The Summer Day is Done (40 page)

One morning Olga had been assisting at the dressing of cases where amputation had taken place. The waste and tragedy of it all was beginning to show in the eyes of this compassionate young woman, awakening in her an awareness that life was so much more than Tsarskoe Selo or Livadia. She was nineteen, shapely and graceful, conquering her reserve and her shyness in ministering and talking to men whose suffering pained her.

With her figure waisted by her crisp white uniform, she had been grateful for a few minutes’ respite afforded by being sent in search of new lint and bandages. With the blue packets piled on to a tray she was on her way back to the ward. At the far end of the wide, shining corridor she saw a tall man in a khaki greatcoat. He was talking to an orderly and the orderly was gesturing and pointing. The tall man turned and began to traverse the corridor, coming towards her, his cap swinging in his hand. Olga stopped at the door to her ward. She started, her heart began to thump, her eyes opened wide and then her joy was pure but incredulous. Her limbs trembled, the tray tilted a little in her hands. He came with long strides, he saw the nurse standing by a door and suddenly he was looking into the bluest eyes imaginable. He checked and his teeth showed in a delighted smile.

‘And I was so sure I’d lost my way,’ he said.

Olga was unable to speak. There was this numbing incredulity. They looked at each other. She could not hide her bliss and because of this the familiar tide of pinkness surged, suffusing her face with colour. Kirby thought her unchangeably lovely despite the austerity of her uniform, despite the snowy wimple that hid so much of her lustrous hair. How he denied himself the fundamental urge to touch her he did not know.

‘How splendid you look, Olga Nicolaievna,’ he said.

‘Oh, I can’t believe it,’ she said, her voice a gasp.

‘I mean it, you do look splendid.’

‘No, that it’s you,’ she said, ‘oh, I simply don’t know what to say.’

He was still as she remembered him, still the man with the fine eyes and the friendly smile whom she’d first seen on the station at Nikolayev.

‘Well, what are words, Olga?’

‘There are your words,’ she breathed, ‘and you kept your promise, you did, and just when I thought you’d never be able to because of the war.’

‘It’s because of the war that I was able to.’ He smiled again, hiding feelings that hammered at him. He had never thought himself capable of the kind of love he had for Olga Nicolaievna of Imperial Russia. ‘Shall I hold that for you?’ He took the tray. She relinquished it as if it were unreal. She could not take her eyes from him. ‘I went to the Alexander Palace to pay my respects,’ he said. ‘I saw Marie and Anastasia. Anastasia said I’d been a dreadfully long time coming. They told me you and Tatiana were here, so here I am.’ Orderlies passed by, followed by a nurse who smiled at Olga. He waited until they were out of earshot and then said, ‘Is it inconvenient?’

‘Inconvenient?’ She shook her head in swift reproach. ‘How can you say such a thing? Oh, I’m sorry, you must think me very stupid, but I really can’t believe it, you see. I thought, we all thought—oh, Tatiana will be overjoyed that you’ve come. We talk about you so much.’ She looked at the tray he held, at the pile of blue
packets. She came to. ‘They’re waiting for these, I must take them in.’

‘Of course.’ He handed the tray back to her. ‘You’re busy, I’d better not stay. It was enough—’

‘Colonel Kirby, if you dare to go away, if you don’t stay to see Tatiana, you’ll never be forgiven. Please, if you’ll go into the room at the end of this corridor and wait there, I’ll come as soon as I’m free and I’ll bring Tatiana with me. It’s a visitors’ room.’ Suddenly and for the first time her smile peeped. ‘For distinguished visitors.’

‘I’ll wait and try to be as distinguished as possible.’

‘Colonel Kirby,’ she said, ‘you are as distinguished as anyone.’

He went to the room. It was vast. There seemed to be nothing of temperate or modest size in this place. The chairs and sofas were immense, offering comfort to a hundred visitors if necessary. But there was no one waiting at the moment. It made him feel as if he was alone in space. He sat down. He got up, discarded his greatcoat and walked about. He thought of Olga. That was nothing new. He couldn’t recall a day in England when he hadn’t thought of her. He had been restless by day, sleepless by night.

Russia had pulled at him, but They were unforgiving during his first months in England, coldly displeased by his carelessness. They had had to bring home every agent. But at least they had been able to do that. None of them had been arrested. Aleka Petrovna had kept her piece of paper to herself. Now that mattered no more
and he himself was no longer in that branch of the service.

Kirby’s thoughts were interrupted as the door opened. He turned. He saw Princess Aleka Petrovna. Palely, exquisitely beautiful in her furs, one hand deeply muffed, the other pushing the door wide, she regarded Kirby without surprise.

‘My dear man,’ she said.

‘Ah, Princess Aleka Petrovna, I presume?’ he returned, and he bowed.

She smiled. Her white teeth shone. Her smile grew, it radiated and sparkled.

‘Oh, my lovely infamous Ivan,’ she murmured. ‘How extraordinarily wonderful, how beautifully delicious.’ She closed the door and glided towards him in her black glossy furs. ‘And how magnificent. Shall we kiss?’ She put her arms around his neck, her muff dangling at his back, and she brought her tinted mouth to his. The kiss was warm, lingering, until suddenly her teeth nipped his bottom lip. She drew back, smiled sleepily at the tiny spot of blood she had drawn. ‘There, darling, that was to say how lovely to see you and how naughty you are. What did you do with Prolofski? With poor, burning Oravio?’

‘I don’t know. I met them once. I was to meet them again. They disappeared before I got there.’

‘You’re a lovely liar. You always look so friendly when you’re lying.’

‘It’s not important now, is it?’ he said. He was wary, cautious. She could still harm him, still make his old trade known to the Imperial family.
‘The only thing I really knew about Prolofski was that he was an elusive gentleman.’

‘But, darling,’ said Aleka, almost cooing, ‘one always knew where poor Oravio was. No one knows now. I am sure you were very naughty. How lucky you are that I’m not a spiteful woman.’

‘I’m grateful,’ he said, ‘and have given up adventure stories now. The war has changed everything for all of us.’

‘It hasn’t for me,’ said Aleka. ‘It has for Andrei.’ She seemed very amused at that. ‘I came here to see him, poor dear.’

‘Andrei is here?’

‘Oh, not as a battle hero,’ said Aleka, ‘he’s to have his appendix out. But Ivan, darling, would you believe it, he’s in the army. Not to be aggressive, you understand, but to sit at a desk and sign papers. He’s quite incapable of shooting at his fellow men. I do believe he realizes this is only a war to preserve emperors and privilege, and the worry of it has given the sweet darling an inflamed appendix. It was immensely difficult to make arrangements, but I spoke to the Empress and she was kindness itself.’

‘What a strange creature you are,’ he said, ‘you despise privilege and yet you use it whenever you can.’

‘One must be practical, Ivan dear,’ she said, ‘and my motives are always the best. You know, I’m quite devastated to see you, it was Grand Duchess Olga Nicolaievna who told me you were here. What tender and merciful work she’s doing, isn’t she?’ She was purringly malicious. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t be sarcastic, I suppose, she is a
sweet child. But, really, all of them are
so
useless on the whole. It will be better when Russia is a socialist democracy, then the Romanovs can do a little work. When Olga told me you were here, I simply rushed. But why are you here yourself? Who have you come to see?’

Kirby dabbed at his lip.

‘Oh, just a couple of people,’ he said.

‘We can’t talk here,’ said Aleka, ‘will you come to see me tomorrow? You must. We shall be friends again.’ She put her hands on his chest, her dark eyes a sly beguilement. ‘We shall have fun again, Ivan.’

‘I suppose some must dance while Rome burns,’ he said, ‘but will you forgive me, Aleka? I have to go to your army headquarters tomorrow.’

‘Oh, you disappointing brute,’ she said. Then she laughed. ‘As for Rome, it must burn. It will rise cleaner from the ashes. Now I must rush. You must come to see me when you return. If you don’t, I shall get spiteful, after all. Let us fall in love all over again. Ivan, I’m the most susceptible creature and you are so magnificent.’

She kissed him again and was gone in a swirl of black. A minute later Olga came in, Tatiana with her and also in uniform. She gave a little shriek of delight and, as Olga closed the door, came running. Tatiana had no worries about what was permissible and what was not, she flung her arms around Kirby and perched on tiptoe to kiss him.

‘Oh, the time you’ve taken,’ she cried, ‘a hundred years at least. Ivan Ivanovich, you’re
a backsliding wretch but still shockingly handsome. Look at him, Olga, who would think he’s ever worried about us?’

Olga was looking, seeing her sister hugging Kirby’s arm. She wished Tatiana would not.

‘I thought about you,’ said Kirby, ‘but worried mostly about myself. I thought they were going to tie me to a desk in Whitehall for ever.’

‘But they didn’t,’ said Tatiana. She drew him to a red and gold sofa. ‘Let’s all sit down, Olga and I have a whole thirty minutes to talk to you. I felt dreadful pangs when she first told me you were here, I thought she meant you were a casualty. You can’t imagine my dread. Olga, come and sit.’ Olga responded to the expressive hand Tatiana put out, and the sisters sat one on each side of Kirby. Tatiana was vivacious, excited, her eyes alight. Olga let her talk while she herself shyly observed him from under long dark lashes. Tatiana asked questions, answered them herself and then said, ‘Oh, I am wagging my tongue out of all proportion but it’s so lovely that you’re here, Ivan. We thought we’d never see you again until the war was over, but it just shows you must have faith, doesn’t it? Why are you back again, have you come to fight for us?’

‘Only at headquarters,’ he said.

‘I think I’m glad about that,’ said Olga, ‘there are more than enough men involved in the fighting already. Oh, there have been so many killed, so many wounded. Far too many. They’re all so brave, the wounded. They lose an arm or a leg, or are even blinded, but they never complain, only thank us for the little we can do for them.
Colonel Kirby, war is terrible. I wish it would end, I wish it would.’

Her eyes were sad. He wanted to hold her, cherish her.

‘It will end as soon as we’ve won,’ said Tatiana cheerfully. ‘England is on our side and everyone knows England never loses a war.’

‘Don’t we?’ said Kirby. ‘All the same we still manage to get ourselves deplorably knocked about.’ He could not bring himself to make easy remarks about a quick and glorious victory for the Allies. Already the Russian casualties had been enormous. To speak in comforting clichés about winning would not help anybody.

‘Well, you must be sure that you don’t get deplorably knocked about yourself,’ said Tatiana.

‘Tasha!’ Olga spoke vehemently.

‘But we don’t want Ivan—’

‘You should not say such things,’ said Olga.

‘I shall keep out of the way as much as I can,’ said Kirby.

‘Colonel Kirby, some things are amusing,’ said Olga, ‘but that is not.’

‘Dearest Olga,’ said Tatiana, ‘don’t let’s be too serious. He has come to make us laugh again, and so many things are quite serious enough. Ivan, tell us what you’ve been doing, all about England. Did everyone there get excited about the war? You should have seen how pleased Mama and Papa were when the news came that you would fight on our side. Mama was so joyful she wept a little.’

He told them about England at war, about men flocking to enlist, the waving flags, the
river craft hooting and the mood of the people. He told them about Zeppelin raids and how his aunt had condemned Zeppelins as infernal and defied one by going out on to the lawn at night and booming at it as it passed overhead.

‘Oh, I should dearly like to meet her, wouldn’t you, Olga?’ said Tatiana.

‘More than anything,’ said Olga impulsively, and then fought desperately not to let pinkness betray that her reasons were different from Tatiana’s.

He talked about Karita, how well she had got on in England, how pleased she was now to be back in Russia. The Grand Duchesses were delighted to hear this news, they liked Karita immensely. Olga grew more relaxed.

Then Tatiana said, ‘I must go. You stay, Olga, there’s another ten minutes yet.’ Mama might not approve but it was only fair that Olga should have him to herself for a little while. ‘Ivan, you must arrange with Olga when you can come again. And it must be soon, you stayed away far too long and it is so nice to have you back.’ She blew a kiss from the doorway and rustled crisply away.

Olga was immediately overconscious of every imaginable implication, and Tatiana’s quite sudden departure seemed to have left a void wherein one groped for safe and mundane words. She looked at her hands, linked in her lap.

‘Olga,’ he said. She almost jumped. She was so tense that she was perched on the very edge of the sofa and seemed prepared for instant flight.
‘Olga, why did you tell the Princess Karinshka I was here?’

He did not sound very pleased and she went hot with mortification. She lifted her head, glanced swiftly at him. But he did not look displeased, only curious.

‘Did I do wrong?’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘I thought she would want to see you, that you might want to see her. It did not seem fair not to tell her you were here.’

‘Olga, do you think I’m in love with Aleka Petrovna?’

‘She is very beautiful,’ said Olga, who felt that all men must find it easy to be in love with the princess.

‘Shall we get this clear?’ he said. ‘I am not in love with her.’

‘Oh,’ said Olga inadequately. She regarded him wonderingly and saw that his smile was for her, not for Aleka Petrovna. She flashed into an instant of gladness, sheer and undisguised. Then she looked at a vase perched on a shining table as if detachment ensured that necessary margin of safety. ‘Was it embarrassing to see her, then? Was it silly of me?’