Emma sighed at the thought that yet another of her memories would remain simply that, out of reach, never to be replayed in her humdrum life."Look, yo... can't go anywhere in this weather dressed like that, honey. Come inside and at least let yourself dry off until the rain stops. I'm sure they can find you a towel or something," the redhead said as she took Emma's elbow and turned her towards the blacked-out glass door of Persephone's. Emma waited at the door; gaining what shelter she could from. Despite Stalin's disapproval of Jazz music, clubs abounded in Leningrad. They were often discrete, down alleyways or in the cellars of buildings, but John and Benin found them crowded and full of life. The Vodka flowed freely, the Russian bands were of a high standard, and the young people of Leningrad revelled in their own version of Southside Chicago. At some time they knew the curtain would come down at the whim of the authorities, but, until that happened, they were going to have a good. More

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