Val felt as though she was listening to a story about someone else. This lovestruck teenager bore no resemblance to the father she had known. She looked through the blinds to the street beyond. What a shame he had never told her this himself. Their relationship could have been so different. “I guess his plan didn’t succeed,” she said.

“No, it did not.” Father Methodius put down his cup and crossed his arms across his chest. “When they got to the forest, a guard called Peter Vasnetsov was watching the truck where the bodies lay covered by a tarpaulin. Your father considered overpowering him and snatching Maria, but his shouts would have alerted the other guards, who were eating breakfast. There were loads of people around. Suddenly, as he watched, Peter Vasnetsov grabbed one of the girls from the back of the truck, threw her over his shoulder, and started to run into the forest. Your father hurried after them and saw that it was Maria. He had to think fast—and this is where you should be proud of him . . .” He caught Val’s eye and held it. “Instead of trying to stop Vasnetsov, he yelled to the other guards, “They’ve escaped!” and pointed in the opposite direction, shouting, “They went that way!” The men believed him and rushed off the way he had indicated.”

Val frowned, realization dawning. “So he helped them to escape?”

“Indeed.” The priest nodded. “Your father waited, and as soon as he could without being observed, he followed Maria and Vasnetsov. He was on horseback and Maria was injured so he should have been able to catch them easily, but he could find no sign. They’d vanished into thin air. He told me that for the next month he kept riding round that area, searching for them, but he never saw a trace. His heart was broken in two. He had two gold wedding rings engraved with an M and an A, so that if he ever found her, he could propose on the spot.”

“I’ve got those,” Val interrupted. “He kept them in a Fabergé box.”

“Maria’s box,” the priest said. “I wish you could have seen how hard he sobbed when he showed it to me. Loving Maria was the one good thing in his life, and in my opinion, he never recovered from losing her.”

There was silence in the room and Val suddenly became aware of the ticking of a clock, which she hadn’t noticed before. When combined with the flickering slats of light and the lilt of the priest’s voice, it was hypnotic. If she was to believe his version of events, there was a lot more to her father’s character than she had imagined.

Chapter 63