means. As the speedboat whirred away, three or four seagulls began spiralling downwards. Knowing their intent, she clamped her hands over her mouth, suppressing a noise of horror and disgust that one reborn soul could do that to another.
Adelaide opened the balcony door and shut it quickly behind her before the rush of cold could change her mind. Clouds hung low in the darkening sky, their bellies distended with unfallen snow. She sensed the City holding its breath, and held hers with it.
It was unusual for Tyr to want a meeting this early in the evening-Jannike’s birthday celebrations had barely begun-but she was glad of the opportunity. She had made a decision: she was going to tell Tyr everything. About Lao, about the airlift and the vault, about Operation Whitefly. It was a relief. She had to tell someone, and she had alienated Vikram. But she didn’t want to think about that.
Once she had told Tyr, they could work out what to do next.
The balcony door opened and shut again behind Tyr. He did not have a coat either.
“We’ll catch our death,” she said with a smile.
Tyr walked slowly across the balcony and stopped a metre away from her. They were both shivering. Adelaide took a step toward him.
“You’re sleeping with Vikram, aren’t you?”
The question caught her off-guard. She had assumed he knew; she had not thought he would ask.
“Yes.”
“How long have you been seeing him for?”
His grey eyes watched hers. She tried to mirror their blankness. He knew her face so well. They had learned one another like books by rote; a dip of the head, a blink, could act as code.
“Oh, I don’t know-”
“How long?”
“Couple of weeks.”
“You’re lying.”
She lowered her eyes strategically.
“It’s just a diversion. It’s over.”
“He stays here. You stay with him.”
She felt her way carefully around this iceberg.
“He’s a westerner. It annoys Feodor more.”
“I see.”
“I don’t think-”
“No. I get it.”
A tiny snowflake whirled out of the sky. Another chased it, then another, and another, and all at once they were surrounded by a maze of swirling shapes. They landed cold darts on Adelaide’s face. They blew onto Tyr’s scarf and the sleeves of his jacket.
“I can’t keep doing this, Adelaide.”
She saw his lips moving, but they did not seem to match the words that came out. It was not really Tyr talking. The person who replied was not really Adelaide.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you and me.” He sounded almost gentle now, and that made him more distant because the Tyr that she knew had no need for softness.
“We have to stop,” he said.
“But there’s no need,” she said. “Tyr, why-”
“Adelaide-” His voice broke her name. “The terms of our agreement-I can’t stand by them any longer.”
He looked away. Now the flakes were coming thick and fast, a sheet, then a quilt of snow, and there was nothing to see, only her and Tyr at the centre of a shaken paperweight. She reached out and touched his sleeve. It was thin and wet and reminded her of blood. She thought of the western man dumped off the jetty, felt herself caught in that same hopeless motion.
“Why not?”
He moved his arm away.
“Because-I love you, Adie.”
She tried to read his face, to unearth some aggression there, anger or blame, something strong that she could grasp with both hands and fight. She found only sadness.
“But you can’t,” she said. “I’m not that person.”
“Then I am. And I can stand the pretence, I can stand the lies-I’ve enjoyed that game, I don’t deny it. But seeing you let someone else into your life-I won’t do that.”
“What, you think he means something to me? He doesn’t. None of them do. Only maybe-he reminds me a little of Axel. That’s it. That’s all.”
You mean something to me. The thought, dormant at the back of her mind, suddenly clarified. But she could not say it.
Tyr sighed. “Let’s face it, Adie. We can’t be together. Even if you wanted it, we couldn’t.”
“Don’t say that. We can do what we like.”
He gave a helpless smile.
“I’d lose my position. Feodor would disinherit you. I’m his spy Adie-you know that. You’ve always known. Every month I write him a report. What you’re doing, who you’re seeing. Lies, years and years of lies. He finds that out and what then?”
“I don’t know.”
“I do. Then nothing. You want to get a job, run away to the west? We’re creatures of habit, you and I. We like our lifestyles. We’re both too selfish to give them up, and anyway, what compensation would there be for you.”
There was an ache in her teeth and in her ribs where her lungs constricted. It was the cold. It was the cold.
“I can’t care about anyone,” she whispered.
“That’s right. You can’t care about anyone.”
He sounded infinitely weary. It made her see them both standing there, the snow settling on their hair and faces, resting on her eyelashes, in the corners of her eyes, where new snow was being made in hot, brittle flakes. He was going to walk away. He was going to abandon her.
“I need you,” she managed. “There are things I have to tell you.”
She felt flooded with the weight of it, almost frantic.
“Tyr, please-for stars’ sake-”
“You’ve had years to tell me anything you wanted, Adie. What could there possibly be left to say? Listen, I’m sorry it’s early. I knew I had to talk to you, I wanted to be lucid when I did.”
On his right temple was a tiny scar; she knew it was from a childhood accident but she did not know what the accident was. She knew everything and nothing about him. She had run out of time.
“And what now? We both go back and-pretend?”
“Like we always have. You’re a good enough actress, Adie.”
“But you can’t-you can’t just walk away.”
“I can,” he said. “And I will. One of us always has.”
He lifted her chin gently. For a long time he gazed at her face. Then he pressed his lips lightly to her forehead. She closed her eyes.
“Goodbye, Adelaide,” he whispered.
She didn’t hear him go inside. Her head was full of the sound of snow. The City had never seemed so cold and unyielding, and all at once she hated it.
“Adelaide! Where were you? We’re about to leave!”
“I’m ready, Jan.”
“Come on, everyone, we’re moving out! Got a shuttle to catch and a pool to find!”
“Everyone follow the crazy woman.”
