Doctor Gavrilov Read Free Page B

was Tim Finucan she’d rung him at once. At least she had good news about this before he opened the letter.
    She’d better not put it off. ‘There’s a letter for you on the table.’
    He tore open the envelope. There was a brief pause, then he turned away and dropped the letter and the envelope in the bin. He said nothing, and she didn’t ask him. She sat down to feed the baby.
    â€˜Could you get Anna something to eat?’
    She wasn’t sure he had heard her. He crossed the room and stared out of the window at the rain. Katie wanted to go to him but she was unable to move, nursing her little son. As he sucked she felt the sudden wash of the let-down of milk and felt her body relax. She watched her husband move around the kitchen, making toast, scrambling an egg. The baby fed greedily, as if he were drawing all the strength out of her, and she felt her eyes droop; all she wanted now was to sleep. She was acutely aware that she and Dmitry were avoiding saying anything to one another. She wondered if he knew that she knew what was in the letter. She wondered how much longer they could go on living like this.
    She looked at her watch. They would be coming shortly. She was intrigued to see Tim after all this time; she wondered what his girlfriend would be like. She and Tim had trained in the same intake at the BBC and she remembered the fun they’d had together. Fun. What a strange word that sounded these days.
    â€˜They’re going to come this evening to see the flat and collect the keys if they want to take it.’
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜The new tenants. I just told you…’
    She looked up and saw that Dmitry was frowning, that he was staring ahead and that the egg in the saucepan was starting to catch. She could see that he was miles away.

    Tim’s first thought on seeing Katie was that she had let herself go.
    When she opened the door her dark hair was long and loose and tangled; her dress was smudged with spots of grease and she wore no make-up. She was thin, too, thinner than he remembered, though this suited her, emphasised the clean lines of her face. He glanced past her into the room. Damp baby clothes hung on a rack in front of the radiator and there were piles of plates and mugs stacked up in the sink.
    Katie’s eyes had a pink, dark-rimmed look of exhaustion and her voice was soft, almost hoarse.
    â€˜Tim, come in.’
    â€˜This is Ingrid.’
    â€˜I’m pleased to meet you.’ Ingrid shook Katie’s hand. Tim thought that it was strange to see them both together, the woman he had wanted so much, years ago, and his latest lover. Ingrid, as she stood there, seemed so tall, cold, awkward. Tim realised with a faint shock as he compared them that despite the years since he’d last seen her, he was still attracted to Katie.
    Katie gestured to an old leather sofa which had two craters at either end. She took two wine glasses, faintly smeared, and put them on the table, took a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured it carefully into the glasses, making sure there was the same quantity in each.
    â€˜Dmitry will be down in a minute; he’s upstairs, working.’
    â€˜Oh, right. What does he do?’
    â€˜He’s a translator. Technical and scientific stuff.’
    â€˜What language?’
    â€˜English to Russian. He’s Russian; didn’t I tell you?’
    â€˜Oh, I see.’ Tim was surprised, slightly intrigued; he thought, trust Katie to do something out of the ordinary.
    Tim sipped the wine; it wasn’t very good. ‘I was in Vienna last week, was interviewing this UN guy as background to these nuclear smuggling stories, when I got this tip-off, a Russian, dumped in the Danube, pockets stuffed with plutonium –’ He stopped abruptly, as Ingrid prodded his arm, and he realised that Katie wasn’t listening. She had turned away from him, folding some nappies, tidying some letters on the table.