The following morning Ivan pulled open the curtain and revealed a clear blue sky.
‘I thought you might be interested in seeing some of the projects we’re working on,’ he said later that day as the car swept around Patriarshiye Ponds, pulling over in front of the apartments opposite the one Gabriela had stayed in when she had just arrived in Moscow. She had a flash of memory of those first few days, staying at Emsworth’s flat. She hadn’t questioned at the time how he had afforded such a place; it wasn’t an official FCO residence, she knew that much.
‘I’ve just got to drop something off to Andrei,’ he said, before stepping out of the car, then walking across to the lobby and disappearing inside.
‘Andrei lives here?’ she asked when he got back into the car a few minutes later.
‘Not really. He owns a couple of the apartments,’ he said, turning to stroke Layla’s head as she snoozed in the car seat.
Gabriela felt a note of alarm ringing in her ears but she pushed it away. Was it so strange that they owned apartments in the complex that was occupied by her former boss? After all, it was one of the most coveted blocks in Moscow, an obvious draw, surely, for both monied oligarchs and senior FCO figures who fancied a bit of cultural heritage while they swaggered around the city? She felt a stinging on her thigh and when she looked down saw she was pinching herself so tightly with her fingernails that she could see the indentation in the flesh beneath her tights.
Looking away, Gabriela focused on Layla’s face, the soft lines of her eyelids, the skin so delicate and new. She was still at that age when she seemed to spend more time asleep than awake. Briefly, she imagined what Layla might be like in a few years. Would she be anything like Sadie? The thought made her stomach flip.
‘Is everything OK? You’ve been quiet ever since dinner last night,’ Ivan said. When she looked up at him, his face seemed less familiar.
‘I’m just tired. Maybe it’s jet lag.’
‘Right,’ he replied, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. ‘Andrei and Irena seemed to take to you.’
‘Really?’ she said, trying to push away the thought of the bunny, the exact replica of Callum’s rabbit. Stop it, she told herself. She was being paranoid. After Emsworth’s threats, and the ordeal with Sadie on the Heath, it was understandable. But there was no way Irena could have known about Otto.
Yet there was something about Irena, the way her eyes followed Gabriela at dinner, that she couldn’t stop remembering. Perhaps she was just interested, she told herself. She and Ivan were clearly close, and why wouldn’t she be intrigued to meet the mother of his child? Gabriela shivered as she thought of his dead wife, trying to blot out the photo she had seen of Masha, her eyes too evocative of Layla.
‘You were right, Irena is very impressive. What exactly does she do? I never got to ask.’
Ivan looked out of the window as the car began to slow. ‘I’m never quite sure. Look, we’re nearly here.’
The house stood at the edge of the Presnensky District, an area better known for the zoo and the State Museum of Oriental Art. The building itself was akin to the sort of upscale boarding school you might see in a Hollywood interpretation of aristocratic English life.
‘We don’t call it an orphanage, it’s a home for children,’ he said as they moved through the hallway, lined with floor-to-ceiling chests filled with books.
‘Ivan, this is extraordinary,’ she said.
‘We have around thirty children living here, full-time,’ he said as a group moved through one of the doorways, accompanied by a woman who seemed to recognise Ivan.
‘Some of them require specialist support and so we have teachers and therapists who work with them on site.’
‘I can’t believe you haven’t told me about this before,’ she said as they reached the upper floor, stopping briefly to peer into one of the bedrooms where there were four neatly made beds. The walls were hung with framed paintings of flowers.
‘You never asked,’ he said, and she felt a pang of relief followed by a niggle of guilt. Why had she not asked him more about his work? Was it because she was scared of what he would say?
‘Maybe we’ll spend more time here. There are other places I’d like to show you, but they can wait until next time. There are still so many things we have to learn about each other,’ he added.
She smiled, trying to suppress a feeling of unease, then she took Ivan’s hand, lifting the other to the sling in which Layla was pinned against her chest.
‘There’s no reason why we shouldn’t spend more time here, right?’ he said, as if in passing, strapping Layla back into the car seat twenty minutes later.
Gabriela paused, trying to keep her voice level. ‘I mean maybe, down the line. But don’t forget I’m going back to work in a few weeks.’
She couldn’t understand why he was forcing the issue.
He didn’t answer until they were both seated and the car was rolling back down the driveway, the perfectly tended grass glistening on either side, and through the gates.
‘So you’re still planning on going back?’ His voice was harder.
She didn’t reply straight away. ‘Of course I’m going back, Ivan. I’ve always been open about that.’
He kept his gaze pinned on the traffic outside the car. Did she imagine the tears glistening in the corners of his eyes?
‘I suppose I imagined once Layla was here, you might feel more committed to her than your job.’
‘Committed?’ Her voice rose again. ‘I’m fully committed, Ivan.’
He turned sharply to her. ‘Don’t raise your voice to me in front of our daughter.’
Turning his attention to the driver, he said in English, ‘Straight home. I’ve lost my appetite.’