Moonlight on the Thames Page 8

  ‘And please will you introduce me to your lovely guest?’ The big man’s smile was open and friendly and his accent was similar to Dmitri’s. He was about six-foot six and was wearing a denim shirt, corduroy trousers and Doc Martens. Next to him, Nicola felt very small.

  ‘Nicola, this is Nicolai Sergeivich. An old friend.’

  ‘Oh please,’ the man frowned at Dmitri, then smiled back at her, ‘call me Kolya. We’re all friends here.’

  ‘Hello,’ Nicola said. She was a little confused by the names. She’d worked with Russian clients before and vaguely recalled that they had a lot of nicknames and formal patronymic names. If she opened her mouth, she’d probably get it completely wrong.

  Dmitri switched to Russian, and the two men spoke with animated gesticulations for almost a minute. Her itch to leave grew stronger.

  Dmitri finally stopped talking and Kolya turned to her, returning to English. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘We were just catching up. May I call you Nicola?’

  She nodded and shook the large hand he held out to her.

  ‘It’s very nice of you to give your time to us today,’ Kolya said. ‘As you can see…’ he gestured around him, ‘we’re very busy this time of year.’

  ‘Yes, I see that.’

  ‘Now, if you’ll come with me, I’ll show you around. Normally, I’d need you to fill out a form before volunteering. But since you’re a friend of Dmitri’s…’ He turned and began to walk towards the serving window and the kitchen.

  Nicola shot Dmitri a glare. ‘Are you coming too?’ she hissed.

  ‘I’m volunteering in a different way.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘One that you’ll really hate.’

  Shaking her head, she stalked off after the giant of a man. He went through a door next to the serving window. Inside, there were two other men in aprons and hairnets, who were cooking and plating up food.

  As soon as they were inside the kitchen, Kolya turned to her again.

  ‘How do you know Dmitri?’ he said.

  It might have been her imagination, but he seemed less friendly now. Maybe he was being protective of his friend, or maybe he didn’t like the fact that she was so obviously not happy to be here. Either way, she knew there was no point in trying to bullshit him.

  ‘I made a scene at his carolling concert,’ she said, meeting Kolya’s gaze unflinchingly. ‘I’m “The Heckler”.’

  For a long second he peered at her, then began to roar with laughter.

  ‘Are you?’ he said, when finally he stopped. ‘Yes, I can see why you have made an impression on Dmitri.’

  ‘Look, what do you want me to do?’ she said, getting annoyed.

  Kolya pointed to a rack on the wall. ‘There’s an apron over there. Put it on and start washing dishes.’

  ‘Fuck,’ she growled under her breath. Her eyes locked with his. There was still laughter in them, and he rubbed his beard absently, considering her.

  With a sigh, Nicola took off her coat and hung it up. She wished she was wearing a cardigan. Her top really was low-cut and tight. In her peripheral vision, she noticed the other two men eying her. Kolya said a sharp word to them and they went back to serving the food. She put the apron on over her head.

  ‘And are you enjoying your day?’ Kolya asked.

  ‘It’s been interesting,’ she said, not knowing how else to answer. ‘Dmitri is…’ She didn’t have the words to describe the whirlpool of feelings he evoked in her. Or why that was. ‘I don’t know,’ she repeated.

  Kolya turned on the taps. The industrial-sized sink filled with water. Nicola winced at the pile of filthy dishes next to it.

  ‘Dmitri is unlike anyone else,’ Kolya said. ‘He is, as they say, a “one-off”.’

  Nicola nodded. She took the first dish and put it into the soapy water, scrubbing it with a scouring pad. Now that she was here, she might as well get stuck in.

  ‘Did he come here for help?’ she asked. ‘Is that how you met?’

  ‘When he came here with his mother and sister, many years ago now, they were very naïve. This is not uncommon, I’m afraid.’

  ‘He seems to have done OK. Is that thanks to you?’

  Kolya shrugged. ‘It is mostly down to the person he is. Hardworking, focused and passionate. And he has a genuine love for people. That always helps.’ He picked up a towel and began to dry the clean dishes.

  Nicola ignored this last remark as she scrubbed at a grease-caked pan. ‘So do you run this place?’ she said, changing the subject. ‘How is it funded?’

  ‘It is funded by the council, but there are also private donations, especially this time of year. I am a psychologist and a counsellor. I work here, and at the teen centre, and also at a woman’s shelter for domestic violence.’

  ‘God,’ Nicola said. She was genuinely impressed by this man and his commitment, if still a little repulsed by the place, and guilty for feeling that way. ‘That sounds depressing.’

  Kolya gave her a fatherly smile. ‘Everyone has a story, Nicola. Sometimes it is a sad one. People come here for a hot meal, a cup of tea, a shower, a chat. Sometimes, just to get away from real life for an hour or two. I do what I can, but often, it is not very much.’

  Nicola nodded uneasily. She remembered how hard she’d tried to chivvy her dad to get on with his life, turn things around. Get help, whatever it took. But once he had given up, there was nothing she could do. She’d felt powerless, and if there was one thing she hated, it was that feeling.

  ‘And Dmitri? He helps out here?’

  ‘Saint Dmitri, the patron saint of waifs and strays.’ Kolya chuckled. ‘Dmitri makes a lot of friends, all around the city. To him, everyone is a human being – someone who deserves a chance. Sometimes, I think I need a separate line item in my budget for the people he finds who end up here.’

  Nicola frowned. The water was cooling down and getting slimy. ‘So he’s, you know, a good person?’

  Kolya raised a bushy black eyebrow. ‘Dmitri is as decent a person as you will ever meet. Though you are not his normal kind of waif or stray.’ He frowned. ‘Tell me again how you came to be here?’

  ‘I went to the church. To apologise. Dmitri was playing the piano – Rachmaninov. We got to talking.’

  ‘You heard Dmitri play piano?’ Kolya said. He looked at her more closely now, his eyes narrow. ‘When was this?’

  ‘Last night. Why—?’

  Her train of thought was interrupted. From the other side of the serving window, she heard a smattering of applause and then Dmitri’s voice. ‘Thank you for allowing me to join you at your Christmas lunch. Now, please can the children make their way forward to the stage? And for the adults, if you would like to join in, please feel free.’

  There was a clamber of feet.

  ‘We shall start with song number one. Page one of your books.’

  A moment later there was a flourish on the piano. Then, the sound of children’s voices:

  Jingle bells, jingle bells

  Jingle all the way

  Oh what fun it is to ride

  In a one-horse open sleigh, hey!

  Jingle bells, jingle bells

  Jingle all the way

  Oh what fun it is to ride

  In a one-horse open sleigh.

  Nicola cringed. Not at the sound – which was joyous and lively, underscored by Dmitri’s rich baritone, and a few adult voices joining in – but at her own behaviour. Her behaviour that night at the station, at work, to the world in general. She didn’t belong here in this place; she hadn’t earned the right to be working alongside people who were helping others. Her heart had been locked up for years, the sign firmly turned to closed. Dmitri might be a decent person. But Nicola knew, deep down in her soul, that she was not.

  She continued washing dishes, with Kolya drying. A silent wave of anger flooded through her: anger at herself, anger at the situation these people were in. When finally, the last dish was washed, he directed her to pass out plates of pudding and handed her a hairnet.
She pursed her lips as the large man looked at her closely.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he said.

  ‘Yes. Of course.’ Nicola put on the hairnet, grabbed two plates of puddings and stalked off through the door. She banged them down on the table in front of the first two people.

  Most of the adults had now joined in the singing. The children looked happy and excited. Dmitri directed the carolling from the piano, playing again without music. He was clearly in his element. Music… making people happy. Spreading joy and cheer. Well, good for him.

  ‘Jingle Bells’ ended. Dmitri launched the makeshift choir into more songs: ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’, ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’, ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’.

  Nicola served the puddings table by table. A few times she saw Kolya watching her, concern evident on his face.

  When all the plates had been served, Dmitri announced the last song. ‘Silent Night’.

  ‘We are very lucky that today, Francesca will be singing the first verse for us,’ he said. He gestured to a woman sitting near the front to come up and join him. Her hair was dark and lank, and she had a pale, almost otherworldly face. She looked at Dmitri and smiled shyly, her eyes locked on his as if they were the only two people in the room…

  Nicola felt suddenly light-headed. Dmitri smiled back at Francesca. Then he nodded his head to cue the beginning of the song and played the introduction on the piano. Francesca began to sing, her pure, sweet voice rising up like an angel’s. She was singing the song in a foreign language – Italian or Spanish, Nicola thought. Jealousy oozed inside of her. This woman might be down-and-out, but she was young, beautiful and obviously brimming with talent. How she’d come to be here, Nicola could only guess. The crowd stood spellbound, Dmitri never took his eyes off the woman, and even Kolya, who, since she’d arrived, had barely paused in his work of managing the kitchen workers, stood still to listen.

  When the verse was finished, Dmitri cued in the others. Everyone sang at the top of their lungs. The sound was deafening, and Nicola felt dizzy, like she might faint. In the back pocket of her jeans, her mobile buzzed with a text message. She’d kept it off for most of the day, which seemed the polite thing to do. Although she’d turned it on to take the photo at the ice rink, she hadn’t checked her messages once today. Now, by force of habit, she fished it out. There were thirty-six new emails that she didn’t read, and several new texts that she did:

  At Snow White Panto today with the kids. You OK? Ox

  The next one, sent twenty minutes later, read:

  Thinking of all the ways I want to fuck you right now. Ox

  Nicola’s hand trembled as she turned off the phone. Staggering to the door, she went up the steps to street level. She took the phone and hurled it as hard as she could out into the street. It skittered across the pavement and under a car parked on the other side.

  She collapsed against the cold stone building, shivering in the cold, and gasping for air.

  How long she was there, she had no idea. Time and space seemed to be reeling around her. All those people – lost, tragic. So happy at the little glimmer of hope that had been added to their lives by this strange, infuriating man. In the end, it was she who felt dirty, disgusting. Her life, Ollie… everything such a goddamn mess—

  ‘Nicola!’ Dmitri’s voice sounded frantic and out of breath as he bounded up the steps. ‘Nicola?’

  As he came up to her, she was aware of his warmth, the sweat on his forehead, and, though there was half a metre separating them, his beating heart. His face was a mixture of concern and relief, his eyes had a wild spark to them, as they had when he’d been playing piano at the church. She felt an electric charge as he reached a hand up to her face, but then realised that he was just removing the hairnet that she hadn’t taken off.

  ‘I thought you’d gone,’ he said. ‘You forgot your coat. Let’s go inside. You’ll freeze out here.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, fighting back a ridiculous onslaught of tears. ‘It was all just a little much. Hearing Francesca singing and all. She seems a lovely woman. I’ll get my things and go. I can look after myself.’

  ‘Francesca?’ He stared at her for a moment seeming genuinely puzzled. Nicola looked away.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he said finally. ‘Sorry that I brought you here. But I’d promised to come for the lunch. The children love the carolling. I know that it is difficult to see these people—’

  ‘No, that’s not it.’ Nicola cut him off. ‘It was nice. Lovely. I just felt – I don’t know.’ Her eyes flooded with tears. ‘I’m just… a really bad person, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh Nicola, please!’ he reached up and cupped her chin in his hands with his long, elegant fingers. Her body reacted to his touch before her mind could. She closed her eyes. But as she did so, his hands fell away, as if they’d been repulsed by a magnet. ‘I do not think you are a bad person,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘But you don’t know me, do you!’ she practically spat. ‘Kolya called you Saint Dmitri. He says you’re the most decent person he’s ever met. I’m not a decent person. All I do, day in and day out, is work, and…’

  He tried to reach out to her, but she pulled away. She dashed across the road and knelt down, retrieving her phone from beneath the parked car. The glass screen protector had smashed, but otherwise, it was in perfect working order. She pulled up Ollie’s latest message – hell, all of his recent messages, descriptive and filthy – were there on the screen.

  She was aware of Dmitri coming silently up to her side. Nicola thrust the phone in his face. ‘This is who I am. This is the woman you’re wasting your day on. A day in your life that you’ll never get back.’

  Nicola forced herself to look at him as he read the screen. His face was her penance, she thought, waiting for the look of judgement, surprise, disgust that she expected – that she deserved – to see. But she couldn’t read any of those things there.

  Dmitri handed the phone back to her. ‘You are in love with this man?’ he asked. His calm control never wavered, but something flickered across his face. His eyes became guarded.

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I never really loved him, that’s what’s so sad. He’s married, has a family. That made it easier, somehow. Knowing that there was no future. But now, I just want him to go away, leave me alone. I despise him – what he’s done, what I’ve done. All that wasted time.’ She swallowed hard. ‘That night at the station, he’d cancelled on me. That’s the real reason why I was so upset. It was the last straw… and it hurt.’

  He nodded, a wistful smile crossing his face. ‘I thought it might be something like that. And I think I understand.’

  ‘No – you don’t.’ She was getting angry again. ‘I don’t know what your deal is, but at least you have your music. You have… these people.’ She gestured towards the door of the shelter.

  ‘Yes, I do have all those things. And I am grateful for them.’ Looking towards the river, he flexed and stretched the fingers on his right hand absently, as if they’d suddenly grown stiff. His hands… She frowned. He saw her looking down and shoved them in his pockets. ‘But once, a long time ago, I was engaged to someone.’ He sighed. ‘It didn’t work out – for many reasons – but I know those feelings. What it’s like to be in love. What it feels like when it ends.’

  ‘God.’ She hung her head. ‘And here I am dredging it up for you. First I turn up at the station and ruin your carolling, and now I’m moaning on about nothing, when really, it’s you who’ve—’ She broke off. The look he was giving her was so opposite to all her feelings, it was the devilishly goofy look. The one that made her want to—

  He started laughing first, but she wasn’t far behind. There was nothing funny – nothing at all. And yet, once she started, she was breathless with it. Silly, out of control. But for a brief moment, all her problems seemed so insignificant, insubstantial – like a shower of snow falling from a tree branch. Her side ached. She finally caught her breath. He
too recovered.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s really not—’ She fell into another fit of laughter.

  He was looking at her, his eyes warm, but unreadable. Eventually, when she came back to her senses, she realised that she was shivering with the cold.

  ‘Come back inside and warm up a little,’ he said, directing her back towards the shelter. At the top of the steps, he turned back to her. ‘I think this day has been… unexpected, for both of us,’ he said. ‘And life is complicated – who knows what it will bring? But right now, on this day that I will never get back again, I had one more thing planned.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘I know I have annoyed you, angered you even. You have done your penance. But if you would like to accompany me, it will be fun, I think. And it’s on the way back to the station.’

  12

  One more thing. What was it? Of course, he wasn’t saying. Nicola went back down into the shelter with Dmitri, planning to retrieve her coat and say goodbye to Kolya.

  But when she returned to the large hall, most people had finished eating the puddings and there were dirty dishes everywhere. ‘This won’t do,’ Nicola said, giving Dmitri a look. She went to the nearest table and picked up some of the dirty dishes, taking them to the serving window. Went back for more.

  ‘You don’t have to do that,’ he said, giving her a bemused smile.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she said breezily. ‘I agreed to wash dishes.’

  Dmitri set down his bag, took off his jacket, and began to help her. This was foolish, she realised, but now she felt like she definitely had something to prove. Besides, she was never one to leave a task unfinished.

  Nicola left Dmitri to clear (he was slower than she was because he continually stopped to chat with people). She marched back into the kitchen where Kolya and the other two men were putting away the excess food and a big sink of soapy water had already been run.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said to the big man. He appraised her for a second, and then nodded. Kolya had definitely got the measure of her, she thought. Washing and scrubbing a million dishes would not change anything. Still, she got on with it.