Free The Secret Speech by Tom Rob Smith Page B

even if Leo had been trained by the secret police. She’d made a tactical decision, careful that the girls not be constantly aware of how important they were to her. She treated them without fuss or ceremony, establishing functional foundations—school, clothes, food, going out, homework. Though they both went about it in different ways, she shared Leo’s dream—the dream of creating a loving, happy family.
    Raisa and the girls exited the station on the corner of Ostozhenka and Novokrymskiy, following a path dug through the snow on their way to their respective schools. Raisa had wanted to enroll both girls at the same school where, ideally, she also would have taught so that the three of them could have been together. However, the decision had been made, either by the school authorities or at a higher level, that Zoya would attend Lycee 1535. Since it only accepted secondary students Elena was forced into a separate primary school. Raisa had resisted since the majority of schools accepted both primary and secondary students and there was no need to split them up. Her request had been declined. Siblings were at school to create a relationship with the State, not to shelter within family ties. According to that rationale, Raisa was lucky to get a job at Lycee 1535 and so she’d relinquished the demand in order to preserve the advantage. At least this way she was able to keep an eye on Zoya. Although Elena was younger and had been more obviously nervous about the prospect of a new school in a large city, Zoya concerned Raisa far more. She’d fallen further behind academically, her village school not being up to Moscow’s standards. There was no question that she was intelligent. But it was unpolished, directionless, ill-disciplined, and, unlike Elena, Zoya steadfastly refused to make any efforts to fit in, as if it were a matter of principle that she remain isolated.
    Outside the primary school, a converted prerevolutionary aristocratic town house, Raisa took an unnecessary amount of time tending to Elena’s uniform. Finally, holding her close, she whispered:
    —Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.
    For the first few months Elena had cried when she’d been separated from Zoya. Though she’d gradually adjusted to spending eight hours apart, at the end of every school day, without exception, she’d stand by the gates eagerly awaiting their reunion. Her excitement at seeing her older sister return hadn’t diminished, a reunion as full of joy as if a year had passed.
    After Zoya had given her sister a hug, Elena hurried into school, pausing at the doors to wave good-bye. Once she was inside, Zoya and Raisa walked in silence toward the Lycee. Raisa resisted the urge to question Zoya. She didn’t want to agitate her before class. Even the simplest of inquiries risked putting her on the defensive, setting off a chain of disruptive behavior that rippled throughout the day. If she asked about schoolwork it was an implicit criticism of her academic achievements. If she asked about her classmates it was a reference to her refusal to make any friends. The only subject open to discussion was Zoya’s athletic abilities. She was tall and strong. Needless to say, she hated team sports, unable to take orders. Individual sports were a different matter—she was an excellent swimmer and runner, the fastest in the school for her age. But Zoya refused to compete. If entered into a competition she would deliberately forfeit the race, although she had enough pride not to come last. She’d aim for fourth, and since she occasionally mistimed it, or forgot herself in the heat of the moment, she might come in third or even second.
    Built in 1929, Lycee 1535 was angular and stark in design, intending to embody an egalitarian approach to learning, a new kind of architecture for a new kind of student. Twenty meters from the gates Zoya stopped walking, remaining fixed to the spot and staring straight ahead. Raisa crouched down:
    —What