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forgotten and his mind on other business. I was the daughter of a White Army colonel, but my mother would make a more useful labourer. Ideology was a catchcry to him. Practicality was more important. But Tang was not like that. He wanted his twisted justice done and would see this thing through until the end. I didn’t know what he had planned for me, but I was sure it would be something lingering and unspeakable. He wouldn’t just have me shot or thrown from a roof. He had said, `I want you to live daily with the consequences of what you and yourmother have done.’ Perhaps my fate would be that of the Japanese girls in my district, the ones who had not been able to escape. The Communists shaved their heads then sold them to the Chinese brothels that served the lowest of the low: lepers without noses and men with such terrible venereal diseases that half their flesh was rotted away.
    I swallowed. Another train was pulling in on the opposite platform. It would be easy…so much easier, I thought, staring at the heavy wheels, the metal tracks. My legs trembled, I inched a step forward, but my father’s face flashed before me and I couldn’t move any further. I caught sight of Tang out of the corner of my eye. He was indeed lurking towards me, taking his time. There was hunger, not relief, on his face now that my mother was gone. He was coming for more. It’s over, I told myself. It’s all over.
    A firecracker exploded into the sky and I jumped back, startled by the sound. A crowd of people in Communist uniform swamped the station. I stared at them, not able to take in their sudden appearance. They were shouting ‘ Oora! Oora! ’ and waving bright flags and beating drums and cymbals. They had come to welcome the arrival of more Russian Communists. They marched directly between Tang and myself. I saw him trying to fight his way through them, but he became trapped in their parade. The people were circling him. He was screaming at them but they couldn’t hear him above their cheers and music.
    ‘Go!’
    I looked up. It was the young Soviet soldier, the one with eyes like crystals. ‘Go! Run!’ he shouted, pushing me with the butt of his rifle. A hand grabbed mine and I was pulled through the crowd. I couldn’t see who it was ahead of me. They dragged methrough the wriggling onslaught. Everything was human sweat and the smell of gunpowder from the firecrackers. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Tang was pushing through the crowd. He was gaining ground but the stumps of his hands hampered him. It was impossible for him to grab people to get them out of his way. He shouted orders to the young Soviet, who made as if to chase after me but purposely got himself tangled in the crowd. I was bumped and jostled, my shoulders and arms bashed and bruised. Up ahead through the sea of legs a car door opened up and I was thrust towards it. I recognised the hand then. I felt the calluses and knew the largeness of it. Boris.
    I leaped into the car and Boris stepped on the pedal. Olga was in the passenger seat. ‘Oh my darling Anya. My little Anya!’ she cried. The road rolled away behind us. I looked through the back window. The crowd on the station was swelling, the disembarking Soviet soldiers adding to its number. I couldn’t see Tang.
    ‘Anya, get down under the blanket,’ Boris said to me. I did as I was told, and I felt Olga piling things on top of me. ‘Did you expect those people?’ she asked her husband.
    ‘No, I intended to grab Anya no matter what,’ he said. ‘But it seems that even the mad enthusiasm for the Communists can come in useful sometimes.’
    A while later the car stopped and there were voices. The door opened and slammed. I heard Boris talking quietly outside. Olga was still in the front seat, wheezing under her breath. I felt sorry for her and her weak old heart. My own heart was beating wildly, and I clamped my mouth shut, as if that would somehow prevent anyone from hearing it.
    Boris jumped