Doctor Gavrilov by Maggie Hamand Page B

what this is.’
    â€˜Oh, nothing… just an idea… probably it will come to nothing.’ He stood up, picked up the papers and crossed the living room, bending over to rake the embers of the fire. Katie watched him take some small pieces of wood out of the basket and put them on the glowing coals. He stood there for a long time, watching; when the wood finally caught he reached out and with a swift movement stuffed the papers into the flames.
    Katie leapt up in astonishment. ‘What on earth are you doing?’
    â€˜Burning it.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜I’ve done it now. It’s all in my head. I know how to do it again.’
    Katie watched as the bright flames flared up and the papers charred and curled into snake-like shapes. There was something almost mystical, incomprehensible, to her about mathematics. Dmitry had told her that as a child he had been gifted, that he could work out complex calculations in his head. His memory, too, was remarkable, although she had often remarked how he could never remember to buy the milk or be on time to pick Anna up from school. Katie watched the flames die away and then Dmitry poke the fire, reducing the charred paper to tiny fragments. He said, ‘Come on, let’s go to bed. You’re getting cold, standing there. Look at your feet.’
    She tried again. ‘Mitya, I wanted to talk to you.’
    â€˜I don’t want to talk. You are looking so lovely like that, in your gown, with your hair loose, in the firelight.’
    When he paid her compliments he didn’t say them teasingly, he said them flatly, as if he were simply making an observation, stating something that was the indisputable truth. She couldn’t help being moved. She crossed the room, put her arms around him and he turned and kissed her gently.
    She knew he would want to make love to her, perhaps as a way of avoiding having to talk to her. ‘Mitya, I wanted to talk to you about Anna’s school. She’s not happy –’
    â€˜The school is all right.’
    â€˜My mother said she would pay for a private school.’
    â€˜We can’t accept it.’
    â€˜Why not?’
    She could feel that Dmitry was angry; she knew his pride was hurt. Katie herself was torn on this issue, but she didn’t want Anna to suffer; it was a rough school, and Katie felt she had been through enough.
    â€˜Your parents don’t like me. I won’t accept their money.’
    â€˜It’s not for you. It’s for their grand-daughter.’
    â€˜Who is not my child. Is that what you were going to say?’
    Katie felt herself harden. She said sharply, ‘I didn’t say that.’
    â€˜No, but you thought it.’ He turned away from her and stared into the remains of the fire. ‘Well, don’t bother to consult me then. Do what you want.’
    Katie sighed. ‘They’ve invited us over on Sunday.’
    â€˜I can’t come.’
    â€˜We’ll have to see them sometime. They’ll think something’s wrong.’
    â€˜Can’t you tell them I have to work.’
    â€˜Yes, but what is this work?’
    He didn’t answer her. ‘Anyway why should I see them. You know that they can’t stand me. And they will just go on about the election next week and how wonderful this John Major is.’
    Katie knew that she would get nowhere. She loved him, but he was so difficult. She was tired, was shivering with cold. She said, ‘Come on, let’s go up to bed.’ She went up ahead of him while he tidied away the remaining papers. She wanted to make love to him to mend things between them but she was too tired, she couldn’t keep awake; as soon as she lay down sleep overcame her like a dark curtain.

    At ten o’clock the next morning Dmitry left the house and walked down to the call-boxes by the underground station. As he reached the station, walking slowly, unhurriedly, Tim walked past, smiled