Master of the House (27 page)

‘That’s what I said.’

I gaped. ‘You mean … you’re telling me that wasn’t true? That you did know his name?’

‘I knew the name he gave me, which wasn’t the right one. I tried to get in touch when I knew you were on the way, but he’d told me a false name, so I couldn’t.’

‘What a bastard.’

She shrugged.

‘I did the same thing. Told him my name was Rainbow.’

I almost laughed but, let’s face it, a person called Lucy-In-The-Sky-With-Diamonds has no room to mock anybody’s name.

‘What did he say he was called?’

‘Yevgeniy Onegin.’

‘Oh, Mum. That’s a book. By Pushkin.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yes. So … was he Russian, then?’

‘Yeah. You didn’t see a lot of Russians in those days. The Berlin Wall was still up. He was exotic to me.’

‘I’m half Russian! You could have told me.’

‘I didn’t see the point. When you were born I looked at you and thought, for the first time in my life here’s something that’s all mine, all for me. I didn’t want you breaking your heart looking for him, when he wouldn’t be interested anyway. I didn’t want you to be rejected.’

‘I’m half Russian,’ I repeated, still curiously entranced by the idea.

‘Perhaps that’s why you were always so keen to go east,’ Mum suggested. ‘You were so fascinated by those countries, the bit behind the old Iron Curtain. I thought it must be something in your blood.’

‘Didn’t you ever want to mention it?’

‘All the time. Once you started growing up, I could see that you needed to know about the other half of yourself, to make sense of who you were. It hurt me to have to keep quiet about it.’

‘You didn’t have to, did you? You could have at least said what you knew.’

She was silent for a moment. We watched brightly coloured people stream into the venue.

‘I had to keep quiet,’ she said. ‘He made me sign something.’

‘
What?
How could he make you sign something if you couldn’t track him down? It doesn’t make sense. Talk sense! Who is he?’

‘When you were about ten years old,’ she said carefully, ‘I saw him. On TV.’

‘On TV?’

‘On the news. A feature about the new Russia and its billionaires. He was one of them.’

‘Fuck.’ Something had occurred to me. ‘And he’s here in Tylney now, you say?

She nodded. ‘He came to my stall.’

‘I think I know who he is.’

‘Do you?’ She looked at me fearfully.

‘Arkady Voronov?’

She nodded, looking afraid of my reaction.

‘When I saw him on the news,’ she said, ‘I had a name at last. So I wrote to him, told him about you, with photographs and all. About a week later, a man came to the caravan – not him. One of his lawyers. Asked me to sign this disclaimer. Frightened me, he did, came out with all kinds of veiled threats. So I signed and he gave me a bit of money. Do you remember, that was when I took driving lessons and bought that car?’

‘That you wrote off within six months,’ I recalled.

‘Yeah, I wasn’t one of nature’s drivers. But we got to go on that little holiday first, didn’t we, round Wales. That was nice.’

‘Only holiday we ever had. And he paid for it?’

‘Pathetic, how easily I was bought. I’m sorry.’

‘He scared you, Mum. I know you didn’t do it for the money. You never cared about money that much.’

‘No, I never have.’

‘The opposite of him,’ I said softly. ‘I suppose I’m somewhere in the middle.’

‘Yeah. You’re east meets west. Oligarch meets hippy. You’ve turned out pretty normal, considering.’

‘So … he came to see you?’

‘Yeah, like I said. Just turned up, out of the blue, at my stall. I don’t think anyone recognised him because he wasn’t smartly dressed or anything and he wasn’t surrounded by bodyguards like you see him on the news.’

‘But you recognised him?’

‘Oh, yes. I’d know those eyes anywhere. See right through you.’

She shivered.

‘What did he want?’

‘To meet you. Said he knew where you worked and he’d find you anyway, but he wanted to tell me first. Just so I knew.’

‘Jesus,’ I said, then I couldn’t think of anything else. It was all too much to take in, all at once. Twenty-seven years of life and then wham! Everything changes.

‘You know, do you,’ I said, my fingers tight around the steering wheel, ‘that he’s Joss’s mystery tenant at Willingham Hall?’

She didn’t.

‘Do you think he’s known I was there all this time?’

‘No,’ said Mum. ‘He only thought about it when he saw your byline in the local paper last month and realised you were still living here.’

‘And he wants to … to what? What does he want from me?’

‘He says he wants to know you.’

‘After twenty-seven years?’

‘We were both young when you were born. Kids, really. Eighteen. He went back to Russia, got into natural gas, got rich. He didn’t think about you again until I wrote to him and, at that time in his life, he was too busy to care. He’s been coming to the UK more and more in the last ten years and he admits that you were on his mind a lot but he didn’t feel you’d want to know him now, after all these years.’

‘Perhaps he’s right,’ I said, my mind whirring furiously. ‘And perhaps he isn’t.’

‘So what do you want to do?’

I took her hands and squeezed them.

‘This has really got to you, hasn’t it? Seeing him again? Is that why Animal walked out?’

‘Yeah. He couldn’t deal with me like this. Head all over the place. The thing is, Lu – shit, this is going to sound so selfish, but – I’ve only just got you back. And I’m worried sick you’ll leave me again, for him. He’s got so much more to offer you …’

‘Oh, shut up! I mean, seriously. Shut up. You’re my parent. He’s just the man who donated the sperm. It’s always been that way, and it always will be,
here
.’ I struck my left breast.

‘I wasn’t the best mother to you …’

‘You did your best. And I was happy and secure. No parent can do better than that.’

‘Do you mean that, Luce? Do you really mean it?’

‘I’m here for you, always. We’re a team, aren’t we? You always said that when I was a kid. We look after each other.’

She winced.

‘Should’ve been me looking after you. You shouldn’t have had to … all those days when I couldn’t get out of bed. Or when I went on a bender. Shit. I feel so awful, looking back. When you went to Hungary, it gave me a lot of time to think about how I’d lost you, what I’d done wrong.’

‘You didn’t lose me. You let me go. You made me independent and free.’

‘Well, I did try to tell myself that, on my better days. You ain’t turned out so bad.’ She gave me an uncertain smile. ‘No thanks to me, though.’

‘Thanks to you,’ I said firmly. A gorgeously dressed group of women crossed the car park in front of us. ‘Oh, Christ, this wedding. I’m not sure I can … but it’s Jamila’s day …’

The wedding was beautiful, so golden and glittering and full of joy that I could, for a short while, put my mother’s revelation out of my mind. She seemed to enjoy it too, her pallor turning to pink-cheeked pleasure in the gorgeous spectacle.

Our minds reverted to it, though, as we tucked into dessert after the ceremony.

‘Is this made from carrots?’ Mum asked, frowning at a bowl of sweet orange pulpy stuff she was eating.

‘I believe so. It’s gajar halwa. Nice – like mushy carrot cake. Try my rasmalai – it’s made from paneer. Jamila’s mum always made it for us when I went round there.’

We sampled each other’s puddings, then the pleasant mastication turned into a potent kind of silence. We each knew what the other was thinking.

‘He gave me his number,’ said Mum. ‘He’s waiting for you to make the first move and call him.’

I nodded and reached into my bag to switch my phone back on.

There was a message from Joss and I read it quickly.

‘When are you back? Need you. AV is here with friends. J x’

‘I’d better go,’ I said. ‘Joss has some kind of crisis. I think it’s all dancing from now on – I hope they won’t mind if we leave early.’

The feast over, Jamila and Akram came down from their high-set chairs to mingle with the guests, giving me the chance to congratulate them, then apologise for having to leave early.

‘Lucy is always chasing the story,’ said Jamila’s mother with a knowing nod. ‘I suppose something important is happening?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ I said, grateful for her understanding. I thanked her for her hospitality and left, mum following me a few minutes later.

‘Is AV with you?’ I texted, uneasy at the thought of them making any kind of plan without me.

‘No, gone to E Wing but we spoke earlier. Are you coming?’

‘Back in half-hour.’

I took mum back into the flat and made sure she was installed with a cup of herbal tea and a favourite DVD. I texted one of her friends and asked if she’d pop round before heading back to the car. I hated to leave her, knowing how low she was feeling, but I had a horrible premonition that tonight was going to be a very interesting, possibly life-changing, night.

It was significant in itself that Voronov had not asked Joss to go elsewhere while he and his little band colonised their wing. I wondered about it as I parked my car next to a nifty little soft top and a number of huge jeepy things.

When I ran to the front door, Joss opened it without my having to fish for the key, hurried me inside and pushed me into the office.

‘What’s going on? What’s happened?’

There was tension on his face and his hair had been raked into epic messiness.

‘Someone told Voronov I have a submissive. Somebody who was at the ball, I presume, though I couldn’t guess a name. I should have known. There aren’t many degrees of separation in the BDSM world.’

‘Or maybe it was the person whose face I saw at the window that night. So … aren’t we packing for the caravan then?’

‘No.’ Joss put a hand to his mouth, then uncovered it again. He looked slightly green. ‘He wants to meet you,’ he said. ‘He wants us to join him and his guests tonight.’

I felt as nauseous as Joss looked. Things were coming to a head far too quickly. I had barely had time to process what my mother had told me and now …

‘Joss, the thing is, I’ve had some news. News about Voronov.’

‘Well, I spoke to him only half an hour ago so –’

‘No, I mean, when I say news, I mean information, I suppose. Or rather, a revelation.’ I was babbling, the words coming out like snow in a blizzard.

‘What is it?’ Joss grabbed my hands and bent to my face, his eyes searching me for a way out.

‘Mum says he’s my father.’

Joss dropped my hands.

‘
What?
’

‘I know. I thought she was raving too. But apparently he’s spoken to her and he wants to meet up with me.’

Joss stared, blinking now and then to indicate that he hadn’t turned to stone.

‘This is too … I mean … is she
sure
?’

I nodded.

‘I’m half Russian, apparently. It doesn’t make much sense to me either. I don’t even like vodka. But I think mum used to drop a few clues here and there. She was always trying to interest me in Russian culture, now I come to think of it. Bought me those dolls that fit inside each other one Christmas. And a CD of
The Nutcracker Suite
. It’s what kick-started my interest in Eastern Europe.’

‘She’s insane.’

‘She’s not insane, shut up. She struggles with depression, that’s all. She isn’t delusional and she knows what’s happened in her own life.’

‘Yeah, I know, I mean – she should have told you.’

I gave him a level look. ‘A lot of parents don’t tell you things that they should,’ I said. ‘Yours, for instance, ought to have mentioned that they loved you somewhere along the line.’

He sighed.

‘Yeah. Not the same, is it, though?’

He looked so sad that I couldn’t help thinking that I had the better end of that deal. An absent father was still better than two distant parents.

‘So, what are we going to do?’ he said, the mist clearing from his eyes. ‘You can’t possibly take part in a scene with your own father.’

‘No, quite,’ I shuddered. ‘I’ll have to tell him. Really, thank Christ mum brought the subject up tonight, or …’ Another shudder.

‘It’s like a melodrama,’ said Joss. ‘It doesn’t seem real.’

‘Can we go up there now?’

‘He said ten o’clock. I think he wanted to give us time to get ready. We’re going to have to dress the part, at least. Oh, God,’ Joss wailed and put his head in his hands. ‘What if he kills me for dominating his daughter? Oh, God.’

I pulled him into a tight embrace.

‘Stop stressing. You didn’t know, I didn’t know, he didn’t know. None of us can blame each other.’

‘Are you sure? Because when Voronov blames somebody, that somebody often finds their life in ruins. If they still have one.’

‘All we can do is be brave and tell the truth. If he blames you for anything, any hopes he might have of a father-daughter relationship are finished.’

‘Really?’

‘I don’t care if he’s my father, my grandfather or my alien cousin from Mars. I’d choose you over him, every single time. Because I love you, and I don’t know him.’

Joss drew a deep breath.

‘OK. Let’s do this. It’s not as if things can get any worse … oh,
God.
Can they, though?’

‘Let’s go up and get changed,’ I whispered.

Joss had a regular BDSM submissive outfit wardrobe now, culled mainly from eBay, but all of it was in my size. I riffled through it, looking for something that wasn’t too revealing. I settled on a glossy black rubber sheath dress. It left acres of thigh and cleavage exposed but covered the essentials. One couldn’t wear underwear with it, but everything else in the wardrobe pretty much
was
underwear, so it seemed the least of the available evils.

‘You’ll never get that on without talcum powder,’ Joss remarked, pulling on his own trusty leather trousers.

I went into the bathroom, breathing in its damp musty air and feeling it fur the back of my throat. It must have been mouldy as hell in there. If things worked out, perhaps it could be dealt with … But I banned myself from harbouring hopes. There were no guarantees. Nothing meant anything. This had to be played by ear.