‘Yes.’ He pulled her to him, the puffy fabric of her coat an excruciating barrier between them. ‘But you’d better make it very quickly, or else I am not responsible for my actions.’
‘OK then.’ Laughing, she went up the stairs. She watched Dmitri as he came up to the top of the stairs behind her, looking to see his first impressions. His eyes lit up in his face.
‘You have a piano!’ he said, going over to the Bechstein in the corner. He opened the lid and plunked out a note. ‘Ouch!’ He winced. ‘When did you last have this tuned?’
‘Never,’ she said. ‘That is, I… thought about it. When I first met you.’
He gave her a secret smile. ‘And now?’
‘I’ve got the name of someone local. I’ll get him out tomorrow.’ Just thinking about it, she felt an almost unbearable surge of happiness. This was right, it was good. She could do this.
She went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. When she came back, he was setting down his bag next to the piano and taking off his coat. Underneath, he was still wearing the tuxedo shirt and trousers that gave him an air of both charm and authority. He sat down on the stool and played a flourish of notes. The sound sent a shimmer of desire down her spine as she watched him play. His thick dark hair curled just above his collar. His face just as she remembered – classically handsome, except when he erupted into one of his boyish grins. Just seeing him there, was intoxicating. She wanted so badly to touch him—
He broke off, abruptly.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I suppose it is late, and you have neighbours.’
‘No, please,’ she said. ‘Play.’
Enjoying the anticipation, she sat down on the sofa. She had expected him to go back to something rich and dark, like Beethoven, or Rachmaninov. But instead, he launched into something completely different. Fast and jazzy, a tune from another era.
He turned and looked at her, smiling mischievously. ‘This one’s for you,’ he said. After an opening glissando and swinging intro, he launched into a tune she recognised: ‘Ain’t Misbehavin’. She didn’t know the words, but she clapped along, smiling and delighted. He moved into a lively improvisation of another old song: ‘By the Light of the Silvery Moon’. She swayed in time with the rhythm; it almost made her feel like dancing. Finally, he slowed down the pace of the music, adding delicate, romantic riffs. In a deep, velvety voice, he began to sing:
Let me call you “Sweetheart” I’m in love with you.
Let me hear you whisper that you love me too.
Keep the love light glowing in your eyes so true.
Let me call you “Sweetheart” I’m in love with you.
The old time song – where she’d even heard it before, she had no idea – was moving and heartfelt. His voice vibrated deep inside of her, his touch on the old, out-of-tune piano was magic. She was very warm now, but she didn’t take off her coat. He continued on with his complicated improvisation, his fingers flying up and down the keyboard in a crystalline cascade of notes. When the song reached its ending gliss, she rose to her feet. ‘Yeah!’ she said. ‘That was so brilliant! Thank you.’
He stood up and took a mock bow, his hair falling into his eyes. ‘My pleasure, madam.’ His eyes locked with hers, dark and seductive. She recognised that look from the day when he’d been calling all the shots. In only a few strides he was over to her. Instead of undoing the zip, he lifted the bottom of her coat and brushed her with his finger, feather-light between her legs over the silk of her underwear.
‘Are you warm now?’ he said, pressing her against him.
‘Yes,’ she gasped.
‘Good.’
He unzipped her coat and took it off of her. Then he lifted her and laid her on to the sofa, and sat on the edge.
She tried to lean forward to undo his shirt, but he removed her hands, pressing her back down.
‘My turn now,’ he said. Smiling, he took her hands up over her head…
Her vision blurred and darkened. All of her muscles went rigid. She tried to struggle; to curl up in a ball. Tried to breathe, but the air was crushed in her lungs. She opened her mouth to scream, but all that came out was a panicked gurgling sound. Frantically, she tried to free her hands, tried to roll and push him off of her. But he was too heavy, too strong. She was blinded by the darkness…
The ice was so hard against her back. So cold. Powerless. She opened her mouth… nothing came out. Nothing she could do…
‘Nicola!’
Her eyes flew open. She realised that Dmitri was off her, off the sofa, kneeling beside her. She was in her own house, wearing her high-heeled shoes, her knickers and nothing else. Shivering and gasping, she struggled to her feet.
‘I want to you to leave, now!’ she shouted. She ran, shivering, to the kitchen.
What was she doing? Her coat, where was it? The rational part of her mind began to find its voice. She was here with Dmitri. She had gone to the church, seduced him. Brought him home with her. He had played piano, sang to her. She was happy, experiencing what was by far, the best night of her life…
Her whole body was shaking. Had she come here to grab a knife? That was ridiculous. She cowered behind the worktop as he got slowly to his feet.
‘I will leave,’ he said, quietly. His face was stricken, all the brightness and joy gone from his eyes. ‘I am sorry if I hurt you.’
She leaned against the breakfast bar, trying to force herself to breathe out. Opening her mouth, she tried to speak, but still, no sound came out.
He went back over to the piano and picked up his coat and his bag. ‘Are you going to be OK on your own?’ he said.
‘Don’t… come near me.’
He held up his hands. ‘Can I at least make you a cup of tea?’ he said.
She sank down at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. She was aware of him pouring water from the boiled kettle into a cup and bringing it over to her. Then he brought a faux-fur throw blanket from the sofa. She flinched as he draped it around her shoulders.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, the words hoarse and barely audible.
He didn’t speak but sat down at the table opposite her. He made no move to touch her.
She pulled the blanket tightly around her.
‘Please, drink some tea,’ he said.
The tea was too strong but she drank it down anyway. The bitter taste couldn’t fight against the sting of bile in her throat. Her life trapped in a snow globe, shaken up, dropped and smashed to a million pieces. Her skin felt itchy, dirty. Dmitri was still there, sitting in silence.
She pushed the cup away. Gradually, the panic began to subside. But what could she do now? She had ruined the evening, and possibly a lot more than that. Dmitri was fragile and yet she had gone to him. Planned out in her mind exactly what would happen. Taken a risk to bring him here to her house. He had played her a love song, made her laugh…
Nicola tried again to find her voice. She was desperate for him to leave and desperate for him to stay. How could something that had happened so many years ago still affect her like this? It was ludicrous and it was wrong. It had festered so deeply inside of her that it had turned all of her ugly and rotten. And now, she had tried to lift up this man and had let him drop like a stone. He deserved better than this, even if she didn’t. He had done nothing wrong. All she could offer him now was an explanation.
‘Something happened to me,’ she said, her voice a whisper. ‘A long time ago. And it was nothing really – nothing like what you suffered.’ She tried to laugh, but all that came out was a sickly rasp.
‘It is not nothing,’ he said quietly.
She put her head in her hands. Not wanting him to see her, not wanting to look at him.
‘I lied when you asked me why I hated Christmas,’ she said. ‘I mean, it’s true about my family – that was difficult. But everyone has issues like that. You must have thought me so spoiled and entitled.’
‘No,’ he said.
‘It happened at uni. A stupid holiday party
. It was the night before classes were ending for the break. Normally they held it at the university, but that year it was at a bar. Everyone was really excited because it had been snowing earlier in the day and our professor had let us out early from the last lecture. Like we were little kids, or something.’ She lifted her head, staring at the cold beige wall. ‘Back then, I loved the snow.’
‘What happened?’ he whispered.
‘I had a friend called Ashley. She was American, from New York, doing her final year abroad. I was very serious about uni. It was my final year and I had lots of student loans. I needed a good job when I finished. I kept my head down, wasn’t looking for a relationship, or even anything casual. But Ashley was a flirt – she’d slept with practically everyone in the department by the end of that term. Anyway, I had a bit of a crush on one of the guys in my seminar group. He was called Kevin. Kevin Galsworthy.’ She bit her lip as his face ballooned into her mind’s eye. Tall and blonde, good-looking in a sporty boy-next-door kind of way. Good looks that hid something else underneath. ‘I knew he liked me. He was always staring at me, trying to draw me into the discussions.’
She sighed. ‘I don’t know why, but I let Ashley convince me that, just for once, I should have some fun. She brought some of her clothes over to my flat and we had a couple glasses of wine. I let her talk me into wearing a sparkly sequin dress that barely covered my arse. She did my hair and make-up. I remember us talking and laughing, and how excited I was for that night.’ She shook her head. The half-remembered excitement turning liquid in her stomach.
‘Things didn’t go to plan,’ she continued. ‘Everyone was looking at me, and I felt cheap and out of place. People were making jokes about how the ice queen had finally melted. Ashley left me on my own, and then I saw her with Kevin on the dance floor. She was all over him.’ Nicola pulled the blanket more tightly around her. ‘I didn’t know why she was doing it. She knew I liked him. I was so angry – at her, and at him.
‘I had more to drink. I danced with other people, but I was pretty off my face. I was supposed to catch an early train the next morning to go to my mum’s house for the holidays. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. So I left.’ She drew her lips into a line.
Dmitri was sitting so still, his face grave. She wanted to stop talking. Stop hurting him. Make the past go away.
She took a breath. There was nothing to do now but continue.
‘By the time I left, it had snowed again. I remember how beautiful it was: like everything was covered in sparkly white icing sugar. But the path was icy and my feet were hurting in Ashley’s high heels. I walked slowly so I didn’t slip. Then I heard footsteps behind me, and I turned. It was Kevin. He had a beer bottle in his hands, and he was smiling. I remember that smile most of all.’ She shuddered. How often that face, that smile, had haunted her memories. Her nightmares.
‘I shouted at him. Told him to go home with Ashley. To leave me alone. I felt so betrayed and ashamed. He threw down the bottle and started to laugh. He said he knew how much I wanted him, and that I was turning him on. He grabbed my arm. I tried to yell, but he covered my mouth with his hand. He threw me down on the icy ground and stuck his knee between my legs. He pinned my arms above my head. I tried to scream. But I don’t think I did. In the end, I didn’t even try to fight him off. I just lay there.’
Tears erupted from her eyes. The pressure of his body like a dead weight. The pain and terror as he held her down and thrust inside her over and over again. His tongue slithering inside her mouth. The ice hard against her back, the cold seeping through her skin, into her heart. Helpless. Out of control.
‘And after it was over, he walked me home,’ she said. ‘Held on to my arm while I staggered back to my flat. I tried to slam the door in his face but he kept it open with his foot. He came inside my flat. I…’ she paused, her teeth were chattering now, ‘he – put me on the sofa, and I thought he was going to do it again. I don’t even know if he did or not – I blacked out. When I came to, he was gone. I slid on to the floor and curled up into a ball. I stayed like that for the whole night, shivering and crying. Then, the next morning, I got on the train.’
She glanced up at Dmitri. His head was bowed, his eyes filled with tears. She put her hand over her face so she didn’t have to look at him.
‘I didn’t tell anyone. I went to my mum’s house and went through the motions of that awful Christmas. I tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. Then, I tried to convince myself that I’d wanted it – that, otherwise, I would have tried harder to fight him off.’
She was half aware of Dmitri getting up, coming round the table to sit beside her. There, so close to her, but not reaching out to touch her. She was sad for that, but grateful too.
‘When I got back, I decided that I was going to report it to the police. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, going into that police station. And, of course, by then, the evidence was long gone.’
‘But didn’t they question him?’
‘Yes!’ she cried. ‘They did. But Ashley gave him an alibi. By then they were “together”. There was no proof, no one saw anything – it was my word against his. He was well-liked, whereas I was the ice queen. All they had to do was say that I was jealous.’
Her body shuddered as the tears flowed freely now. Dmitri moved closer, wrapping his arms around the blanket that engulfed her. She rested her head on his shoulder.
‘My sweet girl,’ he said, tracing her tears with his fingers. ‘You did not deserve what happened to you.’ He buried his face in her hair. ‘It was not your fault.’
Sobbing, she pulled away. ‘There’s more,’ she said.
He reached over and took her hand in his. Right now, his strength and his warmth were a lifeline. But she could see in his face how hard this was for him too.
‘I still had to see Kevin every day in class. He avoided me, but I could feel him looking at me, and I felt such terror. I told him that I was going to bring him down whatever it took. That I was going to tell everyone, find people at the party to back me up. He just laughed and told me I wouldn’t be saying anything.’
She shook her head and swallowed. ‘That term, we were interviewing for jobs. I should have had my pick of high-flying investment-banking jobs. But the day of my first interview, a man turned up on my doorstep.’
‘Who was it?’ Dmitri asked softly.
‘Kevin’s dad. He was a bigwig in the City. He asked if he could come in, and I told him no. I remember that conversation on my doorstep. He was so “nice” and “polite” at first. Asked me about my interviews. I told him to go to hell. That his son was a rapist. He shook his head like I’d disappointed him and held out a brown envelope. He told me that if I signed a confidentiality agreement, he’d make sure I got the best job at the best bank. But if I didn’t, well… unfortunately, no bank would want to hire a lying, hysterical girl who was a prick tease. Whether I had a future or not was all dependent on me signing my name on a dotted line.’
‘You signed.’
She stared at him for a second, expecting to see judgement in his eyes. But all she saw was a reflection of her own pain, and his deep compassion. ‘I felt so alone,’ she said. ‘I had no one to turn to. I’d worked so hard and I needed a job. I deserved a job. I thought I’d get my own back by being successful.’ She shuddered as the shame bubbled up inside her like an underground spring. ‘I don’t know what I thought.’
‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘after graduation, Kevin and Ashley both went to New York to work. Kevin’s dad kept his word – I got a good job. No one mentioned “the incident”. I worked there for a few years. Eventually, I moved to Privé. I tried to convince myself that I deserved my job, that I would have done well anyway. But every day when I go into work, I think about how I climbed that ladder, and how all of it is a lie.’
‘No, Nicola, it’s not a lie.’ His voice was soft, but in earnest.
‘Isn’t it?’ She grabbed her hand away. ‘You’re a man – you see what
you want to see. What I want you to see – on the surface. When only I know the truth. I’ve never had a real relationship. I’ve stuck to one-night stands and other people’s husbands. Because they’re safe – I don’t have to feel anything. I call the shots. They use me, and I use them, and every time, it’s like I’m being held down on the ice all over again.’
Nicola fell silent. She stood up and let the blanket fall to the ground.
*
The sheer beauty of her body took his breath away. But this was a crisis point, and the next few minutes were critical. Everything he did, every word from his mouth, would decide their fate. When at first he’d noticed her lack of response, his own agonising self-doubts had kicked in. She was horrified by him, regretted everything. This was all some kind of sick infinite loop of pleasure and rejection that he was doomed to live out over and over. But luckily, he’d realised in time to stop himself hurting her further – so he hoped, anyway. And then, her terrible story had emerged. All the way through, he had wanted to interrupt her, demand her to stop. Take her in his arms and try to convince her that it had never happened; that it didn’t matter. But it had happened. It did matter.
He stood up too, not touching her. He was hard again, but he ignored his own needs, focusing entirely on her. Leaning in, he whispered against her hair, ‘Please,’ he said, ‘let me take care of you.’
She hesitated for a moment, then allowed him to take her hand in his.
‘Where is the bathroom?’ he asked. She gestured with her head to a staircase going up to the floor above.
Without speaking, he led her up the stairs to a large master bedroom. The en suite bathroom was shiny and pristine with iridescent blue-green tiles above the bath. She was shivering as he turned the taps on. He checked the temperature of the water. She took off her underwear and he helped her into the bath. He knelt beside her as she put her head back, her hair turning to a sleek, dark mass. She closed her eyes as he rubbed apple-scented shampoo into her hair. The water pooled over the glistening curves of her body. He rinsed her hair, and sat her up, rubbing her back with shower gel. Then he sat back on his heels. His body felt like it might explode, but he forced himself to keep his distance. Eventually, she opened her eyes. She stared at him for a long time, and the world shrank to what he could see in those slanted green eyes. The pain, the regret – his own reflection in her dark pupils.
Moonlight on the Thames Page 23
