Kate Furnivall - The Concubine's Secret

‘I got a message for you.’

She grabbed one of Edik’s ears hard, so that he squealed. ‘And when exactly did you intend to pass on this message?’

The puppy leapt up, trying to nip at her fingers.

‘Now,’ he said with a surly scowl. She released him.

‘Well?’

The boy narrowed his eyes at her speculatively. ‘Any more cakes?’

‘You thief,’ she complained and handed over the one she’d been saving to slide on to Chang’s tongue tonight. ‘You vor.’

He grinned. Popped the cake into Misty’s mouth. ‘He wants to see you. Right now.’

Before he’d finished speaking, she’d spun on her heel and was running over the wet grass.

Chang An Lo was naked. As Lydia burst into the room, the sight of him stopped her in her tracks and stole her breath. He was standing by the window looking out, a blade of pearly light painting the long lines of his body, defining the muscles of his chest and the strong tendons that ran from his hip to his thigh. He was beautiful.

He must have been watching for her approach, checking no one had followed her. And when she entered he turned his head, looking at her over one shoulder. She didn’t breathe. Didn’t move.

His eyes were as naked as his body. Dark, complex, a battle-ground of emotion. The centre of him, that stillness she so loved, was plunged into turmoil. His gods must be laughing at him. Yet one corner of his mouth started to curl into a smile.

It was an image she knew she would not forget.

When Lydia opened her eyes, Chang was leaning on his elbow watching her. She wondered whether he’d seen her dreams.

‘Hello,’ she said and smiled up at him.

He kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose, but avoided the temptation of her lips. That was when she knew he was ready to talk. Outside the wind was fierce, scratching at the window, sliding through the gaps, and the sound of it made her nervous. It was the sound of things falling apart.

He stroked her face. ‘Are you ready to listen?’ he asked.

Her pulse set up a beat in her ears. ‘Yes.’

‘I’ve found him.’

‘Jens?’

‘Yes.’

She couldn’t speak.

‘I’ve been to the prison. I’ve inspected his workroom.’ Chang gazed down at her, his black eyes gentle and watchful. ‘I’ve seen him. I’ve spoken with Jens Friis himself.’

She started to shake.

‘Don’t cry, my love.’

‘Tell me,’ she whispered.

‘He’s well. Tall and strong.’

‘How?’ It was all she could say.

‘I requested a visit by our delegation to prison 1908. Of course the Russians refused at first. They were shocked by the fact I even knew the place existed and it made them nervous of what else our Chinese secret agents might know.’

She watched his mouth move but had to listen hard to hear the words. There was too much noise in her head. He stroked her, softening the sharp edges of her thoughts.

‘I asked our delegation leader, Li Min, to point out that we don’t wish to know what it is their prisoners are working on, but rather how they construct an institution like that. So many fields of expertise assembled from different camps and all working on one project. Still they said no.’ His finger twined around a lock of her hair. ‘So I reminded them of their food shortages and of China ’s abundance of rice.’ His dark eyes gleamed briefly with satisfaction. ‘They quickly understood.’

‘Jens?’

‘The building he’s in is strong. Impregnable I would say. Three storeys high with an extensive basement. A walled courtyard at the front with massive reinforced iron gates.’

‘And Jens?’

‘He looks like you.’

The tears ran silent and warm on to her skin. ‘You spoke to him?’

‘Yes. But not in private. I wasn’t able to talk of you.’

She shut her eyes. Imagined her father.

‘He was lined up with the other chiefs working on the project. As you said,’ his thumb traced along her wet eyelashes, ‘he is one of the best in engineering.’

She opened her eyes. ‘How did he seem?’

‘The way you described him. A tall man, strong features, and – this will please you – still a proud man. The years have not destroyed that. His Viking spirit has survived.’

‘Oh Chang, thank you.’

He said no more for a while, letting his words settle in her mind. Slowly she stopped the tears. The tremors shuddered through her bones one last time, then subsided. Only the pain in her chest remained and that she could live with.

‘Papa,’ she whispered, the word so soft it barely stirred the air. She heard her father’s laugh. Remembered again feeling his whiskers tickle her ribs. She sat up and studied Chang’s careful expression.

‘What aren’t you telling me?’

‘Nothing of importance.’

‘The truth, my love. I want the truth.’

‘Ah Lydia, be patient. Give yourself time.’

‘I don’t have patience. I don’t have time. Tell me the rest.’

Chang moved off the bed.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

He stood with his back to the window, facing her squarely. ‘The man I saw today is still your father, Lydia. He has the same fire in his eyes, the same lift of the chin and,’ she heard him hesitate and wondered what was coming, ‘the identical way of challenging you with just a look.’

She put her hands in her naked lap and made them stay there.

‘But Lydia, a man with that kind of determination and pride is bound to suffer hardest in the labour camps. They would try to break him. He would represent a threat to the system.’

She nodded.

‘His hair is white, though he’s only in his early forties. Pure white. Like the snows of Siberia.’

She nodded again. Her teeth clenched on her tongue.

‘His nose is crooked. Where it has been broken more than once. Several of his teeth are missing.’

The pain in her chest sharpened.

‘His hands are badly scarred. After more than ten years in the Siberian timber forests, he is lucky to have hands at all. But they must work well even so, or he would not have been selected for the project here in Moscow.’

She said nothing, but tucked her knees tight under her chin and wrapped her arms around her shins, binding herself together. He allowed her to think. Let the images build in her mind.

‘Is there more?’ she asked finally.

‘Isn’t that enough?’

She attempted a smile. ‘More than enough.’

There must have been something in her voice, something she was unaware of, because Chang returned to the bed, sat down on the rumpled cover and put his arms around her. Gently he rocked her. He kissed the top of her head and rocked her.

‘He knows you’re here.’

‘It’s the next street, Alexei.’

Maksim Voshchinsky gestured to the right and the car slowed to take the corner. A horse-drawn wagon lumbered past and somewhere a horn hooted with impatience. It was mid-afternoon and the roads were busy, the pavements crowded, the sky grey and lifeless. But in the long black saloon nerves were taut. Three of them were along the back seat, Alexei in the middle, Maksim on his right, Lydia on his left. In front Igor was skewed sideways, his eyes constantly darting towards Lydia, uneasy and disdainful. Females were not part of the vory pack, except to tend and support their men when needed, so both Maksim and Igor treated her as an unwelcome intruder. Nevertheless she had insisted on coming.

‘I’m the person who gave you the location of the prison,’ she pointed out flatly. ‘So I have a right to see it too.’

‘ Nyet ,’ Maksim had laughed with a dismissive wave of his hand. Like brushing aside a fly. ‘You wait here.’

‘No, I’m coming.’ She’d opened the car door and climbed inside.