The Concubine's Secret Read Online Free PDF Page A

She tapped a finger impatiently on the black window pane as if to wake up whatever forces were out there, and uttered the words she had whispered every single night for the last five months.
    ‘Jens Friis, I am coming for you.’
    And, as always, Chang An Lo’s warning whispered into her ear. ‘You will step into the dragon’s jaws.’
     
    The railway station of Selyansk wasn’t in the centre of the town, but perched on the western edge as an afterthought. The ticket office and nicotine-stained waiting room were built of good straight pine, though the brown paint was peeling away in strips. The winter air was brittle and a chill wind stiffened Lydia’s cheeks as she walked on to the crowded platform, her eyes darting from face to face, alert for new travellers. The family huddles were familiar now, cocooned in their padded fufaikas , gazing along the lines of the silvery rails as if will power alone could summon up a train with its smoky breath.
    She spotted the strangers immediately. Six men and one woman. Her pulse gave an uneasy kick but she allowed herself no more than an indifferent glance as she walked past. Nevertheless she took in every detail.
    What were they doing here in Selyansk station?
    Three of the men looked innocent enough, one a lone labourer in rough homespun trousers and rubber boots, while two others had the air of government apparatchiks dressed in well-cut overcoats. They looked sleek and contented and spoke in loud voices instead of the usual whispers. Lydia was sick to the pit of her stomach of words hidden behind hands, and eyes that clung to the floor so that there was no danger of thoughts spilling out for anyone to see. Or report on. She smiled at the men and their laughter.
    ‘What’s so funny?’ It was Alexei.
    He was at the end of the platform, leaning against an empty oil drum and smoking one of his foul black cheroots. She was glad he had discarded the expensive winter overcoat he’d arrived with in Russia and replaced it with a coarse black woollen one. It swung round his ankles and had a small tear in the collar as if someone had yanked it too hard in a fight. Yet even in plain workman’s clothes he still managed to look elegant and somehow untouchable – dangerous even, she sometimes thought. There was a controlled coldness in his eyes that warned others against approaching too close. Well, she was his sister. She’d come as close as she damn well pleased.
    ‘Good morning, brother. Dobroye utro,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Let’s hope we’ll get out of this rat hole today,’ she added and swung her canvas bag on top of the oil drum.
    His mouth curved into an obliging smile. ‘Good morning, sestra, sister. Did you sleep well?’
    ‘Like an overfed cat. And you?’
    ‘Very well, spasibo , thank you.’
    Both knew they were lying but it didn’t matter. It was their morning routine. She looked around her.
    ‘Where’s Popkov? I thought he’d be here by now.’
    Alexei shook his head. He was wearing an old shapka with earflaps, and its softness emphasised the sharpness of his facial bones. Lydia abruptly realised he had grown thinner. She stared at the hollows that had appeared under his cheekbones and felt an unease press on her chest. Were they so short of money already?
    He gave her a close-lipped smile. ‘Popkov has gone off in search of food for the journey.’
    The Cossack was their scavenger when supplies were scarce. Lydia wanted to help him – she was quick with her fingers – but Alexei wouldn’t permit it. They’d argued but he was adamant.
    ‘This country is not like China, Lydia. If you steal here, even just a handful of bread or a couple of eggs, you will be sent to a prison labour camp and die there.’
    ‘Only if you’re caught.’
    ‘No. It’s too dangerous.’
    She’d conceded with a shrug, unwilling to admit that his warning had frightened her. She knew what it was to be locked up.
    ‘Any word on the arrival of a train?’ she asked.
    ‘The