‘For such a controlled girl, the total collapse when the uncle appeared surprises me,’ Leonard said to Sylvie that evening after she played Galina’s telephone message to him. They had finished dinner, and were sitting together in the kitchen.

Sylvie was not fooled. ‘Galya’s tough and strong, not because she’s made that way. She’s had to construct the steel cladding because she needs the protection.’

Sylvie might well have been talking about him, Leonard was thinking. This business of a well-crafted, sturdy exterior to guard inner turmoils, he’d done that sort of double duty every day of his life, even more so since the phone call from the man he could scarcely remember, the man who was dying of AIDS. Leonard couldn’t put it off any longer. He was having the HIV test tomorrow — not simply because of the danger he might pose to his loved ones, nor because he was terrified of having contracted HIV, but because living with uncertainty had now become intolerable.

Deciding to have the test had been bad enough, but where to have it was even worse. Geoffrey, his GP, would have taken blood and sent it away, like he did for blood sugar and cholesterol; but Geoffrey was out of the question as they’d known each other for years. The AIDS council conducted tests, but he certainly wasn’t going there. In the end, he contacted an STD clinic he’d used before, and was told they tested for all STDs, including HIV. The receptionist asked if he’d like to make an appointment, or, if he preferred, he could just turn up. He was about to give his real name, stopped himself, had no idea what to do, and rang off. He had a vague memory of having used a false name when he’d attended the clinic before. It was best, he decided, just to arrive in the morning and not admit to any former visits.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough; at the same time he wanted it never to come. Sleep was unlikely.

Sylvie stood up. ‘I’m going to my office to do some work.’

He reached for her hand. ‘How about our going out for supper and a nightcap?’

The suggestion surprised both of them.

‘Now?’ Sylvie checked the wall clock. ‘It’s after nine.’

‘Why not? If we were younger we wouldn’t give it a second thought.’

Sylvie was already on her way to the bathroom to fix her hair and make-up. Five minutes later she was ready to leave.

‘I feel like a naughty girl sneaking out after curfew,’ she said, linking her arm through her husband’s and pulling him close. ‘We should do this more often.’

15 CLANDESTINE MOMENTS

15

CLANDESTINE MOMENTS