AN: Hi, so this is going to be the last part of the book I upload for a while. I'm going to edit and reupload chapters from Damaged and Untouchables quite soon though so look out for those. 

Should add that if you read Untouchables before the character who was called Nta before is now called Nthabiseng  :) and I should also mention that just because this book is set in Russia I obviously don't support what Putin is doing, hence why I'm imagining a future where he died ages ago LOL 

'...Anyway. When we first got to Russia, I was worried we wouldn't have anything in common besides what we went through. I was worried that we'd find out we hated each other and besides sharing some boxes of a - sorry, some scraps of food we weren't suited at all, that out of danger we'd just drive each other insane. But instead.' I glance around briefly, gripping the mic with both hands, my lip trembling.

'But instead.' A few paintings of landscapes and fruit line the walls. A giant rainbow flag hangs over the door, by a TV screen with badly translated live Russian subtitles. The reception venue was cheap, an hour from our apartment. We have an apartment. In front of me is an enormous heart-shaped assortment of flowers Doina from work got me as a joint present. How can there even be a 'Doina from work' who did a whip round for a bouquet, a box of chocolates and a card?

'But. Instead. We built a life together and I fell in love with her all over again,' I say, my voice cracking. Lou looks up at me from her chair and smiles, pressing my hand against hers. She's had her hair cut and highlights put in, rocking that butch look. I gulp some water, tears in my eyes, and swallow hard. I'm not going to get through the last bit, am I? I'm choking up.

'A year ago she bought me a ring and - and she asked me to marry her. I still can't believe it sometimes.'

Lou gets up and holds me close. I hear Nthabiseng saying, 'Oh, bless you, sweetheart.' I sit down quickly, wiping my eyes, not trusting myself to say anything else, let alone finish what I planned to say. I put the mic down on the table. The tamada, the hotel's 'toastmaster' leans over me, snatches the mic and hands it to Mark. Who knows what horrors he's about to dredge up.

'My name's Mark, I'm Lou's brother. Now, when she asked me to be best man, the first thing I said is, is come off it, I don't believe in marriage.' Lou sighs and pours herself a huge glass of sparkling wine.

'Now, as you can see, Talisha's in tears at the thought of having to spend the rest of her life with my sister. I shared a room with her for 16 years. I don't envy you, love. I got loads of stories about Lou, Talisha knows most of em, but I think I can chuck in a couple surprises!' He raises a shot glass of vodka in the air.

'Before I say any more, hows bout a toast to the happy couple?'

Lou looks at me in horror. 'He's gonna tell the pizza story, ain't he.'

*

'This is a weird question but has anyone had anyone from, like, Amnesty trying to get in touch?' Nthabiseng asks. She's sitting opposite us. Hard to believe it's the first time we've seen our friend since she was pregnant, climbing onto that little boat in a rough sea. Just a few weeks after we were rescued from Daesh 'captivity'. Too nice a word for what they did.

I'm OK, mostly. Except when I'm not, like if I get a whiff of that fucking deodorant.

'No,' I shrug. 'Don't see why they'd be interested. I'm not the kind of person who needs saving.'

'Ah, because I've been speaking to this woman who's writing a report for them. She's asked me a bunch of stuff about my family and what happened back then. They're gonna send it to the UN as evidence. She says I might get some cash for providing my story.' This sounds shady as fuck.

'I dunno, love. She ask anyone's name?' Lou says. Our mate shakes her head. She's still so young, only 23.

'Be careful, mate, no real names, don't send money, don't incriminate yourself. Too many scammers and straight up fascist agents sniffing around. Anyway, where were the NGOs back then? Sign our petition to the international community to ask world leaders to demand an end to the violence!' I feel slightly bad about my rant as soon as it ends, but not that bad. Nthabiseng nods, looking taken aback and a little worried.

'Hey, just be sensible, OK. How was your journey?' I ask Nthabiseng, stretching my hand over the back of my wife's seat.

My wife. Fuck's sake.

'Agh, look, it wasn't so bad in the end. A couple I know gave me their Sheba miles so I got a ticket stopping in Addis for a night paying nothing, otherwise I could never have got here,' Nthabiseng says.

'Blinding you made it, we bare wanted you both celebrating with us,' Lou says.

'I've had such a great time. I'm so pleased he's made some buddies today, I've been worried about him, he cries when I'm dropping him at school or sometimes when I'm working. He doesn't remember it, but I was separated from him for so long in detention, because the SA government wouldn't believe I was a citizen, and that's got to have an impact, right?' Ugh. Yeah, probably. Every one of us has a story like that. And we're the lucky ones.

'That's why it's good he's here, make some friends, see a different country innit. You had a good time?'

'Mommy, why can't I have some vodka? You had some!' Emmanuel suddenly says, pointing at the bottle on the table. For a moment there's a stunned silence, then Nthabiseng starts laughing.

'Um, maybe because you're 6?'

'But Mommy, Darica said she was having some,' Emmanuel points at Lou's niece, with whom he's spent most of the last few hours playing with Lego blocks on the floor or at the 'kiddies' table'.

'What a little liar! That's apple juice in a shot glass! I think this is a sign we've got to go, it's past your bedtime and I'm still finished from the flight. You've had too much cake,' Nthabiseng laughs, shaking her head. I get out of my seat so they can leave, gathering up my dress.

Once all the kids have gone to bed and we've moved the tables to the side the lights start to dim and a disco ball starts revolving slowly. There's a garbled announcement over the speakers and a slow, instrumental version of 'You And I' starts playing. Hah, a Russian lesbian classic. Lou puts her arm around my waist. I know people are taking photos and saying 'Aww' but we might as well be the only people in the room. My heart pounds as her fingers brush against my side and she touches my lips with hers.

'Bit intense today, innit,' she says. 'Come dance with me, my girl.' 

*

After a few more songs I find my cigarettes in my purse and walk outside, leaving Lou to catch up with some of her mates. It's cold with this dress but it's not unbearable, maybe 14 degrees. My dad is standing a few metres away with a cigar, talking to Lou's half sister Harriet. We learned about her maybe two years ago, the only person we have any contact with from her dad's side of the family. Harriet found out much earlier, but Lou had other things on her mind then.

I didn't even know I remembered the smell of his cigars. Never mind missing them.

'...so, you'd been in Australia ten years when the war broke out?' I hear Harriet saying in her cut glass accent. Harriet's mother was from a rather different background to my wife's. She got a scholarship somewhere, then got into Oxford Uni. She now lives in Singapore, dealing with very rich people and their money.

'Yes. I don't care to go into it but things with her mother were not straightforward. There was a custody battle which I lost.' Hah, understatement of the year. I light up the cigarette and think about going to join them, not knowing what to say. I walk towards the swinging hammock seat near the door and sit down. Lou talked me out of wearing stilettos but these shoes are starting to cut my feet.

'I was living in Kuala Lumpur when ISIS committed that dreadful attack. I tried to vote in that election but I was too late with my overseas registration. You remember what it was like, it was chaos. I've felt terrible with everything that happened since, I felt like maybe my vote could have stopped what happened next,' Harriet says. Kuala Lumpur? Lucky her. I was in the same shopping centre as Daesh's 'lions' when it went off, so I have an increased cancer risk and now need hospital check ups every few months. I was also told never to get pregnant, great!

'I was worried for one of my sisters who lived in London, and for Talisha. My sister, her family didn't make it out, except for one of the sons who made it to Germany,' my dad says coldly. I feel like I've been slapped. I vaguely knew a couple of my cousins, once. We weren't close. One of them was a cop, for Christ's sake.

'Gosh, Bennett, I'm so sorry. Did you ever hear anything about how Talisha was doing?' Harriet says.

I take out another cigarette but don't light it. I should make an appearance here. Thought I heard my ears burning. But my mouth is dry. I just can't find the words.

'Not very much. But three months after that election, I used to look at the English news, as an experiment, well, if you can call it news, I call it propaganda. Just to see. And one day, there was a picture of my daughter on the front page of the website. And it said - 'Talisha Morton - Wanted for murder.' He speaks with a quiet menace. My forehead feels hot. I forgot we were all over the news after that night. I only talk about hell with people who were there.

'Oh. Goodness, how awful for you, and being all the way in Australia.'

'Some BPF paramilitary police broke into her house on spurious 'legal' grounds and there was a fight.' Listening to his version fills me with relief, although I don't know what else I'd have expected. 'Ghosts of Cable Street' is on now. I stuck a few of the old rebel anthems in the playlist but now I can't bear to listen. It hurts too much.

'And those who crave for mastery must be faced down on sight.' Yeah. We couldn't quite manage that in the end.

'It must have been so hard for you to read about her being caught up in this conflict,' Harriet says. I get up from the seat and walk slowly towards them holding my wedding dress above the ground, kicking my shoes off, stepping on the smooth concrete with my bare feet.

He takes a puff on his cigar and speaks calmly. 'It was, yes. But you have to understand. My little girl put the fear of God in those Nazi butchers. A father should be proud of his daughter. Don't you think.'

'Fucking right, Dad,' I say. Startled, he turns round as I put my hands on his shoulders and pull him into a hug.

*

'So weird, calling you my wife, saying 'my wife done this,' or 'maya zhena eto zdelala,' Lou says as we walk up the stairs together. It's almost 1am, this thing could go on till 8 and there are even more activities going on tomorrow. Lou's supposedly taking her nieces out with Mark. I told Nthabiseng we should hang out but I think I might just stay in bed. Not like she's going yet.

'Yeah, it's weird. I'm glad we did it. Just a pity it still doesn't count for as much as it should here.' I check my phone and see I've got a text from my work mate Galina apologising for missing the wedding and hoping it's good, and a couple of missed calls from a number I don't recognise. Fuck that. Not interested. Probably 'an accident that wasn't my fault'.

'Nah, ain't all that here when it come to LGBT. Know what the mayor of Domodedovo's been saying?'

'Surprise me.'

'Said if it were down to him he'd ban straight weddings as a protest now the traditional Russian family don't mean nothing. Says it's all so as people in the future can marry their dogs without someone kicking off, soften us up.' She takes the room key out of her jacket pocket.

'Let me guess, it's Ukraine's fault and Uncle Vova would be turning in his grave,' I mutter as she unlocks the door. 'Stupid old duffer.'

'Perfect day, innit. You're beautiful, I been telling people all day, I been saying ain't my wife beautiful.' Lou says, cupping my face in her hands as we walk inside. I feel OK about crying. I got emotional.

We went through hell together and we went through hell to be together.

'I've been telling people the exact same thing.' I shut the door behind us, breathe in the scent of her shampoo as we hold each other tight. I start undoing the buttons on her shirt. She touches the top of my leg through the thin white fabric and I shiver as she fiddles with the zip at the back of my dress. When I kiss her she tastes of pina colada. My nipples tighten as I take her by the hand and pull her onto the bed with me, reach under her blue sports bra. Her skin is so soft. It tastes slightly salty. She locks eyes with me, a blissful look on her face, and presses her mouth to mine.

Yeah, we need to shut the curtains.

'Hey, I've got a question for you that you've never answered, not to my satisfaction anyway,' I say, as she hitches up my dress and massages the inside of my thigh. I went to the salon specially for her.

'What, babe.'

'What were you thinking when you tried to hide a pizza in your knickers?'