Rosa and the Veil of Gold by Kim Wilkins Page B

speak of it.” Until close to the end, when information had gushed out of her, careless and jumbled. Rosa offered the bracelet back to Vasily. “Thank you for showing me this.”
    “No, Rosa. You keep it. I have had a lifetime of good luck.”
    “Are you certain?” Rosa said, her fingers already closing possessively around the charms.
    “Of course I am certain. Wear it, and have good fortune always.”
    “Are you sure we haven’t come too far?” Em said.
    Daniel looked up from the local map of Vologda he had taken from the hotel foyer that morning. “Absolutely sure.” They were searching for the service agent of their rental company, and had driven a long way north of the river into an industrial area whichlooked as though it had been uninhabited since the collapse of the Soviet Union. “It should be down that road.”
    “Road?” Em said. “That’s a dirt track.”
    “Then it should be down that dirt track.” He was growing more comfortable around Em. Her odd habits—the quiet detachment, the momentary irritations, the aloof coolness—were becoming familiar to him, and he no longer inferred from them any special dislike. She treated everyone the same way.
    Em turned the car and Daniel tensed, always alert in case the steering failed. They bumped down the dirt road and came to a dilapidated garage with a bent metal sign out front.
    “That’s it.”
    Em laughed. “God help us.” She pulled into the dirt parking area. “Now, do you have the spare car key I gave you back in Novgorod?”
    “Yep,” said Daniel, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket. Empty. An embarrassed realisation. “Oh, no. I think I gave it to Rosa.”
    “You gave it to Rosa?”
    “My room key back at the guesthouse too. I put them all on the same keyring, and I was so…distracted when I gave Rosa her keys…”
    “It’s okay,” Em said. “We’ll sweet-talk him. That is, if he has another car for us.” They left the car and went to the garage in search of the owner.
    A short man with big ears, a dirty beret and greasy overalls emerged from the front door as they approached. “Hello,” he called in heavily accented English. “You tourists? Phone me yesterday?”
    Daniel switched into Russian and said, “The car’s steering is soft. We’d prefer a replacement car if one is available.”
    “I have no replacement cars,” he said, gesturing around him. “You see. But I will fix this one.”
    “We don’t have a lot of time,” Daniel said. “Could you look at it straightaway?”
    “I’ll look at it soon. Should be ready around four.”
    Em’s ears pricked up at the word “four” and she grabbed Daniel’s shirt. “Four this afternoon,” she spat. “Can’t he do it sooner?”
    The mechanic shook his head and returned to English. “Busy, busy, busy.”
    Daniel peered into the dark garage and could see only one other car up on the ramp. “Are you sure?”
    The mechanic stroked his chin and his face took on a petulant expression. “Maybe if you don’t believe me, it will take until five.”
    Daniel shrugged. “Em, we have no choice.”
    She sighed. “Okay. But ask him if he’ll drive us back to the city centre.”
    The mechanic enthusiastically agreed to drive them, and it was only when he was dropping them off on Prospekt Pobedy that Daniel realised he expected payment. Em pressed a note into his hand, retrieved the bag with the golden bear in it, and he drove off. The bustling market was alive behind them, redolent with the smell of food, spices and flowers.
    “So shall we go back to the hotel?” Daniel asked.
    “We’ve already checked out,” Em said.
    “But we’re checking back in, aren’t we? I mean, we’ll have to stay an extra night.”
    “Why?”
    “Isn’t it an eleven- or twelve-hour drive to Arkhangelsk?”
    “I don’t mind driving at night.”
    “Is it safe?”
    “It’s probably safer. No traffic. Daniel, we just don’t have that much time. Professor Gergiev is expecting