The Half Truth (19 page)

‘That doesn’t even deserve an answer,’ said John. He matched Martin’s gaze with his own. Now wasn’t the time to give anything away.

Tina had spent the last three days torn between waiting for John to contact her, as he had said he would, and wanting to contact him herself. She had barely been able to eat, such were her anxiety levels. It was as much as she could do to get up and take Dimitri to school.

John had arranged for a police car to make regular patrols of the road and to call at her door regularly to make sure she was okay. He was concerned about more Russians turning up.

Tina had phoned in sick to work, blaming a stomach bug and then a migraine. She wasn’t sure if they believed her, but at that moment she didn’t really care. Fay had left a message on her answer phone asking her if everything was all right, did she want Fay to pop round and help with Dimitri? Tina had managed to fob her off and assure her that Pam was there helping.

Tina knew there would be no way she could function at work. So many questions still swirled in her mind, but the one that she kept coming back to she had no answer for. What exactly had Sasha meant when he said she couldn’t trust everyone close to her? Was he just referring to himself or did he include John? Small shoots of doubt had taken root. She knew not everything added up with John, yet she couldn’t put her finger on anything specific. There was a small side of him that she didn’t know. She studied the text she had prepared to John asking him if he was okay. Did she want to send it? Her thumb hovered over the send icon before returning to the text message. She added two words.
Ring me
. This time she did push the send button.

‘Mummy,’ said Dimitri, coming to sit beside her on the sofa. ‘When is John coming back?’

‘I don’t know,’ she replied, as evenly as she could.

‘I like John,’ said Dimitri, picking fluff from his jumper and rolling it around into a ball in the palm of his hand. ‘I wish he was here.’

Tina went to answer, but the words caught in her throat. She wished he was here too, despite what Sasha had said, John was fast becoming her point of anchor. In her stormy life, after being tossed around like a small sailboat in an ocean of grief, John had guided her to a safe cove and she had weighed anchor.

‘I need to see Tina,’ said Sasha.

John’s body tensed involuntarily. Sasha with Tina, not a prospect he particularly liked. ‘No can do.’

They were sitting in the living room of De Beauvoir Square. It was dark outside and neither man was really concentrating on the football match playing on the TV.

‘If I cannot see her, I need to speak to her,’ persisted Sasha.

John let out a sigh. ‘What for? You’ve had plenty of opportunity to say what you need to say to her.’

‘I appreciate your desire to protect her, but I want to say my goodbyes.’

‘Your goodbyes?’

‘If I am to help you and give you the information you need, then I am sure I will not get a chance to see her again. If you are moving me to another house, how do I know where that will be and when it will happen? For all I know, this may be my last chance to speak to her. Ever.’

‘I’ll pass on a message.’

‘No.’ Sasha shifted to the edge of his chair. ‘I understand that you care about her and I am grateful. I know you will look after her. I have come to understand that from now on my life will change in such a way that I will never have the chance to speak to her again. I will never have the chance to say goodbye to her and my son. I want her to know that I am sorry. I want her to hear it from my own mouth. I want her to forgive me. This I cannot do through a message.’

John was silent for a long time as he considered Sasha’s request. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t let Sasha have any contact with Tina again, but he knew that Tina might not appreciate this line of thought.

‘You can speak to her on the phone. One phone call and that’s it. Understood?’

‘Thank you.’

The phone trilled next to her, making Tina jump. She glanced at the clock, it was gone ten. Tina picked up her mobile.

‘John Calling’
flashed across the screen.

Tina’s stomach turned one way and then back again. She had sent the text message four hours ago and was just about to give up hope of him replying, making the excuse that he was probably busy with work, although she knew that a simple text to say he would call later wouldn’t have been too difficult.

Tina accepted the call.

‘Hello.’

‘Hi, it’s John. How are you?’

‘Okay. I think. You?’

‘About the same.’ A slight pause before John spoke again. ‘I’m phoning because Sasha wants to speak to you.’ Tina acknowledged the small feeling of deflation that John wasn’t calling to speak to her, but this was knocked into touch by the spike of anxiety that Sasha did. ‘Tina? You still there? Did you hear me?’

‘Yes, sorry. Okay, I’ll speak to him.’ Another pause – Tina sensed John was still there. ‘John?’

‘I haven’t forgotten you,’ he said. ‘It’s just now is not the right time.’ This time the pause that came was accompanied by the sound of the phone being passed from one person to another.

‘привет.’ Sasha’s voice was low and tender. ‘Kak pozhivaesh?

‘I’ve been better.’

‘I am sorry. I wanted to see you to speak to you in person, but it is not possible.’

‘What did you want?’

‘It is difficult.’

Tina sensed that Sasha wanted to say something but couldn’t – either because he just didn’t know how to express himself or possibly because John was there.

‘Is it difficult to talk? Is John there?’

‘Yes, as I said, it is difficult.’

She listened as Sasha put his hand over the receiver and heard his muffled voice asking John for some privacy.

‘Still a little difficult,’ he said to her after a moment. ‘I wish I could see you to talk to you in person. Do you remember that time when we first met and we went for a walk on the wobbly bridge?’

Tina thought for a moment. ‘The wobbly bridge? Do you mean in London – the Millennium Bridge?’

‘Yes, that is right.’

‘What about it?’

‘Do you remember where we went after that?’

Tina cast her mind back. It was a Sunday – they hadn’t been seeing each other for very long. They had decided to have a day as tourists. The London Eye, a walk along the South Bank, across the bridge and then to the cathedral.

‘We went to St Paul’s,’ she said.

‘That is right, we went to the cathedral. When you go again tomorrow at midday, think of me and I shall be with you.’

‘I’m not going tomorrow. Why are you saying that?’

‘So, you see Tina, I am truly sorry. I only wish I could see you in person. I wish I could hold Dimitri for the first and last time.’

Sasha’s voice was louder, his tone had changed and he wasn’t making sense.

Tina’s mind went into overdrive as she fought to catch up with Sasha in this verbal jigsaw. Finally, the pieces began slotting into place.

John had stood in the kitchen while Sasha made his phone call. He had tried loitering to overhear the conversation, to try and glean any bits of information, but Sasha had made a point of asking him to leave.

John couldn’t catch what Sasha was saying, the Russian had closed the living-room door and talking in hushed tones. Something about a wobbly bridge was said, but John wasn’t sure what they were talking about. He couldn’t ignore the suspicious feeling hanging in the air. He didn’t know whether this was from years of being in the police force or whether his senses were in tune. What John overheard hadn’t sounded like much of an apology.

After a few minutes, John strained to listen but couldn’t hear Sasha’s voice any more. The TV had been turned on so it was safe to assume the call had ended.

John had remained wary for the rest of the evening, certain the Sasha was up to something, but the Russian had proved the perfect house guest. Now today they were sitting in the living room watching some God-awful daytime programme, like an old married couple who had nothing to do with their time.

As the closing credits rolled over on the latest dreary antique programme, Sasha stretched and got up from the sofa.

‘I need a glass of water,’ he said.

‘Sit yourself down. I’ll do it.’ John watched Sasha hesitate before taking a seat by the window. There was a look in Sasha’s eye that John didn’t like it. Sasha’s foot was twitching rapidly up and down. Something was definitely amiss. ‘You okay?’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Sasha. His shoulders slumped and he rested his elbows on his knees. ‘Actually, not really. I do not feel well. I had a bad night’s sleep. I was thinking about Tina a lot.’

John thought about pressing Sasha for more information, but decided against it. He didn’t really want to know what had gone on between the two of them. The phrase ‘rubbing salt into wounds’ sprang to mind.

John went out to the kitchen and filled a plastic disposable cup with cold water, but couldn’t help wondering about Tina, despite not wishing to. He wondered whether she hadn’t been as forgiving as Sasha had hoped. Perhaps that was why he looked flushed and unsettled.

As John went down the hallway back towards the living room, he noticed the door was pushed slightly to. His skin goose bumped and a small shiver ran down his spine. Something wasn’t right, he was sure he had left the door wide open.

A shadow passed across the gap under the door just as John went to push it open, but it was a moment before John registered this as he took in the sight of the empty chair where Sasha had been sitting.

A sudden movement from behind him, which John sensed rather than saw, caught him off guard. He was momentarily aware of an excruciatingly sharp pain penetrating his skull before being engulfed in darkness.

It was the cold wetness he was first aware of; distant, like a patch of sea mist rolling in and wrapping itself around his body.

The musty smell and scratchy feel of the nylon carpet against his face came second.

John went to move his head to inspect the damp feeling on his stomach, but the pain this action triggered felt as if his skull had been cracked open like a hard-boiled egg.

He let out a groan as a muggy sensation swirled around his brain and he resisted the urge to move his head for a moment. The room came into focus, but disappeared into a fuzzy blur. John closed his eyes and opened them again. This time, when the room came into focus it stayed that way. He blinked several times to identify his surroundings – the floor of the safe house.

This time, when he moved his head he did so tentatively; he looked down towards his stomach, moving his hand to the wet spot on his shirt before bringing his fingertips up to his line of vision. He was relieved to see it wasn’t blood. He remembered the glass of water he had been carrying. It was then he remembered Sasha.
Shit.

John moved his head, ignoring the pain that had now turned to a heavy throb, and brought himself up onto his hands and knees. He looked around the room. No sign of Sasha, but his phone was lying underneath the coffee table. It must have landed there when he fell.

John got to his feet, unsteady at first, and retrieved his phone, noticing his wallet lying open on the sofa. He picked it up and inspected the contents. His cards were still there, but the cash of about forty pounds was gone. His next thought was his car. Grabbing his jacket he located the keys in the pocket.

‘Sasha! Are you here?’ John proceeded to check through the house, although he already knew it was a pointless exercise. Sasha hadn’t been stupid enough to take John’s phone or car, both easily traceable by the tracker systems installed. Just taking the cash, he couldn’t be traced.

Shit. Where the hell could he be?

John splashed some cold water over his face and soaking a tea towel held it to the back of his head, while he gathered his thoughts. He needed to think clearly and recall the events of the last hour.

He looked at his phone. Sasha had used it to call Tina. Checking the time of the call against the time now, John estimated that he had been out for about five minutes. Not good. Sasha’s had made his call about twenty minutes ago. John was sure Sasha doing a runner was related to the call.

He phoned Tina. Her phone rang out to voicemail. He hung up and tried again. Voicemail a second time.

‘Tina, it’s me, John. I need to speak to you as soon as possible. Call when you get this message. It’s urgent.’

As he hung up, it crossed his mind that if Sasha’s disappearance was related to his phone call to Tina, then it was probably unlikely that Tina would return John’s call.

He could kick himself now that he hadn’t insisted on staying in the room while Sasha had phoned her. He got up and soaked the tea towel with some fresh cold water and placed it on the back of his head again. At least he wasn’t bleeding.

He thought back to Sasha’s side of the telephone conversation. What he heard amounted to nothing. Just a wobbly bridge. A day out. The cathedral.

John adjusted the tea towel on the back of his head, seeking out a colder piece of cloth.

He needed to ring Martin and let him know what had happened. As he waited for Martin to answer his phone, the thought struck him with a weight equal to the blow to the back of his head. Why the hell hadn’t he worked it out before?

Martin answered his phone. John was already grabbing his jacket and keys, heading out of the door.

‘Sasha’s done a runner. Don’t ask questions, I’ll explain later. Meet me at St Paul’s Cathedral. Now.’

He jumped in his car and started the engine.

‘I’m stuck in traffic on the other side of the river.’

‘Get there as soon as you can.’

‘What’s going on?’

John didn’t bother to answer, he cut the call, threw his phone onto the passenger seat, shoved the gear stick into first position and lead-footed the accelerator.

Tina readjusted her hold on Dimitri’s hand. Her palm felt damp with sweat and the little boy’s hand was in danger of slipping through her fingers.

‘Where are we going now?’ asked Dimitri, as he broke into a small run to keep up with his mother.

Tina looked across the River Thames. ‘You see that foot bridge there?’ She pointed towards the Millennium Bridge. ‘We are going for a walk over it and then St Paul’s Cathedral on the other side.’

They ascended the metal steps up to the bridge. Tina hurried Dimitri along. ‘Now can you see that big building in front of us with the big dome, the big round roof? Yes? Well, that is St Paul’s Cathedral.’

‘Can we go to the top?’ said Dimitri.

‘I don’t see why not. We can go up to the Whispering Gallery.’

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s like a big balcony that goes all the way around the dome and if you whisper against the wall, your whisper travels round the walls and can be heard on the other side. It’s like magic.’ Tina smiled at the look of excitement on Dimitri’s face.

‘Like magic?’ he said.

‘Yes, like magic.’ Tina glanced over her shoulder as they hurried along the bridge, an action she had been performing every few minutes since they had left home that morning. She had made certain the local police had done their routine drive-by before she left the house that morning. She was sure, at any minute now, John would turn up or she would feel a hand on her shoulder and someone telling her she was under arrest for aiding and abetting.

She looked down at Dimitri. ‘Before we do that, though, mummy is going to speak to her friend. He’s going to be there.’

‘Is he coming up in the whispering place with us?’

‘I don’t know. He might do.’ Tina let go of Dimitri’s hand for a moment while she wiped the damp palm on the side of her jacket. The sound of the bells at St Paul’s rang out, marking the middle of the day. Taking his hand once more, she picked up the pace. ‘Come on, we’re late.’

As they crossed the road and hurried round to the front of St Paul’s, Tina realised that she hadn’t agreed an exact meeting spot with Sasha. She scanned the paved area at the front, her gaze travelled up the stones steps, sweeping from left to right, trying to spot Sasha amongst the sea of visitors. She manoeuvred herself and Dimitri to the steps and climbed to the top, all the time looking for Sasha.

She reached the top step and turned to look out at the area below her. She sensed him before she saw him. Behind her. She turned and there he was, moving out of the shadows of the huge doorway.

He paused, not quite in full daylight. He beckoned her towards him.

‘Tina, I knew you would come,’ said Sasha. He gave her a brief hug and then looked down at Dimitri by her side. The tension immediately left his face, the frown lines dissolved as the muscles relaxed and softened his features. ‘Dimitri.’ It was a whisper. Sasha dropped to one knee, his hands gentle as they held the boy’s shoulders.

‘Dimitri,’ said Tina, hoping she sounded natural. ‘This is mummy’s friend. Sasha.’

Sasha held out his hand. ‘Hello, Dimitri. It is a pleasure to meet you.’

Tina watched as her son, their son, looked at the outstretched hand. He glanced up at Tina, who nodded encouragingly, before shaking hands with Sasha. It broke Tina’s heart. Father and son greeting each other in this way. It just shouldn’t be. There should be hugs and kisses, smiles and laughter, not this formal, unfamiliar meeting of two strangers. She could see the tears fill Sasha’s eyes as he stood up and looked at her. He went to speak, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. He looked out across the square for a moment, regaining his composure.

‘Come inside. It is safer. We need to talk,’ said Sasha finally.

‘Are we going to the whispering place now?’ asked Dimitri as they made their way in through the side door, Sasha paying for full access to the cathedral with the cash from his pocket.

‘Yes, we’ll make our way there now. It’s over there on the right,’ said Tina finally releasing her son’s hand and letting him skip ahead. ‘What’s going on, Sasha?’ she said as they walked towards the staircase for the Whispering Gallery.

‘I do not have much time,’ said Sasha, his voice low. ‘I am not supposed to be here and I am sure John will be here any time now.’

‘Where is he? Is he okay?’ said Tina, suddenly alarmed.

‘He will be okay. Maybe have a little headache, but that is all.’

‘Sasha! What did you do?’

‘Sshhhh. I do not want to attract attention. He will be okay. I needed to get out on my own. He would not let me speak to you.’ He placed his hand on Tina’s arm. ‘I need your help.’

‘It depends what you want me to do,’ said Tina. She took Sasha’s hand from her arm, with every intention of letting it drop away, but as she touched him her mind was flooded with a morass of memories and feelings. She gripped his arm to steady herself. Sasha tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and placed his other hand over hers.

‘Come. I will explain.’

Dimitri, still ahead of them, was jumping up the stone stairs that led to the Whispering Gallery. ‘One!’ Jump. ‘Two!’ Jump. ‘Three!’ Jump.

Tina, her arm still linked with Sasha’s, followed their son, the progress was slow but it gave Sasha chance to speak.

‘It is my son, Nikolay.’

‘Your other son.’ Tina couldn’t help correcting him.

Sasha sighed and closed his eyes momentarily. ‘Yes, my other son. He needs this operation. I do not think the police are really going to bring him over to the UK. They are taking far too long. They are making excuses every day, always blaming inter-country relations and red tape. I cannot wait. Nikolay cannot wait.’

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘I need you to get the money I hid. It is in a safe-deposit box.’ Sasha looked behind him and then to each side. ‘You have the key for the box. You must get the money and send it to my wife … Rozalina.’

He cut Tina to the core. Sasha talking about his son and his wife. They should be her and Dimitri. Another woman and another child had taken their place.

‘Please Tina, I am begging you. For Nikolay, a child. He is only two years old.’

‘But if the police have agreed to help you, why do you need me to do this?’

‘Because they are playing games. I do not trust them. They want information from me, but I do not believe they are going to bring Rozalina and Nikolay over to the UK.’

‘One hundred!’ announced Dimitri as he came to a halt halfway up the staircase. His face was pink from the exertion, the jumping long since abandoned in favour of a customary approach to steps.

Tina herself was beginning to wilt. ‘Well done, darling,’ she said, allowing herself the opportunity to pause for breath. She had a vague recollection of reading a sign that said something about over 250 steps to the Whispering Gallery. ‘Come on, let’s keep going.’

‘One… Two… Three…Four…’ Dimitri recommenced his counting.

Sasha raised an eyebrow in amusement at Tina and, taking her hand in his, continued the climb.

‘Will you do it?’ he asked, without looking at her.

‘I don’t know.’ It was an honest answer. Tina didn’t know whether you could or should. It was, after all, illegal money. Blood money. It had the death of John’s colleague on it. ‘If I do this, then I am not only handling stolen money but, more importantly, I am part of the murder of that police officer.’

‘That was not meant to happen. I swear to you on the life of my son.’ He paused before adding, ‘both my sons.’

‘What exactly happened that day?’ It was something that had plagued her. Something terrible must have gone wrong, otherwise why would John have reacted so badly to her questioning? He had overacted and it was so out of character for him, she had never dared ask him again. And what of the nightmares he had? She was convinced these were to do with the robbery, but again he refused to discuss them.

‘You mean you do not know?’ Sasha stopped on the steps and turned to look at her.

Tina shook her head. ‘Not really. Tell me.’

Sasha took her arm once more and began climbing the steps. ‘Come.’

Finally they reached the Whispering Gallery. Tina looked down over the railings at the black-and-white-tiled floor more than ninety feet beneath her. She gripped onto the black iron railings and looked up at the domed ceiling above her. Rectangles of light shone through the panes of glass, which stood like soldiers around the edge of the dome. Above that the painted ceiling gave an illusion of continued architecture. Illusions. Lies and untruths. She was surrounded by them. Was she ever going to find out the truth about what happened that day?

‘Mummy!’ Dimitri’s voice broke her thoughts. He was tugging at her sleeve. ‘Show me the whispering magic.’

‘Okay. I’ll sit here and you go along to the end there, as far as that doorway and then put your mouth close to the wall and whisper something to me.’ Tina sat on the stone seat that curved its way around the wall of the balcony.

‘I’ll take you,’ said Sasha. He held out his hand to Dimitri. Tina watched as father and son walked around the ledge, hand in hand. She felt her heart break yet again.

Tina placed her ear to the cold Portland stone. The little whisper from her son floated round. ‘Hello, Mummy.’ She smiled and placed her mouth to the wall, waiting for Dimitri, under instruction from Sasha, to rest his ear against his end of the wall.

‘Hello, darling. Can you hear me?’

‘Yes!’ called out Dimitri, forgetting to whisper against the wall. Tina and Sasha exchanged a look and laughed. For a moment it put the broken pieces of her heart back together. She could buy into the illusion that they were just a normal family enjoying a day out. What a bittersweet moment; one that wouldn’t … couldn’t … be repeated again. The trick of the eye splintered into tiny fragments, dissolving into dust mites that swarmed in the light from the windows above.

Tina leaned the side of her head back against the wall, waiting for Dimitri to speak, but instead he sat on the stone seat, sliding his bottom from left to right. She closed her eyes to the sadness that was beginning to overwhelm her.

‘We have a wonderful son. You have made me very proud.’ The words scuttled round the wall to Tina’s ear. Her eyes snapped open and she looked across at Sasha. In his eyes she saw a sadness as deep as the drop below her.

A tear sprang from nowhere and cascaded down her cheek. She put her lips to the wall and waited for Sasha to do the same with his ear.

‘You have missed so much.’ More tears fell, one after the other and she swallowed down a sob. ‘All I ever wanted was for us to be a family, but I was robbed of that. Never at any point did I ever suspect it was you who was responsible for committing that crime against us.’

She brushed the tears away from her face and stood up. ‘Let’s go outside,’ she called over to Dimitri. He jumped up and ran over to her. ‘We have to go up this tiny spiral staircase now,’ said Tina as she ducked through the opening in the wall and, despite the ache in her legs from the first flight, moved swiftly up the stone steps. She needed fresh air. Lots of it.

The breeze was stronger and colder up on the terraced area. Tina looked out at the London skyline. She could see the Millennium Bridge they had crossed earlier and, walking round towards the front of the cathedral, the London Eye came into focus.

‘Can we go on the big wheel?’ said Dimitri, coming to stand by her side. He peered through the balustrades.

‘If we have time,’ said Tina. This seemed to satisfy Dimitri and now, seemingly underwhelmed by the view of the city, he crouched down to inspect an ant scurrying around on the floor.

Sasha came and stood beside her. He spoke without looking at her. ‘I was a police informer. I was being blackmailed. If I didn’t co-operate, they were going to tell Porboski I was a snitch. My life, your life, would have been in danger. I had to agree.’

‘Who exactly was blackmailing you?’ She asked the question, although she knew the answer.

‘The police. I told you.’

‘No. I mean, who in the police was blackmailing you?’

‘It does not matter.’

Tina made a scoffing noise. ‘Well, I admire your loyalty, but I’m not really sure who you are trying to protect. If you’re saving me the upset, don’t bother. If you’re saving him, again, don’t bother. I can guess. In fact, I can more than guess. I know for a fact.’ She turned to look at him. ‘It was John, wasn’t it?’

Sasha didn’t reply, but the lack of any form of denial was the confirmation she needed. Another betrayal. It cut deep like a knife.

‘I am sorry,’ said Sasha.

‘What happened on the day of the shooting? What went so badly wrong that it caused you to disappear from my life? Why couldn’t you take me with you?’

Sasha exhaled deeply. ‘It was Pavel who shot the police officer. I was there. I was party to that. I could have stayed and taken John’s offer of witness protection but I panicked. Before I could think properly, Pavel was dragging me away. He shot John too.’

An invisible band tightened itself around Tina’s waist, squeezing her diaphragm against her rib cage. She had seen the scar on John’s shoulder. He had said it was a war wound, but hadn’t gone into any detail. Something else he had refused to talk about. Now she knew why.

‘You could still have sent for me. We could have started a new life together in Russia. I would have gone to the ends of the earth to be with you.’ Tina looked down at Dimitri, who was now crawling along the concrete terrace, tracking the ant’s progress.

‘Believe me, I wanted to but, as I said, an English-speaking woman in Russia … we would have been found in no time.’

‘I would have learnt to speak Russian. We could have lived in the middle of nowhere. We could have made it work.’ She was clutching at straws. Scenarios that would never have worked. She knew that. Deep down, Tina knew it would have been impossible.

‘I loved you, with all my heart,’ said Sasha.

‘I loved you too,’ said Tina. ‘So very much.’

Sasha pulled her into his arms. She allowed herself to sink into the folds of his jacket and, closing her eyes, gave herself permission to imagine, just for one tiny moment, that all was well in the world. Sasha held her tight.