The office was buzzing when she returned, and a few voices hushed when she entered. Nicola had little doubt that the rumour mill was churning over the news that Ollie and his wife were on the rocks. She hoped that was all it was.
For the rest of the afternoon, she lost herself in a frenzy of meetings and conference calls with people around the world. The adrenalin felt good, it masked the turmoil of emotions just beneath the surface. She managed people, delegated work, had financial models and reports checked and rechecked. If people were busy, they didn’t ask questions. If she was busy, she wouldn’t question what she’d decided to do.
She glanced at the gingerbread heart, in its box on her desk. The memory stick was just a thing, but it’s wires and silicon contained a promise. When she thought of the gift he had given her, she felt a strange shifting sensation inside of her. Could she do this? Really do this?
At half four, she left her desk and went down to the shopping mall. Spent half an hour making a few purchases. Utter madness – had she lost it completely?
When Chrissie came in at half five, she frowned at the box with the heart, then at Nicola.
‘I’m going now to get the train,’ she said. ‘Have you eaten?’
Nicola looked up from the document she was reading, her mind a blank. ‘Yes… No. I don’t know.’
‘Here.’ Chrissie put a box of salad from Pret on her desk. ‘Nicola, are you going to be OK? I thought you might have… well, everyone’s heard about Ollie and his wife.’
‘Has my name come up?’ Nicola queried.
Chrissie raised an eyebrow. ‘Not in a way I couldn’t handle. But have you decided what you’re going to do? I mean, are you and he—’
‘We’re over. Like I said before.’
Chrissie let out a long breath. ‘What about Dmitri?’
Hearing his name, the music began to play in her head.
‘I don’t know,’ she said.
Chrissie smiled. ‘You’re not going to stay too late, I hope.’
‘You know me.’
The smile faded from Chrissie’s face. ‘See you tomorrow, Nicola.’
‘Yeah. Thanks, Chrissie.’
Nicola went back to reading the document. She wouldn’t think about what happened next. She ate the salad, went down the hall to a meeting in the conference room.
Seven o’clock. Eight.
She was too busy to do anything. There was too much work to do. The plan – no, she wouldn’t think about it. But at every moment it was there, just below the surface, gathering force.
Nine.
Ten.
Anticipation was swirling inside her as she returned to her office from the conference room. Opening her desk drawer, she took out the bag with the purchase she had made earlier at the shopping mall. Was she really going to do this? What was she expecting to happen?
She took the bag down the hall to the loo and locked herself inside. Getting undressed, she changed into the midnight blue satin and lace bra and panties she’d bought. It was ten o’clock in the evening. Most likely, she’d end up angry and frustrated, the car waiting in the street as she got out and banged on the door to the church. Feeling incredibly foolish. He had told her that he often went to the church after his rehearsals and concerts, staying late into the night. As she changed into the clothing that no man had touched, she couldn’t keep the possibilities from her mind.
Remembering what Kolya had said, she heeded the warning. The thing that had happened to Dmitri in his past, the horrific crime that had shaped him – she was out of her depth to heal him. She put her clothes back on and looked at herself in the mirror. All she had to offer was right here in front of her.
As she walked back to her office, she texted the number of the executive car company, asking for an immediate pick-up. It was now almost ten-thirty. The odds were miniscule. And yet, she had to try. She thought for a minute of Ollie in the little hotel on Charlotte Street. Maybe he’d wait there all night for her, or maybe find another woman to keep him company. Or maybe he’d get bored and go home. Beg his wife to come back. She hoped so.
It took half an hour before the car arrived. By then she had built up the negatives like a high, insurmountable wall. There were so many reasons why she shouldn’t be doing this. Too many. In the end, she told Patrick, the driver, to take her home to Richmond. She couldn’t do it…
The car sped down the embankment towards the west. Past Somerset House, towards the London Eye across the Thames. Tonight the moon was a slender silver crescent, hanging low on the horizon. She relived the bubbling sense of joy she’d felt in those few brief hours that had changed her forever. Falling on the ice, the view from the bridge, snow swirling in the air, a kiss at a station. And the music… always, the music.
‘Actually,’ Nicola called out, ‘I want to stop somewhere on the way. Turn off at Westminster Bridge and go towards Clapham.’
*
Dmitri loosened his bow tie and undid the top button of his shirt. Tonight’s performance had been a triumph and a nightmare. It was the Christmas showcase at the sixth-form where he taught, and he’d had four students singing, in addition to the school choir. He’d dressed formally for the occasion and tried to look the part: smart, confident, a talented and inspirational teacher. He’d played the piano for his soloists, conducted the choir in their Christmas numbers. Yet, all the while he’d been thinking about her with that man; that kiss. About how stupid he’d been. And about the bottle of vodka in his bag.
After the concert, he’d been on his way home. It was one bottle. He had nothing on tomorrow until the evening’s rehearsal. A few shots in private, no one ever need know. Drown her from his mind. Was she on her way to meet that man right now at some hotel, or were they together at her house? Before today, he’d had his precious vision of her to cling to, but now, all that was spoiled.
When he got to the Tube station, the line was suspended. Just what he fucking needed. He’d gone back out again to the bus stop. None of the buses went near the flat, but one went to the church. He’d promised Tanya that he was playing piano again. Why had he done that? Gone and opened his mouth? But in truth, he still did want to play. She didn’t matter now, but the music did. Tonight he was going work on Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven, and then the Chopin Nocturne he’d recorded on the memory stick. Yes, they were pieces that reminded him of her – so beautiful, dark, and perfect – but he needed to get past that. Once he was inside the music, he would be out of reach of the pain. But the bottle sang out to him too. One shot. No one ever need know.
He’d got on the bus to the church, and now there he was. At the piano, the bottle still wrapped up in paper in his bag. He raked the hair back from his eyes and began his warm-up exercises. He’d play for a bit, just enough to ease his conscience, then go home. Focus on the anticipation… the cool, bitter liquid hitting his tongue, that slow, cold burn in his throat. And then the swimming feeling as the warmth took over, and for a few minutes, everything would seem right with the world. He’d go outside, talk to his father, smooth things over somehow. Glittering eyes at the edge of the fire. The snowflakes swirling in the air, the moon rising above the trees…
*
The door opened when Nicola pushed on it. Immediately, she felt a rushing sensation as her ears processed the sound. The smooth notes, moonlight rippling over dark water. She recognised the piece, or thought she did. Beethoven. There were depths of despair in those notes that frightened her, but also a profound beauty. The tension knotted in her abdomen as her heels clicked on the stone floor; she didn’t try to hide the sound. This was it, it should be simple, and yet, each step was like walking through quicksand. She went up the stairs.
The playing stopped for a moment, broke off in mid-phrase. He’d heard her. He knew she was there. No going back now. The music began again, each note sparkling in the air before disappearing, blending seamlessly with the next.
It seemed a long time that she stood there, watching him. The rise and fall of his sh
oulders, the muscles of his back, his head moving as he played, his long, graceful fingers on the keys.
She walked forward and stood behind him. His tie was loose. Caressing his neck, she removed it. She began unbuttoning his shirt, ignoring his sharp intake of breath and the tightening of his muscles.
He stopped playing; swivelled towards her. Panic on his face.
‘Shh,’ she said, kneeling down between his knees. She undid more and more of the buttons.
‘No, Nicola,’ he whispered. His hand trembled as he put it over hers. She took his fingers to her lips and kissed them.
‘Yes,’ she said, opening his shirt.
Her breath caught as she saw the scars. A wasteland of twisted skin, tortured like ridges of cooled lava. And yet, with a beating heart, hard and alive. She began at his waist and slowly ran her tongue upward. Exploring, tasting his skin. His stomach muscles contracted and his hands reached down to tangle in her hair, and for a moment she thought he was going to push her away. She continued, kissing, teasing, running her fingers along the lines of the scars. Solid, real, and part of him. She was aware of his body shaking, the weighty drop of a tear. He was crying.
‘You are beautiful,’ she said, meaning it more than any words could express. She flicked her tongue where his nipple had been and he responded with a gasp. His hand cupped her chin and she let him raise her head. She looked into his dark eyes and saw everything imprinted there, every moment of his life, from the pain, to the joy inside of him, and finally, the decision – to give in to his own desire. Then he pulled her to him, kissing her with a powerful force and need, parting her mouth with his tongue. And she felt that same drowning joy as she had when they’d kissed at the station, as she drank him in, only half aware of him lifting her up so that she was straddling him and she felt his barely contained desire. Her skin was cold fire as he took off her jacket and her blouse. He ran his fingers over the midnight blue lace and freed her breasts, kissing them and sucking hard at her nipples. She arched her back, moaning with pleasure, as his hands and mouth possessed her.
‘I’ve got a car waiting outside,’ she said, gasping out the words. ‘I’m taking you home with me.’
‘I’m not sure I can wait that long.’
She laughed, pulling his mouth to hers and licking his lips. ‘Maybe you wouldn’t have had to wait if you hadn’t walked away from me.’
His eyes sparkled, as he ran his hands down her back, pulling her tighter against him. ‘You know why I did it.’
‘Yes. Now get your things.’
*
Dmitri kissed her again, even deeper than before, and lifted her off him. Her green eyes were soft as she put on her coat and zipped it up, without bothering with the rest of her clothes. He felt drunk on her scent, on the molten feeling inside him. He let her go down the stairs before him, and she too seemed a bit unsteady on her feet.
At the bottom of the stairs, she raised her face so he could kiss her. Their lips met, and he ran his fingers along the back of her neck under her hair, so that she shivered from something beside the cold. He didn’t want to spend a single second without some part of his body touching hers.
He closed the heavy wooden door of the church behind them and locked it. The car was waiting at the bottom of the steps. They went over and he helped her inside.
‘Excuse me a second,’ he said. He walked quickly over to the corner where there was a bin. He took the paper bag with the bottle out of his satchel, and threw it in. It seemed like another lifetime when he’d considered taking that dark road. Now, all of a sudden, every corner of his soul was illuminated.
‘What was that?’ she said as he climbed into the taxi next to her.
He turned to her, his hand brushing the porcelain skin of her cheek. ‘I saw you earlier,’ he said. ‘I waited outside your work. To see if maybe you would come. I saw you outside a restaurant. With a man. Then, I don’t know. I think I lost hope.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, tracing the scars on his bare hands. ‘I… it was all a bloody mess. I had to sort it. Ollie – well, he’s no longer with his wife.’
Dmitri instantly felt a sharp pang of concern, breaking through the trance-like state. ‘So why did you come to me?’ he said.
‘Because I want you.’ She reached over and touched him again, running her hands underneath his shirt. Where he was most vulnerable. ‘It was wrong of me to go to Kolya, but I’m glad I did. It helped me to understand, and then, I had to decide.’
He gripped her hand before she could take away all power of rational thought. The words she said, her touch… but he had to know. ‘You have seen me, Nicola,’ he said in a low voice. ‘What I am. How can someone as beautiful as you…’ he hesitated, ‘settle for that?’
She laughed then, the sound like a balm to his soul. ‘For the first time in my entire life, I’m not settling.’ Her hand continued to move, and her lips caressed the skin close to his ear. ‘I know you’ve been hurt, you’ve endured so much. But I don’t want you to think of that ever again.’
‘I can’t think at all,’ he said, as he tilted her lips to his.
She unzipped her coat partway. Without caring about the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror, he leaned in and kissed her neck, the tops of her breasts. He could feel a wild tide of desire rising inside him once again. Was Richmond-on-Thames far away?
She laughed, and he realised that he’d spoken aloud. ‘Quick as you can, Patrick,’ she said.
They spent most of the journey touching, kissing. Not even in his most secret fantasies had he imagined a feeling of such joy, such a deep sense of rightness. He let the feelings flood him, drown out the worries that were still whispering in the background. Was this a one-off? Was she really choosing him?
As the taxi drew near to Richmond Town centre, she turned briefly to look out the window. Even at this hour, many of the shops and houses were lit up with millions of fairy lights for Christmas.
‘I’ve never had a man back to my house before,’ she said in a low voice.
‘Never?’
She turned back to him then. The look on her face – he recognised it only from a single fleeting moment on the London Eye when the door had closed and she’d realised that they were alone. Fear. But why would she feel fear?
He immediately sat back, keeping hold only of her hand. The car turned on to a smaller road leading away from the high street. ‘Are you OK with it?’ he said, quietly, next to her ear. ‘If you would prefer, we could go somewhere else.’
She laughed then, and the dark moment seemed to have passed. ‘No,’ she said, pulling him close again, ‘it’s taken me enough effort to track you down. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Especially since you’ve never given me your phone number.’
‘Ah,’ he said, teasing his tongue along her chin to her mouth. ‘You know – one can never be too careful these days. But in this case, I might make an exception.’
Part V
‘As the flames began to scorch Ivan’s skin, the Firebird spread her wings and the bars of the golden cage shuddered and broke apart. The bird lifted Ivan into the air and they flew back, through winter and spring, to the magic garden of the Tsar.
As the walls were in sight, the Firebird began to falter, as the heat became too much to bear. She crashed to the ground beneath the tree of golden apples.
“I have brought you home,” she said. “But now, I am dying.”
“No,” said Ivan. Risking the heat of the flames, Ivan held her close. Three crystal tears fell on to her fiery head. And there, before his eyes, she was transformed. Into a beautiful princess with hair of flames and skin of snow, and eyes the clear blue of the summer sky. And he kissed her, and loved her, and together they lived…’
– ‘The Firebird’, The Anthology of Russian Tales
33
So this was what it felt like. Her mind tried to process all the different sensations, while her body made it impossible to think at all. The car pulled into the little alleyway th
at led to her house. She felt full to overflowing. His touch on her skin, his taste, his warmth. Every cell in her body was vibrating with life. This was right; this was good. Things that had been missing from every casual encounter or so-called relationship in the past. She had been right to take a risk, to follow the light that led upwards, from a dark place, into the sky.
‘Thanks, Patrick,’ she said to the driver. ‘See you soon.’
‘My pleasure,’ the man said. He would never look at her the same way again, but what did she care? She was aware of being almost naked under her coat, every second delicious with anticipation.
She led Dmitri across the cobbled yard. On either side, the other houses still had their Christmas lights twinkling in the windows. Her house was dark.
‘Let me guess which one is yours,’ he joked.
‘Very funny.’ She smiled wryly.
The house was cold as they entered – the heating had gone off hours ago. She flipped on the light and adjusted the thermostat. Other than the cleaner, and her sister, she never had visitors. It was her private, sacred space. In the car, she’d had a moment of worrying whether she could do this, trust herself not to ruin everything. Dmitri had picked up on it right away, and she’d felt the tension rise in him. And she’d been sorry for it. But now, he was here; just like she’d planned. Exactly as she wanted it to be.
As soon as the door was shut behind them, he took her in his arms. ‘More than anything in the world,’ he said, ‘I want to take this coat off of you.’ He played with the zipper at her chin. ‘But I think you should warm up first.’
She laughed, breathing in the scent of him. He was so easy to be with. ‘Why don’t I make us some coffee? Or do you prefer tea?’
‘Tea, preferably with one spoonful of strawberry jam,’ he said, with a bemused smile.
‘No!’
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