Moonlight on the Thames

by Lauren Westwood

  ‘A trade? Of what?’

  ‘Information, of course.’

  ‘What information?’

  ‘Look at it from my perspective,’ he said. ‘You walk in off the street. I know little or nothing about you. You ask me for answers. I am asking you for answers in return.’

  ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Ask. What do you want to know?’ She could feel herself getting worked up again, her voice rising in pitch. ‘Do you want to know about my work? How hard it’s been climbing that ladder, getting where I am now? Do you want to know about my affair with a married man – how ugly and awful it is? Do you want to know about my mum leaving my dad and starting a new family? About my dad withering away and finally walking in front of a car? Do you want to know if I’m too messed up to be with your friend, or not enough to understand him? Seriously, you can ask me anything.’

  ‘Then I will ask you this – why are you so angry?’ Kolya said, showing no emotion. ‘Why would a woman like you, who so clearly needs to be in control, allow her life to proceed in this way? I want to know the one thing that you are keeping back. The one thing that makes you like you are.’

  ‘There is no “one thing”,’ Nicola said emphatically. ‘Nothing that I’m… keeping back.’

  Kolya shook his head. ‘Nicola, I see a lot of women in my professional capacity. You will never be free from things that you keep hidden away.’

  ‘No, you’re wrong!’ She was practically shouting now. She stood up ready to go out the door. Professional capacity or no, this man knew nothing about her. It wasn’t like she had the truth branded on her forehead.

  ‘Sit down.’ Though his voice was soft, it was a clear command.

  She sat.

  He fell silent again.

  Her heart was racing, her palms clammy with sweat. This wasn’t how she had envisioned this going – not at all.

  ‘I’m sorry if I have upset you,’ Kolya said. ‘Some day, if you wish it, we can talk more about you. Or I can refer you to someone else.’

  ‘I don’t need to see a shrink,’ she said, trying to regain her composure. ‘I need you to tell me about Dmitri.’

  Kolya nodded. ‘Ever since you came here that first time, I have been thinking about this. What I would say if – when – you came back under just these circumstances. I could see immediately that you were different. That, somehow, you were special. But Dmitri is a very damaged person. I don’t think you understand this.’

  ‘Damaged? What does that mean?’

  ‘It means that he has suffered a great deal in his life and I don’t want me – or you – to make that worse for him.’

  ‘Does this “damage” date from his time in Russia? He told me about losing his place at music school. And that his father was a drunk, and violent to his mother.’

  ‘His father was violent, yes.’

  ‘And that he threw away his career as a pianist.’

  ‘Yes, that is also true.’

  ‘So all of that is very tragic, and I’m sure he’s a very sensitive, artistic person or whatever. But what am I not seeing here?’

  ‘He has not told you his “one thing”.’

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’

  Koyla stood up and moved around to sit in the chair beside her. ‘You have put me in a very bad position, Nicola,’ he said. ‘If I don’t tell you what you want to know, you may well go to him. He walked away from you before, but it was not for lack of wanting you. I do not think he could walk away a second time.’

  Nicola stared at him, turning this over in her mind.

  ‘But if you did go to him,’ Kolya continued, ‘then you might discover that all is not what it seems. You would be, as you say, “within your rights” to walk away, like his fiancée, Irina, did. But if that happened again…’ Kolya’s eyes darkened almost to black, ‘then it might destroy him.’

  ‘I don’t want to do that,’ she whispered. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a razor blade. On one side lay happiness, on the other, infinite darkness. And moving either way would cut her to shreds.

  ‘No. You don’t,’ Kolya acknowledged. ‘You came here because you have much love to give, and receive, if only it wasn’t all trapped inside.’

  ‘I said, I don’t want to talk about me,’ she felt obliged to argue.

  ‘That may be. But if, on the other hand, I betray the confidence and my friendship and tell you the truth, then I need you to promise me something. If what I have to say makes it impossible for your “complete madness” to continue, then you must walk away. Never see him again. Live your life, such as it is. Allow him to live his – such as it is. It will be your choice.’

  ‘Fine, I agree. If I can’t handle the truth, then I’ll go away.’

  Kolya nodded. His face looked like that of a man condemned to the gallows. With the negotiation over with, Nicola sat back and drank the now lukewarm tea.

  Thirty minutes later, Nicola ran out of the mission. She vomited the bitter tea into the gutter at the side of the street.

  27

  12th December

  ‘Ouch! Fuck!’ Dmitri’s hand stung as his fist connected with Kolya’s eye, leaving not even the slightest mark. Kolya caught his arm by the wrist. ‘I can’t believe you would betray me,’ Dmitri said. ‘After all this time – all these years.’ When Kolya had asked him to stay on after teaching music to the children at the shelter, he’d assumed they were a person down and needed an extra hand. Never in a million years had he expected… this.

  ‘I did it for your own good,’ Kolya growled. ‘I’ve got your back, just like always.’ He let go of Dmitri’s wrist.

  ‘I walked away from her. She was nothing to me.’

  Kolya laughed grimly. ‘Too bad you never got to join the Young Pioneers. They would have loved you. You believe any bullshit, don’t you? Even your own.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘I saw the way you looked at her,’ Kolya said. ‘She was not “nothing” to you. She deserved an explanation. More than what you gave her.’

  ‘She deserved? What about me?’

  Kolya shook his head. ‘What do you deserve, Dima? You make your own choices.’

  Dmitri sat down in the chair and put his head in his hands, letting his hair fall across his face. When Kolya had told him that Nicola had come here, seeking him out, he’d felt, for an instant, such a desperate surge of joy that it had dispelled all rational thought; eclipsed all the reasons for what he had done. But only for an instant. Now, all that was left was the shame. That she knew the truth – the ugly, sickening truth – about him.

  ‘Come on,’ Kolya said, sitting down next to him. ‘You know how it breaks my heart to see you like this. I meant what I said – I thought I was doing the right thing. Trying to spare you another Irina.’

  ‘I know,’ Dmitri said, not raising his head. Another Irina.

  ‘Why don’t I go make some tea?’

  ‘What did she say?’ Dmitri looked up. ‘How did she react?’

  Kolya leaned back in the chair, pursing his lips. ‘I wouldn’t say she took it all that well.’

  ‘Oh God.’ He closed his eyes. Irina’s face ballooned in his mind. Her words twisting themselves through the fibres of his mind. Monster…

  ‘She was shocked and horrified about what happened to you. At the cruelty of it. Just like anyone would be.’

  ‘I never wanted her – or anyone else – to pity me.’ His stomach felt like it might turn inside out. ‘What else?’

  ‘I explained to her about Irina. And the others.’

  ‘You told her all that?’ he practically choked.

  ‘Yes, because I can put it in a way she understands. And because, in some ways, I think that you two are very similar. Though, I’m afraid she ran out before I got to the bottom of her reasons.’

  ‘So for all your so-called explanations, this is how it ends. She ran out.’ Dmitri opened and closed his fist, watching the tendons stretch and strain. ‘You know that when I get up from this chair, Nico
lai, we will never speak again. You were the one person I thought I could count on. The one person I have truly looked up to all these years. But what you have done is unforgivable.’

  Dmitri stood up, half-hoping Kolya would make a move to stop him. That this whole thing was a great big joke. But Kolya stayed put, his mouth set in a silent line. Dmitri knew he should walk out. Go home or go find Tanya at the bakery. Go to the church and play piano, like he’d been doing for hours on end every night. But somehow, his desire to play the piano had become tangled up with his desire for Nicola Taylor. Both, he knew, were something that could never be fulfilled. This must be what it was like to go mad.

  ‘No, Dima, you’re not mad.’

  Dmitri didn’t even realise that he’d spoken aloud – that he was pacing back and forth in the small room – until Kolya answered.

  ‘You are who you are, and I am sorry if now I have made things worse. That is what I wanted to avoid. You can leave, of course, and think the worst of me. We will never speak again.’ He let out a long sigh. ‘But before you go, I must know that you will be safe.’

  Dmitri laughed bitterly. ‘If you know me so well, Nicolai, then you know your fears are unfounded. I’m too much of a coward.’

  ‘The vodka bottle makes men brave.’

  ‘I haven’t had a drink since Irina got married.’

  ‘Yes, and what a state you were in then. It is something that I never want to see again. Please do not leave. Let me make some tea.’

  The years flashed before Dmitri’s eyes. Of all the time he’d spent hating himself, this moment was among the worst. He owed it to himself to go. But he simply lacked the energy.

  Kolya got up and left the room. Dmitri sat down, staring at the beige walls that felt like a prison cell. Time and time again he had refused referrals for therapy, convincing himself that it was weak to seek help; that he had his life under control. As Kolya had pointed out, he made his own choices. Usually, the wrong ones.

  Kolya came back in with a tray of black tea and a pot of strawberry jam. Dmitri was grateful – he knew Kolya had developed a taste for the Earl Grey tea that Nigel drank, rather than plain Russian black tea. Right now, tea seemed the only thing that was still right with the world. He spooned jam into a cup in silence. The tea still needed to steep.

  ‘So you have decided my fate,’ Dmitri said, his voice hoarse. ‘You have told this woman everything about me. I hope you have also planned out what the hell I am supposed to do now.’

  ‘No,’ Kolya said. ‘I don’t know what’s in her head. I gave her the choice to walk away if the truth was too hard to bear.’

  ‘It seems she made her choice.’

  ‘You did too,’ Kolya reminded him. ‘You walked away from her. And yet, she was not shaken off so easily.’ He shrugged.

  ‘You like her.’ Dmitri narrowed his eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ Kolya smiled sadly. ‘I like her. When she walked in here – both times, actually – I thought to myself that my boy was finally growing up. I thought: what a dark horse, he is. All along, he’s been waiting, biding his time until she came along. Ruining his precious Christmas carolling. Shaking him from his world of fairy tales and strawberry tea.’ He smiled wistfully. ‘But although I like her, I love you. I may have hurt you, Dima, but I would not have her do the same.’

  Dmitri sighed. He poured the tea into his cup. ‘Isn’t that my choice?’

  Kolya raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘Is that your choice?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Dmitri shook his head slowly. ‘I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s like she’s there in everything I do. I think about that day, and how it was to be with her, and…’ he took a breath, ‘how wrong it felt to walk away even though I knew I was doing the right thing.’ He took a sip of tea, feeling the burn in his throat. ‘And now, she came here.’

  ‘Yes…’ Kolya hesitated.

  Dmitri sighed. It was not the reaction he’d hoped for. So often, Kolya and Tanya had harangued him to take a risk. That all women were not Irina. But, in this case, Kolya didn’t sound convinced, and neither was he. Nicola hadn’t so much walked away, as run for the hills. Why should a woman like her settle for a man like him – damaged, deformed, ugly? But Tanya had said that if something happened to Mark, she would love him even more. Surely, despite what he’d told himself over all these years, it was not impossible? But a woman like Nicola?

  Either way, he knew that he’d never be able to face her or talk to her. But was there another way? How could he find out once and for all, if there really was no hope?

  ‘You have made things very hard for me,’ Dmitri said. ‘And things were already hard enough. Tanya, I am sure has told you about this damn application.’

  ‘Yes. I was going to ask you about it.’ Kolya seemed relieved at the change in subject. ‘She is very worried that you are not doing it.’

  Dmitri turned and found his bag that had fallen on the floor aside the chair. He took the papers out and shoved them at Kolya.

  Kolya took them and frowned. ‘This is completely blank,’ he said. ‘When is it due?’

  ‘Read the first question. In the essay section.’

  Kolya flipped through the pages, squinting at the writing. ‘How will achieving your Doctorate in Choral Music advance your career plans?’ He frowned at Dmitri. ‘That should be easy enough to answer.’

  ‘Yes,’ Dmitri said. ‘The answer is, that it won’t. I’m not filling in the application. I haven’t told Tanya yet. Or Carole-Ann.’

  Kolya moved forward in his chair. Despite his friend’s professional demeanour, Dmitri sensed his anger and disappointment. He took out the page from his notebook that he had written that night in the church. Since putting the words down on the page, he had thought long and hard about this. It really was the only way.

  He handed it to Kolya, who frowned at the Russian script on the page, then began to read aloud.

  ‘When I was eighteen, I lost my place at the Moscow Tchaikovsky Conservatory. I went home to my family in Novosibirsk, Siberia. My father poured lighter fluid on me and I sustained fourth-degree burns over forty per cent of my body, including my chest, torso, arms and hands. Due to my physical condition and immigration to the United Kingdom, I was unable to complete my studies to become a concert pianist in Russia. I am now thirty-six years old. I work as a school music teacher, conduct a choir and have a number of private students. For many years, I have been unable to play the piano other than in my capacity as a teacher. This is due to something called post-traumatic stress disorder. However, I have recently begun to make an effort to overcome this condition, and I have started to play the piano again. At present, my goal is to work towards resuming my studies of piano. Whether this is for the purpose of performing or teaching, I do not know at this time and would like to seek guidance.’

  Kolya stopped reading and put down the paper. ‘Come here,’ he commanded roughly, standing up.

  Dmitri stood up. He had thought that he’d feel nervous or embarrassed hearing the words he’d written spoken aloud. Expected to feel disloyal – well, he did – but then again, what else could he do? If there was even a chance, a dim flicker of hope, then didn’t he have an obligation to try? And as Kolya practically smothered him in his arms, and Dmitri laid his head on his friend’s chest, for the first time in a very long while, he felt like he’d finally done something right.

  28

  Fire burned inside her head. Flames so hot they turned from orange to blue in the darkness, illuminating the soft, fresh snow. The images screamed and clawed at her. The agony, the senseless cruelty of it. And the fact that had she not been told, she never would have guessed.

  Kolya had given her the option of walking away. She hadn’t walked – she’d run. Her heart ached for Dmitri and what he had suffered. But some people were too complex, some problems too deep. He needed something that she couldn’t give. Now, at least, she knew why he’d lied to her and left her there at the station; understood the finality of the goodbye.
And she didn’t blame him – not any more. He had done the right thing.

  After meeting with Kolya, Nicola had gone back to the office. Gone about her day. Attended her meetings and dialled in to her conference calls, the work a welcome distraction.

  Before leaving for the night, she had put in a month-long holiday request for January. Whether she went away or stayed in London, she needed time and space away from work, away from her normal routine. Focus on her new start. January would be a good time to look for another job. She would use the time off to reconnect with her contacts, and get the process started.

  Nicola spent Saturday working, tidying the house, and putting some more clothing in bags to take to the charity shop at some point – right now she couldn’t face it. Keeping busy, keeping Kolya’s words out of her mind: ‘difficulty making attachments with women’; ‘a deep hatred of his own body’; ‘blames himself for what happened’. Keeping at bay the images in her mind, and the gnawing sense of regret. If she’d been a different person, had more to give… Well, some things couldn’t be changed.

  On Sunday, she went to see Jules. They took the kids: Lottie, and the twins Danny and James, out to lunch at a pub along the river. Jules seemed much brighter. She talked about how she hoped the baby would be a girl and showed Nicola paint swatches for redecorating the nursery. Thankfully, there was no mention of Ollie. There was a part of Nicola that was dying to talk to Jules about Dmitri, but each time she decided to bring it up, a lump formed in her throat.

  After lunch, Nicola watched the children while Jules had her hair and nails done. She played Snakes and Ladders with the twins and spent some time with Lottie looking through a Disney princess fashion book. After a while, she put on a DVD for the kids and went to the kitchen to make herself a coffee. As she was standing there drinking it, looking at the family photos and kids’ artwork on the fridge, Stuart came in.

  ‘Hi Nicola,’ he said. He took a mug from the cupboard and put a teabag into it. ‘Thanks for helping out. I’ve got a closing on Monday and the junior’s off at a wedding. Such a pain, especially this time of year.’