—Raisa, I’m sorry for arriving unexpectedly but our guest, Jesse Austin, wanted to visit a secondary school and I naturally thought of you.

Austin stepped forward, offering his hand.

—Don’t be mad at him. It’s my fault. I wanted it to be a surprise.

Raisa nodded, assessing the situation with agility.

—It certainly is a surprise.

She noted Leo’s uniform, before remarking to Austin:

—Mr Austin, I enjoy your music very much.

Austin smiled, asking coyly:

—You’ve heard it?

—You’re one of the few Western…

Raisa’s eyes darted towards the crowd of party officials. She checked herself:

—Western singers any Russian would want to listen to.

Austin was elated.

—That’s kind of you.

Raisa glanced at Leo.

—I’m flattered my lessons were considered worthy for such important visitors.

—Would it be OK if I watched you teach?

—Take my seat.

—No, I’ll stand. We’ll be no trouble, I promise! You just go ahead. Do your normal thing.

It was a comical notion that this lesson would be normal. Leo felt faintly hysterical and light-headed. The sense of gratitude was so intense it was a struggle not to take hold of Raisa’s hands and kiss them. She taught the lesson, managing to ignore the fact that none of the children were listening, all of them fascinated by the guests.

After twenty minutes a delighted Austin thanked Raisa.

—You have a real gift. The way you speak, the things you say about Communism, thank you for letting me listen in.

—It was my pleasure.

Jesse Austin was smitten with her too. It was hard not to be.

—Are you busy tonight, Raisa? Because I’d like it very much if you’d come to my concert. I’m sure Leo has told you about it?

She glanced at Leo.

—He has.

She lied with consummate skill.

—Then you’ll come? Please?

She smiled, expressing a razor-sharp sense of self-preservation.

Moscow

Serp I Molot Factory - Magnitogorsk

Same Day