The Tides of Change

by Joanna Rees

  Julian smiled at the chauffeur, then took Emma’s arm, guiding her towards the bank.

  ‘So how much does Dimitry get?’ Emma asked, pretending to sound as if it didn’t matter.

  ‘Five per cent.’

  Emma stopped still on the pavement and stared at Julian. ‘Five per cent?’ Dimitry was getting five per cent of her brother’s money? Of everyone’s investment?

  ‘He wanted seven, but I beat him down.’

  Emma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘Well, couldn’t you just write him a cheque? Or transfer it from the business?’

  ‘No. He wants it in cash.’

  ‘Cash?’

  Julian’s face clouded. ‘This isn’t the time, Emma,’ he said, his words measured with exasperation. He tugged her arm, guiding her past the gateway and on into the ornate stone doorway, adding, ‘If I’d known you were going to be like this, I wouldn’t have brought you.’

  Emma smarted. How dare he talk to her as if she were a child? But, even so, she bit her lip.

  The hallway of the bank was simultaneously elegant and clinical. The polished marble pillars led the eye to the grand marble staircase with its intricate wrought-iron balustrade. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling.

  A young woman in a smart black business suit approached them, smiling.

  ‘She’s the head huissière,’ Julian whispered to Emma. ‘Try and be nice.’

  ‘How nice to see you again,’ the huissière said, shaking Julian’s hand. ‘You must be Lady Emma. Welcome to Zurich,’ she went on, accompanying them back to the desk and handing a keypad to Julian. He tapped in his private bank account number. Emma noticed that it was the date of their wedding anniversary.

  When he’d finished, the huissière smiled. ‘Please follow me.’

  Emma was expecting the bank to be much more high tech, but at the top of the marble staircase, instead of a palm or fingerprint reader, there was simply another iron gate with a clunky lock.

  The huissière showed them into a private consultation booth. ‘Please wait here. My colleague has just gone to collect your deposit box from the safe. One moment.’

  She left them alone, pulling the red curtain behind her. The wooden desk had some scissors and paper clips on it. Emma picked one of them up. She couldn’t bear having an atmosphere between her and Julian. They hardly ever argued, but she guessed they were both stressed and cranky from their early start. She cleared her throat.

  ‘I always wondered what it would be like inside one of these banks,’ she said.

  ‘Well, now you know.’

  She could tell from his tone that Julian was still annoyed with her. She wished she could say something cheerful and dispel the row they’d had downstairs. The problem was she didn’t know how to tell Julian what she felt about Dimitry Sergeyokov, when Julian so clearly didn’t feel the same way.

  But she knew how important it was to him that she supported him, and how much her disapproval hurt him. Emma tried to seek out his eyes, but he didn’t look at her and she took a deep breath. She mustn’t be like this. The Platinum deal had come so far, who was she to start questioning how Julian had structured the finance?

  Anyway, her feelings were just that. Feelings. A hunch. Nothing solid. Why should she expect Julian to understand her paranoia when she couldn’t even pin it down herself?

  She took a step towards him and touched his arm.

  For a moment, he looked down at her hand, then he covered it with his own. And he smiled.

  There it was. Without the need for words. A truce.

  They were interrupted by the huissière, who brought in Julian’s deposit box and put it on the desk. Then she disappeared through the curtain and came back with a black attaché case.

  ‘And here’s the cash you requested, sir,’ she said, expertly holding the case in one hand and unclipping the lid in order to flash Emma and Julian the contents. Inside were bundles of bright pink five-hundred-euro notes.

  Then the huissière closed the case and handed it over, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. No questions asked. Perhaps Julian was right, Emma thought. Perhaps this was how business was done all the time.

  ‘Thank you,’ Julian said, taking it and putting it on the desk.

  Then, when she’d gone, he took a key out of his pocket and opened the deposit box.

  ‘Look in here, darling,’ he said to Emma. ‘There’re loads of deeds and private papers. If anything happens to me, make sure you come and retrieve all of this, OK?’

  He’d said it flippantly, but Emma shuddered. ‘What on earth do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m just saying . . .’ He glanced up at her. ‘Nothing . . . forget I mentioned it.’

  Julian took a few papers out of the box and closed it again, before opening the attaché case and counting out the bundles of cash on the desk. Emma had never seen so many notes in her life.

  She watched him, battling with her feelings.

  ‘You’re very quiet. What are you thinking?’ he asked.

  ‘Only that seeing it in cash . . . it seems an awful lot, that’s all,’ she said. Then to make sure he knew she wasn’t starting an argument again, added, ‘And that is the exact colour velvet I’ve been looking for to reupholster the chair in the pink room’s en suite.’

  Julian laughed. ‘It might seem an awful lot to you, but it’s nothing compared to how Dimitry is going to change our lives. This time in a month, you’ll be dropping this in small change,’ he joked, stacking the bundles of notes back in the case.

  Downstairs, they met Dimitry Sergeyokov in the waiting room. He was wearing a long leather coat and black leather boots and was reading a Forbes business magazine. His black hair was greased back from his high pale forehead and Emma thought there was something about him that looked like a vulture, or a vampire.

  He stood up from the wing-backed chair when he saw Julian and Emma, his eyes darting to the attaché case.

  Julian shook hands with him, then put his hand on Emma’s back, as if presenting her. ‘You remember my wife Emma, of course?’

  Dimitry bowed his head in silent affirmation, then looked at Emma. And in that second, as he stared down at her, before tearing his gaze away, all Emma’s doubts come rushing back.

  ‘So you have the money for me?’ Dimitry said. Emma was surprised how direct he sounded and how rough his gravelly accent was in these elegant surroundings – as if he didn’t – and could never – belong here.

  ‘All here,’ Julian said, handing him the attaché case.

  ‘Good. Then I’ll leave now,’ Dimitry said.

  ‘You don’t want to celebrate?’ Julian asked, taken aback. ‘A drink? Or lunch maybe?’

  ‘No. No. I have a plane to catch.’ Dimitry lifted up his arm and glanced at his rather gaudy Rolex watch. Then he nodded at Emma. She tried to smile at him, but his dark gaze made her shudder. ‘Your home is very beautiful,’ he said suddenly. Somehow, he made it sound like a threat.

  ‘It is,’ she said.

  ‘Well, good doing business with you,’ Julian said. ‘I’ll see you in Norilsk.’

  Dimitry nodded. He hesitated for just a moment, as if he was about to say something else, but obviously thought better of it. Then, without another glance at them, he walked quickly back towards the bank’s reception area carrying the attaché case, his heels echoing on the marble floor.

  Silence settled. Emma waited for Julian to say something. But he didn’t. Like her, he was staring at the empty space where Dimitry and all that money had been just seconds before.

  ‘I thought he was rather abrupt,’ Emma said. ‘Didn’t you?’

  ‘No, not really. Dimitry’s not one for small talk. The Russians have a different etiquette, that’s all.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Anyway, it’s fine by me.’ Julian made a show of rubbing his hands together and forced a smile. ‘Now for the fun part of the day, and that surprise I promised you.’ He put his arm around her. �
�Come on,’ he said, leading her away. ‘Let’s get out of here. It suddenly feels terribly cold.’

  A few hours later, Emma stared down from the helicopter, watching the shadow it cast on the dazzling snow.

  ‘Oh my God, that’s Davos,’ she shouted to Julian over the noise of the rotors. ‘So that’s where we’re going!’ She grinned, delighted that he’d remembered how much she loved it here.

  They hadn’t been to Davos for years, staying instead in Gstaad, and more recently the French Alp resorts which were more suited to Cosmo and his needs for lively après-ski.

  But this place, high, high in the alpine forests, was just theirs. They’d discovered it when they’d been to Klosters on their honeymoon, more than twenty years ago. Even from this distance – a mile or two – Emma could see how much it had changed – there were many more buildings and hotels – but it still retained the charm that made it popular with celebrities and royalty. And the ice rink, the largest natural one in Europe, was still there and she could see the mountain rail tracks.

  Perhaps Julian had booked into that divine little restaurant with the fondue she loved so much, Emma thought, memories flooding back.

  But to her surprise, the helicopter showed no signs of landing. Instead it swooped upwards towards the summit of one of the seven high peaks surrounding the exclusive resort. Emma felt her stomach flip over.

  Where the hell were they going now?

  They couldn’t be going skiing? Could they? Those skis in the back she thought were the pilot’s . . .

  ‘I thought you said it was too late for snow?’ she said, realizing with a jolt that this was exactly what Julian was planning.

  ‘It’s never too late here,’ he reminded her with a wicked grin.

  Emma shook her head. She should have known. Julian was a skiing freak. There was no way he was going to be in Switzerland without getting on to the slopes. And Emma realized now how silly it had been of her to presume that they were going to while the day away in the hotel spa.

  Now, as she watched Julian laughing at her, she rolled her eyes. He was a much better skier than Emma, with the nerves of a reckless teenager. The helicopter landed on the summit of the highest mountain peak and Emma felt her heart racing.

  ‘But we can’t,’ she began.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘We haven’t got any ski gear,’ Emma shouted.

  ‘Oh yes we have,’ Julian said, nodding over the back of their seats. Emma followed his gaze to the bag he’d brought as he leant over to get it, unloading jackets, fleeces, gloves, trousers and goggles. All brand new.

  ‘Are these for me?’ she asked, feeling the real fur around the hood of the silver Dior jacket. She’d seen the very same one photographed in a Sunday supplement and had told Julian how much she’d admired it.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But we can’t just change here. And what about all our stuff? Our luggage?’ Emma asked. ‘I’m not skiing with my handbag.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ Julian said, laughing at her confusion. ‘It’s all sorted.’

  In no time, the chopper landed on the top of the mountain, whipping up the snow, so that Emma felt as if she were in the centre of a candyfloss machine.

  Once they were stationary, they hurriedly changed in the cramped conditions. Emma was amazed that Julian had even brought her favourite ski boots with him. How had he managed to arrange all this without her noticing? she wondered. Perhaps he’d been so secretive because he’d known she’d have objected.

  But she had no time to worry. The pilot opened the door. The cold air hit Emma as he helped her step out of the helicopter. He held her hand and steadied her as she clicked into her ski boots. Her legs were wobbling.

  She pulled down her sun visor and followed Julian’s lead, skiing down a short way. Then they stopped. Julian turned and the pilot saluted before climbing back into his seat. A moment later, the rotors were stirring up the snow again, and Emma instinctively ducked as the helicopter lifted up and away.

  She watched it rise into the air, like a giant bug, then the pilot expertly tipped the nose forward and a moment later, the helicopter had disappeared beneath the summit of the mountain.

  A few seconds later, the noise of the departing rotors was lost and silence descended. Emma breathed in as her skis sank into the powdery crystallized snow. She couldn’t believe the view. It was breathtaking. On such a clear day, it was possible to see for hundreds of miles, the mountains stretching away in all directions. The sky was an intense, unfathomable blue. The snow was glittering all around her in the sunshine, like a field of diamonds. There was something magical about it.

  ‘Not bad, eh?’ Julian said.

  ‘Darling, it’s wonderful.’ Emma laughed, trying to find her balance. ‘But you could have warned me.’

  ‘But that would have ruined the surprise, silly,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I’m surprised, OK? You got me.’

  Emma hadn’t been skiing since last winter and now, as she peered down the steep slope, she thought it looked bloody terrifying! And she was so unfit. Usually, she took the first day of her skiing holidays gently by taking in a few easy slopes to find her feet, but this off-piste run was scary as hell.

  And, despite the view and the incredible fresh air, her head filled with doubts. Was it really wise to be up here all alone? What about the risk of avalanches? The snow looked so unstable.

  But Julian didn’t seem worried at all. ‘Follow me,’ he shouted.

  ‘Wait,’ Emma shouted after him, but he was already swishing away from her, his red jacket almost obliterated by a wall of powder snow.

  ‘Come on, Ems. It’s wonderful,’ he called, his voice echoing.

  ‘Don’t be a wimp,’ she scolded herself as she watched Julian, his body now bending so that he made graceful arcs through the virgin snow.

  If Julian could do it, then so could she. Just because she was getting older, she wasn’t going to turn into a worrier like her mother. What would Julian think of her? she wondered. She couldn’t back out now.

  Anyway, now that the helicopter had gone, she didn’t have a choice. The only way was down.

  Pluck. That’s what she would rely on. Good old-fashioned pluck.

  She heard Julian whoop. He was getting further and further away from her. She craned her neck over the ledge of the slope and saw him take off over a snow-covered log, star-jumping in the air for her benefit.

  ‘Oh, be careful,’ she muttered.

  ‘Come on!’ he called, coming to a sudden stop and smiling up at her. ‘What are you waiting for?’

  ‘Oh God. Here goes,’ Emma said, pushing off. She hurtled down the steep incline. Her teeth were rattling and she was breathless as she passed Julian. ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God,’ she yelled.

  ‘That’s it. It’s just like riding a bike,’ Julian called, laughing as he caught up with her.

  Once he was next to her, she started to remember what she was doing.

  ‘That’s it. Relax. Enjoy,’ Julian coaxed, overtaking her.

  Emma followed in his tracks, and before long she started to get into the rhythm of the slope, her body finding its muscle memory as she swooped through the snow.

  Soon, she forgot all about her fear and remembered what she loved about skiing – about skiing with Julian: the sheer exhilaration of it. He made it so much fun.

  She smiled at him. And then she laughed, spitting fluffy snow out of her mouth. She felt young again, as if they were on their honeymoon, with their whole lives ahead of them. All the seriousness of the bank this morning vanished. They were back to being the people they used to be: the two of them together, living for the moment.

  What felt like only minutes later, they came to a stop. Her cheeks were burning and she was out of breath.

  ‘Wow,’ Emma gasped, looking back up the mountain to the snow-covered peak from which they’d just descended, glistening against the blue of the sky. She could see their overlapping tracks on the steep slope, like
the shadow of a dance. Below them, there was another long virgin slope, before the tree line.

  But what was incredible was the sheer solitude of it. The fact that they were the only people for miles.

  ‘Come on, let’s keep going,’ Julian said. She could tell how much he was loving this. ‘My surprise is really close.’

  ‘You mean the skiing isn’t the surprise?’ she asked, trying to catch her breath.

  He leant over and kissed her on the cheek, and laughed. ‘No. Come on.’

  They skied on, fast and free, until, panting hard, Emma caught up with him near the tree line.

  ‘Well?’ Julian said, and she could see the excitement in his eyes.

  ‘What?’ she asked, confused, lifting up her goggles, her face assaulted by the glare of the sun and the cold air.

  For a moment, Julian looked crestfallen.

  Only now did she get back sufficient breath to realize where they were.

  ‘You remembered!’ she gasped, feeling her eyes fill with tears of an altogether different nature.

  In a small clearing below them stood an old log chalet. A thin line of smoke blew straight up from the chimney.

  It was the same log chalet they’d stayed in on their honeymoon all those years ago. Every detail of it was imprinted on Emma’s mind and now her heart ached that Julian had remembered it too.

  ‘This place . . . Oh, Julian. It’s our cabin!’

  ‘Come,’ Julian said.

  They skied through the trees to the chalet, memories exploding like fireworks in her mind. Of the first time they’d skied here and how nervous she’d been.

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ Emma said. ‘We can’t just go in.’

  ‘Yes we can.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘Don’t you get it?’ Julian said.

  ‘Get what? Stop being so mysterious.’

  ‘I bought it,’ Julian said.

  Emma stared at him. ‘You did what?’ she whispered.

  ‘I vowed that if it ever came on the market, I’d buy it. I lost it once ten years ago.’

  ‘You never said,’ Emma said, stunned.

  ‘So I put down a deposit to make sure I wouldn’t lose it again, when the owners sold. And they just have. It’s yours.’