East of the Sun (6 page)

What will be, will be. She took a deep breath and reached for the door knob.

The room was silent and appeared undisturbed. Feeling foolish about her overactive imagination, she nevertheless checked the bathroom, all the closets and the safe that held her documents. Just to be sure.

She didn’t quite know how to look for more subtle interferences, but apart from a flashing red light on the telephone, everything appeared to be as she’d left it a few hours before.

Hearing Mara’s voice on the voicemail was a relief.

Amelia, it’s Mara here. I hope you’re doing all right. I’m calling because I have a small problem and I hope you can perhaps help me out. I’m hosting an important dinner party tonight and I’ve just received word that one couple can’t make it. I really need to make up the numbers and I was wondering if you’re free. You would be doing me a huge favour. Besides, it would give me a chance to see you again and Wilfred is insisting on seeing you while you’re here. Could you please call me back when you get this? Thanks, dear, I’ll speak to you later
.

Amelia smiled at the thought of Wilfred Tshabalala, but groaned at the invitation. It was the last thing she was in the mood for, but both Mara and Wilfred had been so kind to her in the past that making small talk for one night was the least she could do for them. She played the message a second time and knew there was no way out of it without being rude. She would have to go.

Hours later, however, as she stepped through the door of the South African ambassador’s residence and felt anxiety take hold of her, the evening ahead didn’t seem like such a small favour anymore. She was no longer, perhaps never would be again, an easy socialiser. The days when it had been second nature, an integral part of her daily life, were gone forever. Looking at the room full of well-dressed people, she felt stiff and awkward in her skin, unable to retrieve the easy social persona she’d once been able to summon so easily.

There were more guests than she’d expected and as she made her way through the press of people, her dread increased. Many of the faces were familiar to her. The silent tide of curiosity that followed her as she passed through the room was almost tangible.

Some nodded a polite greeting while they continued their conversations, others stared in surprise. After a year, she was still amazed at the level of discomfort people showed around someone who had experienced unexplained, unsolved loss of some kind. To them she was both an object of interest and someone to be avoided, an almost unreal character whose past made her fascinating, yet untouchable.

With as much composure as she could, she met people’s eyes, smiled and kept moving, certain that she would be approached later, that there would be some who would be unable to stop themselves from asking the questions they’d been dying to ask for a year. Those would undoubtedly also be the ones who would enthusiastically recount the details of their encounter with her to all and sundry the next day.

Despite feeling obliged, she knew now she really shouldn’t have accepted Mara’s invitation. This wasn’t the small dinner party she’d anticipated. She had so hoped to be able to keep a low profile and focus on her quest for as long as she could, but after tonight even more people would know that she was back in Moscow and speculation about her return would inevitably surface in the expat community.

‘There you are!’ Before she could locate the owner of the voice, Amelia felt an arm around her shoulder and found herself pressed against Wilfred Tshabalala’s ample stomach. His face was shiny with pleasure as he stood back and looked at her.

‘It is very, very good to see you, Amelia.’

She returned her host’s smile automatically. She’d almost forgotten how he rolled his staccato r’s. It never failed to make him sound jolly. She knew that his easy manner meant that people frequently underestimated his intelligence. She also knew that he deliberately chose to do nothing to rectify their misconceptions.

‘It’s good to see you too, Wilfred.’

‘I was very happy when Mara told me you’d be here tonight, that I would have a chance to see you and talk to you. I didn’t know until this evening that you were in Moscow.’

Before Amelia could reply, a tall blonde man walked up to them and shook Wilfred’s hand.

‘It’s good to see you, Wilfred. And always such a pleasure to be invited here to sample Mara’s delicious food.’

In answer, Wilfred patted his stomach with a grin. Amelia watched as the two men exchanged pleasantries and vaguely registered the realisation that, contrary to Mara’s claim, Wilfred had obviously not been the one who’d requested her presence here tonight if he’d only learnt of her return a few hours earlier.

‘I’m surprised to see you here,’ Wilfred said, beaming up at the man. ‘I thought you were out of town.’

‘It was a last minute invitation,’ the man answered. ‘Apparently Mara had some cancellations, but I think she’s up to something. She said she needed a favour – a big one!’

‘Oh, that certainly sounds like my wife,’ Wilfred chuckled, shaking his head, but before they could continue their conversation, someone pulled on the tall man’s arm and started speaking to him. He listened for a moment and then turned back to Wilfred.

‘I’ll talk to you again later?’ With a brief nod in Amelia’s direction, he moved away.

She wondered who the tall man was. Apparently he was at the party courtesy of the same last-minute invitation that had been extended to her. What was Mara up to? She was about to ask Wilfred about him, but he spoke first, his face suddenly serious.

‘How have you been, my dear? We’ve been so concerned about you.’

Amelia squeezed his arm, touched by his kindness. She’d often thought that if she could have ever had a second father, Wilfred would have been her choice. ‘I’m doing fine. Not always, but I’m getting there.’

Wilfred nodded gravely. ‘Tell me to mind my own business if this is inappropriate in any way, but why have you come back? You know, this place,’ Wilfred tsked, shaking his head as he continued, ‘it’s not a good place for you to be.’

‘I know and I agree.’ She could see he was waiting for more. ‘It’s difficult to explain, Wilfred, and this is such a line from a bad soap opera, but I feel I have to be here right now. All these loose ends. It would be good to tie them up once and for all. Before they disappear completely.’

Wilfred nodded, but looked unconvinced, his expression thoughtful.

‘I can assure you, though,’ Amelia added, ‘that I hope this will be the very last time I come here.’

‘I’ve tracked you down!’ Mara exclaimed as she appeared next to her husband. ‘Why are you two looking so serious? Amelia, are you all right?’ Without giving her a chance to answer, Mara patted her husband’s arm affectionately and reached for Amelia’s hand. ‘Come with me.’

Mara led her down a passage, away from the guests, into what appeared to be the master bedroom. She closed the door behind her. Then she led Amelia into the en-suite bathroom.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked again. ‘You look a little flushed.’

Amelia looked at her reflection in the mirror. It was true: two bright spots had appeared on her cheeks. She opened a tap and held her hands under the cold water.

‘Just a little warm. I haven’t been around this many people in a while.’

‘Oh dear, it’s my fault. Have I pushed you too far? I’m sorry if I’ve caused you discomfort, Amelia.’ Mara was silent for a moment as she perched on the side of the bath. ‘I’m afraid I have a little confession to make.’

Amelia closed the tap and turned around. ‘I thought as much. It’s pretty clear that there was no need for you to make up numbers tonight.’

Mara sighed. ‘I hope you’re not going to be angry, but I’ve invited someone who might be able to help you make sense of this whole thing.’

Amelia started to protest, but Mara held out a hand to stop her. ‘I know you feel this is your issue, your problem to make sense of, but perhaps a little help will ease the way?’

Amelia didn’t reply. She was instantly angry at Mara’s interference. Of course Mara meant well, but she really didn’t like being sidelined like this. Emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

Mara stood up. ‘I know I’m asking a lot, but it worries me so much to see you back here in Moscow. Will you give me – and the person I’d like to introduce you to – a chance to help?’ For the first time since Amelia had known Mara, she looked uncomfortable.

Amelia started shaking her head. ‘Mara, I—’

‘Listen,’ Mara interrupted unceremoniously, ‘I know it’s difficult to be here among these people again, but please give this a chance. I’ll give you a few moments to cool off. Dinner will only be served in about ten to fifteen minutes, so take your time. No one will come in here.’

It was clear that Mara didn’t want to hear her objections. She started moving towards the door, but turned back. When she spoke again, her brisk tone was gone. ‘Forgive me if I’ve been a meddling old woman, but I really believe this man will be able to help you. I trust him implicitly.’

It took Amelia the entire fifteen minutes to calm her breathing and consider Mara’s actions. She didn’t want to compromise her own effectiveness, her desire to fly below the radar of whatever dark forces were at work because she was unable to deny a friend’s well-meant, but potentially distracting offer of help. Could she afford to let anyone else in on her pursuit of the truth? Or would it be short-sighted not to? She trusted Mara’s judgement, but she doubted her friend could truly understand the complexity of the situation. When she finally left the bedroom, she still hadn’t made up her mind.

The room was hot, but the din seemed to have diminished a little. Guests were starting to move into the dining room when she entered the main reception room. Immediately Mara appeared at her side again, this time, unsurprisingly, with the tall blonde man in tow.

‘Amelia, I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is Nick Sanford. Nick, Amelia Preston. Nick is a geologist, Amelia, and he knows the local mining industry very well. I’ve seated you next to one another. I think you’ll find much to talk about.’

Mara had the decency to blush as she introduced them. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her eyes imploring Amelia to cooperate, and then she moved away, forced to focus her attention on other guests.

Amelia glanced up at the man who looked as discomfited as she felt.

She extended her hand. ‘Amelia Preston,’ she said, unnecessarily. ‘Earlier I heard you mention to Wilfred that Mara was up to something? That she needed a big favour?’

Nick Sanford took her hand and gave a slight nod. He looked embarrassed, as if she’d caught him in a compromising situation.

‘Well,’ Amelia said, ‘it seems you may have had prior knowledge of Mara’s little scheme, but I’ve just discovered that I
am
that favour.’

She didn’t wait for an answer, but withdrew her hand and walked into the dining room without a backward glance.

7

A
rmed with bag, hat and gloves, Amelia decided to brave the cold and make her way up Tverskaya Street. It was late morning and a slow trickle of people was starting to emerge from the metro exits and underpasses.

Saturday. A whole weekend lay ahead of her. What would she do with all that time? So many busy, overworked people would kill for a weekend with no obligations or commitments, and it was true that a little more than a year ago she too would have considered herself very lucky to have this kind of a break, but now she dreaded it. When she’d lived here as the Canadian ambassador’s wife, she’d never felt a complete sense of freedom. Security and logistical considerations meant that her trips outside the embassy and official residence had either been short or in the presence of other people. How often had she not yearned for fewer restrictions. The irony of it wasn’t lost on her – now she had all the time and freedom in the world, was accountable to no one, and yet she couldn’t enjoy it.

The rush to get to Moscow had been so overwhelming that she hadn’t taken into account that there would in effect only be half a week to get things done before the weekend would slow everything down and force her to endure long hours in a city she didn’t really want to be visiting.

What’s more, the previous evening’s party at Mara and Wilfred’s house weighed on her. She thought of Nick Sanford and how she’d treated him. Only now, in bright daylight, did she feel a stab of guilt about snubbing him so frostily before the dinner had even started. Had she been unreasonable? Had she judged too harshly? She pushed the thought aside, not particularly keen to analyse what had happened.

There was little she could achieve over the next two days. Her appointment with the new Canadian ambassador was only on Monday morning. She didn’t want to confront Patrick until she’d checked the truth of Kiriyenko’s account, so visiting him and Cathy were out of the question. As for contacting other people, she simply didn’t have the energy for it. What remained was solitude, something she’d grown accustomed to. Sitting around the hotel was out of the question, however, and she had a destination in mind.

Moskovsky Dom Knigi
was a well-known and well-stocked book store that lay just a few blocks away from her hotel. It was as good a stop as any and she was in need of fresh things to read anyway. The only reading material she’d brought had been the wad of clippings currently weighing down her shoulder bag. If she was honest with herself, it had become a safety blanket. She seemed to have difficulty parting with it and carried it with her wherever she went. Every time she started doubting her actions, which happened often, she pulled out the clippings and read one of them. Somehow it never failed to strengthen her resolve.