When I’ve managed to compose myself, I walk across the road to one of the small drinks kiosks, and I realise then that I am on the banks of the river. The Moskva is vast and grey, and I gaze down at it for a moment, the river that gave the city its name.

Then I point to a small bottle of vodka. The kiosk worker hands it to me in a brown bag, and says something I don’t understand. I hand him the cash, and then I head over to a bench facing the river, and I sit down, and finally, I relax.

31

Glancing up and down the murky river, I spot the big wheel of a fairground on the other side and realise that it must belong to the famous Gorky Park, and the Scorpions’ song ‘Winds of Change’ immediately starts playing inside my head, lifting my mood. I’m not a fan of fairgrounds in general, but I’ve had just enough vodka to think that it might be fun. I’m bored on my own, after the initial buzz of the shoplifting and the running, and I definitely don’t want to go back to my hotel alone right now. I have a quick look around me, hoping that there might be somewhere I can change into my new clothes – a public toilet with wash facilities would be preferable, but in the absence of that, anywhere nearby. I settle for the shade of a tree. I’m not exactly concealed, but I don’t really care.

I pull off my sweaty, grubby clothes and ball them up, then I step into the dress, sliding it up over my hips, twisting my arm behind my back to do up the zip. I smooth the material over my thighs, swish the material back and forth. It’s a perfect fit. I take off my filthy sandals and pull on the ankle boots, without socks. I need a mirror to sort out my hair and face, but I look better than I did before. I head off along the riverbank, tossing the old clothes into the water without looking back.

Carrie is hardly going to miss that top now.