She continued. ‘Once I have a track record as a translator, I hope I can find enough work to earn a living. I have been doing farming work till now’ – she held out her roughened hands to show him – ‘but I have trouble with my back and can’t work long hours any more.’
He couldn’t bear to think of her farming, of her back aching. She was a Romanov, a grand duchess. ‘Tatiana, I have plenty of money. You don’t need to work ever again. Please let me give you a regular sum, whatever you need. You’re my wife, after all.’
She leaned across to kiss him then pulled her chair round so that she was close enough to wrap her arms around him and hold him so close he could feel the beating of a pulse in her neck.
They spent the day walking around the town: across the famous Charles Bridge lined with lifelike statues of saints, up to St Nicholas Church and the atmospheric old Castle, back to the Jewish cemetery with its thousands of tombstones all toppling over each other, and around the majesty of Wencelas Square. Tatiana spoke fluent Czech so Dmitri imagined this must be where she had been living. Perhaps she had been rescued from Ekaterinburg by the Czechs in the White Army. Bless them, whoever they were. He’d be forever in their debt.
Towards evening they collected her belongings from the left luggage office at the railway station – a battered holdall containing a few items of clothing and her copies of his books.
‘Do you want to stay in Prague?’ he asked later, over dinner. ‘I’m worried about the growth of the Communist Party here. It feels like St Petersburg in 1917, with people checking who is listening before opening their mouths to speak.’
‘I know. I’m worried too, but I don’t have anywhere else to go.’
‘Do you have children?’ he asked, tentatively.
‘No,’ she said quickly, not meeting his eye.
He hesitated, sure she was lying, but she didn’t continue. ‘You don’t want to get in touch with your family? I met your Aunt Irene in Berlin, and I know there are still Romanovs in Denmark.’
She winced. ‘I couldn’t bear to become a newspaper story, to have all these strangers queuing up to decide whether or not they recognise me. The only person I ever wanted to find was you.’
Dmitri spoke without thinking. ‘Come to America then. I’ll help you.’
Her face lit up, then a cloud passed over it. ‘I will not be responsible for taking you away from the mother of your children, Malama.’
A vision of Rosa came into Dmitri’s head and he felt stricken. For the last twenty-four hours, since meeting Tatiana, he hadn’t given her a thought. Now her sunny smile, her generous body, her optimistic nature came to him as if in a vision. He could never hurt Rosa. He loved her too much. How could he have betrayed her so thoughtlessly? What could he do?
‘I’ll tell you what will happen,’ Tatiana told him, while he hesitated. ‘I will come to America with you and I will translate your books into good English but I will live alone. I have become a solitary person over the years and I think that would suit me best.’
Dmitri frowned: ‘But you are my wife. I want us to be lovers.’
She took his chin between her fingers, looked him in the eye, and said. ‘Yes, I rather think that is inevitable.’
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Lake Akanabee, New York State, 11th October 2016
In the few days since she was last there, it felt as if the temperature on the lake had dropped ten degrees. Kitty slept huddled in her fleecy dressing gown with her thick green cardigan piled on top of the bedding roll but still she woke several times shivering. The alarm on her phone was set for 6.30 a.m. and for the first time she caught the sunrise over the lake. If anything, it was more spectacular than the sunsets, with streaks of flamingo-pink and tangerine heralding a shimmery white sun. A black bird with red wings was crying ‘Coralee, coralee’ as if searching for a lost love. She made herself a cup of instant coffee and took her phone to the end of the jetty, where the signal appeared to be strongest.
There were clicks and buzzes before a phone began to ring thousands of miles down the ether. A voice answered in Czech, so Kitty said slowly and clearly, in English, ‘Could I speak to Hana Markova, please.’
‘Yes, of course,’ the voice answered, with traces of an American accent.
While she waited to be connected, Kitty wondered briefly about the cost of the call then decided that this is what Dmitri would want her to do with his money. He would want her to clear his name.
A voice came on the line: ‘Ahoj!’
‘This is Kitty Fisher. Is that Hana Markova?’
The voice switched to flawless English. ‘Well, hello. Kitty! My goodness, am I really speaking to Dmitri’s great-granddaughter?’
Kitty paused, puzzled. ‘Yes, did you know him?’
‘Not personally, but my father said Irena often spoke of him. And when she left in 1948, he was pretty sure she had gone to find Dmitri.’
‘How did she know him?’ Kitty felt as though she was being particularly slow, as though Hana was several steps ahead of her.
There was a pause, and she couldn’t tell if it was a delay on the line or Hana’s hesitation. ‘They met in Russia, during the war. The First World War.’
‘But then she married your father?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘And she was your stepmother?’
‘No, I was born after Irena left. My mother was Dad’s second wife.’
Kitty paused, but there was no point to this call unless she was straight. ‘Did the police tell you that a body I found buried near Dmitri’s cabin might be hers?’
‘Yes. They asked if I knew anyone who could provide DNA or dental records but I’m afraid I can’t help with that.’
Kitty chose her words carefully. ‘They seem to think Dmitri might have had something to do with her death. But from what I know of him, I can’t believe it. That’s why I wanted to call you, to see if you can tell me any more about them.’
There was a muffled sound that could have been a laugh, or an indignant snort. ‘That’s ridiculous. He would never have harmed a hair on her head.’
‘Were they lovers?’
Hana sighed. ‘It’s a big story, and not one that should be told on the telephone. But as Dmitri’s great-granddaughter you have the right to know …’
Kitty spoke impulsively. ‘Why don’t I come to see you? I could fly out next week.’
Hana was surprised. ‘You would come all the way from America to Brno?’
‘I’ve got to be in London on Thursday but I could come to you on Friday.’
‘And you have no idea what this is all about?’ Hana sounded incredulous.
‘Perhaps I have an inkling,’ Kitty said. ‘I have a Russian diary dating from 1918. I’ll bring it with me.’
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Istanbul, September 1948
Two days after they found each other again, Dmitri and Tatiana caught a train to Istanbul, then sailed in a ca?que across the Bosphorus to his sister Valerina’s house. It was in a walled courtyard surrounded by dark green forest on all sides and looked out over the sparkling water from a high vantage point. Dmitri hadn’t told his sister he was bringing another guest and when he walked in with Tatiana, Valerina recognised her immediately. Her eyes widened in shock and she caught her breath before she bent her knees in a curtsey.
‘Please don’t,’ Tatiana begged. ‘I am no longer royalty. For many years I have been a farmer’s wife.’
‘Come, sit down,’ Valerina fussed, pointing to a comfortable armchair by a window. ‘You must be tired from your journey. I will have a room prepared.’
Dmitri looked at Tatiana then back at his sister before he spoke: ‘We would like to share a room – if it is acceptable to you.’
‘Well, of course …’ Valerina was momentarily flustered but soon regained her composure. ‘Of course you would. I’ll make arrangements. Are you well, Your …’ She paused, unsure how to address her guest.
‘Please call me Tatiana. These last decades I have been known by the name Irena Markova but I miss the name of my birth.’
‘So you were brought out of Russia by men from the Czech Legion?’ Valerina asked.
‘One man. Yes.’