The programme had been arranged in advance although it was hard to know if Austin would change those plans too. The proposal was for him to take to the stage with a number of songs interspersed with short polemical speeches. His speeches would be in Russian; with a couple of exceptions, the songs would be in English. Leo glanced across the sweep of the audience, picturing how the scene would appear on the propaganda film intended for distribution across the Union and Eastern Europe. Leo snapped at a man seated a couple of rows back:

—Take off your hat.

Gloves wouldn’t be seen in the film. Hats would be. They didn’t want to give away that the auditorium was bitterly cold. As Leo was making the final checks for anything that might appear out of place he saw a worker rub some of the dirty grease from his boot across his face, blackening it. Leo didn’t need to hear what was being said as several men seated nearby began to laugh. He pushed into the auditorium, reaching the man and whispering:

—You want this to be the last joke you ever make?

Leo stood over him as he wiped the grease from his face. He looked at the men who’d laughed. They hated him but not as much as they feared him. He sidestepped out of the row, returning to the front of the stage. After thirty minutes of shuffling, the seats were filled. There were workers standing, crowded at the back. The orchestra was onstage. The concert was ready to start.

It was then that Leo saw Raisa, being escorted into the auditorium by an officer. He’d only ever seen her dressed in her work clothes, practical and sturdy outfits, her features hidden beneath a warm hat, her hair tied back – her skin pale and without makeup. Misunderstanding the nature of the concert, she’d dressed smartly. She was wearing a dress. Though her clothes were hardly extravagant, they were dazzling when contrasted with the workers. Among the dirty shirts and ragged trousers worn by most of the audience, she walked nervously. She felt exposed, out of place and overdressed. The eyes of the workers followed her, and for good reason. Tonight she seemed more beautiful than ever before. Arriving in front of him, Leo dismissed the other officer.

—I’ll take our guest from here.

Leo guided her to the front, his throat dry.

—I’ve saved you a seat, the best in the house.

Raisa replied, a hint of anger in her voice:

—You didn’t tell me the concert was so informal.

—I’m sorry. I was flustered earlier. But you look lovely.

She registered the compliment and her anger seemed to dissolve.

—I wanted to explain why I lied about my name.

He noted the tension in her voice, politely cutting her explanation short.