I swallow the crab in my mouth and look at Petra in surprise. “You’re married?”
“You don’t have to look so surprised,” she snaps.
“Actually, it’s a compliment. You look too young to be married,” I say evenly.
“My husband is away on business,” she says haughtily. “Not everyone can take holidays whenever they like.”
“Yes, I’m sure that is what all the truly poor people in Africa say,” I shoot back, taunting her, almost daring her to say more. She sensibly keeps her mouth closed.
The servers bring us melon sorbet to refresh our palates.
“Where did the two of you meet, Cindy?” Marina asks me curiously.
I tell her the story about the supermarket. By the end of it, Babushka appears quite taken with it all, and Marina makes all the right noises, but the ice sisters roll their eyes to each other and mutter in Russian again.
The next course is served. “Roast wood pigeon with black pudding and baby beets,” the main waiter announces as the domes are lifted. I have never eaten pigeon. I like pigeons. Sometimes I feed them in the early morning hours when I’m walking back from the casino. The meat looks dark pink. The black pudding is in little cubes and the beets are shaped into ovals. Some sort of red sauce is artistically dotted around the arrangement of food.
“The puree is made from dried and blended hibiscus flowers,” Babushka explains.
I look up at Alex. He raises his eyebrows enquiringly? I glance at Babushka and she is looking at me with an expectant expression. She has gone to a lot of trouble to create this menu. I know I can’t make a fuss. I cut off a piece of the dark pink meat and chew it. It’s juicy with a deep flavor. If I didn’t know it was pigeon I would have said it was perfectly cooked and seasoned.
Babushka watches me as I chew, and then she smiles. “At least it’s not horse steak, huh?” she says.
Jesus Christ! I stop chewing. The tiny morsel of meat suddenly makes my mouth feel too full. I actually want to spit the mush in my mouth out. I catch myself and force myself to swallow the food in my mouth. No matter what I mustn’t offend Babushka on my first night here. I nod my head, forcing myself to smile as I reach blindly for my glass of wine.
Babushka throws her head back and laughs.
“Your face,” she cries merrily. “As if I’d condone eating horse when we have a stable full of faithful friends here. I just had to do it, I’m sorry.”
I laugh, relieved that she’s joking. I like the old woman. I like her wicked sense of humor.
“Babushka, behave yourself,” Alex chides, but he’s laughing too.
“Ah, come on now, Alex, I’m old now and I have to do something to amuse myself.”
“You were doing this when you were not old,” Alex says dryly.
“Yes, I suppose I was. Now, you said you’re having a long engagement. How long is long? Because I’d rather like to see the wedding and maybe even a baby or two before I croak.”
This time, Babushka doesn’t follow up the comment with laughter. This time, she’s deadly serious. My eyes find Alex’s and for a split-second I catch that expression of dismay that crosses them. I feel my own face burning. I really hate that Babushka isn’t going to get to see any of that. She seems like a genuinely sweet old lady and her affection for Alex is clear to see. We’re lying to her and it’s not right. And he knows it too.
“Typical bachelor reaction that, Alex,” Viktor says cynically. He must have caught the quick expression too.
Alex gives him a pained smile and then turns to Babushka. “We’ve only been together four months Babushka. I know compared to Petra that’s not a lot of time, but we want to do this right. We want to really get to know each other before we get married.”
Babushka nods her head dutifully although she is clearly very disappointed. “I understand, Alex.” She turns to me then, her eyes twinkling. “Just don’t wait too long or Cindy might get bored of waiting and find someone who’ll move a little faster.”
I laugh, but I shake my head. “Oh, no chance of that. Alex is the one for me.”
This gets another mumbling in Russian from one of the ice sisters. I don’t know which one and quite frankly, I don’t care. I’m already over their spoilt little asses. I do wish I spoke Russian now though. It would be good to know what they’re saying, and then just drop in a casual comment in Russian later on and let them know I know everything they’ve been saying about me. The conversation turns to more casual topics. The general state of the world economy. I work my way through the wood pigeon, all the while telling myself it’s not one of my pigeons. My pigeons are safe in England.
Then Babushka says, “I thought we’d give you a choice for dessert. You can either have Eton Mess or a traditional Russian dessert call chak chak. It’s fried dough coated in honey.”
“The chak chak sounds delicious,” I say decisively.
Babushka smiles at me. “You won’t regret your decision. Our chef is particularly good at making it. We eat it at celebrations so it seemed fitting that we have it tonight to celebrate my boy finally finding a woman who can put up with his bad habits.”
“Alex has bad habits? Pray tell me more.”
This gets a laugh from Babushka and a quick shake of the head from Alex.
“Don’t do it, Babushka,” he warns with a laugh. “Not if you want the wedding to ever go ahead.”
A plate set before me holding several small sticky balls and a scoop of delicate rose ice cream.
I slip a spoon of chak chak into my mouth and find it to be every bit as good as Babushka said it would be.
“How did Alex propose to you, Cindy?” Babushka asks.
I swallow and throw Alex a cheeky look. “I really should let Alex tell this story. It’s a really good one.”
Alex gives me an indulgent look, but underneath there was a subtle warning. “It was our three-month anniversary. I took Cindy to the same Italian place where we had our first date. Can you believe I was so nervous Cindy had to keep asking me what was wrong. I kept saying I was fine, but she must have known I wasn’t because I was being so clumsy.”
He lifts his glass of wine, takes a sip, and watches me from over the rim before continuing. I hope he doesn’t overdo it because I can’t imagine him being nervous around a woman.
“I knocked a glass of wine over and must have dropped my fork on the floor at least three times. Even so I managed to wait until after we’d finished our meal because I knew the manager would be playing our song. I took Cindy by the hand and asked her to dance with me. She was horrified.”
He looks at me and smiles. “Do you remember how horrified you were?”
By now I am as enraptured by his story as Babushka, but I catch myself, and nod my head. “Yes, how could I forget?”
Where is he going with this story? I don’t know but I am as eager to hear the end as everyone else. I think my delighted look will help convince Babushka we’re in love, that I’m hanging on Alex’s every word, and enjoying reliving the moment he asked me to marry him.
He turns back to Babushka. The whole table is listening, no doubt shocked that Alex would ever be so romantic and sentimental. Even the ice sisters are engrossed in the story.
“I told her it didn’t matter if no one else was dancing. That maybe those people didn’t have a reason to dance, but we did. I led Cindy out into the middle of the restaurant. She was wearing a beautiful silky pink dress, and she had never looked more beautiful to me than she did in that moment. I took her in my arms and we danced. And when the song ended, Cindy was laughing. She no longer looked embarrassed. I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me. She said yes, obviously.”
Babushka looks delighted with the story. I can understand why. My own heart is fluttering at the thought of being proposed to in that way. I can almost feel my supposed embarrassment and then my joy. It makes me see a new side to Alex. The side that maybe isn’t quite so dark.
“Oh, look at her,” Babushka says, clapping h
er hands. “She looks even more love struck than she did before, and she already looked like she was about to swoon.”
I smile and look down at my now empty plate. Maybe I do look love struck, and if I really do, it’s not because I’m acting. I’m not. Alex glances at me and smiles and I smile back at him, feeling my cheeks start to burn.
“You’re embarrassing her,” Marina says. “Leave her alone, mum.”
Babushka laughs and shakes her head.
“She’s not blushing. That’s the flush of love,” she says.
Now I’m definitely blushing. I look at Alex, wanting him to rescue me from this, to say something that will move the conversation on a bit. Instead, he just looks back at me with a smile. I don’t know if he’s smiling because my embarrassment is amusing him or because he is happy I’m giving such a convincing performance.
Petra says something in Russian and the attention finally shifts away from me and to her as Babushka reminds her to speak in English.
“Sorry,” she says sweetly. “Force of habit.”
Except, it wasn’t. It was obviously intended to make me feel like an outsider.
“I was just asking if you’re both planning to have a big wedding,” she says in English.
“No,” I say.
“Yes,” Alex says at the same time.
Dammit. I laugh to cover up any awkwardness. “I guess we still have a lot to discuss in relation to the plans,” I say.
“Yes, so it would seem,” Petra says, her eyes shining with speculation and interest. She looks like someone who thinks she has found the code to a safe full of treasure.
God, what is her problem? It’s almost like she’s jealous, but what does she have to be jealous of? She’s got her own husband, her own family. And Alex is her cousin. It’s not like he’s an old flame.
Alex swiftly moves the conversation on, asking Viktor a question about how his job is going. Viktor tells him about a new project he’s working on and as I sip at the coffee that seemed to materialize in front of me out of nowhere, I relax a little. The heat is off me and Alex, and our imaginary romance, at least for a while. I marvel at how I didn’t notice the coffee appearing before me. I wonder if I will ever get accustomed to be waited on in this extraordinary way.
Once everyone has finished their coffee, Babushka bestows both Alex and me with an indulgent, loving smile.
“Both of you must be tired after all of the travelling today. Why don’t we call it a night? We’ve got plenty of time tomorrow to catch up and for me to get to know Cindy.”
I nod, grateful at the excuse to slip away. I don’t think I can handle any more questions right now.
“Alex, Petra, Anastasia,” Babushka calls. “See your aunt and uncle out. I’m a bit tired. I think I’ll retire for the night.”
Babushka is clearly in charge here and it is kind of funny watching everyone take their orders from this tiny old lady. Viktor and Marina jump to their feet at her words. Alex stands up and even Petra and Anastasia get up with no argument.
“I’ll escort you to your quarters,” Alex offers.
“Ah, no. You stay with Cindy.”
“No, no,” I interrupt quickly. “I’ll wait here for you, Alex.”
Viktor and Marina bid me goodbye. I sit, enjoying the moment of silence as the others head out of the dining room. I still haven’t decided whether or not Viktor and Marina like me. They aren’t openly hostile, but there is an invisible wall around them. Maybe that’s normal. Maybe they’re just getting to know me in their own time. I can’t say the same for Petra and Anastasia though. They clearly won’t be joining my fan club anytime soon, but that’s ok with me. As long as Babushka is happy, I’m doing my job.
After a couple of minutes, the door opens and Petra and Anastasia come back in.
“Alex is still with Babushka so we came to keep you company,” Petra says. Her sweet smile would almost be enough to fool me if she hadn’t been such a little bitch all night.
I don’t bite. I just smile at her. “How lovely,” I say, my sweetness as fake as hers.
“So you’re staying in the room adjoining Alex’s room?” she says, as she takes a seat opposite me. Anastasia hangs back for a second, but then takes the seat next to her.
I wonder where this is going, but I nod my head.
“No one has stayed in that room for over fifty years,” Petra says.
“Well at least not for more than an hour or two,” Anastasia adds with a laugh.
It’s clear they want me to ask why. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of playing into their hands, but I am curious as to what they’re up to, and I decide to play along. “Why not? Is it haunted or something?”
Anastasia looks a little disappointed. It was clearly their intention to tell me the room is haunted and I’ve spoilt her fun. Petra, clearly the ringleader of the ice sisters, isn’t put off from the game quite so easily.
“Yes,” she says. “By Babushka’s aunt. She went crazy in that room and hanged herself using the sheets. They locked her in there. They had to for the safety of the family.”
“Sounds about right for the times,” I agree, humoring her.
“People say she’s still in there, howling and moaning, looking for a way out.”
“Well the door isn’t locked now, is it?” I ask with a wry smile.
“Well no, but her spirit is confined to the room with her dying in there,” Petra says.
“Right,” I agree slowly.
I hear footsteps echoing in the hallway and heading back for the dining room.
“Anyway, just be careful.” Petra smiles. “We’d hate to see you leaving that room in a strait jacket.”
I’m sure she would hate that. The door opens and Alex comes back.
“Are you ready for bed, Cindy or do you want to stay up for a while?”
The last thing I want is to spend more time with his cousins. I fake a yawn and stand up. “Bed for me. Good night ladies.”
Petra and Anastasia wish me goodnight and Alex and I head for the stairs.
“What were those two saying while we were gone? They looked pretty sheepish when I came in,” he says.
I decide against telling him what they were saying. They were just trying to get a rise out of me, and I think I made it pretty clear their stories weren’t scaring me. I don’t want to tell Alex and have him mention it to them. That would make it seem like I was partially buying the bullshit they were selling.
“Oh, nothing much,” I say. “Just chit chat, really. They’re very protective of you, aren’t they?”
“That’s one way of saying they’re rude and standoffish,” Alex says with a chuckle.
I laugh with him. He’s seen straight through my attempt at being polite about them.
“They are protective though. Of Babushka,” he says.
“Maybe you should tell them the truth,” I say. “Then they’ll know you’re doing this to make her happy.”
“Screw that,” Alex says, stopping in his tracks and looking down at me with a frown. “They are extremely competitive and they’d do anything to make me look bad in my aunt’s eyes. Promise me you won’t let them manipulate you into telling them anything.”
I quickly reassure him. “I won’t say a thing, I swear. The less conversation I have to have with those two, the better.”
Cindy
I wake up suddenly. The darkness around me is denser than I am used to. The city of London never sleeps and there is always light from the streetlamps or cars filtering into my room. For a second I am not even sure where I am. Then it comes back to me.
Alex.
Babushka.
I think I hear a tapping noise outside of my door. That must have been what woke me up. Is it Alex? But no. Surely Alex wouldn’t come to my room in the middle of the night. He promised this trip wouldn’t be like that, and I believe he meant it. Plus, there’s an adjoining door. Why would he risk being spotted in the hallway when he could just come through there?
I close my eyes and let myself fall back to sleep, but just as I am starting to slip into the soft darkness, I hear it again. I jerk awake and stay unmoving, even holding my breath so there are no sounds coming from me, and listen more closely. It’s not so much a tapping sound. It’s more of a scraping sound, like … wtf … nails running over wood.
I sit bolt upright and listen again. Every sense in my body is wide awake and on high alert.
Now I can hear footsteps too. They cover the width of my room and then go back again as though someone is pacing restlessly outside of my door. Or something, I think with an icy chill running down my spine. My hand rushes out in the dark to switch on the bedside light.
Instantly, the sounds stop.
Breathing in quick shallow breaths, I stare at the door expectantly. But nothing happens. No movements. No sounds. Everything is still and silent. London is never this silent. The peace is broken when I start laughing with sheer relief. I realize what’s happening here. It has to be one or both of the sisters out there, playing a trick on me, trying to scare me half to death.
I shake my head. What the hell is wrong with those two? They’d clearly decided to hate me before I even got here. They’re like teenagers. So childish. I glance at the alarm clock. Well, well, it’s just turned midnight. They have a sense of drama. I’ll give them that.
Well girls, if you want to scare me off, it’s going to take a little bit more than walking up and down scratching at the walls. I switch off the light and wait. The noises start again. I have to admit the nails against the wall is pure genius. Even knowing it is the two evil stepsisters doesn’t stop the hairs on my arms from standing. I let them continue a few more seconds, before I push the light duvet back and get to my feet quietly. I tip toe across the room, hoping none of the floorboards creak. They don’t.
I reach the door without making a sound.
I almost give myself away by laughing when I imagine their faces when I throw the door open and turn the tables on them. I wonder what excuse they’ll come up with to be prowling around in front of my room like two demented sisters in the middle of the night.
Nice Day For A White Wedding Page 9