Sunlounger - the Ultimate Beach Read (Sunlounger Stories Book 1)

by Belinda Jones

  Noura shrugged. ‘Not really, sorry. My brother is the football fan in our family.’

  Yuri laughed. ‘I know this to be true. I have watched many football games in the bar with Mr Alkaev-Mitchell. But I think his love for Aston Villa has made him a philosopher also?’

  Noura grinned as she peered out at the wide, flat landscape as the car sped along the quiet dual carriageway. ‘Is it far to St Petersburg?’

  ‘Twenty kilometres or so. I think you will like my city.’

  The sun on the windscreen was raising the heat of the car interior and Noura could feel a trickle of sweat running down her spine. ‘Do you mind if I open a window?’

  ‘There is no need. I have air-con.’ Yuri announced proudly, clicking a button on the dashboard as a rush of cool air flooded the car. Checking the rear view mirror, his eyes glanced at Noura. ‘You were expecting snow and ice, perhaps?’

  Noura thought of the three jumpers packed in her suitcase and the thermal socks she had thrown in her rucksack as a last minute addition, despite the fact that it was Summer. ‘I didn’t expect it to be warm here.’

  ‘Many people are surprised. It’s true that it snows here for much of the year. But you have arrived at the perfect time. Our summer is short but it is beautiful. And the nights are magical.’

  From her vantage point in the back seat, Noura saw the merest blush creeping up the back of Yuri’s neck. She felt a shiver of delight and looked away.

  *

  A group of fire jugglers on impossibly tall unicycles were delighting the crowd as Noura passed the Hermitage – St Petersburg’s famous museum that housed artworks by Old Masters. How strange that it felt so familiar here when this time last year she had been a stranger! The former palaces of the Russian Tsars, the churches with their candy-striped domes and the confection of pastel-hued buildings surrounding wide piazzas had seemed so new then, so alien to her. She had been nursing a broken heart, two years after Karl had walked out, and while the city’s beauty thrilled her she had found herself wishing she could see it with him. Tonight, as the minutes to midnight ticked away, a new ache was in her heart. It was as if Karl’s place had been swept clean, the space made ready for another. But even though Noura had barely known the man she hoped to meet tonight for a fifth of the time she had spent with Karl, she already knew her feelings were deeper. She was scared, excited and terrified all at once – and as the crowds swelled around her she could feel anticipation growing within…

  *

  The first time Noura saw the centre of St Petersburg she couldn’t believe its beauty. The city was more breathtaking than any of the photographs her brother had emailed her during the four years he had worked at the British Consulate-General. Opulent buildings and cathedrals were set around expansive piazzas that reminded Noura of Rome, where Karl had taken her for her birthday three years before. They had walked for hours, his hand in hers and her gaze always drawn back to his dark hair and green eyes despite the beauty of the city around them…

  Her heart contracted as a stab of pain hit. How could the memory of him still hurt so much? Pushing the thoughts away, she focused her attention on the new city unfolding before her.

  ‘It’s beautiful, like I told you,’ Yuri said, and Noura noticed he was casting glances back in her direction. ‘You’re pleased to be here?’

  Noura smiled, touched by the concern in his eyes. ‘Yes, I am.’

  The car pulled up outside an ornate, coffee-coloured building and Yuri wound down the window to wave at a security guard by the barrier to the car park. Once through, they parked and Noura climbed out, glad of the chance to stretch her legs and breathe fresher air.

  The interior of the British Consulate-General was elegant and calm. A large portrait of the Queen was displayed in the reception area beneath beautiful crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. Noura remembered how Ben had described his workplace as ‘an official slice of England in the middle of St Petersburg’, and it certainly had an air of Britishness about it. Yuri signed them in and they boarded a lift to the third floor.

  The lift doors parted to reveal a very familiar face and Noura completely forgot her surroundings, squealing and dashing into her brother’s embrace as several Consulate staff looked on with amusement.

  ‘First time in Russia,’ Ben joked in perfect Russian to the smiles of his colleagues, before leading Noura and Yuri to his wood-panelled office.

  ‘Sorry,’ Noura giggled as they settled down on large leather armchairs. ‘It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you!’

  Ben laughed and poured tea from a waiting silver teapot. ‘Feeling’s mutual, sis. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you for weeks. Did our man here look after you well?’

  ‘Very well,’ Noura smiled at Yuri who flushed a little and returned the smile. ‘Yuri is an excellent tour guide.’

  ‘Thank you very much, Miss Alkaev-Mitchell.’

  ‘Yuri, dude, call her Noura or else she’ll feel too pampered.’

  Seeing the handsome man’s initial reticence, Noura nodded her encouragement and Yuri’s smile reappeared. ‘Noura,’ he replied, as if tasting her name on his tongue for the first time. This tiny action bore an intensity Noura wasn’t expecting and she quickly turned back to her brother for fear of losing her composure altogether.

  ‘I can’t believe this is your office,’ she said, gazing around the considerable space and taking in the opulent chandelier, the pale wood-panelled walls, the sumptuous carpet and the expensive gold drapes that hung from tall windows. ‘It’s wonderful.’

  ‘I know. Not a bad place to come to work every day,’ Ben chuckled, and Noura was struck by how alike she and her brother were now they were older. Same dark hair, same pale blue eyes and almost identical laughs. Growing up, people had rarely placed them as siblings, yet now both bore their mother’s distinctive Russian features. Ben appeared to be completely at home in Russia and Noura was pleased to see how happy he looked. ‘You’re going to love Belye Nocchi. I hope you’re not planning on sleeping tonight.’

  A shiver of anticipation fizzed down Noura’s spine. She had heard tales of the famous St Petersburg tradition, festivities and music during the weeks when the sun never sets. Her mother Lena had talked of it with a wistfulness Noura rarely saw.

  ‘The city glows like a jewel,’ her mother said, ‘and the sky above it like a sapphire. Your grandmother said it is a time when dreams are made.’

  ‘I thought I’d catch a couple of hours sleep at the hotel to be able to make the most of it,’ she replied, not even sure if her too-excited brain would allow her to rest.

  Ben nodded. ‘Probably a good idea.’ He turned to Yuri with a sheepish smile. ‘I’m sorry to ask again, but would you mind taking my sister to her hotel? I have a couple of meetings before I can leave.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Yuri rushed, the endearing blush returning as he smiled at Noura. ‘Forgive me. It will be my pleasure.’

  Leaving her brother, Noura followed the broad back of her driver to the car park. He politely refused her offer to sit in the front seat beside him, insisting that she should arrive at her hotel, ‘in the style of a Tsarina’. Noura was amused by his formality, so at odds with his shy embarrassment. When they reached her hotel, he solemnly carried her suitcase to the front desk and waited while she collected her keys. A porter arrived to accompany Noura to her room and she turned to Yuri, surprised to feel a pulse of sadness at having to say goodbye.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said as she shook his hand, feeling the shock of his warm skin against hers.

  ‘I think you will be happy here. I hope –’ he took a breath and moved a little closer – ‘I very much hope to see you again.’ His shy smile returned and for a moment he stayed there, his hand softly cradling hers. And then he was gone, striding across the wide lobby of the hotel without looking back.

  In her room, Noura had lain awake for a while, her thoughts a million destinations in one journey, until weariness claimed her and she slept,
her dreams interwoven with the shy smile of the handsome Russian man.

  *

  Fifteen minutes before midnight, Noura began to scan the crowds. There was still time to change her mind, to push her way back through the bodies towards the safety of her hotel room. All around her people were buzzing, their laughter rising as they thronged together. There were lovers and friends, strangers and family, each one drawn to the centre of the world’s largest northernmost city to party the night away while the sun refused to set. Last year she had assumed this was a once in a lifetime experience and yet here she was, twelve months later. But she hadn’t come to see the crowds, the street performers, or the live music that filled the city: surrounded by countless revellers, there was only one face she wanted to see tonight…

  *

  The trill of the telephone by her bed woke her from her sleep.

  ‘Hey, sis.’ Her brother sounded weary, his tone apologetic.

  ‘Ben, I’m sorry, have I overslept? What time is it?’

  ‘Relax, Nou, it’s just gone nine p.m. I thought I’d let you sleep before I called.’

  ‘Oh.’ Disoriented from her sudden awakening, Noura stared at the pale daylight glowing through the gap in the curtains. ‘What time are you coming over?’

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. ‘Nou, I’m really sorry to drop this on you after you’ve come to see me, but would you mind if I meet you tomorrow instead? I wouldn’t normally ask but we have a bit of a crisis developing at work. Some British construction workers have been arrested for being drunk and disorderly and the police want to make an example of them. I’ve been negotiating with them for hours but they’re not budging. I’ve now got to wait for a local lawyer to arrive so we can try to get this sorted before midnight.’ He paused again, gauging her response. ‘Do you hate me?’

  A little unsettled by the development, Noura assumed her brightest tone to reply. ‘Not at all. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I have a guidebook and I’m sure the people on reception will be able to point me in the right direction. I hope you manage to sort everything out.’

  Ben’s relief was palpable even on a crackly telephone line. ‘Nou, you’re fantastic, thank you. I’ll pick you up for lunch tomorrow at noon, okay?’

  Laying her head back on her pillow, Noura contemplated hiding out in the hotel for the evening. She was tired after her long journey and could order room service and rest. But her gaze fell on the pinkish light between the curtains and her increasing heartbeat persuaded her otherwise. She had come all this way to see the famous White Nights Festival in St Petersburg – it was a warm summer night in a gorgeous city beneath a twilight sky and she would be a fool not to take advantage of it. Jumping out of bed, she began to get ready.

  *

  A young couple had begun to waltz, the crowd parting as they whirled slowly. An older lady smiled and rested her head on her husband’s shoulder to watch the spontaneous dance. Noura felt it more than she had last year, when she had made her first tentative steps out into the warm summer evening, but maybe that was because of all that had happened since then.

  She watched the young lovers moving, their eyes alive with each other, and she wondered if his eyes would look at her that way. It had been a year, with only one email, out of the blue – the reason for her making a return trip to her once-in-a-lifetime destination. Was that enough?

  A year ago she had made her way bravely out of the hotel towards the lights and noise of the city, not knowing what was ahead or what her own first White Night would hold in store. If she had known, would she have ventured out into the streets of St Petersburg? And would she be here now, a year later?

  *

  ‘You are going out alone, Madam?’ the polite lady at the hotel reception enquired when Noura stopped to ask for advice.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, pleased that she could converse in Russian adequately after the language had been dormant on her tongue for years. ‘My brother should have met me but he’s been delayed. Could you tell me where I should visit?’

  ‘Certainly. Turn right from the hotel entrance and walk straight forward. You will reach the Winter Palace and from there follow the crowds to the riverside.’

  Everything about St Petersburg was brand new but unexpectedly familiar. Noura had seen her grandmother’s photographs of the city as a child and had heard her mother tell stories of the old country for years. Being surrounded by Russian speakers took her back to birthday parties and family gatherings throughout her childhood and early teens, when her grandmother was still alive and her three Russian uncles and their families lived nearby. Hearing the familiar lilt gave her a warm feeling of nostalgia and spurred her onwards, feeling less like a tourist and more like she belonged in the illuminated city.

  The constant evening sun had thrown her sense of time and when she looked at her watch she was surprised to discover it was almost ten p.m. She followed the delicious smells of cooking until she found a restaurant with tables outside, overlooking a square with an imposing church at its head. The menu was a bit of a challenge, Noura’s knowledge of spoken Russian much better than her understanding of written Cyrillic script, but the waiter came to her rescue to explain the items in English. Noura chose chilled beetroot soup followed by stacks of cream-cheese-filled buckwheat pancakes with a tomato and dill salad. The square was gradually filling with people, their chatter magnified by the elegant, floodlit buildings surrounding them. Music floated on the midsummer air, rock songs mixing with classical symphony and the eerie, otherworldly sound of a Cimbalom being played by an old man nearby.

  As she ate, she thought back to her visit to Rome with Karl and the meal they had eaten in a pavement café overlooking a beautiful square. Karl had talked about their future, the plans he had to build them a home on the North Devon coast and the three children he’d insisted were the minimum amount of family he wanted to have. Noura had believed him, of course, because believing Karl was part of the game, even if none of his great and glorious ideas made it past the optimistic confines of his mind. When he had suddenly announced he was leaving, two years ago, it had felt like more of a disappointment at Noura’s suspicions being proved right than an outright shock. What followed afterwards – and had hung on stubbornly ever since – was the innate sense of loneliness without Karl’s company. Perhaps they should have always stayed friends and never strayed into a relationship. Perhaps Noura had always known that.

  After her meal, Noura paid the bill and let herself be carried along by the crowds through the heart of the city towards the river. For once, she didn’t care where she went, enjoying the opportunity to lose herself in the warmth and splendour of the Russian city.

  And then, she heard somebody call her name…

  *

  Ten minutes to midnight and still no sign. The waltzing couple had been joined by other couples now, transforming the riverside walk into an open-air ballroom, its twirling dancers dressed in jeans and t-shirts, summer dresses and shorts. An accordion player appeared as if from nowhere and began to play a sweeping Russian waltz tune, much to the delight of the dancers. Noura ignored the nerves jangling inside her and forced herself to watch. If he didn’t come tonight, at least she would have this moment, this memory, to store carefully with the ones from twelve months earlier…

  *

  ‘Noura!’

  He called her name several times before Noura realised she was being summoned. Eventually, she craned her neck to look above the crowds where a raised arm was waving at her. Thinking her brother had finished his business early and come to find her, she pushed through the tightly packed people towards it – and came to a halt in surprise when she saw who was calling her name.

  Yuri’s face was flushed as if he had been running and his deep blue eyes sparkled in the lights strung overhead. Seeing her reaction he held out his hands like a circus ringmaster. ‘It’s me!’

  Noura giggled and walked towards him. ‘So it is. What brings you out here?’

&n
bsp; ‘The White Nights, of course.’ His chest rose and fell as he grinned at her. ‘And you.’

  Noura’s heart skipped. ‘Me? Why me?’

  ‘I heard you were all alone. On your first night in my city. And I didn’t think that was right. I’ve been looking for you.’ He held out his hand. ‘Would you permit me to be your guide for the night?’

  She couldn’t say why she had trusted him, why taking his hand was the most natural response, but she did and it was – and as they began to walk through the city together his fingers entwined with hers. And Noura felt at peace with everything…

  *

  Five minutes to midnight and the crowds were closing in. The dancers stopped and turned their eyes towards the lights of the Dvortsovy Bridge as the sense of anticipation grew. Noura followed their gaze, her heart sinking as midnight approached. This time last year it had been so very different…

  *

  Yuri talked about his family, his father in the Army and his mother who worked as a schoolteacher. He told Noura about his childhood in St Petersburg and of how life was better now than when he was a child. He had studied hard at university and was proud of his job at the British Consulate, his love of English standing him in good stead for his burgeoning career. Noura discovered that far from being her brother’s driver, Yuri was in fact second in command and had offered to meet her at the airport as a favour to Ben, whom he counted as a good friend more than a colleague. He found it amusing that Noura had mistaken him for a driver.

  ‘You have witnessed my driving at first-hand, Noura, so you should know that I would never make a career of it!’

  Yuri’s eyes came alive when he laughed, as if they were reflecting light lit from deep within him. Noura found the impulse to make him laugh irresistible, fascinated by the transformation in her companion when she succeeded. They walked for nearly an hour and it was only when they reached the banks of the Neva River beside The Hermitage Palace that she realised Yuri had not let go of her hand. How had she not noticed that?