“I wish he had,” Val replied. “I think he wanted me to identify as Australian, although he remained very Russian himself. He went to the Russian church and read only Russian newspapers.”

“Of course he did.” Bill’s father nodded. “Those born in Russia never stop being Russian.” He glanced at Bill, and Val watched them. There was affection, but she sensed both were thinking about the bitter argument they’d had when his parents announced they were emigrating.

She was still learning about this man who had unexpectedly become her lover, so it was fascinating to see him with his parents. They were clearly good people and that made her feel more confident that she could trust Bill, that he did not have a hidden propensity for cruelty, as Tony did.

“Which part of the country did your father come from?” Bill’s mother asked.

“Ekaterinburg. Sverdlovsk, I believe it’s called now.”

“Ah, that’s mining country. And what was his family business?”

“I don’t know anything about his family,” Val had to admit. “I was hoping to visit the city during this trip to find out more, but Bill tells me it is impossible.”

The old couple looked at each other. “There could be a way,” Bill’s father said. “But you must not let anyone hear you speak English because it’s a closed city and foreigners are not allowed. Also it’s a long way; over a day to get there.” He looked at Bill. “As a visitor you would not be permitted to buy train tickets, but I could do it for you.”

“It would mean a lot to Val,” Bill said, “but we don’t want to put you at any risk.”

“No, no,” his father insisted. “We are perfectly safe. Those outside the Soviet Union have an image of it as a police state where people are arrested every day, but I speak my mind here and come to no harm.”

“Life is good,” his mother added. “We are with our own people and we’re happy.” She smiled at Val. “I’m glad you have come to visit us in summer when the town is at its best. I wouldn’t encourage you to come in winter. But I do hope you will come again.”

* * *

The arrangements the following morning proved complicated. Their Russian minder took Bill, Val, and Nicole by taxi to the dock, where they were scheduled to catch a boat and sail through the canal system to Leningrad. Bill said goodbye and gave the woman a tip, but still she hung around, clearly planning to wait until the boat sailed. They got on board and hid in their cabin, peering surreptitiously through the window until at last she gave up and disappeared into the crowd. Once the coast was clear, they disembarked, dragging their luggage, and caught a taxi to Kazanskaya station, where Bill’s father was standing by the Ural Express platform with their tickets.