‘Where did you say we were going for dinner?’ she asked later that afternoon, walking into the dressing room where Ivan was picking a watch from the drawer.
The room was perfectly illuminated by a series of lights impressed like jewels into the lush Italian wallpaper. On one side, it was lined with perfectly pressed shirts mirroring the ones that hung in the dressing room in London. Silk lavender bags hung from the rails.
Ivan had laughed the first time she saw the dressing room in London, watching how Gabriela’s eyes widened at the rows of almost identical suits and leather shoes buffed to a shine on a plinth that ran along the bottom of the exposed wardrobe.
‘I know, it’s a bit Patrick Bateman,’ he winced. ‘But Polina likes to keep it in order, and who am I to complain?’
She made herself smile now as she moved forward to help him fasten the top button of his shirt, breathing in the same heavy fragrance she’d noticed the day they met. He seemed to have forgotten about the film she’d claimed to have made and Gabriela was keen to keep his mind on the present.
‘Tonight, there are a couple of friends I want you to meet.’
‘Oh,’ she said, taken aback. Why was she so surprised? As far as Ivan was concerned, they were a regular couple – why would he not seek to introduce her to his nearest and dearest, in his homeland? Yet she felt a shiver as she pictured it; or, she would wonder later, had she drawn that detail in, with the benefit of hindsight, knowing what was to come?
‘Sounds lovely,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘But what will we do with Layla?’
‘My mother will have her. She wants to spend as much time as possible with her while we’re here.’
‘Really? Do you think she’ll be OK?’
Ivan laughed as if her insinuation that his elderly mother might not be capable was so preposterous that it didn’t warrant acknowledgement.
‘She’s had a child herself, don’t forget, Gabriela. She’s perfectly capable.’
Was there a flicker in his eye?
She swallowed. ‘Of course. Well, I’ll just have a quick shower.’
‘No hurry,’ he said. ‘The car will be here in an hour.’
Café Pushkin was exactly the kind of place where the high-ups at the FCO would take foreign visitors when they came to stay: a lavish pastiche of Russian life, heavy on wood panelling and caviar, light on subtlety.
‘It’s Irena’s choice,’ Ivan said as they pulled up outside the peachy baroque façade, the car depositing them directly in front of the doors that opened for them as they approached.
‘As you’ll see, she’s not one who believes that less is more. But she’s an impressive woman. You’ll like her, I think.’
Andrei and Irena were already waiting when they arrived. Irena stood first, dressed in an almost spray-on blue dress with one shoulder strap, draped in a fur stole which brushed against Gabriela’s arm as they air-kissed hello. There was a spark of recognition, and yet Gabriela blinked it away. After all, Ivan had already told her that Irena never came to London.
‘This is my husband,’ she said.
Andrei had put down the phone he had been fixated on and stood to greet them.
‘Irena,’ Ivan kissed her on both cheeks before holding out a hand to Andrei. He was shorter than his wife, with dark hair slicked away from his face.
Turning his attention to Gabriela, Andrei said, ‘It’s a great pleasure to meet you. It’s not often we get a peek into Ivan’s private life.’
Ivan shot him a look which Andrei ignored. ‘He’s a dark horse, this one. But I can see why he’d want to show you off.’
‘Will you have a gin and tonic?’ Ivan asked, leaning in protectively towards Gabriela as she took her seat, pouring herself a glass of sparkling water from the bottle on the table.
‘Please,’ she said before returning her attention to Andrei.
‘It’s good to see you, too. So you and Ivan work together?’
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then, with a tone that suggested he was keen to slide the conversation in a different direction, Ivan said, ‘Andrei and I have known each other for years. Since we were children.’
‘And you?’ Irena turned her attention from Ivan to Gabriela. ‘How did you two meet?’
‘In London, in a restaurant,’ she replied vaguely, taking a sip of her drink.
‘A restaurant? How old-fashioned,’ Irena laughed.
‘Gabriela chatted me up while we were both on our lunch breaks,’ Ivan said, and she nudged him playfully with her elbow. ‘She bowled me over with her command of my mother tongue, among other things.’
‘You speak Russian?’ Irena looked intrigued. ‘Why?’
Gabriela started momentarily at the directness of Irena’s question, though why should she not be direct? ‘I worked here for a while, for a charity.’
‘A charity?’ Irena repeated. ‘Which one?’
‘Well, originally I was with Amnesty International, but now I’m working for a very small outfit, I’m sure you wouldn’t have heard of it. We’re involved with refugees. Because of the delicacy of the situation for some of the people we work with, I can’t say too much. But it’s a brilliant job, I love it.’
‘Sounds exciting,’ Irena said, and when Gabriela looked away she felt Irena still looking.
‘If you don’t mind, I’m just going to visit the Gents,’ Ivan said a while later. Her fingers brushed over his thigh as he made to stand.
‘Are you ready to order?’ the waiter asked Andrei in Russian, interrupting a brief silence after Ivan left.
Irena leaned in to her husband. ‘I think I’ll just go to the bathroom while you do that. You know what I like.’
Looking up from the menu, Andrei turned his attention to Gabriela. ‘Do you have any preference?’
She hadn’t yet looked at the options and spent a minute scanning through the main courses before picking out the sea bass. When she looked up again, Irena was returning to the table, Ivan a few steps behind her.
As he took his seat, Ivan reached for her hand under the table; his fingers were bone-dry.
‘But you’ve had a baby!’ Irena said, as if the thought had just occurred to her, reaching down to a bag by her ankle.
Not quite knowing what to say, Gabriela smiled in response and took the bag Irena extended to her above the glasses.
‘I’m afraid it’s only a small gift, but I couldn’t resist it.’
The present was wrapped in gold paper and a huge pink bow. As she opened it, all of the eyes at the table on her, she pulled out a stuffed rabbit, as soft as a real bunny, its ears long and tapered.
Holding it up, Gabriela suppressed a shiver, picturing Callum’s face as he accepted the gift from Saoirse, grabbing it from her with tiny fists.
It was almost identical, aside from the wear and tear Callum’s version had acquired over the years. Otto – the toy Callum had sent her away with to defend her against the polar bears.
‘Do you not like it?’ Irena asked, a note of hurt in her voice.
Gabriela cleared her throat, coughing away the choking sensation.
‘Oh, it’s so lovely. It’s beautiful, thank you – I’m just a bit … emotional,’ she said and everyone at the table laughed indulgently.
‘Huge congratulations to you both.’ Andrei held up his glass and the rest followed.
‘It’s perfect, Irena,’ Ivan said, finishing a mouthful of crabmeat. ‘Hopefully we can now prise her away from that tatty old toy she is so attached to.’
‘Hey,’ Gabriela said defensively, feeling her gut tighten.
She had never meant for Ivan to see Otto. She had been unpacking her suitcase the day after they arrived, while Ivan popped to the store. He had returned earlier than expected and seen the stuffed toy on the floor beside her clothes.
‘It’s my old bunny,’ she’d told him, an instinctive response to explain away its presence in her bag. ‘I thought Layla might like it.’
He had half-smiled. ‘Sweet. You could have washed it, though,’ he joked, picking it up and giving it a sniff; it was still smeared with jam from Callum’s breakfast the day Gabriela left.
Could it be a coincidence? It wasn’t possible and yet, what else could it be? It was a ubiquitous toy; half the children of North London had one. It was probably the same in Moscow.
The room suddenly felt stiflingly hot.
‘Za lyubov,’ Andrei said, holding up his glass.
Ivan turned to Gabriela, clinking his champagne flute against hers. ‘To love.’
As he spoke she felt a tunnel opening up in front of her, a train roaring towards her so fast that she was powerless to step out of its path.