‘But if you became president . . .’
‘Even that has a statutory limit of eight years,’ said Sasha as he retrieved his bag. ‘The Duma recently decreed that a president can only serve two consecutive four-year terms, and who can blame the Russians after suffering centuries of dictatorship. Besides, frankly, eight years is more than enough for any sane person.’
‘Grandma’s looking a bit down,’ whispered Natasha, as they strolled through duty-free. ‘I didn’t realize she’s never been on a plane before.’
Sasha turned round and his mother gave him a weak smile. ‘I don’t think that’s the real reason she’s so nervous,’ he said. ‘Don’t forget, she hasn’t been back to Russia for more than thirty years, and it was her brother who made it possible for us to escape and begin a new life in England.’
‘Do you sometimes wish you’d got into the other crate, Dad,’ asked Natasha, ‘and ended up living in America?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Sasha, placing an arm around her shoulders. ‘If that had happened, I wouldn’t have had you to brighten up my life. Although I have to admit, it has crossed my mind from time to time.’
‘You might have been a congressman by now. Even a senator.’
‘Or perhaps my life would have gone in a totally different direction and I wouldn’t even have been involved in politics. Who knows?’
‘You might have ended up with that private jet Mum so yearns for.’
‘I’m not complaining,’ said Charlie, linking her arm in Sasha’s. ‘By selecting that crate he also changed my whole life.’
‘Will all passengers travelling on BA flight 017 to Amsterdam, please make their way to gate number fourteen, where boarding is about to commence.’
*
Anna looked out of the little cabin window to see Alex striding across the tarmac, the inevitable phone nestled on his shoulder as if it were a third arm.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ he said as he entered the cabin. ‘I sometimes wish the cell phone had never been invented.’
‘But not that often,’ said Anna as he took his seat next to her. No sooner had he fastened his seat belt than the heavy door was closed and a few moments later the plane began to taxi towards the south runway, exclusively reserved for private aircraft.
‘Your mother’s hardly spoken since she got on the plane,’ whispered Anna.
Alex looked back to see Elena sitting next to Konstantin, who was holding her hand. She gave him a weak smile as the Gulf-stream jet began to accelerate down the runway.
‘Don’t forget my uncle was her only sibling, and she would have gone back to see him a long time ago if it hadn’t been for the thought of Major Polyakov standing on the tarmac waiting to welcome her.’
‘But she must be excited about returning to Russia after so many years?’
‘And apprehensive at the same time, I expect. She’s probably torn between fear and excitement, a toxic combination.’
‘How different your life would have been if Polyakov had gone to the football match that afternoon,’ said Anna, ‘and you’d decided to stay in Saint Petersburg.’
‘All of us can point to a moment in our lives when something happens that causes us to go in a totally different direction. It can be as simple as that time you stepped onto a train and decided to sit next to me.’
‘Actually, it was you who stepped onto the train and decided to sit next to me,’ said Anna as the plane took off.
‘Or choosing which crate to get into,’ said Alex. ‘I often wonder—’
‘Dad, where will we stop to refuel?’ asked Konstantin.
Alex looked over his shoulder and said to his son, ‘Amsterdam. We’ll have a short break there before flying on to Saint Petersburg.’
*
‘How long will we be in Amsterdam?’ asked Natasha as they strolled into the transit lounge.
‘A couple of hours before we have to make the connection with our Aeroflot flight.’
‘Will there be enough time for us to take a taxi to the Rijksmuseum?’ asked Charlie. ‘I’ve always wanted to see The Night Watch.’
‘I’d rather not risk it,’ said Sasha. ‘The mayor of Saint Petersburg told me he’s expecting a large turnout at the airport, and if we were to miss the plane . . .’
‘Of course,’ said Charlie, once again reminded just how nervous her husband was. ‘In any case, I can always visit the Hermitage while you’re electioneering, and we can do the Rijks another time.’
‘On the way home, perhaps,’ said Natasha, grinning.
‘In eight years’ time, you mean,’ said Charlie.
‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ said Sasha. ‘If I become president, we’ll all go on holiday to Amsterdam, when we can do the Van Gogh museum as well as the Rijks.’
‘Russian presidents don’t go on holiday,’ said Elena. ‘Because if they did, when they returned, they’d find that someone else was sitting behind their desk, and they’d been left in the out-tray.’
Sasha laughed. ‘I think you’ll find that’s all changed, Mama.’
‘I wouldn’t count on that, while your old friend Vladimir is still around.’
*
‘How’s Elena feeling?’ asked Anna when Alex returned to his seat.
‘She wishes she’d gone back to Saint Petersburg years ago, and thanked Kolya properly for risking his life to help us escape.’
‘She invited him to visit Boston several times,’ Anna reminded him, ‘but he never took up the offer.’
‘I suspect Polyakov made sure he couldn’t get a visa,’ said Alex. ‘Elena’s always said she would happily have gone home to attend that man’s funeral.’
‘After all these years, she still thinks of Saint Petersburg as home,’ said Anna. ‘Do you feel the same way?’
Alex didn’t reply.
‘Please fasten your seat belts,’ said the captain, ‘we’ll be landing in Amsterdam in about twenty minutes.’
‘What a pity we don’t have enough time to visit the Rijksmuseum,’ said Anna as the plane began its descent through the clouds.
‘The last time we did something like that,’ said Alex, ‘was after we flew back from Davos and visited the Tate.’
‘That was before Davos, not after,’ Anna reminded him. ‘My abiding memory of that visit is you lying in the hotel bath rehearsing your speech.’
‘When I dropped the script in the water and you had to retype it.’
‘And you fell asleep,’ teased Anna, ‘while I carried on typing.’
‘Seems a fair division of labour to me,’ said Alex.
‘So what are we expected to do now, oh master,’ said Anna as the plane touched down. ‘Check out the airport pizzeria and see what our competitors have to offer?’
‘No, I’ve already discovered there’s nothing to rival Elena’s in Amsterdam. However, when we get off the plane there’ll be a car waiting to take us to the Rijks and then on to the Van Gogh museum. But we can only spend an hour in each as we can’t risk missing our take-off slot.’
Anna threw her arms around him. ‘Thank you, darling, two of Mr Rosenthal’s must-see-before-you-die galleries.’
‘I wasn’t planning on dying for some time,’ said Alex, as the plane taxied to a halt beside a waiting limousine.
*
Sasha and his family boarded Aeroflot flight 109 to Saint Petersburg just after midday. The captain came out of the cockpit to welcome them.
‘I just wanted to say what an honour it is to have you on board, Mr Karpenko, and I, along with my crew, would like to wish you luck at the election. I will certainly be voting for you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Sasha, as an attentive stewardess showed them to their seats and offered them all a drink. Even Elena was impressed.
The aircraft took off at 12.21, and while the rest of the family dozed, Sasha went over the speech he would deliver on arrival at the airport. He also needed to prepare a eulogy for his uncle’s funeral, but that would have to wait until they checked into their hotel.
‘Let me begin by thanking you all for this overwhelming welcome . . .’ Sasha leant back in his seat and wondered what Nemtsov had meant by a large turnout. He looked back down at his notes.
‘I may have been away for some time, but my heart has always . . .’