◆ SpookStack

‘saeeicarcd i could not tainom, unul a Nim hinted that they thought the F Rritish, perhaps even the CIA, might try to assassinate Kim if they } could find him. | ' Tiny circle — the. extremely limited move. ‘We were barred from the diplomats, we were barred from maethe Press, Even the tiny group of i Western expatriates we were per- ‘mitted to meet were little more to me than shadowy and sometimes pathetic fioures. We saw them only occasionally, but hoped to know them better one day. Even Sergei, Four closest Russian contact, still courteous manner. We were never invited te his house. We never met his wife, but we did once meet his young daughter, who came with us ta our first November parade. .. Life for me was becoming ex- m tremely lonely. 1 was driven to seek the company of Melinda Maclean. pathy. grade with the language (although I could at least read the alphabet}; my projects for keeping myself busy had been officially vetoed; and [ had no friends. I lived a very restric- ted life, cooped up in the flat and beginning to wish that Kim had not turned down an offer of a car and a dacha in the country. Above all, my relationship with Kim was no longer the trusting and innocent one it had been in Beirut a retained bis cautious, but -akhways- for whom F had no particular sym- counting on my visit. I had failed to make the - tuid me from the start that 1 could come and go as I pleased. J followed him to Russia on that, understanding; but did I really be- lieve it? He could offer no guaran- tees except his word, and I had accepted it because I loved him. Now I resolved to put him ta the test. ; There were two persons in the whole world whom I dearly loved: Kim and my own daughter. Mine was a very small family: I had no brothers or sisters, no parents alive, to close relatives. Of course, I was also very fond of Kim's children, particularly the two youngest who had lived with us in Beimut. As Kim grew less approachable, O._my_anxiety, for my daughter _ increased. She was at school in the United States and I had promised her that we would meet in New York on 30.June, As the weeks . passed, I came to believe that nothing Was more important than TE, aa that, I ‘should keep that; promise. 1 knew that she was absolutely I also sensed that if I were ever to put to the test my freedom to travel, this was the moment to do so. If [ allowed my American pass- port to expice, if the Russians were to think that I had settled in for good, and the Americans to believe that I was gone for ever it would De infinitely more difficult, perhaps impossible, for me to obtain a new one. Kim did nat like the idea of my Jeaving but his feelings—in so far adhe expressed them—were rubtla. eo RR ART doe idl UNE the Macleans invited us out to their 2 dacha in a birch. forest outside - Moscow, We had been there once or twice in late autumn, and then again in the spring: the Macleans could not cope with the problem of unfreezing the pipes in winter. The dachs was one of several cabins set in a compound for VIPs. We tecognised Molotov strolling one day in the woods. It was wonder- | ful, unspoiled country of great beauty ; I thought the meadow with a rambling stream near by would make a fine golf course, but whea J mentioned it, ] was told golf was & stupid capitalist game—not for the tovarich! Inflated | 680 “Shordy after we arrived that weekend, Kim tock me aside and told me that Donald ‘wanted to have a word with me and that he ‘was waiting in the bedroom. it qnerged reed that his overriding ton- cern was that, on my return to the West, I should let out nothing dis- * -. creditable about him, his work, or tne: bis family. -- ‘ Don’t go, * Donald said, ‘ but if you must, don't say anything about ‘what I’m doing.’ I pointed out that T had not the faintest idea of what his work was, but I did not think (to myself) it was anything very important, Maclean had a vision of himself as a statesman and diplo- Tat whose life had been dictated ‘by his convictions. He possessed a highly inflated ego, He had been deeply wounded by his treatment in the Western Press and by his_ - slid away beneath me, [felt Nert week: The break with Kim. centred on my own countrymen rather than on the Russians. [ had nothing against the Russians. They had not attempted to brainwash or indoctrinate me. If anything, they had treated me with a rather awk- ward courtesy, as if uncertain how to handle. the sort of human phenomenon i was. I so patently was not part of Kim's Intelligence background nor was I a naive. starry-eyed Western Communist of the sort they were familiar with. In many ways I was a pretty good envoy. The very fact of my unfettered return the U5 —unique for the “wife of a known Soviet ‘agent—was a tribute to the tolerance -of th jet system, As the forests ot = Na asiga- sive and protective about the people and the society I was leaving. In nine months Russia had begun to feel like home. Life may not have been easy, but I felt a pang of nostalgia for the champagne bar at GUM and the long walks with Kim in our favourite birchwoods and through the charming streets of old Moscow. lair aad . There was not the slightest doubt in my mind that I would return to Russia, but I left Moscow A.rport with foreboding: Kim, flanked by the faithful Sergei, looked pathett- cally thin and tired. was enough of an ass to say to Melinda: * Look efter my . husband.’ Instead 1 should have said to Sergei: ‘For heaven's sake, keep him br ©Copyright Eleanor Phiton) ‘ Patrick Seale 1967.