he’d always suspected that would be the case, that by falling in love with her he knew his marriage to the MGB would end. Leo now worked as manager of a small factory, overseeing shipments, processing receipts, with a reputation among his staff as being scrupulously fair.
She took a step closer, coming out of the shadow and into the sunlight. To Leo’s mind she was more beautiful today than she had been as a young woman. There were faint lines about her eyes and her skin was no longer as taut and fragile as it had once been. Softness had crept into her features. Yet Leo loved these changes more than any ideal of youthful beauty or perfection. These were changes he’d witnessed: changes that had occurred while he’d been by her side, the marks of their relationship, the years they’d spent together, reminding him of the most important change of all. She loved him now. She had not loved him before.
Under her gaze Leo abandoned his intention to slip the diary back without her noticing and instead offered it to her. Raisa didn’t take it, looking down at the cover. He remarked:
– It’s Elena’s.
Elena was their younger daughter, seventeen years old, adopted early in their marriage.
– Why do you have it?
– I saw it under the mattress…
– She’d hidden it?
– Yes.
Raisa thought about this for a moment before asking:
– Did you read it?
– No.
– No?
Like a novice in an interrogation, Leo capitulated under the slightest pressure:
– I read the first line and then closed the book. I was about to return it.
Raisa moved to the table, putting her shopping down. In the kitchen she filled a glass with water, turning her back on Leo for the first time since coming home. She finished the water in three long gulps and placed the glass in the sink, asking:
– What igirls had returned instead of me? They trust you, Leo. It’s taken a long time but they do. You’d risk that?
Trust was a euphemism for love. It was hard to be sure if Raisa was talking solely about their adopted daughters, or if she was indirectly referring to her own emotions. She continued:
– Why remind them of the past? Of the person you used to be? And the career you used to have? You’ve spent so many years putting that history behind you. It’s not part of this family any more. Finally the girls think of you as a father, not an agent.
There was calculated cruelty in the detail of her response, laying out their history with unnecessary elaboration. She was angry with him. She was hurting him. For the first time in the conversation Leo became animated, wounded by the remarks.
– I saw something hidden under the mattress. Wouldn’t any man be curious? Wouldn’t any father have acted as I had?
– But you’re not just any father.
She was right. He’d never be an ordinary husband. He’d never be an ordinary father. He would have to guard against the past as surely as he had once guarded against enemies of the State. There was regret in Raisa’s eyes. She said:
– I didn’t mean that.
– Raisa, I swear to you, I opened this diary as a father worried about his family. Elena has been acting strangely. You must have noticed?
– She’s nervous about the trip.
– It’s more than that. Something is wrong.
Raisa shook her head.
– Not this again.
– I don’t want you to go. I can’t help feeling this way. This trip Raisa interrupted him.
– We made a decision. Everything is arranged. I know your feelings about the trip. You’ve opposed it from the beginning without giving any good reason. I’m sorry you’re not coming. I would love you to be there. I would feel more at ease with you by my side. And I petitioned for you to come with us. But it was impossible. There’s nothing more I can do. Except to pull out, without giving any reason, at the last minute, which would be far more dangerous than going, at least in my view.
Raisa glanced at the diary. She was tempted by it too.
– Now, please, put the diary back.
Leo clutched it, reluctant to let it go.
– The first entry troubles me – Leo.
Raisa hadn’t raised her voice. She didn’t need to.
He put the book back, positioning it carefully under the mattress, spine facing him, roughly half an arm’s depth away from the edge – the exact position he’d found it. He crouched down, examining to see if the mattress appeared disturbed in any way. Finished, he stepped back from the bed, conscious that Raisa had been watching him throughout.
Next Day
Leo couldn’t sleep. In a few hours Raisa would be leaving the country. Only in exceptional circumstances had they been apart for longer than a day. He’d fought in the Great Patriotic War – was a war hero decorated for bravery – yet the prospect of being alone unsettled him. He turned on his side, listening to the sound of her breathing. He imagined that she was breathing for both of them, timing his own breath with hers. Slowly he reached out and gently laid his hand on her side. Remaining asleep, she reacted to his touch, taking hold of his hand and pressing it against her stomach as if it were a precious keepsake. After a gentle squeeze of his hand her breathing returned to its rhythm. His anxieties about the trip almost certainly sprang from the fact that he didn’t want her to leave. It was possible he’d conjured worries about their plans, developed arguments about why they should stay at home – voiced opinions relating to safety and security merely for selfish reasons. He gave up on the idea that he might snatch even an hour of rest and slipped out of bed.
Navigating in the dark, his feet kicked her suitcase. It was packed and ready, at the foot of the bed as if eager to be on its way. He’d bought this case fifteen years ago, when he’d been an agent, when the exclusive shops were open to him. It was one of his first purchases, having been told that his duties would involve extensive travel. Excited by the prospect, puffed up by the importance bestowed upon him, he spent his entire weekly wage on this smart case, picturing himself criss-crossing the country, serving his nation wherever duty called. That proud, ambitious young man seemed a stranger now. The few luxury items he’d accumulated during his career had almost all been lost. This case, deposited at the back of a wardrobe, gathering dust, was all that remained from those days. He’d wanted to throw it out, and had expected his wife to welcome the decision. Despite having nothing but hatred for his former career, Raisa would not allow the luxury of such a symbolic gesture. With their current wages they’d never be able to replace it.
He checked his watch, holding it up to the window, catching the moonlight. Four in the morning – in just a few hours he would accompany his family to the airport, where he would say goodbye, remaining in Moscow. In the dark he dressed, stealthily leaving the bedroom. Opening the door he was surprised to see his younger daughter seated at the kitchen table in the dark. Her arms were in front of her, hands clasped, as if she were praying – deep in thought. Seventeen years old, Elena was a miracle to Leo: seemingly incapable of spite or malice, her character showing few scars, in contrast to Zoya, his elder daughter, who was often brusque, surly and aggressive, with a temper that could flare at the slightest provocation.
Elena looked up at him. He felt a shudder of guilt at the thought of discovering her diary, before reminding himself that he’d put it back without reading more than the opening sentence. He sat beside her and whispered:
