Resolution

Chapter 52

There were four figures sitting on the ground, listening to the pipe player. They had no faces, but the angle of a head, the drop of an arm, showed they were immersed in the creamy moment, following the spiral of the music. In the foreground two figures, one lying, one sitting, were watching goldfish turn in a bowl. It was completely flat, the foreground and the background differentiated only by the size of the figures. Her eyes were drawn into the picture by the fish but then swayed through each of the characters, resting on a man with his head tipped back, enjoying.

She had been there for nearly an hour and a camp security guard with slicked-down hair and shiny buttons on his blazer was getting pissed off. She had tried to sit down cross-legged on the parquet floor in front of the painting but he stood over her, looking disdainful, and flicked her upright with an angry forefinger. She had to sit on the banquette by one of the three large windows. Matisse's huge canvas, The Dance, was distracting her from the Coffeehouse. The windows in the Winter Palace had net curtains on them. Every time they rustled behind her she smiled at the inappropriateness of it.

She turned sideways and looked out through the milky curtain across to the checkered Palace Square and saw the sun glinting off the gilded onion domes of the cathedral called The Resurrection on Spilt Blood.

She'd have to watch her time. There was only one English-speaking AA meeting per week in St. Petersburg and it began in an hour. She hadn't been sober long enough to go a week without one.

He sat down next to her on the bench and took her hand lightly in his.

"All right?" she whispered, still looking out of the window. "Are ye having a good time?"

"Aye," said Vik. "Oh, aye."