The Price of His Redemption

by Carol Marinelli

  Daniil had scanned every part of his memory to try to recall the surnames of Sev and Nikolai. They had never used or needed them where they had lived.

  ‘Have you been to the orphanage?’

  ‘It’s a school now,’ he said, ‘but I’ve been asking around. Sergio, he was the maintenance man, has since died but I spoke to his wife this afternoon. Sev got a scholarship to a good school and Nikolai left when he was fourteen.’

  ‘For where?’

  ‘He ran away,’ Daniil said and was quiet for a moment. ‘He drowned.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Libby wailed but Daniil carried on speaking in his low voice.

  Last night he had cried.

  ‘Katya—she was the cook—apparently left to follow her daughter, Anya, to St Petersburg.’

  ‘Roman?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m trying to find out if he did his military service but apart from that there are no more leads.’

  ‘Well, November is just a couple of months away. Why don’t you try to meet Sev then?’

  ‘I’m five years late,’ Daniil pointed out.

  ‘Well, it’s still worth a try. I know if I’d written that letter that I’d be there every year, like some sad old thing, holding a rose...’

  She made him smile.

  ‘Can we start again?’ Daniil said.

  ‘Can we?’ she asked, wishing it were that easy.

  ‘I thought we might go out on a date, a proper date. I’ve bought tickets for Firebird. I could pick you up and go out to dinner...’

  Libby lay on her bed in silence. She hadn’t watched a ballet production since she had made the decision to end her career and she didn’t know if she was ready to go and see beauty unfold and not be in it. She knew she would be aching to take part and yet he really was making an effort to give them a new start.

  ‘I don’t know...’ she said, but Daniil spoke over her doubt, quoting A Winter’s Journey by Polonsky, on which the ballet was based.

  ‘“And in my dreams I see myself on a wolf’s back

  Riding along a forest path

  To do battle with a sorcerer-tsar

  In that land where a princess sits under lock and key,

  Pining behind massive walls.

  There gardens surround a palace all of glass,

  There Firebirds sing by night

  And peck at golden fruit.”’

  His voice made her shiver.

  ‘Sev used to read to us at night,’ Daniil said and thought back to that time. ‘Come and see a nice wolf for once.’

  ‘Is there such a thing?’

  ‘Maybe it’s time to find out.’

  After the call ended Libby wondered if she’d done the right thing in agreeing to go.

  It had to be the right thing, she decided, swinging her legs off the bed and standing up.

  A date.

  A proper one.

  Their first.

  ‘Well?’ Rachel said, when she came out of the bedroom.

  ‘He’s taking me to see Firebird on Saturday.’

  ‘That was thoughtful of him.’ Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘What an insensitive jerk.’

  ‘He doesn’t know.’

  ‘Then tell him what you told me just a couple of weeks ago, that you’re dreading going to see a full production.’

  ‘That was a couple of weeks ago,’ Libby said.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  Libby nodded and headed over to the calendar that they kept on the fridge so that they would loosely know each other’s comings and goings.

  ‘Firebird,’ Libby wrote boldly, even if she felt sick at the thought of it, but then again she felt sick all the time anyway...

  She flicked the calendar back and remembered the last week she’d spent with the company, blaming her up-and-down mood and tears on the time of the month.

  She was going on her first date with Daniil and there was no getting away from it now—she was five days late.

  Libby stepped away from the calendar as if closing the stable door.

  The horse might already have bolted.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LIBBY DRESSED IN a simple black dress and shoes and took extra care with her make-up and this time, as she waited for Daniil to arrive, she didn’t sit on the window ledge, looking out for him.

  It had nothing to do with playing it cool, she simply couldn’t relax.

  ‘When did he get back from his business trip?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Libby said.

  There had been one text and one phone call in total. It had taken a herculean effort not to call him back each night, not to text and ask when he would be home, or for confirmation of times for tonight.

  No flowers again, no cyber displays of affection.

  Still, she lived in a state of suspension, courtesy of the man who was taking her out tonight.

  ‘I am looking forward to it,’ she said to Rachel. ‘It’s just...’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I’ll probably enjoy it once I’m there,’ she said, though it was more to convince herself. She wanted to see Daniil; tonight was important for so many reasons. It was their first date, a new start for both of them.

  It wasn’t just seeing Firebird that weighed heavily on her mind, though, and she excused herself for the second time in an hour and fled to the bathroom. She was just about over convincing herself it was nerves that accounted for the constant feeling of nausea.

  How could she tell him? she wondered.

  She couldn’t, she decided, even though she wasn’t one for keeping her emotions or feelings in check.

  At least till she was sure.

  ‘Daniil’s here!’

  Rachel’s voice came down the narrow hall and as Libby brushed her teeth and topped up her lipstick she forced out a smile. There was so much pinned on tonight and she truly wanted to focus on the two of them, aside from everything else.

  She walked down the hall. Rachel had let him in and he stood in her hallway and back in her life. The trouble with seeing so little of him was that each time she did, Libby was reminded in detail of his beauty.

  The last time he had been in jeans and unshaven, his hair a touch too long. Tonight said hair was smoothed back but longer than she remembered. He still had the designer stubble and his skin was as pale as hers but without that English trace of peaches and cream. Even his scar seemed devoid of colour now.

  ‘When did you get back?’ she asked.

  ‘A couple of hours ago.’

  His beauty, his demeanour, his guarded approach—she had not even known what country he was in till now—all daunted her.

  No kiss, Daniil noted as she went for her bag.

  No leaping into his arms, no guided tour of the house.

  Just a scowl hurled at him by Rachel as a rather tense Libby wished her goodnight.

  ‘Your flatmate doesn’t approve of me,’ Daniil said as they drove to the restaurant.

  ‘She’s just...’ Libby shrugged. Maybe now was the time to tell him how hard tonight would be for her but then she glanced over and decided against it, quite sure that he wouldn’t understand.

  It was strained, it was awkward and yet it had absolutely nothing to do with him. As she took her seat in the restaurant Libby didn’t know if it was the thought of watching Firebird or the scent of garlic coming from the kitchen that had her stomach hovering close to her throat.

  ‘Are you looking forward to the ballet?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course.’ She pushed out a smile as she read through the menu. ‘The costumes are supposed to be fantastic.’

  The waiter hovered and Daniil wanted to tell him to give them ten minutes but if they were going to make it in time for the show then they ne
eded to order now. He skimmed the menu as Libby deliberated.

  ‘I’d like the scallops...’ she started, and then stopped when she saw that the dish she’d chosen would be served on a butter bean sauce—from the tightening of her throat clearly her stomach didn’t approve. She wanted something plain and so changed her mind and chose the risotto but then read it had goat’s cheese and that made her want to gag too. ‘Actually—’ Libby called the waiter back ‘—I’ll have consommé.’

  ‘And for the main?’ the waiter asked, but Libby shook her head. ‘Just the consommé for me.’

  ‘Clear soup for dinner?’ Daniil frowned, remembering her comment about her appetite fading whenever she was anxious or stressed.

  ‘Please, don’t lecture me about eating.’ Libby’s response was tart.

  He was trying not to, but she looked very pale and he saw the flash of tears in her eyes and he was quite sure it was down to him. Daniil had seen the cautious look on Rachel’s face when she had opened the door to him and George’s words were still like a worm in his ear. It would seem that Libby Tennent was no longer happy.

  No, it wasn’t a brilliant dinner.

  And despite the most sumptuous company, and chocolates to boot, as well as the very best seats at the ballet, as Libby stared at the curtain that would soon part all she felt was that she was on the wrong side of it.

  It had been a mistake to come tonight, she knew as she looked through the programme. The biographies made her want to weep, the sound of the orchestra taking their seats, the air of anticipation all made her want to run for home.

  She turned to him, to tell him that this was possibly the worst place on earth that she could be right now.

  ‘Can we just...?’ Libby’s words were halted by an announcement, telling the audience that the part of the Firebird would tonight be performed by the understudy Tatania Ilyushin.

  It was like rubbing salt into the wound for Libby. She looked through the programme and saw that the dancer usually played one of the thirteen princesses. Tonight Tatania had her chance to shine—it was the breakthrough Libby had long dreamed of as her career had started to fade.

  Daniil, on best first-date behaviour, though wondering how long it would go on for, stifled a yawn and glanced down at his own programme. The second he turned the page his head tightened as he looked into pale green eyes and remembered a little girl being sent by her mother to get the box that held the tape.

  It couldn’t be Anya, surely?

  Yes, it could.

  Tatania might be her full name, or a stage name perhaps. He had never known Anya’s surname. Sergio’s wife had told him that Anya had done well and had moved to St Petersburg and that Katya had moved there to be closer to her daughter.

  He glanced at Libby but her attention was now on the stage, watching as the curtain drew back.

  It was stunning, Libby thought as she saw the smoke swirling around the trees on the stage.

  And far, far too late to leave without making a small scene.

  She peered into the dark forest, waiting for the lights to lift further, but they didn’t and she strained to see, wondering if there was a problem. But then a streak of burnt orange flew across the stage, and the audience gasped as Tatania’s entrance was made. Graceful, reed thin, Libby knew that if she never ate another piece of cheese in her life and exercised and trained for every minute of every hour she could still never achieve the amazing lines that this dancer made.

  She was surely too tall, Libby thought as she attempted a critical eye, yet her arms were like wings without feathers, and it was as if Tatania was truly flying. She spun in the prince’s arms—fragile, tiny and seductive—and Libby sat grieving for her own dreams. She had been wrong to come. It was far too soon, a torture of her own making. Yes, it might sound selfish and self-absorbed but that was what it took to make it as far as Tatania had. For Libby it had killed her to leave it behind.

  It was a relief when the interval came.

  For ten seconds.

  ‘She’s amazing,’ Daniil said, as did the people standing behind them. As did the people to the left.

  ‘Do you know...?’ he started, but how could he tell Libby here? How could he say that possibly the leading lady might know something about his twin?

  If it even was Anya.

  And if it was, would she even remember him?

  Libby could sense his distraction and chewed on the slice of lemon that had come with her water—she didn’t dare risk gin, not just because she might well be pregnant, more for the hopeless tears it might produce. Still, the lemon matched the sourness in her mouth and she was about to bite the bullet and suggest that they leave when Daniil drained his drink and spoke.

  ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’

  He might never have been to the ballet but he was very used to getting his demands met and after a few enquiries he was told that, certainly, they would relay a message to Tatania, asking her to meet him afterwards.

  As Daniil went to give his name, he hesitated, wondering if Anya would remember him, given that he had left the orphanage when he was twelve. She had only really come in on her school holidays, he thought.

  She would remember the Zverev twins, though, surely?

  It was his best chance of being allowed backstage.

  ‘Tell her that one half of the Zverev twins is here and would like to congratulate her personally.’

  ‘Would you like us to organise flowers?’

  Daniil accepted. He had not a clue as to protocol in the dancing world and nodded grateful thanks for the suggestion.

  Libby stood, biting down tears as the bell went and it was time to take their seats again. Tonight was supposed to be about them, about working things through. Yes, she was well aware that she hadn’t been the best company, but did she deserve him walking off and leaving her alone? She looked at the happy couples, all hand in hand, heading back for the second half. Yes, Libby thought as she saw Daniil approaching, gesturing for her to hurry up, she had been a fool to come.

  ‘Where the hell were you?’ she asked, but there was no time for a reply as they were being ushered to take their seats quickly.

  ‘I’ll tell you later,’ Daniil said, just as the curtain went up.

  ‘Do you get a thrill out of keeping me waiting?’ she whispered.

  ‘I said that I—’ he started, but was shushed by a woman behind them.

  Yes, he had left her standing, and as soon as he had a proper chance he would explain.

  All of it.

  Tatania truly came into her own in the second half.

  Maybe next month, or next year, Libby would be delighted that she’d witnessed such an amazing performance, that she’d been there the night Tatania Ilyushin had been discovered by the world.

  She was holding back tears as she clapped and Tatania curtsied, scooping up flowers, and Libby didn’t like the jealous part of her but, yes, here it was, sitting on her shoulder and whispering dark thoughts.

  She couldn’t get out quickly enough.

  She took her bag, but as she turned to go Daniil was speaking with one of the ushers.

  ‘Come on,’ he said.

  ‘Where...?’

  He didn’t answer and they were led down stairs and through a rabbit warren of corridors, pausing so that he could pull a hefty tip out of his wallet and collect a huge bouquet of flowers.

  She wanted to stop him. Really! Was this supposed to be some sort of special treat?

  Meet the cast!

  Come on, Libby, come and see, up close, exactly what you didn’t achieve.

  ‘Daniil...’ She stopped dead outside a dressing room, like an angry donkey refusing to budge. When she saw Tatania’s name she wanted to turn and run but it was simply too late.

  He pushed the door open and there,
about to remove her make-up, was, she presumed, another ex-lover of Daniil’s.

  Libby knew that for certain as Tatania looked into the mirror and saw him and let out a small keening cry as if she had mourned Daniil forever.

  That sound had come from her soul and Libby watched as Tatania jumped up and turned around and ran to his arms.

  Oh, they’d been lovers, Libby knew, because the dancer’s arms wrapped around him and her mouth did not seek, it just homed in, but possibly the words said in Russian by Daniil warned her of the company they were in and Tatania’s shoulders drooped briefly and she rapidly stepped back.

  ‘Libby,’ Daniil said, ‘this is Tatania...’

  As if Libby didn’t know.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Tatania said in a husky voice, ‘but I have not seen Daniil in a very long time.’

  What was she supposed to say here? Libby wondered.

  Not that they would notice—they were back to speaking in Russian, voicing low urgent words until Libby could stand it no more.

  He was cruel.

  Unnecessarily cruel.

  No, Russian wolves weren’t kind, she decided there and then. Russian wolves were beautiful and beguiling and the most dangerous of them all.

  She had started to believe in him.

  And though she’d been warned both about him and by him, she had chosen to believe in good. She knew that she hadn’t been at her sparkling best tonight, but she also knew that she didn’t deserve this. Was this Daniil’s idea of a good night out, to bring her backstage, to point out what she could never be and throw in one of his ex-lovers to boot?

  She walked out of the dressing room, salty rivers of tears falling down her cheeks as she turned and looked at the empty corridor behind her. She didn’t need to run. Daniil was so locked in conversation with Tatania that he hadn’t even noticed that she had gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  IT WASN’T JUST because she was unable to face Rachel and her ‘I told you so’ that she asked the taxi to take her to the studio.

  It was more that she had to know.

  Letting herself in, Libby locked the door behind her and, without turning on the main light, raced through to the back, opened her locker and took out the pregnancy test kit.