Kane and Abel Read online

  ‘I don’t want my husband to see you before I’ve told him how you ended up here,’ she explained. ‘Would you like to stay with us, Wladek, if my husband agrees?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ he said simply.

  ‘Then off you go to bed,’ she said.

  Wladek climbed the stairs, praying that the woman’s husband would allow him to live with them. He undressed slowly and got into bed. He was too clean, the sheets were too crisp, the mattress too soft. He threw the pillow onto the floor, but he was so tired that he slept despite the comfort of the bed. It was already dark outside when he was awakened by the sound of raised voices. He couldn’t tell how long he had been asleep. He crept to the door, eased it open and listened to the conversation taking place in the kitchen below.

  ‘You stupid woman,’ Wladek heard a shrill voice say. ‘Don’t you understand what would have happened if you’d been caught? You would have been sent to the camps, and I would have lost my job.’

  ‘But if you had seen him, Piotr. He was like a hunted animal.’

  ‘So you decided to turn us into hunted animals,’ he replied. ‘Has anyone else seen him?’

  ‘No,’ said the woman, ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Thank God for that. He must leave immediately, before anyone discovers he’s been here - it’s our only hope.’

  ‘But where can he go, Piotr? He has no one. And I have always wanted a son.’

  ‘I don’t care what you want, or where he goes. He is not our responsibility. We must be rid of him, and quickly.’

  ‘But Piotr, I think he is royal. I think his father was a baron. He wears a silver band around his wrist, and on it are the words—’

  ‘That only makes it worse. You know what our new leaders have decreed. No nobility, no privileges. We would not even be sent to the camp - the authorities would just shoot us.’

  ‘We have always wanted a son, Piotr. Can we not take this one risk in our lives?’

  ‘In your life, perhaps, but not in mine. I say he must go, and go now.’

  Wladek did not need to hear any more. The only way he could help his benefactress was to disappear without trace into the night. He dressed quickly, and stared at the bed, hoping it would not be another four years before he slept so soundly again. He was unlatching the window when the door was flung open and the stationmaster marched into the room. He was a tiny man, no taller than Wladek, with a large stomach and a bald head except for a few grey strands of hair vainly combed across his scalp. He wore rimless spectacles, which had produced little red semicircles under each eye. He stared at Wladek. Wladek stared back.

  ‘Come downstairs,’ the man commanded.

  Wladek followed him reluctantly to the kitchen. The woman was sitting at the table, sobbing.

  ‘Now listen, boy,’ the man said.

  ‘His name is Wladek,’ the woman interjected.

  ‘Now listen, boy,’ the man repeated. ‘You are trouble, and I want you out of here and as far away as possible. I’ll tell you what I’m willing to do to help you.’

  Wladek gazed at him, aware that he would only be willing to help himself.

  ‘I am going to supply you with a train ticket. Where do you want to go?’

  ‘Odessa,’ said Wladek, ignorant of where it was or how much it would cost, knowing only that it was the next city on the doctor’s map to freedom.

  ‘Odessa, the mother of crime - an appropriate destination,’ sneered the stationmaster. ‘You’ll be among your own kind there.’

  ‘Let him stay with us, Piotr. I will take care of him, I will—’

  ‘No, never. I would rather pay the bastard to go.’

  ‘But how can he hope to get past the authorities?’ the woman pleaded.

  ‘I will issue him with a ticket and a working pass for Odessa.’ The man turned to Wladek. ‘Once you are on that train, boy, if I ever see or hear of you again in Moscow, I’ll have you arrested on sight and thrown into the nearest jail. You’ll be back in that prison camp as fast as the train can get you there - if they don’t shoot you first.’

  The man glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece: five past eleven. He turned to his wife. ‘There’s a train that leaves for Odessa at midnight. I’ll take him to the station and put him on it myself. Have you any baggage, boy?’

  Wladek was about to say no, when the woman said, ‘Yes, I’ll go and fetch it.’

  She was gone for some time. Wladek and the stationmaster glared at each other with mutual contempt. The clock struck once in her absence, but still neither spoke. The stationmaster’s eyes never left Wladek. When she returned, she was carrying a large brown paper parcel tied with string. Wladek stared at it and was about to protest, but as their eyes met, he saw such fear in hers that he only just managed the words, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Eat this before you leave,’ she said, thrusting her bowl of cold soup towards him.

  He obeyed, and although his shrunken stomach was now full, he gulped down the soup as quickly as possible, not wanting to cause her any more trouble.

  ‘Animal,’ the man muttered.

  Wladek looked at him, hatred in his eyes. He felt pity for the woman, bound to such a man for life. A prison of her own.

  ‘Come, boy, it’s time for you to leave,’ the stationmaster said. ‘We don’t want you to miss your train, do we?’

  Wladek followed him out of the kitchen. He hesitated as he passed the woman, briefly touching her hand.

  The stationmaster and the refugee crept through the streets of Moscow, keeping to the shadows, until they reached the station. The stationmaster obtained a one-way ticket to Odessa and gave the little red slip of paper to Wladek.

  ‘My pass?’ Wladek said defiantly.

  From his inside pocket the man drew out an official-looking form, signed it hurriedly and reluctantly handed it over. His eyes kept looking all around him for any possible danger. Wladek had seen eyes like that many times during the past four years: the eyes of a coward.

  ‘Never let me see, or hear, of you again,’ the stationmaster said: the voice of a bully.

  Wladek was about to say something, but the stationmaster had already disappeared into the shadows of the night, where he belonged.

  Wladek looked at the eyes of the people who hurried past him. The same eyes, the same fear; was anyone in the world free? He gathered the brown paper parcel under his arm, adjusted his cap and walked towards the barrier. The guard glanced at his ticket and ushered him through without comment. He climbed on board the train. Although he would never see her again in his life, he would always remember the kindness of the woman, the stationmaster’s wife, Comrade … he didn’t even know her name.

  16

  PREPARING FOR the baby kept Anne fully occupied; she found herself tiring easily, and had to rest a great deal. Whenever she asked Henry how business was going, he always had some plausible answer to reassure her that all was well, without supplying any actual details.

  Then the anonymous letters started to appear again. This time they gave more details - the names of the women involved, and the places they had been seen with Henry. Anne burned them before she could commit the names or the places to memory. She didn’t believe her husband could be unfaithful while she was carrying his child. Someone was jealous, or holding a grudge against Henry. They had to be lying.

  But the letters kept coming, sometimes with new names. Anne continued to destroy them, but they were beginning to prey on her mind. She wanted to discuss them with someone, but couldn’t think of anybody in whom she could confide. The grandmothers would have been appalled, and were in any case already prejudiced against Henry. Alan Lloyd at the bank could not be expected to understand, as he had never married, and William was far too young. No one seemed suitable. Anne considered consulting a psychiatrist after listening to a lecture given by Sigmund Freud when he visited Boston, but she decided that she would never consider discussing a family problem with a complete stranger.

  The matter finally came to a head in a