‘He didn’t.’
The teacher got out a maths exam paper Nikolai had recently taken and told him to sit and then asked him to write the answers to the questions.
‘You could do this maths two months ago, so why not now?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘This could be very bad for your friend...’
Nikolai stared at the numbers and pleaded for the answer to come to him. Of course Sev had helped him, it hadn’t felt like cheating, just a friend helping a friend.
And it could now cause trouble.
‘Did Sevastyan do your work for you?’ the teacher asked, and raised his hand. Nikolai thought he was about to be smacked upside the head but the man’s hand came down on Nikolai’s shoulder.
‘Nyet,’ Nikolai said, and tried to shrug the hand off, but it remained.
‘Come on, Nikolai,’ the teacher said, and, removing his hand, he took the chair beside Nikolai. ‘How can I help you if you don’t tell me the truth?’
‘He didn’t do my work.’
‘Then you should be able to do the maths.’
Yet he couldn’t.
He heard the horn blare from the bus and he knew it was leaving.
‘I’ll drive you home,’ the teacher said, and Nikolai frowned as he would rather walk in the snow. ‘About Sevastyan helping you...’
‘We weren’t cheating,’ Nikolai pleaded, to save his friend from losing his scholarship. ‘Sev just showed me how.’
‘It’s okay,’ the teacher said gently, and Nikolai did not understand the strange tone to the man’s voice yet the hammering of his heart warned him to fear it. ‘We can keep it between us. Nobody has to get into trouble.’
Nikolai stared at the sums and then he felt a hand high on his thigh.
‘Do they?’ the teacher checked, and Nikolai didn’t answer.
* * *
His butler duly returned and managed not to raise an eyebrow at the table Nikolai had upended in rage at the memory of what had taken place long ago. Instead, the butler laid out the clothes he had purchased and since neatly pressed.
Nikolai headed to the shower and decided against shaving. His thick dark hair fell into perfect shape.
He pulled on the crisp white shirt and gunmetal-grey tie his butler had chosen. The dark suit sat on his broad shoulders far better than he had expected it to.
He felt as if he were dressing for a funeral such was his grief for his lost friend, yet he wanted to see Sev happy so badly.
His eyes would remain behind dark glasses, Nikolai decided as he put them on. He would take them off at the last moment as he stepped into the church.
He would arrive and leave unnoticed, and so, instead of summoning his driver or making a spectacle of unloading the car, he disembarked on foot and walked along South Quay then hailed a black cab.
The driver chatted about how warm the weather was for May but Nikolai did not respond. As they pulled up at the church and the driver turned for his fare, Nikolai shook his head.
‘Two minutes,’ he said with a heavy Russian accent.
Those two minutes turned into ten but the driver did not argue given the amount of cash that had just changed hands.
Nikolai sat watching the guests milling on the steps of the church and braced himself to head inside. The press were there and police were keeping the crowd on the other side of the road.
Sev, he guessed, must already be inside because, despite scanning the crowd, he could not make out his old friend. Sev had been an introvert and more into books and computers than people, yet on his wedding day there were many people there to celebrate.
Including Nikolai.
He watched as a tall, slender woman with a blaze of long red hair climbed out of a luxury vehicle. She was laughing and chatting as she helped a heavily pregnant woman get out. Nikolai recognised the pregnant woman as Libby, Daniil’s wife, from a news article he had read during the times he had looked up his friends.
So Daniil must be here also.
The two women walked up the steps and went into the church and Nikolai could hear the bells ringing out as others started to head inside.
‘Two more minutes,’ he said again to the driver.
It was proving every bit as hard as he had guessed it would be to face his past.
Sev had enquired as to the reason for Nikolai’s tears on the night he had run away. Nikolai had not been able to answer the question then and he was nowhere near ready to answer it now. He did not want to see the discomfort in anybody’s eyes as he revealed the sordid past.
He climbed out of the cab and walked to the church, and just as the bride’s car came into view he slipped into the church.
Hopefully unseen.
Yuri, were he alive, might say he was hiding and that he should face things in his usual bold way, but on this occasion Nikolai did not want to ponder sage advice—he would take his own.
There was no need to discuss his past.
No need to re-invite shame.
‘RACHEL, I JUST don’t understand.’
Libby was clearly perplexed by Rachel’s shocking news that, after a long tour of Australasia, she had left the dance company. The two women had, until recently, not only danced with the same company but had also been flatmates. Last year, just before she had met her now husband, Daniil, Libby herself had retired.
In truth, Libby had been pushed into the decision and Rachel could well remember her friend’s struggle to let go of the career she loved so. They had discussed it over and over.
Rachel had made up her mind by herself.
They were friends but very different. Libby wore her heart on her sleeve, whereas Rachel kept hers not just buried in a deep vault but one where the key had been thrown away and wet concrete poured over it.
She let no one in.
Oh, she chatted, but it was mainly about the other person, and she flirted and dated but it was always on her terms.
Always.
They were in Rachel’s vast suite at a luxury hotel, getting ready to attend a very prominent London wedding. Rachel had never actually met the happy couple, she was there more to support Libby as Daniil was the best man and Libby was one week away from her due date.
Because Daniil owned the hotel, Rachel had been given an amazing suite. Anxious about sharing her news while determined to be upbeat for her friend today, Rachel had taken a long fragrant bath, with heated curlers in. It had done nothing to quell the nerves that lived permanently in her chest.
Rachel was always anxious, even if she hid it well, but now it felt as if everything was coming to a head.
The bath hadn’t worked its magic and she had already been running late when Libby had arrived. Preparations had further stalled when Rachel had, oh, so casually dropped the news that she would not be returning to the dance company,
‘But what will you do?’ Libby asked.
‘I’m not sure yet,’ Rachel admitted as she started to pull the jumbo heated rollers out of her long red hair. ‘I intend to work it out over a lot of long lazy evenings and