Part 32 (1/2)

'Later.'

They sat gazing at each other in silence. He was trying to offer an encouraging smile, but there was something intense in his expression that unsettled her. 'Anna, you know I love you,' he said, and he lifted her hand to his lips. 'I love you very much.'

'Yes.'

'Don't be cross with me, but I know you're . . .'

'Oh, G.o.d.' And her heart beat faster, her chin quivering as she fought the urge to dissolve into tears again. 'I'm sorry, Frederick.'

He was clearly taken aback. 'Perhaps we're talking at cross purposes,' he said gently. 'What is it you think I know?'

She examined his face, his soft hazel eyes, a little smile of encouragement playing on his lips: 'No, you speak.'

The smile disappeared at once and he took a deep breath and sighed, as if bracing himself for what he clearly thought would be a difficult conversation.

'The cheese shop on the Malaya Sadovaya. I know, that is, I've guessed what you are doing . . .'

She felt a fleeting sense of relief. 'How do you know?' she asked. 'You've told no one?'

'No. But now I know, it has to stop.'

She must have been gaping at him in amazement because he could not help a small smile. 'Please, Anna, understand, I can't let this happen. I don't want to betray anyone but I won't have any part in the killing of innocent people.'

'What are you talking about?' And she flushed hot with anger, tearing her hands from his. 'Frederick, you're talking nonsense. It's a shop.'

'Tell me you're not trying to kill the tsar.'

'That's the party's business, not yours,' she said, her voice trembling with fury.

He reached for her hand again but she would not give it to him: 'What do you want me to do, Frederick? Tell my comrades my lover is threatening to betray them to the police. I thought you loved me.'

'Please try and understand, I can't let it happen. I won't be party to murder.'

'It will be the end for us, I won't see you again,' she said, her body rigid, her face white, fists clenched tightly beneath the table.

'I would never betray you,' he said, 'but I won't be party to murder.'

'But knowing of the shop doesn't make you party to murder. And it's not murder. He's a tyrant.'

'And those who will be travelling with him?'

'Stop it, Frederick,' she said, almost pleading with him. 'Stop it. Please, please stop it.'

He was at a loss to know what he could say to placate her, conscious too, perhaps, that he was in danger of taking an irrevocable step.

'Stop it, Frederick,' she said again. 'Don't. I thought you wanted me.'

'You know I do.'

'Then what are you thinking?'

The curtain rattled urgently and the old woman was standing in the doorway hugging herself, breathless, quite terrified.

'What is it?' Anna snapped at her in Ukrainian.

'They're in the street . . .' she stammered.

'Calm yourself. How many?'

'Many.'

'What is it?' Hadfield asked, touching her arm.

'The police.'

He moved towards the window, but before he could reach it they heard the thump of a fist at the door below and someone shaking the handle, then the echo of voices and steps on the stairs. The old woman began to whimper with fear.

'You must go.' Hadfield was pulling at her arm. 'Go, Anna. Leave here. Go now.'

'You must come too. You can't be found here.'

There was the sound of splintering wood.

'No,' he said, 'I'll be fine. I'll do what I can. Go.'

'Frederick, I'm going to have a baby.'

He stood gazing in astonishment at her.

She reached for his hand and held it to her face and for a moment he bent to rest his forehead against hers.

'Now go,' and he s.n.a.t.c.hed his hand free and turned to the door. And then she ran. Racing through part.i.tioned rooms, sweeping curtains aside, pus.h.i.+ng past anyone who stepped in her way, until she found the other stairs. Down and then on into the darkness.

41.

SAt.u.r.dAY, 28 FEBRUARY 1881.

25 VOZNESENSKY PROSPEKT.

Anna made her way to the flat on the Voznesensky. Vera Figner let her in without comment and led her by the hand to the couch, where she lay in the early hours rolling the same questions through her mind until the worst was all she was able to believe. Then, at nine o'clock the following morning, they had news that the gendarmes had visited the cheese shop again and she knew he had failed her. But she could not speak of it to her comrades. She lay curled beneath a blanket while Vera gave instructions to the scouts. She was frightened as she had never been before. Please G.o.d she was wrong.

An hour later they received word that Zhelyabov was missing. He had arranged to meet Nikolai Kibalchich and the four bombthrowers, but they had waited for an hour and were still waiting, 'Are you strong enough to go to them?' asked Vera.