Rosa and the Veil of Gold by Kim Wilkins

happy to look at it.”
    Vasily showed Yuri out, insisting on giving him money for a taxi, full of polite apologies and expansive laughs about silly girls not knowing the value of priceless objects. Rosa gritted her teeth and finished making coffee, then hovered in the doorway to the kitchen to await the onslaught. The television still muttered softly in the background.
    The door closed. Vasily turned, his black eyebrows drawn down hard.
    “I’m sorry, Uncle Vasily—” she started.
    “Foolish girl. You should never have let the bear out of your sight.”
    “I trust Daniel, Uncle Vasily. I know how important that bear is to you.”
    “Do you really? Yuri spoke in terms of hundreds of thousands of American dollars. He also spoke of selling it quickly. It would be out of the country before the government takes it from me and puts it in a museum.”
    Rosa felt her blood chill. She was a foolish girl. Vasily was right. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But I know that Daniel will keep it safe.”
    “Where is the bear? Be honest with me now.”
    “She’s on her way to Arkhangelsk.”
    “Arkhangelsk!” he shrieked. “What does he intend to do with her there? Put her on a boat to England?”
    “No, there’s a professor at the university—”
    “Universities are worse than museums!”
    “Uncle Vasily, I—”
    He took a step towards her and drilled his index finger into her shoulder. It was so startlingly different to his usual delicate touch that she gasped.
    “You will go to Arkhangelsk and you will bring it back before any professor can look at it.”
    “Yes, yes, of course,” she muttered nervously.
    He softened. “Rosa, don’t be afraid of me.”
    “I’m not afraid of you hurting me, Uncle Vasily. I’m afraid of you hating me.” Her eyes brimmed and she had to swallow back tears.
    Instantly, he had grabbed her in a bear hug. He squeezed her once, hard, then set her free. His voice regained its hard edge. “Go to bed, Rosa. We’ll speak again in the morning.”
    “Should I ring an airline? Book a flight for tomorrow?”
    “I’ll take care of it. I know someone. You go to bed.”
    Rosa knew that he wanted her out of sight, afraid of his own anger. She dutifully turned and went to her room.
    Arkhangelsk. Even if she flew tomorrow afternoon, she would probably still beat Daniel there. He and Em would have arrived in Vologda by now. She wished she had thought to ask where they were staying in Vologda; it would save a lot of trouble if she could simply phone them. Em would be upset. After all the bother of driving to Arkhangelsk, not getting her story wouldcertainly irritate her, but it couldn’t be helped. Vasily’s will was inexorable.
    Rosa turned off her light and climbed into bed. Her curtain was still open and she could see a bright quarter of the moon in the corner of the window. She watched it for a long time before she closed her eyes.
    What about Daniel? She had promised to tell him the truth. He would expect to hear it in Arkhangelsk. Could she really go through with it? She supposed she must, if she could be certain he would keep his promise never to contact her again afterwards. She reminded herself to take the silver bracelet and the blue scarf he had given her, to return them. Gifts were like knots between people, which had to be unpicked. Her stomach ached and she flipped over and pressed a pillow against her belly and cried because she loved Vasily and had let him down, because she loved Daniel and had let him down.
    But mostly just because she was selfish and hated that life was so unfair.
    Rosa ventured out of her room warily the next morning, and found Vasily dressed in his singlet and trousers, smelling of talcum powder and with his hair freshly greased. He whistled as he fried eggs in the kitchen.
    “Good morning,” she said.
    He turned and his eyes were soft. “Ah, my girl. Have you forgiven me?”
    “Have you forgiven me?”
    “Dear little Roshka. Of course.”
    “Have you