allure by Chanel.

‘Darling, I hope you have been outside today,’ she said to Lily. ‘The weather is gorgeous. You know it won’t be long before winter returns and we’ll be cooped up in our apartments again.’

Lily put the kettle on to make tea. Oksana followed her to the kitchen.

‘I have a favour to ask you,’ she said. ‘Aphrodite and Artemis have to go to the vet to be desexed this Wednesday morning. But I have a committee meeting for Moscow Animals in the evening and can’t pick them up. Could you possibly do it after work? You can use my jeep — I’ll go to the meeting by metro. Wednesday is the only day Doctor Yelchin can fit them in.’

‘Sure,’ said Lily.

Doctor Yelchin had a practice near Filevsky Park and she knew that he desexed Oksana’s rescued cats for a nominal fee.

‘Thank you,’ said Oksana. ‘I also came by to see if you want to come to the Bolshoi Theatre tonight. The ballet is
Swan Lake
.’

Lily had no other plans, and staying home and brooding wasn’t going to do her any good. ‘I’d love to,’ she said. ‘But how did you get tickets this late?’

Oksana winked. ‘I have my connections.’

Lily didn’t doubt that. Her landlady had the knack of living well. She kept thirty cats in an apartment that was always scrupulously clean. While she didn’t appear to be rich she seemed comfortably off: she wore fashionable clothes, drove a nice car and took an overseas holiday once a year. From what Lily had been able to gather about Oksana’s arrangements, when private property had become legal in Russia, her brother, who was a government minister, had acquired her four of the apartments in the building, which must have brought her a reasonable income.

Oksana finished her tea and glanced at her watch. ‘Better get going,’ she said, heading towards the door. ‘I’ll come and get you at six. The performance is in the main hall. Let’s get dressed up and make a night of it.’

That evening wasn’t the first time Lily had been to the Bolshoi Theatre. When her parents had come to Moscow, they had brought Lily with them. The trip to the ballet had been a diversion to avoid raising the suspicions of the KGB, and Anya and Ivan had been accompanied by an Intourist guide, Vera, who was also a friend of Lily’s grandmother. Vera had bribed an usher to let them sneak Lily, only a baby, into the theatre with her parents, as Vera’s plan involved them all, including Alina, leaving the country that night. Tonight, as the orchestra began to play and the curtain rose, Lily thought of her mother again. Eventually, after seeing Lily’s determination and sensing her need to heal the rift inside her, Anya had accepted her decision to come to Russia. ‘But please don’t try to find Vera or the General,’ she’d begged. ‘They helped us at great risk to themselves and I don’t want to put them in danger.’ The General had been Alina’s companion. He’d saved her from being sent to a labour camp, and had contacted Lily’s parents in Australia to let them know how to rescue her.

Lily tried to imagine all the things her mother and grandmother must have been feeling that last night in Moscow. As she watched Prince Siegfried arrive at his birthday party surrounded by courtiers and princesses, she wondered how much of the ballet her mother had taken in. I’ve got the bravest mother in the world, she thought. She’s sensitive but she always manages to find courage inside herself somewhere. Will I ever manage to do the same?

Lily leaned back in her seat and let the beauty of the spectacle on stage sweep over her.

She left early for work on Monday morning so she had time to meet with the woman and her dog. She waited until quarter past nine at the underpass exit but they didn’t show up. I should have expected it, Lily thought, making her way to the hotel. Maybe the woman wasn’t impoverished after all and was running some sort of scam that Lily hadn’t quite fallen for. Or maybe something had happened to her over the weekend. Lily hoped not.

‘Rodney’s parents have booked us a honeymoon in the Seychelles,’ announced Kate as she spotted Lily arrive. ‘It was supposed to be a surprise, but then they thought they’d better tell us so we packed the right things,’ she giggled.

Lily made all the enthusiastic comments she could to Kate before excusing herself to go to the restroom. She was glad nobody else was in there. She leaned her head against the cool wall. She and Adam had planned to honeymoon in France. It was going to be four romantic days in Paris then off to a villa in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence.

The rest of her day was spent proofreading elevator posters and the web-page copy for the frequent traveller program. She willed herself not to think too much about the past and not to worry about the old woman and Laika.

Tuesday morning was different. Lily was running late and rushing to get to work when she spotted the woman holding Laika near the Pushkin Square exit of the underpass. The woman’s face was grey and she swayed on her feet. Her skin felt clammy when Lily grasped her elbow to support her.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘Are you sick? Shall I take you to the hospital?’

The woman shook her head. ‘No, please, take Laika today. I beg you. Take her.’

There was a flower vendor’s stall nearby with a chair for waiting customers. When the vendor saw Lily trying to hold the old lady up, she indicated the chair and Lily eased the woman onto it. Perhaps she’d had nothing to eat all weekend; and the weather had turned oppressively hot again — she could be dehydrated.

‘Wait here,’ Lily told the woman, before rushing back along the underpass to a kiosk that sold drinks and light meals. She bought a couple of bottles of water and an egg sandwich.

When she returned, the woman took some sips of water and then poured some into her palm for Laika to lap. Lily waited until she had eaten the sandwich and was pleased to see colour return to the woman’s face.

‘I have to go to work now,’ she explained. ‘I’ve got meetings scheduled all day. But I finish around five-thirty. It’s too hot to sit in the square. If you wait down here for me, I promise I’ll take Laika for you this evening for as long as you need me to care for her.’

‘Thank you,’ the woman said.

Lily turned to the exit stairs then stopped. ‘I don’t know your name,’ she said. ‘I’m Lily.’

The woman stared at her hands and Lily thought she hadn’t heard her. Then she said very softly, ‘There is no need to know my name. I am nobody.’

Lily found it difficult to concentrate in the sales and marketing meeting that morning. Her mind kept drifting to the old woman. She wished she could speak to Oksana, but when she tried to call her during the break for morning tea, she could only reach her message service.

She returned to the meeting room, where Kate was pouring glasses of mineral water for everyone. Kate was wearing a silver pencil dress that complemented her blue eyes and tan perfectly. She was a kind person but Lily doubted she would have disrupted her beautiful life to help an old woman and a dog. What was it about Lily that attracted animals — and now people — in need? Why did she feel compelled to help, even when she herself was grieving, while her workmates seemed more interested in which new restaurant they wanted to try next?

During her lunch break, Lily ran back to the underpass but the woman and Laika were gone. The flower vendor spotted Lily and told her, ‘That woman you were with this morning said to tell you that she had something she needed to attend to, but she will be waiting here for you at five-thirty.’

Lily thanked the vendor and bought a bunch of irises to lift her spirits. When she returned to the office, she filled a vase with water and noticed the vendor had made a mistake and given her six flowers instead of seven. Even numbers were for funerals, and Russians were superstitious about the bad luck the giver and receiver would attract with an even number on any other occasion. She considered taking the irises back to the vendor, but everyone was heading towards the meeting room for the afternoon session. She placed the vase near her computer before going to the room herself. She wasn’t superstitious and what the vendor didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

Scott gave a PowerPoint presentation to the accompaniment of music by Kool & the Gang and success affirmations that flashed at random intervals across the screen, but the rest of the meeting dragged on. Lily kept thinking about what the old woman had said: ‘I am nobody.’

When the last meeting ended at five o’clock, she returned to her desk and tidied up, then prepared her to-do list for the following day. She was about to leave when Scott called her and Colin into his office. She remained standing in front of Scott’s desk in the hope of keeping the meeting brief, but when Colin sat down she had no choice but to do the same.

Scott beamed at them. ‘I’ve got some great news. The Mayfair Hotel will be opening a sister operation in St Petersburg. I’ve been given permission to extend your work contract, Lily. We’d love to have you onboard for that.’

Lily didn’t know how to respond. It was a compliment that the hotel wanted to extend her contract, but she’d only planned to stay for the two years she’d been hired for. It was impossible to know how she would feel when her original contract expired — would she want to stay or would she want to go home? At the moment, she changed her mind about Russia from one day to the next.

Scott was looking expectantly at her, but before she could answer Kate knocked on the glass panel next to the non-existent door.

‘Sorry to interrupt. I’ve got those figures for you, Scott. We can go through them first thing in the morning.’

‘Thanks, Kate,’ Scott replied. ‘Are you up to anything interesting tonight?’

Kate grinned. ‘I’m lining up for theatre tickets. It’s Rodney’s birthday next month and I want to take him to see
The Seagull
.’