They listen for a few more moments before Leo said:

—I knew an American singer once. He was a Communist and he visited Moscow many years ago when I was a young man. I provided security for him. He was called Jesse Austin. His voice sounded a little like this man’s voice. Except Jesse Austin didn’t sing pop songs.

Nara took a pen and pad from the living-room table, writing down the name JESSE AUSTIN, as if he were a suspect she needed to investigate.

—I will try to find him in the bazaar tomorrow.

Leo had never thought of looking for his music.

—If you find it, let me know. We can listen together.

Leo glanced around her apartment, at her Communist books now on display on the shelves, books that she’d once been forced to hide in the brickwork of an alleyway, the books that had infuriated her parents and brought about the attempt on her life. She owned very little else: the apartment was almost as empty as Leo’s. The song finished. The tape crackled. A new song began. Nara said:

—Your life in Moscow must be very different from your life here ?

Leo nodded, uneasy at the turn the conversation had taken.

—It was.

—Do you miss your family?

She’d never asked about his personal life before and he didn’t like her asking about it now. He was about to say goodnight and return to his apartment when she added:

—They’re going to execute my father.

Leo’s irritation melted away. He said:

—Yes. I know.

—My mother will be imprisoned. So will my brother. I’ve never lived without my family before.

—It will be hard.

She looked into Leo’s eyes with a pitiful mixture of loneliness and resolve.

—Does it get easier?

Leo shook his head.

—You find ways of coping.

Leo had not entered the apartment, remaining on the threshold, not wishing to embarrass her sense of propriety. She had not invited him in. It would be culturally inappropriate. However, he sensed that she did not want him to leave and wanted him to ask permission to come inside. She could not bring herself to make the request. Finally, Leo said:

—Try to get some sleep.

He turned and left, forcing himself not to look back to see if she was watching him.

Reaching the front door, Leo paused. He pictured her alone in that stark, freshly painted, soulless apartment. It was ridiculous that he should think of going back. She’d lost her family. Of course she wanted company. Was it precisely because she was alone tht he wanted to be with her? The two of them were in the same position, alone, outsiders. It didn’t need to become awkward. What was wrong with them becoming friends? He slowly turned around.