The Summer Day is Done (36 page)

‘I can tell you.’ Kirby described all that had happened. Slight relief smoothed the worst of Anstruther’s worried furrows.

‘Even so,’ he said, ‘there are two things we can’t rely on. Prolofski staying down whatever hole they’ve put him in, which is probably halfway up some mountain, and your assumption that he alone broke the code and then kept it to himself.’

‘I don’t assume that, I only hope.’

Anstruther gloomed on the eventualities.

‘You’d better be prepared for a quick return home,’ he said, ‘we all had. Damn it, did you have to be as careless as that?’

‘I wasn’t born for this work, I was persuaded – well, invited – into it. There was always the possibility I could make a mess of it.’

‘Your modesty does you credit,’ said Anstruther with paternal heaviness, ‘but it doesn’t help us. Look here, how involved are you with the lady outside?’

‘I’m not involved at all. I can’t be, not with a Grand Duchess. You know that.’

‘Damn it,’ said Anstruther again, ‘you’re confoundedly useful with the contacts you make, you don’t stop at the highest in the land. Now you muck it all up. Deplorable. Well, you had better stand by. They may recall all of us as soon
as they hear from me. They don’t like accidents, they like carelessness even less. I tell you, I’m very upset.’

‘I assure you, I’m not exactly exhilarated,’ said Kirby, ‘but I feel a bit better now that some Crimean friends of mine have put Prolofski away.’

‘There’s that Karinshka woman,’ said Anstruther.

‘Yes,’ said Kirby.

‘Damn it,’ said Anstruther.

Olga was in conversation with the clerk. To remain silent in the presence of anyone made her shyness keener. She did not realize that the clerk, quite infatuated, was even shyer. When Kirby reappeared she rose quickly, a smile of gratitude on her face that he had not kept her waiting overlong, but she did not omit to say goodbye to the clerk as they left.

‘I kept you waiting,’ said Kirby, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Oh, you weren’t at all long,’ said Olga as they emerged into the sunshine. There was a carriage drawn up a few houses down. Olga ignored it, though she knew the occupants descended to follow as she and Kirby went on their way. ‘What do you have to do now?’ she asked.

‘Ah, now I have my most important engagement,’ he said.

‘Oh,’ she said in a little disappointment, ‘where do you have to go for that?’

‘Wherever you like, Olga. All I have to do now concerns taking care of you, looking after all your wishes and making sure we don’t forget to have lunch.’

‘Oh, I am very overwhelmed and favoured today,’ said Olga happily. ‘Shall we have lunch, then? Perhaps that will give us time to look at the shops. You don’t mind if we look at the shops?’

‘We did that once before,’ he said, ‘and it was very enjoyable. We’ll do it again.’

‘Oh,’ she said impulsively, ‘you are so nice to be with.’

Then, of course, she wished she could remember to exercise more restraint. Impulsiveness was so adolescent.

‘Well, do you know,’ he said, ‘I think we’re both quite nice on the whole, don’t you?’

She could have taken his arm and hugged it for that. He had made her own remark fall easily and naturally into place. They walked to their lunch because the streets were mellow and pleasant, carriages looked gay and people looked sunny. It was warm enough but there was the occasional cool breeze from the sea and her spring coat was welcome.

They had lunch in a first-floor restaurant overlooking the pleasantest part of the harbour. It was so proud and exclusive an establishment that Olga thought the head waiter more vainglorious than a court chamberlain. She was not recognized, but her shy loveliness enchanted the courteous waiters who could not do enough to help her select from the menu. She and Kirby sat at a table in the far corner, with windows bringing sea views to them. There were deep red curtains and snowy-white tablecloths, polished silver and crystal glassware. The activity of the
harbour was only a lazy movement of boats and boatmen. The steamer from Sevastopol was in, seeming to loll in idle obliviousness of its imminent departure.

They were served with smoked herring and sliced cucumber, and because Olga did not at all mind more fish they followed with a dish of salmon, hot and luscious in thick, creamy sauce. Olga, accustomed to the simple fare favoured by the Imperial family, declared it a banquet and doubted if she could do it justice. But she did. She ate in unaffected pleasure and enjoyment. She did not ask for wine and Kirby did not order any. He had a waiter bring a carafe of diluted lemon juice, sweetened and cooled.

She had never dined out in public like this, and the sheer novelty of it was a delight. The restaurant became almost full. There were fascinating women in huge, flower-bedecked hats lunching with immaculately dressed men. The discreet ladies-in-waiting were there too, with the officers, but they were all as far from Olga as they could be and not once did they look inquisitively or knowingly at the Grand Duchess and her Englishman.

‘Everything is to your liking, Olga?’ he asked.

‘Oh, I assure you, you are looking after me very well,’ said Olga in demure seriousness. He was quite himself again in every way and it was no wonder with his brown, sinewy look that women threw him covert glances. ‘Do you know, I think you’re being looked at,’ she said. ‘I expect Tatiana would say it was because the ladies are finding you excessively handsome.’

‘Olga,’ he said, ‘they’re looking at you, not me. What would Tatiana say about that?’

‘She’d say it was because my face had turned black. You’re teasing me again, aren’t you? No one is really looking at me, are they?’ The possibility disconcerted her. She coloured a little. He felt a tender incredulity that she could be so diffident. It did not usually take a growing girl long to realize it was a pleasure far more than an embarrassment to be looked at and admired. Olga seemed an exception. Which was one reason why he loved her so much. He might see very little more of her. London might recall him. Aleka might inform on him. The latter would be far worse.

‘Well, you know,’ he said, ‘your hat alone is worth looking at.’ But his smile comforted her, told her she was not alone and did not have to suffer the curiosity of people by herself.

They had strawberries with sugar and cream. They were pink, succulent, delicious. She said, ‘This is quite the most enjoyable outing. I feel so free, just like any ordinary girl.’ Then she wished she had said young lady.

‘But you’re not like any ordinary girl at all,’ he said, at which Olga’s eyes looked as if they had been kissed by the sun.

After lunch they strolled around the shops. They inspected window displays, visited fashionable emporia. Olga was happy to look and to exclaim. He would have liked to buy her everything that fascinated her. But he knew Olga would not have let him and Alexandra would not have approved. In a bookshop, full of selected
foreign literature which the government had decided was not seditious, she examined titles and bindings. She loved reading. Her favourite authors were English, the language itself a feature of the Imperial family’s life. Kirby extracted a Jane Austen novel,
Emma
. He leafed through it. He felt the lightest pressure against his arm as Olga peeped over his shoulder. There was the familiar delicacy of her scent.

‘What book is that?’ she asked.

‘Have you read Jane Austen at all? She’s a great favourite with Englishwomen.’

‘I’m very happy with my Shakespeare, you’ve no idea how I adore it,’ she said. He began to replace the book. Olga caught his arm and begged to see it, as if fearing she had been discourteous. He gave it to her. She opened it and began to read. The proprietor beamed benignly at them from his little desk. ‘Buy it for Mama,’ said Olga, ‘she will love it. I’ll be able to borrow it. Oh, you see,’ she added in a little desperation, ‘what can I give you if you buy it for me?’

‘Olga, we are friends and I have a treasure house of memories. Let us buy it for Her Imperial Highness, then.’

‘You must buy it, not both of us,’ said Olga quietly. She went to the shop doorway, waiting while he paid for the book and had it wrapped. When they were out of the shop and walking again she said in a whisper, ‘Oh, it is so unfair.’

‘Olga?’

‘No, that was said to myself, not you.’

She was strangely upset. He did not press her. And by the time the carriage had picked them
up and they were trotting out of Yalta into the countryside she was happy again. The afternoon light was clear, picking out the distant mountains and the sweeping undulations of green valleys and blue hills.

‘Oh, it has been immensely lovely, immensely,’ she said as they approached the soaring white magnificence of the Livadia Palace.

‘Well, quite nice, at least,’ he said modestly.

Her hand in its white summer glove came to touch his arm, to slide down. The following carriage was at its discreet distance as he took her hand. The pressure of her fingers was of shy gratitude.

‘Thank you for asking Mama, I have so enjoyed it,’ she said.

His heart itself seemed squeezed by her clinging fingers.

At the palace he went up to his suite. Olga turned on the terrace and went in search of Tatiana. She found her in the gardens, lying on the warm, dry lawn, studying her French. Tatiana quickened with pleasure to see her adored sister back at last.

‘Olga, why, how famous you look. Oh, almost shockingly society. Tell me what you’ve been doing, we’ve all been green with jealousy. Anastasia is going about asking everyone what good is it being a slave when she can’t follow in the footsteps of her master.’

Olga sank down beside her sister. Suddenly sadness shadowed her face.

‘Tatiana, oh, I don’t ever want to be a Crown Princess.’

‘Don’t you? Well, you just wait until the most adorable Crown Prince arrives to present himself. You’ll take one look and swoon with longing.’

‘No, never, and I wouldn’t be as ridiculous as that in any event,’ said Olga.

‘Olga,’ said Tatiana, sitting up, ‘Ivan hasn’t said anything to you, has he?’

‘What could he say, what would he say that anyone couldn’t hear? Oh, Tasha, he is so free, he will marry someone quite beautiful, he’ll be free to be happy—’

‘No,’ said Tatiana firmly, flinging back her auburn hair. ‘No, never. It’s you he wants, it’s you he can’t have, but he’ll always be tied to you even if he’s a million miles away. How often, just how often do I have to tell you that? Dearest, you should believe more in yourself, you don’t know how lovely you are, and you are, truly. Oh goodness, Olga, if you cry out here—’

‘As if I would,’ said Olga, but she blinked a little. ‘I’m getting far too old to be as silly as that.’ She swallowed, her eyes dreamed. She said, ‘But oh, Tasha, I am so unbearably in love. It is so unfair.’

‘No, it isn’t, you silly,’ said Tatiana, ‘it’s lovely.’

The younger Grand Duchesses came dancing from their lessons. There had been some overnight rain, now the clouds had broken and the expanses of blue sky widened. The greens were fresh, the flowers soft. Alexis was carried to a garden chair by Nagorny, the Tsarevich happy to see his friend Ivan Ivanovich there. The boy’s leg was better each day, his colour healthier. Kirby was lazing, reading. He put his book down
as the children claimed his attention. Anastasia and Marie curtseyed billowingly.

‘O lord,’ said Anastasia, ‘thy slave fetching Fatima is here, what is there she can fetch you?’

‘Well, let me see,’ said Kirby thoughtfully. ‘Yes. Fetch me five white horses and a donkey.’

‘You don’t need a donkey,’ said Tatiana, ‘you have Anastasia. But what are the five white horses for?’

‘One for each of you to carry you off to your heart’s desire,’ said Kirby. ‘Alexis will be carried off to a mountain of ice cream, Marie to a beautiful prince, Anastasia to a slave auction, Tatiana to a magnificent ball and so on. The donkey, actually, is for me. I fall off horses.’

As Olga arrived with all the sedateness of a young lady, Tatiana said, ‘But you didn’t say where Olga would be carried off to, Ivan.’

‘To a railway station, I expect,’ said Anastasia, ‘she’s always waving to engine drivers.’

‘Oh, no,’ said Marie, ‘that’s only in gracious acknowledgement when they make their engines whistle at her.’

A footman made his stately approach to advise Kirby that he was wanted on the telephone.

‘Please may I come?’ said Alexis. He put out his arms, Kirby picked him up and carried him. Olga watched them go and Tatiana watched Olga. When they returned and Kirby set the boy down in his chair again, Alexis burst out glumly, ‘Well, what do you think? They’re going to take Ivan away. Just when I was nearly better and we could drill again.’

Anastasia groaned, Marie sighed in dejection.
Tatiana looked at Olga. Olga stood stunned.

‘Ivan, it can’t be true,’ said Tatiana, ‘you’re to stay until we all go. Mama has said so.’

‘And I’m sure Papa
will
say so,’ said Alexis.

‘What about me?’ said Anastasia. ‘I won’t be his slave any more, I’ll be sold to a monster. Monsters are awfully capacious.’

‘Capricious,’ said Tatiana. ‘Ivan, it’s only to St Petersburg, of course?’

‘I’m recalled to England,’ said Kirby, ‘and must go tomorrow.’

‘We’ll hide you somewhere,’ offered Marie, ‘and if anyone comes looking for you we’ll say you fell down a well.’

‘Let’s go and see Papa,’ said Tatiana, ‘let’s all go now and leave Olga to give Ivan a good talking-to.’

‘Oh, yes, let’s do that,’ said Alexis. Nagorny came to carry the boy in the wake of Tatiana, Marie and Anastasia, leaving Kirby alone with Olga. She stared unhappily at him, then turned away.

‘No, you can’t,’ she whispered fiercely, ‘not to England. Colonel Kirby, you can’t.’

‘I must, Olga. I’m under orders.’

She kept her back to him, the sunlight dancing on her hair.

‘But England,’ she said. She sounded as if she could not understand his acceptance of such orders. ‘No, you can’t,’ she said again.

‘I love Livadia, I want to stay,’ he said, ‘but I’ve no alternative.’

‘If Papa asks – he is cousin to your King – there would be an alternative.’