If Anna simply rejected the work, that would be bad enough. But if Tanya had misjudged her, Anna might feel obliged to tell someone in authority that she had been offered a dissident book. She might fear that, if she kept quiet about it, she could be accused of taking part in a conspiracy. She might think that the only sensible thing to do was to report the illicit approach that had been made to her.

But Tanya believed most Westerners did not think that way. Despite Tanya’s dramatic precautions, Anna would have no real sense that she was guilty of a crime just by reading a typescript.

So the main question was whether Anna would like Vasili’s work. Daniil had, and so had the editors of New World. But they were the only people who had read the stories, and they were all Russian. How would a foreigner react? Tanya felt confident that Anna would see that the material was well written, but would it move her? Would it break her heart?

At a few minutes past eleven, Tanya returned to Room 305.

Anna opened the door with the typescript in her hand.

Her face was wet with tears.

She spoke in a whisper. “It’s unbearable,” she said. “We have to tell the world.”

• • •

One Friday night Dave found out that Lew, the drummer in Plum Nellie, was homosexual.

Until then he had thought that Lew was just shy. A lot of girls wanted to have sex with boys who played in pop groups, and the dressing room was sometimes like a brothel, but Lew never took advantage. This was not astonishing: some did, some did not. Walli never went with “groupies.” Dave occasionally did, and Buzz, the bass player, never said no.

Plum Nellie were getting gigs again. “I Miss Ya, Alicia” was in the top twenty at number nineteen, and rising. Dave and Walli were writing songs together, and hoping to make a long-playing record. Late one afternoon they went to the BBC studios in Portland Place and prerecorded a radio performance. The money was peanuts but it was an opportunity to promote “I Miss Ya, Alicia.” Maybe the song would go to number one. And, as Dave sometimes said, you could live on peanuts.

They came out blinking into the evening sunshine and decided to go for a drink at a nearby pub called the Golden Horn.

“I don’t fancy a drink,” said Lew.

“Don’t be daft,” Buzz said. “When have you ever said no to a pint of beer?”

“Let’s go to a different pub, then,” said Lew.

“Why?”

“I don’t like the look of that one.”

“If you’re afraid of being pestered, put your sunglasses on.”

They had been on television several times, and they were sometimes recognized by fans in restaurants and bars, but there was rarely any trouble. They had learned to stay away from places where young teenagers might gather, such as coffee bars near schools, for that could lead to a mob scene; but they were all right in grown-up pubs.