East Fortune (28 page)

Douglas wished he had taken the time to learn the Cyrillic alphabet. Then he could name the places he needed to get to. He did not want to look a fool in front of Julia. There were only so many times he could say
privet, spasiba
and
do svidaniya.

He noticed the lights of a helicopter dousing a burning building in the distance. The smoke from the fire rose into the dark grey of the sky. Douglas could not imagine what it might be like to live in that building or to be part of that fire. He could not concentrate on anything other than his life with Julia.

The car pulled up at the hotel and Douglas felt for his roubles. He was going to have to tip everyone. The taxi driver wanted paying, his luggage was unloaded, and the doorman, receptionist and bellboy were waiting.

After he had checked in he was given an envelope. It was a note from Julia. She had enclosed her spare key-card.
Welcome to Moscow – Room 514.
It was five-thirty in the morning.

Douglas took his bag to his room. He showered, shaved and cleaned his teeth. He had to smell good. Even though he was tired, he wanted to be at the top of his game.

He took the lift down to Julia's floor and walked along the corridor, passing trays of discarded room service and bags of newly cleaned shoes. He hesitated, unsure whether to knock on her door or just let himself in. He worried how he might explain himself if he found himself in the wrong room; if the whole encounter was an elaborate joke.

He put the card in the slot and opened the door. There was just enough street-light through the blinds to see Julia sleeping on her side.

Douglas took off his clothes and got into bed. He kissed her gently on the shoulder. Julia sighed. He lifted her hair and kissed the back of her neck.

I hope that's who I think it is. I'm here. Still sleepy. It's all right. Perhaps I'm dreaming. No. I'm here.

This was all that he wanted.

Are you glad you've come? You cannot imagine. I can try. I forget how different it feels to be with you, I feel alive again. So you're dead without me. Pretty much.

They held each other, half waking, half sleeping.

‘I have to work this morning,' Julia said. ‘Do you want to sleep and join me later? We could have lunch.'

‘That would be good.'

‘I'll meet you in Red Square. You could have a look at Lenin.'

‘Is he still there?'

‘Of course. It's like a shrine; they replaced one religion with another.'

‘And people still go?'

‘There'll be a huge queue.'

‘I've got nothing else to do.'

‘We can't just spend all day in bed.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because some of us have to earn a living.'

Julia swivelled out of bed and walked into the bathroom. Douglas closed his eyes and listened to her turn on the shower. He even thought he could hear her humming to herself.
I've got it bad and that ain't good.

He lay back and tried to decide if he should stay in her bed or return to his room. He was less tired than he had first thought. He imagined going into the bathroom and doing it in the shower. Soon he could not think of anything else.

‘Fuck it,' he decided.

He got out of bed and knocked on the bathroom door. He wasn't sure Julia could hear.

‘What do you want?'

He opened the door.

‘Again?' she asked.

At lunchtime Julia picked him up in Red Square and they took a car through the streets of Moscow. As they approached the restaurant Douglas could see black Hummers dropping off middle-aged men with improbably tanned girlfriends. Bodyguards stood by the cars, checking each new arrival, smoking cigarettes to their butts.

‘They're all armed,' Julia said. ‘Bunch of gangsters.'

‘Then I hope they don't understand what you've just said.'

‘If a woman is well dressed she can say what she likes. You'll be the one thrown in jail.'

An old man in a frock coat opened the door to the restaurant. He had long white hair and a matching moustache that made him look like a footman in an opera. Douglas and Julia handed in their coats and were shown to the bar. Julia asked for a Bellini and insisted that the barman made it with freshly squeezed peaches rather than tinned juice. Douglas ordered a white wine and was already worrying how much it was going to cost and how long he could keep up the pretence that it didn't matter. His friend Paul had once told him that affairs only lasted until either you were discovered or the money ran out. Somehow he was managing to do both.

The restaurant looked like a nineteenth-century nobleman's house, with a white-stuccoed ceiling and floor-to-ceiling book-shelves.

‘It's all fake,' said Julia. ‘It was built in the 1990s.'

They were handed menus that had been designed to look like old Russian newspapers:
Pelmeni stuffed with chicken giblets and calf brains, Sturgeon solianka soup, Braised cockscombs.

‘I thought a cockscomb was a type of fool …' said Douglas.

‘It's probably very stringy chicken's neck. I'd have the blinis. We can have the cheaper red caviar…'

‘No, have the black, if you like. I don't mind. I don't care about anything when I'm with you.'

‘You say that now. If we saw each other all the time you'd soon tire.'

‘I don't think so.'

‘What do you think then?'

‘Sometimes, Julia, it seems I hardly know you at all.'

‘Well, I think it's important to retain an air of mystery. If you knew what I thought what would be the point of asking me any questions?'

‘I want to know everything about you,' Douglas said. ‘I want to know more than anyone has ever known, I want you to tell me more than you have ever told anyone.' He leaned forward. ‘I want to touch parts of you that no one has ever touched before.'

‘And it's only lunchtime,' said Julia. ‘I'm not sure I can keep up with all of this. Let's order.'

‘Don't you?' he asked.

‘What?'

‘Don't you want the same?'

‘Of course I do. I just choose not to express it like that.'

‘I'm not sure I believe you.'

‘We don't need to say everything at once, Douglas. Every time we see each other you speak to me as if you've been saving everything up. I think we should go a little more slowly.'

‘We've been going slowly for six months.'

‘Life is longer than you think, Douglas. Don't ruin the present by thinking how little time there is. If you spend all your time worrying about that then there's no time to enjoy anything.'

‘I just want to feel I'm living.'

‘We can't live like this all the time. We'll go mad.'

‘I want to go mad.'

‘You can't live your life at a hundred miles an hour all the time.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because then you crash and burn.'

‘Then what a way to go.'

‘I have kids, Douglas. I don't want to crash and burn. Let's talk about something else.'

Julia started to tell him how her best friend had asked her to a party where everyone had to dress up as characters from
Gone with the Wind.
As she spoke, Douglas began to doubt. How had he got himself into this relationship with a woman who seemed so oblivious to his feelings and so wary of sharing any serious thoughts she might have about the future?

Did he know what she thought about politics, global warming, children, education, morality and the future? And if he did, would he like her? He could not picture the future at all. Were they just going to drift on, meeting intermittently for bursts of passion and then returning to their day jobs as if nothing had happened?

‘You're very quiet,' Julia said.

‘I'm just taking it all in.'

‘I hope you're not going to get serious again. This is supposed to be fun, you know.'

‘I know.'

‘Then lighten up.'

The waiter stood between them with his pen poised. Julia asked for the blinis followed by rabbit in puff pastry.

‘Rabbit always makes me think of
WatershipDown,'
said Douglas.

‘That's why I order it. I hate that book. Eating rabbit is a form of revenge. Would you like some more wine?'

‘I can see most people are drinking beer. Or brandy.'

‘Georgian wine was always the safest bet but now they've banned it. You know this is supposed to be the best restaurant in Moscow?'

‘I can see.'

‘Well, we need a treat. We can't just sit here eating borscht and drinking tap water.'

‘I know.'

‘So let's order some Russian champagne and be done with it.'

Douglas realised that Julia was beginning to irritate him. He even thought she might be doing it deliberately.

‘Am I your first indiscretion?' she asked.

‘Of course. Am I yours?' Douglas had never dared ask before.

‘I've had my admirers.'

‘I'm sure you have. But that doesn't answer my question.'

The champagne arrived.

‘Oh Douglas, what does it matter? Relax. Why can't we just have a good time? Don't start worrying about the past or analysing everything.'

‘I can't help it.'

She didn't understand. Douglas emptied his glass of champagne, no longer caring how much it cost.

‘Really, Douglas, there's no need to get upset.'

‘I'm not upset.'

‘You are upset. Tell me about it.'

‘Does all this mean nothing?'

‘I'm here, aren't I? What else do you expect me to do?'

‘I don't know. Just acknowledge what has happened.'

‘But it's still happening. I don't know what's going on. I can't acknowledge it. I'm too busy living. I thought you were too.'

‘You don't understand.'

‘I do understand.'

‘You don't.'

‘Then let me … I don't know…'

They couldn't go on like this.

‘I've left my wife,' said Douglas.

‘Oh.'

‘I should have told you earlier.'

‘When did this happen?'

‘A few months ago.'

‘She found out?'

‘I told her.'

‘Are you crazy?'

‘I couldn't live with it any more.'

‘And so she kicked you out?'

‘More or less.'

‘I don't suppose there's any “less” about it.'

Douglas found Julia's reply so annoying that he wanted to walk out.

‘It was horrible.'

‘I'm sure it was.'

Douglas thought of Emma and how easily they used to speak to each other even when they were arguing.

‘You don't seem to care about any of this at all,' he said.

‘Oh I do, Douglas. It's just that it hasn't got anything to do with me.'

‘It has.'

‘It's your marriage,' said Julia.

‘You don't understand.'

‘I do, Douglas, but there's no point talking if you're going to get upset.'

‘That's exactly when we should be talking.'

Douglas's mobile phone rang. He hadn't expected it to work in Moscow and he didn't want to answer but he could see that it was his mother. As soon as he answered he could tell that something had happened.

‘What's wrong?'

‘It's your father.'

‘What is it?'

‘He's very ill.'

‘I know.'

‘Where are you?'

‘I'm in Moscow.'

Julia pushed back her chair and mouthed a question. Did he want her to leave? No, he did not.

‘What are you doing in Moscow?'

‘I'm doing some work. You know, the anatomy project.'

‘I never know what you are doing.'

He had told her. He had told his entire family but they never listened.

‘Can you come home?'

‘When?'

‘Now.'

‘It's that bad?'

‘Yes,' said Elizabeth. ‘It's that bad.'

‘I'll come as soon as I can.'

‘No, Douglas. I want you to come now. I know your father will want to see you.'

Will he? Douglas thought. I'm hardly the favourite.

‘What time is it over there?' she asked. ‘Can you get a flight this evening?'

‘I'll find out.'

‘Just come, Douglas.'

He turned off his phone.

‘Bad news?' Julia asked.

‘It's my father.'

‘I see.'

‘I have to go.'

‘I'll pay,' said Julia. ‘Don't worry. Just go.'

‘You want to get rid of me?'

‘Of course I don't.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Don't be angry.'

‘I'm not angry. It's just that you don't seem to care very much about us – about the future.'

Julia put down her glass of wine.

‘Do you want to stop?' she asked.

‘What?'

‘I said do you want to stop?'

‘I don't know.' Douglas realised what was happening. It wasn't the best of times to end an affair but then, he supposed, there could hardly be a good time. ‘Do you?' he asked.

‘We don't have to decide anything now,' said Julia.

‘That means you do.'

‘I'm not saying that.'

‘You are.'

Douglas was almost relieved.

‘You have to go now,' said Julia.

‘I know.'

‘Then go. We can talk about this another time.'

‘All right then.'

‘Go on…'

‘I'm going…'

Douglas didn't even kiss her goodbye. He left the restaurant and stepped out into the street, past the chauffeur-driven cars, the security guards and the escort girls, and hailed a cab back to the hotel and then the airport. He would buy the first ticket he could and damn the cost.

He was already thinking of his father.