The Amber Keeper (36 page)

‘Stand by; here we go again,’ I said with a weary sigh, kissing little Katya who was still asleep, bless her.

As always several people got off the train to stretch their aching limbs or buy food from the traders that haunted every station platform hoping to sell their wares.

‘We too are running out of food,’ said the Countess. ‘Go and get some more, Dowthwaite. We’ve hours of travel left.’

I was surprised. ‘Really? I thought there was plenty left.’ I was about to open the picnic box to check, but she stopped me in that impatient way she had.

‘There was nowhere near enough, particularly for Ivan, being a man. Stop arguing and be quick about it, or there’ll be nothing left for you to buy.’ Handing me twenty kopeks, she gave me a push, and as always I did as I was bid.

The queues were long, and Katya grew fretful as I moved slowly along the line, but I did eventually manage to buy a little bread and cheese. It cost the entire twenty kopeks, yet I considered myself
fortunate
as even biscuits cost twice as much as normal. It was as I was about to board that I was stopped by one of the Bolshevist officials.

‘One moment,’ the man said. ‘We need to search you first.’

I thought of the jewels stitched into my clothing, and that of the baby, and my heart sank even as I struggled to smile and be polite. ‘As you see, comrade, I have no luggage with me, save for the baby’s bag. I got off the train only to buy food for myself and my child.’ It would clearly not be wise to mention the fact I was servant to a countess.

‘Then let me see your papers.’

I pulled them from the pouch strapped to the side of my belt, and as he read them I saw his face change. ‘So you are a countess, are you?’

‘What? No, of course not,’ I protested.

‘Don’t lie, citizen. Your papers clearly state that your name is Countess Olga Belinsky, wife of Count Vasiliy Belinsky. In which case, I have to inform you that you are under arrest.’

The prison at the Fortress of Saints Peter and Paul, situated on
Zayachy
Island in Petrograd, was every bit as terrible as I had feared. Transported in a car over the Ioanovski Bridge, through the courtyard, and from there to the fortress via Peter’s Gate, never had I known such fear. I was numb with terror, even more so for Katya as I held her close to my breast. Over and over I protested my innocence, explaining that I was not a countess, that it was all a mistake. I was English.

Nobody was listening, certainly not the guard who took most of my clothes and possessions from me and locked me in one of the dark and damp cells of the Troubetzkoy bastion. I tried talking to him in Russian, French and English, all to no avail. He simply ignored me.

Strangely, I felt no great surprise over the way the Countess had tricked me. It was typical of the woman I had come to know and despise. For all I admired her beauty, courage and feisty spirit, I’d been a fool ever to trust her. She cared only for herself, and would do whatever she considered necessary in order to save her own skin. The fact I had served her well for almost seven years counted for nothing. Nor did she give any consideration to the innocent child she had already rejected once.

‘I shouldn’t even be here,’ I cried as the door clanged shut. ‘I’m not who you think I am.’

The only response was the sound of his laughter as he strode away, and the clump of his boots echoing in the empty corridor.

I knew that the prison was used to hold ministers of the Tsarist government and members of Kerensky’s Provisional Government. Judging by the number of people I’d seen being lined up for interrogation in the courtyard, including elegantly dressed women, most hadn’t the first idea why they’d been incarcerated. There were traders charged with selling food without a permit, soldiers who had broken the rules by stealing property and selling it for themselves, and people who simply looked bewildered as if they hadn’t the first idea why they were there, rather like myself. Anxiety, fatigue and fear were evident in all their troubled faces.

The first problem I encountered was lack of food. If I thought I knew what it was to feel hunger while living at the flat, it was nothing to how I suffered in prison. Feeding the prisoners did not appear to be a priority, or even a consideration. Bread was distributed by means of coupons, but comprised a mixture of buckwheat, sand, plaster and straw. Quite impossible to eat without vomiting. If you didn’t have friends or family to bring food in for you, you could die of starvation and nobody would care.

I managed to persuade my jailor to bring some milk for the baby, but he offered nothing else. ‘She needs more than milk. She’s a growing child.’

‘Nothing to do with me.’

‘Please may I have paper and pen to write to a friend for help?’

He rubbed his finger and thumb together, asking for payment.

‘I’ll get you some money and pay you when I can.’ I thought of the money and the Countess’s jewels stitched inside the clothes they’d taken from me. Would I ever see them again? Although that seemed the least of my worries right then. ‘Oh, and can I at least have the baby’s clothes, the bag with her bottle and napkins, and her shawl and blanket? It gets cold in here.’

He brought me paper and pencil, and all of Katya’s belongings, so the man must have a heart after all. I thanked him most graciously and wrote at once to
Nyanushki
. Within days a small basket of food was brought to my cell, including mashed carrot for the baby. I quickly fed Katya first for she was well past even screaming and had fallen into a sorry state of floppy inactivity which
terrified me.

By then I hadn’t eaten a morsel of food myself for over three days, and the very notion of eating anything made me want to throw up, not least because of the stink of urine and faeces, and the rats and other vermin. But I must eat if I was to survive and continue to protect Katya. I managed to force down some bread and water, nibbling a little at a time till eventually my feeling of sickness and the pains in my belly began to subside a little.

Thereafter a basket arrived daily,
Nyanushki
sending whatever she could spare. I was deeply grateful to my old friend who was obliged to secure a permit every day, and persuade one of the guards to deliver the food, which no doubt involved a bribe.

‘May I see the person in charge? I need to explain why I had the wrong papers,’ I asked my jailor one day, thinking that if he was kind enough to bring in my food, he would be willing to help in other ways. He made it very clear that he had no wish to involve himself with the personal problems of prisoners in any way.

We were allowed to receive letters, as well as food, but they were all opened and read.
Nyanushki
started writing in French, as it was obvious the guards could not understand that language. I doubt some of the jailors could even read Russian, but no doubt they wished to give the impression they could.
Nyanushki
wrote constantly, reassuring me that they were doing all they could to bring about my release.

‘
We’ve explained who you really are, although we’ve heard nothing from the Countess. Nor has she apologised or returned your papers. But Babushka and I are determined we won’t abandon you or give up the fight for your freedom. We are doing everything we can to secure your release.
’

I could only weep with gratitude for their support.

The worst of it was the monotony, the endless hours and days that dragged slowly by with nothing to occupy me but my own sad thoughts, my longing for Stefan making me sink into a pit of despair. Would this dreadful feeling of loss ever go away? I somehow doubted it. The only sounds were those of some poor soul being beaten up, or a woman screaming as she was raped by drunken soldiers. This was a worry that kept me awake night after night on the hard plank that passed for a bed. Perhaps having a baby that cried of hunger all the time put the soldiers off, but I considered myself fortunate that no one interfered with me.

One morning we were woken at dawn and ordered out of our cells. I wore only a flannel petticoat as all my other clothes had been taken from me. Even my feet were bare as I followed my fellow prisoners, numb with fear, and with no understanding of where we were going.

We were led to the Place de la Monnaie, in front of the
Cathedral
, where we saw that a huge trench had been dug. It was only when I noticed the heap of bodies within that it dawned on me what it was. I began to shake with terror. Was I soon to join them, along with my companions? I could hear whimpers of fear and quiet sobbing all about me. But then three soldiers were lined up before the grave and one by one they were shot and fell into the trench. When this task was completed, the guards began to fill in the grave and we were sent back to our cells.

They wished us all to know what could happen if we did not behave and do as we were told.

The day I was told I had a visitor was the best in my life. I expected it to be
Nyanushki
, who had been trying for some time to gain a permit to visit. Instead, I saw the plump cosy figure of my dear friend, her brown eyes bright with tears as I entered the small room set aside for the purpose. ‘Oh, Ruth,’ I cried, and she gathered me into her arms, Katya too, in one of her all-enveloping hugs.

‘How are you? Are you surviving? Do you have enough food? I couldn’t believe it when I heard what happened. What are you even doing here?’

I answered her questions briefly, telling her in a few words how the Countess must have swapped our papers while I slept in order to save her own skin, then tricked me into leaving the train. ‘But
Nyanushki
and dear old
Babushka
are doing all they can for me, providing food and so on. They are also trying to secure my release but I hold out little hope. No one gets out of here, do they?’

‘But you are English ‒ that should be enough,’ she protested. ‘Except that it isn’t any more. Apparently many foreigners have been taken prisoner. Look, I don’t have long. They’ve permitted me only five minutes at the most. I leave for England tomorrow on a train and am picking up a ship from Belgium. But I didn’t want to go without seeing you. What can I do for you, Millie? Name it and I’ll do it.’

‘Take the baby.’ Without a moment’s hesitation I thrust Katya into her arms.

Ruth looked down at the child, an expression of total shock on her face. ‘Oh, my goodness, are you sure? I don’t know anything about babies.’ At that moment the door opened and the guard signalled to her that it was time to leave.

‘It doesn’t matter. Just feed her and love her. Take her to
England
and keep her safe. I can do nothing for her here. If they ever let me out then I’ll come for her. If I don’t . . .’ I paused, my throat blocked with tears. ‘Then make sure she knows that I loved her and gave her away only to keep her safe. Will you do that for me?’

‘I will, Millie. I’ll see that little Katya is safe and properly cared for, I promise.’

My heart ached as I watched her walk away, Katya holding out her little arms to me as if begging me not to let her go. I was led back to my cell where I collapsed on to the hard bed and wept as if my heart were broken, which indeed it was. I’d lost Stefan, and now my beloved Katya, all because of the selfish manipulations of one woman who had done far more damage to my life than the revolution itself, as far as I was concerned.

THIRTY-FOUR

M
y heart bleeds for you,’ Abbie said. ‘I can’t imagine how you coped after suffering such a loss, let alone the horrors of that prison. Meanwhile, the Countess had run off with your papers and this Ivan, who presumably was her lover.’
Not only back then, but possibly for the rest of her life
, she thought.

Abbie had come to the unwelcome conclusion that it hadn’t been Eduard stalking her at all but her recent visitor, who was clearly set on blackmail. How to deal with him was causing her considerable concern. She’d been trembling by the time he’d left, partly from fear but also from fury, shaking so much that she’d had to close the shop till she’d made herself a coffee and calmed down. How she’d longed for Drew to be next door, as he had been all the previous week while she ignored him. Were he there now, Abbie would not have hesitated to run to him for help and advice. Never had she felt so terrified.

For the last hour she’d sat listening to the final part of her grandmother’s story. The entire family had joined them, once the children had been put to bed, as Abbie felt everyone should be made aware of what was happening. Fay and Robert had looked slightly puzzled, but agreed to come along to listen to what she had to say, if only out of curiosity. But Abbie wished to approach recent events slowly.

Taking the old lady’s hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Gran, I know that the Countess came here in the thirties when my mother was a girl. I’ve been talking to an old friend of hers, Joan Sanderson, and she’s told me the whole sorry tale of how Kate was persuaded to go off with Olga to the Riviera. That must have upset you greatly.’

‘A lot of lies were told which were difficult to refute. It was, after all, only her word against mine, and as a countess the police would be more likely to believe her rather than me.’

‘Well, it seems those same lies still are being told.’ As Abbie quietly revealed the recent visit from Ivan, and the threats he’d issued, which startled everyone, she watched with concern as all the colour drained from her grandmother’s face. The old lady seemed to be suddenly short of breath, rubbing her chest with the palm of her hand, which caused Abbie to panic. ‘Gran, what is it? Are you
feeling
unwell?’

‘Should I call the doctor?’ Fay asked, leaping up.

‘No, no, I’ll be all right in a moment. It’s just the shock of hearing that name again. He was indeed Olga’s lover, or one of them, the brother of the chauffeur who laid the bomb, a previous lover, and the man who obviously assisted her to steal my papers. I’m sure there have been plenty more since, but Ivan has remained loyal to her.’

Tom had fetched her a glass of water, which she accepted with a grateful smile. In a few moments, she stubbornly continued her tale, with Robert holding her hand.

‘Olga once attempted to blackmail me when she came on that visit before the war, but I refused to play ball so she took my daughter instead, turning her against me. Fortunately, Kate was intelligent enough to see through her scheming in the end, and returned home. It left a certain awkwardness between us, each of us cautious of upsetting the other, although this gradually eased over time. At least the Countess failed in her attempt to steal her from me.’

‘But having abandoned her as a child, why would she want to?’ Abbie asked.

‘For the money, for the trust fund generously set up in Kate’s name by the Count.’ Millie’s tone was pragmatic. ‘Olga’s desire for money was always paramount.’

‘If you want my opinion, Gran, I suspect that the reason Mum was nearly bankrupt was because the Countess was blackmailing her, milking her dry of funds she felt she had a greater right to. According to this Ivan, she also resented the fact Kate was given Carreck Place.’

Robert interrupted, revealing a startling piece of information. ‘I wonder if he was the person who wrote that letter, Dad, insisting that he had a claim on the house, and that he’d make sure we were evicted.’

‘Ah, yes, I vaguely remember you mentioning that’ Abbie said. ‘If only I’d paid more attention.’

‘I did investigate the matter further,’ Tom pointed out. ‘But I failed to discover anything as it was hand delivered and I couldn’t even read the signature.’

‘Hm. It sounds very likely, though. Ivan, or whatever his name is, is not a pleasant man, I can assure you of that,’ Abbie said. A shudder ran through her at recollection of the dark threat in his eyes.

Millie agreed. ‘I’m quite certain the Countess did covet the house, since she’d recklessly spent all her own money on high
living
, or used it to pay her lovers. I never trusted the woman, and it seems that I was proved right. Despite my care, somehow or other she worked out where we were and came looking to exploit us for every penny she could. I’m afraid I let slip about the trust fund, a bad mistake on my part as it made her more determined than ever to get her hands on the money.’

Robert gently patted her hand. ‘Don’t blame yourself, Gran. We all make mistakes in life. It won’t be your fault if we lose
Carreck
Place.’

Meeting his tender gaze, Abbie smiled in quiet acknowledgement of his care, brother and sister for the first time silently accepting that they were in agreement for once. ‘I reckon that after she died, this Ivan continued to make demands upon Mum.’

Millie closed her eyes in helpless agony. ‘Oh, Abbie, I do not claim to regret that dreadful woman’s passing but you could well be right. Ivan is a nasty piece of work. There is no one else to lay claim to the house, if the Countess really is dead. The Count would never take it from me, nor would Serge, assuming they both survived, which is something we’ll never know.’

‘If Abbie is right,’ Tom said, ‘then the police should be informed. Blackmail is a crime.’

‘Not only that,’ Abbie interrupted, ‘but all of this only increases the suspicion that Mum did not commit suicide at all. She was saving for a trip to Russia, after all, a long-held dream of hers. So why would she? And how did this Ivan know that we had a “beautiful panelled drawing room” unless he’d been in the house?’

A shocked silence fell upon them all as they considered the
horrifying
possibility of why Kate was found hanged. Fay was the first to find her voice, if barely above a whisper. ‘Oh, my goodness Abbie, are you suggesting that this Ivan was responsible for he
r death?’

‘I am. What if Mum refused to pay him any more money and he killed her?’

The three of them stared at each other in dawning dismay for several more silent moments. Then Tom picked up the receiver and began to dial the police station.

It proved remarkably easy to set him up. Ivan arrived, as he’d said he would, at the appointed hour seven days later, demanding payment. Abbie had felt quite confident as they’d made their plans. Now, she felt far less so.

‘I hope this will be the end of it,’ she said, smoothing the notes out on the counter top, striving to prevent her fingers from shaking too much as tension was high in her.

Ivan gave a low chuckle, seeming to find the remark amusing. ‘We shall have to see about that, won’t we? And there are, of course, the monthly payments too, don’t forget.’

‘Remind me how much you asked for? I was too much in shock at the time to take in the details properly.’ The plan was to persuade him to repeat his threat, but Abbie wasn’t finding this easy, her instinct being to turn and run away as fast as she could.

He leaned closer, that all-too-familiar smirk on his fat wrinkled face revealing those dreadful chipped yellow teeth. She smelled the foul stink of his breath. ‘Four hundred a month, every month, or maybe five hundred would be better. Yes, let’s say five hundred and make sure you never miss a payment.’

‘Why would I agree to such a demand?’ Abbie said, her heart beating so loud with fear she felt certain he must hear it.

‘Oh, you’ll agree all right, unless you wish to end up like your mother.’

A chill crawled down her spine at this remark, even though she had been hoping for him to actually confess to what he’d done. ‘How could that happen? What are you saying?’

There was a dangerous glint in his eye now. Then one fat hand snaked out to grasp her by the hair and drag her half across the counter. The pain of his grip caused Abbie to let out a little cry of alarm as he spat his next words right in her face.

‘You don’t really imagine that selfish bitch would have had the nerve to take her own life, do you? It need never have happened. But she wouldn’t listen. Absolutely refused to cooperate. Claimed she was near bankrupt, that the Countess had already bled her dry. What nonsense! She still owned that bleeding house, didn’t she? And she owed
me
for the years I’d spent searching for her, just as she owed a huge debt to the Countess for stealing what was rightly hers.’

‘You have no right to our home. It was left in trust by the Count to
my mother
.’

‘So how do you propose to stop me? Much safer to simply hand over the property. Otherwise, I might very well choose to take my revenge upon your own daughter in lieu of the one your grandmother stole from the Countess.’

It was at that moment that the entire world seemed to explode as doors flew open and policemen stormed in from every direction. They’d heard every word, of course ‒ the threats and the confession ‒ from Ivan’s own mouth. And strangely it was Robert, who’d been hiding with them, who was the first to take Abbie’s trembling body in his arms. ‘Well done, sis. You were very brave.’

Following hours of questioning, the Myers family were informed that Ivan Lytkin had been charged with murder. Now the family were sitting together over lunch in the conservatory, celebrating their victory while each privately struggled to come to terms with old wounds that had been reopened, and the dreadful truth of Kate’s death. The children were also present, so they were careful of what they said. Fortunately, Jonathon and Aimée were paying no attention to the grown-ups, happily giggling together in the corner, as always, while baby Carrie spread chocolate all over her chubby face as she tucked into an ice cream.

‘At least we know now that she didn’t deliberately leave you, Dad,’ Abbie softly remarked. ‘She was happy with you right to the end, and planning a wonderful holiday for you both.’

There were tears in his eyes as he nodded. ‘Not a great deal of comfort, but it’s something, I suppose. And we have you to thank, Abigail, for getting to the truth.’

‘I asked a lot of questions, yes, of the orphanage, her friends, and poor old Gran, but that dreadful man’s own arrogance and greed did for him in the end.’ Abbie was unable to disguise the bitterness in her tone.

‘I think your brother might have something he’d like to say to you,’ Fay quietly put in, a wry smile on her face as she glanced across at her husband.

Robert cleared his throat before mumbling an apology.

‘Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.’

He took a breath. ‘I’m sorry if I came down hard on you by blaming you for Mum’s death. I was a bit screwed up with grief.’

‘We all were,’ Abbie quietly agreed.

‘Then there were the financial problems, and I confess I was always a bit jealous of the way Mum fretted and fussed over you, as if you were special.’

‘Of course I’m special. I’m a real hot chick.’ Abbie laughed, exchanging a smile with her sister-in-law, who put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from giggling.

Abbie put out her arms and gave her brother a big hug. ‘Don’t worry. I was a bit on my high horse too, so we’ll call it quits, shall we, and agree a truce?’ They both grinned and slapped hands.

Tom shook his head with a resigned sigh. ‘Just as they used to do when they were kids. Falling out and falling in the whole darned time. No doubt they’ll be at each other’s throats over something else next week.’

‘Why do they do that?’ little Aimée wanted to know, coming over to see what was going on.

‘Because they aren’t as clever as you, sweetie,’ her Grandpa said, lifting her onto his lap for a kiss and a cuddle.

Abbie smiled, her heart warming to see them so happy together. ‘I suggest we put all of this behind us now, and remember Mum for the life she led and not the manner of her death.’ And as they all lifted their glasses in a toast to her memory, for the first time in years Abbie felt content to be here where she belonged, a part of her family at last.