“And these two young ladies are my cousins,” he goes on. “Petra and Anastasia.” He gestures to the ice sisters one at a time as he says their names. Petra, the blonde one, smiles, a smile so fake I almost laugh. Anastasia at least makes an effort and gives me something that could almost pass for a smile.
“Hi,” I say, with a little wave.
I don’t get a reply or a wave back, but before the moment can become awkward, Alex propels me away from them, and towards his babushka.
“Let’s get you inside,” she says with a smile. “Perhaps you’d like to freshen up before dinner. You must be hungry from all of the travelling.”
“I’m starving,” I admit.
Babushka laughs. “Good. Cook makes enough food to feed an army every time Alex comes.”
We turn with her and go into the mansion. It is at least a few degrees colder inside. Must be all the stone and speckled-gray marble. I am instantly overwhelmed as I look around at the lofty ceilings decorated with intricate plasterwork and gold gilding. The house is a veritable palace with marble statues and the kind of massive old oil paintings that you’d find in a museum or art gallery. Our feet echo in the vast palace.
“You seem very surprised,” Babushka comments.
“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just so beautiful …” I trail off as Alex’s cousins giggle nastily.
Babushka throws them a look and the laughter stops instantly. She turns back to me and I can see the playful twinkle in her eye.
“Then you should have seen it all before the revolution,” she says. “They carried away the best. It is the same with all revolutions. Fortunately, I like things bright and airy so they rather did me a favor here. Anyway, my rooms are over there. I don’t like the stairs anymore. I look forward to seeing you at dinner.” Turning away from me she says, “Val dear, would you show these two to their rooms please?”
“Of course,” Valeriya replies.
“There’s no need, Babushka,” Alex laughs. “I think I can still remember how to find my way around.”
Babushka smiles. “True enough, my heart, true enough. I’ve put you and Cindy in the South wing. It’s warmer there this time of the year and you will have nice views of the rose garden. You’re in the blue room and Cindy is next door.”
“Thank you, Babushka,” Alex says.
“Right.” She smiles. “Dinner will be served at eight o’clock promptly. See you all then. Don’t be late.”
The two girls move away deeper into the house and Alex and I are left alone again.
Cindy
Alex takes my hand and leads me towards a sweeping marble staircase adorned on either side by the same fierce Griffins outside.
“Your ancestors liked griffins, huh?”
“They are part of our family’s crest. They are supposed to represent courage and bravery.”
I follow him up the staircase, glad to be away from prying eyes, and truth be told I’m enjoying the tingling feeling of my hand clasped inside Alex’s big, powerful one. If only … I kill that thought right there. We reach the top of the staircase and Alex leads me along a hallway that perfectly matches the one downstairs, and stops in front of a door.
“This is your room,” he says, letting go of my hand to open the door.
My suitcase is already inside, neatly hoisted onto a table. The room is grand and beautiful. I walk over to the window and the view is breathtaking. As far as the eye can see green grass and stately old trees. Right underneath the window is the rose garden Babushka talked about. It is in full bloom and quite a sight. I must take photos to show my mother.
“You have a private bathroom. It’s the door on the left. The one on the right is a connecting door leading to my room. I trust that you won’t be tempted to sneak into mine in the middle of the night.”
He’s laughing as he says it and I haughtily deny I’ll be doing any such thing, but I think we both know I want him. The temptation is there. I certainly won’t be acting on it though. That much is for sure.
“I’ll let you get unpacked and freshen up, then,” he says formally. “Meet me back here at half-past seven.”
“Okay.”
He turns to reach for the door knob.
“Alex?” I say.
He turns back to me.
“I don’t think your cousins like me very much.”
He grimaces. “I wouldn’t worry about it. They don’t like anyone very much. Not even each other. But don’t worry about them. My aunt liked you, I could see it in her eyes. And she’s the only person who matters to me.”
I smile and nod, and he steps out of my room. The thoughts of Petra and Anastasia instantly vanish as I whirl around to take in my room without his distracting presence. It is huge, at least twice the size of my bedroom back home and I have a big bedroom. In the center of it stands a marvelous four poster bed. The bedding is all pristine white with gorgeously intricate antique lace. White netting cascades down from the posts. It’s a bed fit for a fairy princess. As a child, this is exactly the kind of scenario I imagined Sleeping Beauty lying in when the Prince came to kiss her awake.
At either side of the bed are stunning blue bedside cabinets. Against one wall there is a large white double wardrobe and a matching chest of drawers with a large oval mirror on top of it. Both are elaborately and painstakingly carved. The walls are a cool white, almost with a tinge of blue, and the hardwood flooring is softened by what I imagine must be a Persian rug. It covers most of the room. Three doors lead off the room. The one to the right leads to Alex’s room, and I resolutely give that one a wide berth, as though even getting too close to it will tempt me to head in there.
I open the first door on the left and find a massive bathroom. A free standing, claw footed bathtub takes center stage. In one corner is a large walk-in shower next to a wide sink. The toilet is tucked behind a small, waist high wall. That little quirky touch makes the bathroom seem at once foreign and prudish and I smile to myself as I step back out of the room and move to the other door.
Expecting some sort of walk-in wardrobe, I’m pleasantly surprised to see a gorgeous surprisingly modern lounge. A white leather sofa that looks soft and comfortable sits against the wall opposite a huge, wall mounted flat screen TV. The wall opposite the door is completely lined with shelves, half of which are taken up by books and the other half, by DVDs and CDs. I’m sure I could live in this room for a year and not get through all of these movies and books. There is a sturdy platform ladder with wheels tucked into one corner of the room, presumably to get at the books on the higher shelves.
I glance at my watch. The last thing I want is to be late for dinner. It’s early still and I decide to unpack and take a shower. I want to save the bath for when I have time to really savor a good soak in it.
I unpack quickly and find the wardrobe packed out with coat hangers. In the chest of drawers, I find a hairdryer. Better and better. After a refreshing shower, I come back into the bedroom dressed in a fluffy bathrobe and dry my hair in front of the oval mirror. It is old and the silver behind the glass has tarnished over time. It reminds me of the one in my grandma’s bedroom. Afterwards, I apply my make-up and then comes the hard part. What do I wear? Judging by the fact that the staff are in uniform, it should be safe to assume it won’t be a normal family dinner where people rock up in jeans and a t-shirt.
So a formal affair then …
I don’t want to get it wrong and be totally overdressed though. Eventually, I settle on a faithful friend. A black cocktail dress that isn’t over the top, but isn’t casual by any stretch of the imagination, either. I slip on a pair of black heels and look myself over in the full-length mirror inside of the wardrobe door. I turn around, twist my neck, and look at myself from the back. Hopefully, I’ve got it right. No doubt, if dinner is usually a super casual affair, Alex will tell me before we go downstairs and I can quickly change into something else.
I still have ten minutes before I have to meet Alex in the hallway and I decide to call Ros
a. I pull my phone out and scroll through my contacts list until I find her. She answers quickly. She doesn’t bother to say hello.
“You’re still alive then?” she says instead.
“Just about,” I laugh.
“Spill the beans? What’s the aunt like?”
I vomit out everything. About the palace-like mansion, about the aunt who seems to like me so far, and about the cousins who Rosa instantly dubs the wicked stepsisters.
“The fact they’re Alex’s cousins and not his step sisters doesn’t worry you in the least?” I ask with a laugh.
“Accuracy is more important than facts,” she says airily.
“Actually, I’ve taken to thinking of them as the ice sisters.”
“Take a photo of them when they’re not looking and send it to me,” she demands bossily.
I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear the knock on my door. “Shit, I have to go,” I mutter. “I’ll keep you posted. Can you tell Star and Raven the news so far?”
“Sure. Have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Rosa says with an evil laugh.
“That doesn’t rule much out,” I say as I end the call.
I know Star will text once Rosa speaks to her and the last thing I need is my text alert going off during dinner. Leaving my phone on my bed I go to open the door.
Cindy
Alex stands before me, in another wildly expensive suit. It’s almost unfair how ridiculously good he looks in a dark suit. I feel my heart skip a beat just looking at him. In different circumstances I’d be quite happy to skip dinner and drag him into my lair. My stomach seems to disagree though because it chooses that moment to growl loudly.
Alex laughs. “Well that answers my question about whether or not you’re ready for dinner,” he drawls. His eyes linger on my chest for a moment and then they come back up to my face. “You look beautiful, Cindy.”
“Why, thank you, Sir.” I smile up at him coyly. Might as well get into character. “You don’t scrub up bad yourself.”
“Playing your best card already,” Alex asks with a chuckle.
I arch an eyebrow. “Now why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. How much further do you want to go?”
If he thinks I’m backing off, he has another think coming. “Well, you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”
He smiles, a secret smile. “Yes, I’ll just have to.” Then he offers me his arm. “Shall we?”
I nod and take his arm and let him lead me down the grand staircase. We go along a hallway before Alex stops at a set of double doors where a man in uniform is waiting. Respectfully, he opens the door and steps back so we can step through. I find myself in a tall yellow reception room that one would find in any fine stately home. Beyond it, through another set of open doors I can see an extremely formal, deep-red dining room. Looks like the other guests are already there and they are dressed in evening dresses. I send up a silent thank you to God that I got the dress code right.
“Cindy, Alex,” Babushka smiles, standing as the door closes silently behind us.
“No need to get up, Babushka,” Alex says.
“Nonsense,” Babushka retorts briskly coming towards us. “Anyone would think I was old or something.”
This gets a laugh from the other guests, even Petra. Babushka is wearing a white lace top and a black velvet skirt. Around her throat is the most beautiful necklace made of pearls and a blue stone. She kisses me lightly on both cheeks.
“I love your necklace. It is so beautiful,” I say impulsively.
Her white fingers finger the pearls as she studies me. “These belonged to my great grandmother and one day they will belong to you.”
I feel Alex stiffen next to me. Forget Alex, the dismay in the air is actually palpable. It is clear no one in that room other than Babushka desires such an outcome. I am saved from answering by the arrival of a manservant with a tray bearing two drinks in crystal glasses. A whisky for Alex and tall orange liquid which I assume must be Gin and orange for me. Alex must have ordered it beforehand. I pick up my drink, the glass is cold under my fingertips.
“Come and join us,” Babushka invites as Alex takes his drink.
Alex leads us towards an unoccupied sofa. It could have been the only quirky item in the room since the upholstery was printed with Matryoshka dolls.
Next to us is Anastasia and Petra and on the sofa opposite is a man and a woman I don’t recognize.
“Cindy, this is my daughter, Marina, and her husband, Viktor,” Babushka says, nodding at the couple.
I smile and say hello to them and they both return my smile, but say nothing. They certainly aren’t as welcoming as Babushka, but at least they aren’t as frosty as the ice sisters.
“This is Cindy, Alex’s fiancée,” Babushka announces joyfully, and I feel another pang of guilt at deceiving the proud old woman.
I remind myself we’re only doing it to make her happy.
“Fiancée huh?” Viktor grins at Alex. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d settle down.”
“Never met the right woman before,” Alex says, turning to smile adoringly at me.
Jesus, that smile. I swallow hard and return what I hope is an equally adoring smile. I must have succeeded because something flashed in his eyes before he veiled and turned back to the rest of his family.
Petra says something in Russian and Anastasia laughs. I don’t know what she said, but it’s enough to make both her parents give her dirty looks.
“I’ve already told you we’ll be speaking in English while we have our guest here,” Babushka reprimands sternly. It is clear she didn’t like the girl’s remark either.
“Oh, of course. I’m so sorry, Babushka. I forgot that the English can only speak their own language because literally everyone else has to learn it,” Petra says with an innocent smile that is anything but innocent.
“Petra,” Babushka snaps.
“It’s fine.” I throw a reassuring smile at Babushka before I turn to Petra. “I know exactly what you mean. So many English people don’t make the effort to learn other languages. It’s very lazy of us as a nation, but our excuse is everyone speaks enough English to make communication possible. However, personally, I speak French, Spanish, Italian and just about enough German to get by. How many other languages do you speak? Since you seem to have an interest in them.”
Then I give Petra a smile that is about as innocent as hers was.
“Just Russian and English,” she mumbles, not meeting my eye.
“Oh,” I murmur, feigning surprise. “Oh well, I’m sure that’s enough to get by. As you said, everyone learns English, don’t they?”
Petra’s face sports an unattractive shade of red and she scowls at me.
When Babushka hides a smile I know I’ve just won a few more points with her … and I’ve shown Alex I can handle his family. Petra mutters something else in Russian, too quiet for Babushka to hear her. I’m sure it’s nothing complimentary.
“Please excuse our daughter,” Marina says to me, as she glances uncomfortably at Babushka. “She’s a little awkward around strangers.”
I take a sip of my drink. “Oh, please don’t worry on my account. I’m sure we’ll be great friends by the end of the week,” I lie smoothly. I can’t quite get a measure of Marina. Is she apologizing for her mother’s benefit, or is she’s genuinely sorry for her daughter’s appalling rudeness?
Another manservant comes in, bows, and says something in Russian. Babushka rises gracefully. “Dinner is served. Viktor, will you escort me in?”
Viktor quickly moves towards her and she slips her hand into the crook of his elbow. It is obvious that is the role usually played by Alex. I look up at Alex as I feel Alex’s hand land lightly on the small of my back. He smiles down at me and a strange thought pops into my head.
How nice if this was all real?
As quickly as it came, I push it away. With his hand guiding me, we make our way towards the imposing dini
ng room.
Cindy
The long grand table is set with fancy silverware. There seems to be an array of cutlery, but I have already decided that I will carefully follow whatever Alex does. I am seated between Viktor and Babushka and opposite Alex. The ice sisters are next to each other and Marina is next to Alex. Without Alex by my side I start to feel a tinge of nervousness, but when I catch his eyes he winks at me and suddenly I know I can do it. White wine is respectfully poured into my glass by a manservant. I smile my thanks and he nods gravely.
“Tonight, we’ll be eating British food in honor of Cindy’s presence,” Babushka announces.
“Great. Fish and chips and soggy beef pies then,” Petra sniggers.
Everyone ignores her as three more manservants troop into the room carrying silver serving platters with dome lids. When all the platters are on the table, the main headwaiter announces, “Potted crab with a hint of smoked paprika.”
And all the lids are lifted at the same time with military precision. The effect is surreal. I can almost be persuaded I have gone back in time to a lost epoch where the very rich lived like Kings and Queens.
I look down at the tiny silver pot of potted crab with delicate fingers of sourdough bread on my plate. As the delicious smell fills my nostrils, the first of the barrage of questions arrives.
“How long have you two been together?” Viktor asks.
I spoon a bit of crab into my mouth quickly so Alex will have to answer. The crab is divine. It melts in my mouth. This is without doubt the best potted crab I have ever tasted.
“Four months.” Alex smiles. “I know the engagement might seem a little quick, but when you know you know. And we’re planning on taking things a little more slowly now with a long engagement.”
“It doesn’t seem that quick to me,” Marina says. “Look at Petra. She met Anton in July of last year and they were married by Christmas.”
Nice Day For A White Wedding Page 8
