*
Dimka was in his apartment, packing for Czechoslovakia, when Nik came to see him.
The Politburo had approved Kosygin’s plan. Dimka was flying with him to Prague to negotiate a non-military solution to the crisis. They would find a way to allow the liberalization experiment to continue while at the same time reassuring the diehards that there was no fundamental threat to the Soviet system. But what Dimka hoped was that, in the long term, the Soviet system would change.
Prague in May would be mild and wet. Dimka was folding his raincoat when the doorbell rang.
There was no doorman in his building, and no intercom system. The street door was permanently unlocked and visitors walked upstairs to the apartments unannounced. It was not as luxurious as Government House, where his ex-wife was living in their old apartment. Dimka occasionally felt resentful, but he was glad Grisha was near his grandmother.
Dimka opened the door and was shocked to see his lover’s husband standing there.
Nik was an inch taller than Dimka, and heavier, but Dimka was ready to take him on. He stepped back a pace and picked up the nearest heavy object, a glass ashtray, to use as a weapon.
‘No need for that,’ said Nik, but he stepped into the hall and shut the door behind him.
‘Piss off,’ said Dimka. ‘Go now, before you get into any more trouble.’ He managed to sound more confident than he felt.
Nik glared at him with hot hatred in his eyes. ‘You’ve made your point,’ he said. ‘You’re not afraid of me. You’re powerful enough to turn my life to shit. I should be scared of you. All right, I get it. I’m scared.’
He did not sound it.
Dimka said: ‘What have you come here for?’
‘I don’t give a toss for the bitch. I only married her to please my mother, who’s dead now. But a man’s pride is hurt when another man pokes his fire. You know what I mean.’
‘Get to the point.’
‘My business is ruined. No one in the army will speak to me, let alone sell me TV sets. Men who have built four-bedroom dachas from the money I’ve made for them now walk past me in the street without speaking – those who aren’t in jail.’
‘You shouldn’t have threatened my son.’
‘I know it now. I thought my wife was opening her legs for some little apparatchik. I didn’t know he was a fucking warlord. I underestimated you.’
‘So bugger off home and lick your wounds.’
‘I have to make a living.’
‘Try working.’
‘No jokes, please. I’ve found another source of Western TV sets – nothing to do with the army.’
‘Why should I care?’
‘I can rebuild the business you destroyed.’
‘So what?’
‘Can I come in and sit down?’
‘Don’t be so fucking stupid.’
Rage flared again in Nik’s eyes, and Dimka feared he had gone too far, but the flame died down, and Nik said meekly: ‘Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll give you ten per cent of the profits.’
‘You want me to go into business with you? In a criminal enterprise? You must be mad.’
‘All right, twenty per cent. And you don’t have to do anything except leave me alone.’
‘I don’t want your money, you fool. This is the Soviet Union. You can’t just buy anything you want, like in America. My connections are worth far more than you could ever pay me.’
‘There must be something you want.’
Until this moment Dimka had been arguing with Nik just to keep him off balance, but now he saw an opportunity. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘There is something I want.’
‘Name it.’
‘Divorce your wife.’
‘What?’
‘I want you to get a divorce.’
‘Divorce Natalya?’
‘Divorce your wife,’ Dimka said again. ‘Which of those three words are you having trouble understanding?’
‘Fuck me, is that all?’
‘Yes.’
‘You can marry her. I wouldn’t touch her now anyway.’
‘If you divorce her, I’ll leave you alone. I’m not a cop, and I’m not running a crusade against corruption in the USSR. I have more important work to do.’
‘It’s a deal.’ Nik opened the door. ‘I’ll send her up.’
That took Dimka by surprise. ‘She’s here?’
‘Waiting in the car. I’ll have her things packed up and sent around tomorrow. I don’t want her in my place ever again.’
Dimka raised his voice. ‘Don’t you dare hurt her. If she’s even bruised, the whole deal is off.’
Nik turned in the doorway and pointed a threatening finger. ‘And don’t you renege. If you try to screw me, I’ll cut off her nipples with the kitchen scissors.’
Dimka believed he would. He suppressed a shudder. ‘Get out of my flat.’
Nik left without closing the door.
Dimka was breathing hard, as if he had been running. He stood still in the small hall of the apartment. He heard Nik clattering down the stairs. He put the ashtray down on the hall table. His fingers were slippery with perspiration, and he almost dropped it.
What just happened seemed like a dream. Had Nik really stood in this hallway and agreed to a divorce? Had Dimka really scared him off?
A minute later he heard footsteps of a different kind on the stairs: lighter, faster, coming up. He did not go out of the apartment: he felt stuck where he was.
Natalya appeared in the doorway, her broad smile lighting up the whole place. She threw herself into his arms. He buried his face in her mass of curls. ‘You’re here,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And I’m never going to leave.’
44
Rebecca was tempted to be unfaithful to Bernd. But she could not lie to him. So she told him everything in a convulsion of repentance. ‘I’ve met someone I really like,’ she said. ‘And I’ve kissed him. Twice. I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it again.’
She was scared of what he would say next. He might immediately ask for a divorce. Most men would. Bernd was better than most men, though. But it would break her heart if he were not angry but simply humiliated. She would have hurt the person she loved most in the world.
However, Bernd’s response to her confession was shockingly different to anything she had expected. ‘You should go ahead,’ he said. ‘Have an affair with the guy.’
They were in bed, last thing at night, and she turned over and stared at him. ‘How can you say that?’
‘This is 1968, the age of free love. Everyone is having sex with everyone else. Why should you miss out?’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I didn’t mean it to sound so trivial.’
‘What did you mean?’
‘I know you love me,’ he said, ‘and I know you like having sex with me, but you mustn’t go through the rest of your life without experiencing the real thing.’
‘I don’t believe in the real thing,’ she had said. ‘It’s different for everyone. It’s much better with you than it was with Hans.’
‘It will always be good, because we love each other. But I think you need a really good fuck.’
And he was right, she thought. She loved Bernd and she liked the peculiar sex they had, but when she thought about Claus lying on top of her, kissing her and moving inside her, and how she would lift her hips to meet his thrusts, she immediately got wet. She was ashamed of this feeling. Was she an animal? Perhaps she was, but Bernd was right about what she needed.
‘I think I’m weird,’ she said. ‘Maybe it’s because of what happened to me in the war.’ She had told Bernd – but no one else, ever – how Red Army soldiers had been about to rape her when Carla had offered herself instead. German women rarely spoke of that time, even to one another. But Rebecca would never forget the sight of Carla going up that staircase, head held high, with the Soviet soldiers following her like eager dogs. Rebecca, thirteen years old, had known what they were going to do, and she had wept with relief that it was not happening to her.
Bernd asked perceptively: ‘Do you also feel guilty that you escaped while Carla suffered?’
‘Yes, isn’t that strange?’ she said. ‘I was a child, and a victim, but I feel as if I did something shameful.’
‘It’s not unusual,’ Bernd said. ‘Men who survive battles feel remorse because others died and not them.’ Bernd had got the scar on his forehead during the battle of Seelow Heights.
‘I felt better after Carla and Werner adopted me,’ Rebecca said. ‘Somehow that made it all right. Parents make sacrifices for their children, don’t they? Women suffer to bring children into the world. Perhaps it doesn’t make much sense, but once I became Carla’s daughter I felt entitled.’
‘It makes sense.’
‘Do you really want me to go to bed with another man?’
‘Yes.’
‘But why?’