On Christmas Eve, Dmitri took Nicola for dinner at Kolya’s house in North London. All of his nearest and dearest were there: Tanya and Mark, Phil (who had brought Carole-Ann as his guest), Kolya and Nigel, and the two noisy and excited children rushing around, shouting and playing. The house was shiny with decorations and candles glowed on the table. The night was filled with laughter, warmth, the smell of Nicola’s perfume and the feel of her (very distracting) hand on his thigh. It was as if she had been part of him – part of all of them – forever, not just a few weeks. After dinner, he played the piano for them. Christmas carols, jazz, and just for her, the Chopin Nocturne. Their time, their songs.
When they got home, he gave her her gift. In truth, he’d been a little worried about what to get her. But she’d ripped it open with enthusiasm, laughing when she saw the first gift – a box of lingerie.
‘Is this for you or for me?’
He’d laughed too and kissed her. ‘Well, seeing it’s Christmas, I thought we could both benefit.’
It took a while before she got to unwrapping the other gift he had for her: the small, leatherbound book of Russian fairy tales that had belonged to his mother.
‘It’s lovely,’ she said, flipping through the pictures. ‘But…’ she looked concerned, ‘it seems very special.’
‘That is why you must have it,’ he said, fingering a lock of her glorious red hair. He opened the book and read the opening of his favourite tale, ‘The Firebird’. How young Ivan had waited in the magical garden for the Firebird. She had come down from the sky, stolen a golden apple and left behind a single flaming feather.
‘The song sheets I scattered,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Was that the magic feather that I left behind?’
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Or perhaps you are young Ivan. Was it not you who went to the ends of the earth to find me?’
She laughed, kissing him. ‘A Christmas market? Skating? A freezing cold church? Yes, I see your point.’
She had a gift for him too – she’d booked them a long weekend away at New Year’s. At a five-star hotel in the Cotswolds, which was somewhere he had never been.
‘Don’t worry,’ she assured him, ‘they have a piano, and they say you can play it as much as you like. We can’t have you interrupting your practising for something so romantic as a holiday.’
Dmitri appreciated the fact that she understood. Whatever was coming next was going to be a long road, and he had to be ‘ruthlessly focused’. ‘Thank you,’ he said, nuzzling her, ‘but it may take some persuading for me to leave the room at all.’
*
They didn’t get much sleep that night, and by the time Dmitri finally closed his eyes in the early hours of Christmas morning, it was nearly time to get up again. He left Nicola asleep in bed and went home to get changed. He was conducting the choir for the morning service, and then, later on, meeting Nicola at her sister’s house in Putney.
By the time he left the church he was feeling nervous. He’d worn his grey gloves, even though she preferred him without them, and though, for all he knew, she might have already told her family everything. Besides which, once he went public and ‘told his story’, everyone would know. God, it was going to be difficult. He needed this to go well.
When he rang the bell, the door was answered by an attractive woman in her early sixties – Nicola’s mother. She seemed friendly, if a little reserved, as she shook his hand and ushered him inside. Jules, a plumper, paler version of Nicola, and her husband Stuart were sitting on the sofa in the lounge, along with Nicola’s stepfather, Teddy. There were several empty bottles of beer on the coffee table between them. In the family room off the kitchen, Ben, the half-brother, was playing a game on his phone, and Jules’ three kids were squabbling in front of the TV.
Nicola came out of the kitchen wearing an apron. Her hands were covered in flour and she looked flustered, and out of sorts. She brightened when she saw him, and when he bent his head to kiss her on the cheek, she turned her head so that it landed on her mouth. Fine with him.
After introductions were made (and although Nicola had told Jules that he didn’t drink alcohol), there was an awkward moment of him having to refuse a glass of wine. Dmitri volunteered to help out in the kitchen. But before he could do so, Jules asked him if he wouldn’t mind looking after the children – see if any of them wanted to play a board game or something. Teddy and Stuart went out in the street to look at Stuart’s present to himself: a brand new Porsche in mid-life crisis red. Dmitri made a valiant effort to pry the younger children away from their DVD or strike up a conversation with the older boy. When ultimately, he failed, he went to find Nicola.
The kitchen was a vast, enormous space with immaculate units and a huge table. Nicola was taking something out of the oven that smelled like burnt vegetables. Her mother and sister were there, doing not very much, and he worried that if he tried to help he’d only get in the way. But as soon as she saw him, she summoned him over to her. She took his hand, her eyes flicking for a moment to his gloves.
‘Mum, Jules,’ she said. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
Whatever he’d been expecting her to say – and in truth, he had no idea – he was surprised, even a little shocked, that she chose this moment to tell them the secret she’d been keeping for so many years. About the party, the rape, the job offer… nothing held back.
Her mother and sister stared at her, their faces expressing shock, and horror, and pity. He slipped his arm around her waist and stroked her hair as she began to cry. By the time she was finished, they were also crying.
‘I’m sorry that I’ve had to hurt you like this,’ Nicola said to her mother and Jules. ‘But I needed to get it out in the open. And if I’m going to get through this, I need you on my side. All of you.’
‘So what are you going to do now?’ Jules asked, dabbing her eye with a rumpled tissue.
‘Go to counselling,’ Nicola said. ‘Take some time out to think about what I want to do next. I’m leaving Privé. I’m going to do something more worthwhile. I have a few ideas.’ She smiled up at Dmitri and he kissed her tenderly. He was so proud of her. But still, hearing the story again hurt him too.
Nicola’s mother finished the wine in her glass and finally spoke up. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘Sorry that I wasn’t a better mum to you. That you couldn’t talk to me, or ask for help, because of what I did to your dad.’
Nicola seemed to hesitate for a long time before speaking. He knew that this was difficult enough for her already, and the mention of her dad probably made it even harder. ‘You saw a chance to find happiness, and you took it, Mum,’ she said. ‘I think I finally understand that. And that’s what I’m doing too.’ She looked down at Dmitri’s hands, then up at his face. He nodded gently and she removed his gloves, tracing the lines of his scars. ‘Luckily, in this case, no one has to get hurt.’
Her mum came over then, and hugged both of them, with Jules joining in.
‘I’ll go with you to counselling,’ Jules said. ‘If it will help.’
‘I don’t know yet,’ Nicola said. ‘We’ll see.’
Dmitri was surprised when Nicola’s mum reached out for his hand, looking down at the scars. ‘I see you have your own story. And I hope that I’ll learn all about it. Welcome to the family.’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’
Dmitri swallowed back a tear of his own. He missed his own mother, but more than that, he wished she – and his father – could see him now. See the person he was finally becoming, and be happy and proud. But then again… maybe they could.
‘Thank you,’ he said, smiling at Nicola’s mum. ‘It means a lot to hear that.’
*
What had come over her, Nicola didn’t know. After a wonderful night at Kolya’s house, she had known that today would be hard, and it was. All through lunch (her mum had taken over the cooking so it was mostly edible) she felt raw from her revelation and sorry for the pain she had caused her family. And yet, this was a step that she had to take. A new start, something to build on. The past was behind her. She was no longer ‘The Heckler’, no longer defined by the scars inside.
Dmitri somehow managed to work his magic even on her family. By the end of the afternoon, he had the kids playing card games. When the game switched to poker, Teddy, Stuart, and even a grudging Ben joined in. Later on, when gifts were exchanged, even though Nicola had put both their names on the tag for the wretched Chelsea away kit, somehow, it was Dmitri who had got all the thanks from her half-brother (and who knew that Dmitri could actually talk football and have a proper heated argument about the Premier League and Chelsea’s Champion’s League prospects?).
Despite the day turning out better than expected, Nicola was relieved when it was time to go. Before they could leave, Dmitri had to promise to take Ben to a football match and to teach Jules’ kids to ice skate. Nicola had hugged her mother and sister and promised to be in touch. She meant it too, now that the truth was no longer an obstacle between them.
On the train home, Nicola laid her head against Dmitri’s chest and closed her eyes as he stroked her hair.
‘What you did was very brave,’ he said.
‘It was hard,’ she said. ‘But I felt I needed to do it. No more secrets.’
‘I understand.’ He sighed. ‘All too well. It is going to be difficult for me to tell my story, too.’
She opened her eyes and took his hand. His skin was warm as she traced his fingers with hers. ‘You don’t have to do it.’
‘We’ll see.’ He shifted underneath her. ‘Look—’
Nicola raised her head as he pointed out the window of the train. A few large flakes of snow had begun to fall, dancing on the wind and settling to earth.
‘Snow!’ she said, excitedly. ‘A white Christmas!’
The train pulled into the station and they got off. Dmitri led her by the hand through the streets and across The Green. The snow was falling harder, thick and fast. As they neared the house, Nicola stopped.
‘What the—?’
The doors on either side of her house were trimmed with their wreaths. But in the middle, her house was a riot of light. Tiny twinkling fairy lights around the door, icicle lights around the windows. A beautiful evergreen wreath with white lights and a red bow. And just above the door, a large sprig of mistletoe.
‘You didn’t!’ she said.
He gave her that teasing look, his eyes glowing amber. ‘Maybe it is the magic power of Christmas.’ He shrugged. ‘Or maybe I’ve just got to know your neighbours.’
‘My neighbours!’ Standing against the door, she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to her. The snow settled on their hair and clothing, as he tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her deeply.
‘The snow reminds me of that night on the London Eye,’ she said, breathlessly when they came apart.
‘Yes.’ His cheeks flushed in the cold. ‘I wanted you so badly.’
‘Did you?’ she teased. ‘Could have fooled me.’
‘Oh yes,’ he said, his warm breath close to her ear. ‘You have no idea.’
She unlocked the door, and they went inside. ‘And did you have any other Christmas treats in mind that I don’t know about?’ she said, brushing the snow from his jacket.
‘I think this Christmas, it is all about making new memories.’
‘Oh? Like what?’
His eyes turned dark and mischievous and he took something out of his bag, then leaned close and whispered in her ear.
And Nicola laughed as the Santa hat made a reappearance.
He put it on his head, swinging the tassel over his shoulder. ‘Now, shall we see who’s been naughty or nice?’
He lifted her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to the bedroom.