He looked at her again, considering something, before carrying on. ‘My parents were engineers, making parts for naval ships. They raised me an ardent Communist, an active member of Komsomol, the Communist youth league, failing to mention to me that they were both silent dissidents. I made friends there, and when Gorbachev opened things up I launched a small business, selling shoes. And then it grew, and here we are.’

There was a flicker in his eye, like there was something he wasn’t telling her. Something he’d chosen, in that split-second decision, to withhold.

‘And you never married?’

‘No.’ He paused, and for a moment she wondered if there was something he wanted to say, and then there was a clattering of chairs at the table next to them as a group of tourists sat down, and when she looked back at him, the moment had passed.

It was 2a.m. when she woke up in the hotel, not so much to the sound as the feeling of Ivan crying on the other side of the room.

‘Hey,’ she said, moving towards him, not sure what to do; there was an intimacy to the scene that made her want to wrap her arms around him, and wish she wasn’t there, at the same time. ‘What’s wrong?’

He lifted his head slightly. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘Don’t be silly. Are you OK, has something happened?’

‘I lied to you,’ he said after a moment. ‘About being married.’

She felt light-headed, crouching on the floor next to him, preparing herself for what he might say.

‘I was married, many years ago. We had a child together, a daughter.’ His voice was calm now. ‘Masha.’ His face creased into a smile at the mention of her name.

‘OK,’ she said gently.

He glanced briefly at her and then looked away. ‘They were killed.’

‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘Oh, Ivan, I’m so—’

‘Please don’t say you’re sorry,’ he said, holding up a hand. ‘Please.’

‘How did they …’

‘They drowned.’ A single tear rolled from his eye.

‘How old was she?’ she asked quietly, her hand reaching for his.

‘Two.’

She closed her eyes, pushing against the compression in her chest. ‘Oh God. I can’t imagine …’

‘No,’ he said. ‘You can’t.’ He turned to her, then. ‘After that, I’ve never … I’ve never been in love, never allowed myself, I suppose. The day I met you, something about you reminded me of her and …’

In the darkness of the room, she felt her throat swell. His eyes glistened with the words she yearned for and yet wanted so badly for him not to say.

‘Hey,’ she said, hushing him and pulling him towards her.

Neither of them had the presence of mind to hold back, the pull between them too strong, pushing all else from her thoughts.

Chapter 38

Isobel