David Oldman - Dusk at Dawn

He grunted. She was leaning over him, dressed only in a thin slip, her slender shoulders and her arms bare. He pushed himself up onto an elbow, the sight of her stirring something in him.

‘Wake up,’ she was saying.

‘I am awake. What’s the matter?’

‘Slepynin. He recognised me.’

‘What?’

‘Regrettably true,’ said Valentine, stepping into the compartment behind Sofya.

There was something different about Valentine and it was a moment before Paul realised he had shaven off his goatee. Paul swung himself out of the bunk. He hadn’t bothered to undress. It was hardly novel for him to have to sleep in his clothes and, without the lice to bother him here as they did in the trenches, hardly an imposition.

Across the aisle Slepynin’s bunk was empty.

‘Where is he?’

‘He went to the lavatory,’ Valentine said.

‘What are we going to do?’

‘We’ll be all right unless he’s already told someone. Even then they’ll be looking for two men and a girl, so I think it best we split up.’

‘Can’t we get off before Moscow?’

‘This is the express, old man, it doesn’t stop at outlying stations. Too late, anyway. We’ll be in Moscow in twenty minutes.’

‘But Slepynin will point us out even if we spilt up.’

‘No, we’re all right there,’ Valentine said.

Sofya looked back warily over her shoulder at him.

‘I’d better stay with Sofya,’ Paul said.

‘No, they’ll expect that, being family,’ Valentine countered. ‘You and I should take our chances together. Sofya can look after herself.’

‘That’s—’

Valentine cut him off. ‘She is Russian, old man. She knows what she’s about.’

Meaning I don’t ? Paul felt like asking. Instead he said, ‘It’ll be dangerous for her.’

‘It’s dangerous for us all.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Sofya said. ‘Valentine’s right.’

Valentine slipped into the corridor. ‘I’ll take a walk along the train and see how the land lies. Get yourselves ready to be off as soon as the train pulls in.’

‘He’s killed him you know,’ Sofya said as soon as Valentine had gone.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Slepynin. Valentine killed him.’

‘What?’

‘Earlier. The fool took him aside and asked how long I’d been his secretary. For some reason he didn’t suspect Valentine. Because he’s a member of the Party, I suppose. They all think they’re so pure in heart…’

‘But how did Slepynin know who you were?’

‘He used to carry ministry papers to and from the house for Papa. I don’t remember him but then I wouldn’t. There were always government people coming and going. They weren’t the sort of people Papa would introduce me to.’

She reached up to the top bunk for her dress.

‘Here,’ Paul said, pulling up his shirt, thinking quickly for once. ‘Take this.’ He undid the money belt holding the gold imperials and Masaryk’s letter.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s money and a letter. If they catch me I’m dead anyway. You’ve got a better chance on your own. Give the letter to Mikhail if you find him but if there’s any chance they’re on to you destroy it. They’ll have nothing against you, then, will they?’

‘Except being a Rostov and leaving Petersburg with you,’ she said.

‘They won’t know for sure you left with me. No-one saw us together.’

She looked at him doubtfully.

‘Take it,’ he insisted, holding out the belt.

‘Until we’re out of the station,’ she said reluctantly, taking the belt and putting it around her waist. The straps were too long and she couldn’t buckle it properly.

‘Here,’ he said. He reached around her waist as she stood in front of him, arms raised. He felt her stomach fluttering against his hand through the thin cloth of her slip. Her colour rose as he finished tying the belt. ‘I’ll go outside while you dress,’ he said.

‘Oh don’t be stupid, Pasha. We’re past that, aren’t we?’ Stepping into the dress, she turned. ‘Button me up.’

He fumbled the buttons while she looked at him over her shoulder.

‘Which way will you go?’

Sofya meant at the railway station but he said, Kazan, without thinking.

‘ Kazan ?’

‘Yes. The Czechs are in Kazan.’

‘But you said Mikhail went south.’

‘I have no idea where Mikhail went,’ he admitted. ‘He probably followed Kornilov.’

‘But he’s dead.’

‘The Czechs are in Kazan,’ Paul said again. ‘And what’s left of the Constituent Assembly. Valentine says they’ve raised an army but we’ve got to get through the Red Army to get there. You’ll be safer if you go south and look for Mikhail.’

‘I thought I was coming with you.’

‘It’s too dangerous now, being with me.’

‘We ought to stay together,’ Sofya said, turning and looking into his face.

‘They know who we are, Sofya.’

‘It’s not the Bolsheviks you’re worried about, is it,’ she said. ‘It’s him. Valentine. He doesn’t want me with you, does he?’

‘It’s best if you stay out of his way,’ Paul suggested.

‘Because he killed Slepynin and that woman in Copenhagen?’

‘That’s part of it,’ Paul admitted.

‘But I can’t take all your money.’

‘I’ve got enough.’

The train slowed; the provodnik walked along the corridor, announcing their approach to Moscow.

‘Leave us as soon as we arrive,’ Paul said. ‘And be careful,’ and before he knew what he was doing he pulled her towards him and kissed her on the mouth.

Sofya stepped back in surprise, flushing.

Valentine slipped into the compartment. ‘We’re almost there,’ he said, looking from one to the other curiously. His gaze settled on Sofya. ‘You’ll be all right,’ he said to her. ‘We’ll meet up outside the station. Are you ready?’

Crammed against the carriage door, Paul dwelled upon the suspicion that Valentine had had no intention from the beginning of taking Sofya with them. He supposed he had known as much since the moment they had walked into the house in the Nevskaya although he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. Would Valentine have done something there and then if Paul had left him alone with her? Paul’s being there had left Valentine with little option but to let her accompany them to the Nikolaevsky Station. Perhaps if he had been able to work out a safe way of letting Slepynin take her without involving Paul and himself, Valentine would have done that in preference to killing the Cheka agent. For Paul didn’t doubt that that was what Slepynin was, a Cheka agent.

Of course, it might be that he was doing Valentine an injustice. But how could Paul know? He still hadn’t managed to fathom the workings of Valentine’s mind. He wasn’t capable of seeing things through Valentine’s eyes. And he was glad he couldn’t. Killing people wasn’t an entirely reasonable way of solving problems (although he had to allow the High Command back on the western front might give him an argument about that). It wasn’t that he thought Valentine was mad — not in the homicidal maniac sense, anyway — it was more a case of the man’s response to any particular situation seemed not entirely sane.

Paul’s train of thought was derailed at that moment as a peasant who had had a run-in with Valentine on the platform while boarding the train suddenly pushed up against him. Given the unpredictability of Valentine’s reactions, the man had no idea of how lucky he was. Even so, he was a malevolent-looking individual. Heavily bearded with a pair of deep-set eyes and long straggling rat-tails of hair, his whole appearance put Paul in mind of evil peering from a haystack. Having squashed up against Paul the man’s lips curled in the semblance of a smile, revealing an irregular row of rotten teeth. A wave of stale breath washed out. Paul turned his head away.