The Secret Wife(65)
‘Mother never fully recovered,’ Valerina explained. ‘Her heart grew weaker and she could not exert herself without risking collapse. When we got the news that you were killed in battle, it was almost as if she gave up on life.’
‘I blame myself …’ Dmitri began.
‘Don’t ever say that,’ Valerina interrupted, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly. ‘From what you have told me, everything you did has been for love. I don’t believe God will frown on that.’
He shook his head. ‘How can I live with the wrong I have done?’
Valerina had the answer: ‘You will get out of bed every morning and keep going, hour by hour, day by day, and gradually it will get easier. Vera’s husband will give you work in his carpet business and you can live with us. You should write to all of Tatiana’s relatives, wherever they may be found, and if she escapes from the Bolsheviks she will know where to find you. But in the meantime you must grit your teeth and carry on living because to do otherwise would be hideously cruel to your sisters, who love you and have only just found you again.’
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. ‘I’ll try,’ he whispered, the words catching in his throat.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Lake Akanabee, New York State, end of September 2016
A few days after her terrifying nocturnal experience, Kitty was planting some flowers in a patch alongside the cabin when she heard a car crawling down the track. As it got close she recognised Jeff from the vacation park along with an older man.
‘Morning, Kitty,’ Jeff called. ‘How ya doing?’
‘I’m hot!’ she called back, embarrassed by the dark patches of sweat on her t-shirt.
As the men got out of the car, she saw that Jeff was carrying a Fedex parcel the size of a pillow. ‘This is my granddad,’ he said of the older man, who tipped his straw hat in greeting. ‘I’m giving him a ride home and thought I’d stop by with this …’ He handed the parcel over.
Kitty clutched it, surprised. ‘Goodness, what is it?’ The address on the label said it came from Marion, her cleaner in London. The bag was open at the top and she glanced in to see her long, chunky olive-green cardigan, a useful cold-weather cover-up. ‘Thanks for bringing it over.’
‘My granddad wanted to see what you’ve done with the cabin. Hope you don’t mind.’
‘No, of course not. Feel free to have a wander.’
The old man was looking round the yard. ‘What are you planting?’ he asked.
‘Purple cone flowers, hydrangeas and some black-eyed Susan,’ she told him. She’d asked advice at the Indian Lake Garden Centre about what plants were likely to survive the winter. He nodded in approval.
‘Last time I was out here must have been when we found your great-granddaddy’s body,’ the old man commented.
Kitty was startled. ‘He died here?’
‘Yeah. I came out to look for him after the storekeeper told me she hadn’t seen him for a couple of weeks. Found him lying frozen solid on the ground and his dog guarding the body. Half-starved that dog was. A lovely creature. I took him in myself.’ He smiled. ‘Kids loved him.’
‘So you knew Dmitri? What was he like?’
‘Well, we never got much beyond saying howdy and commenting on the weather. After he died we tried our damnedest to find some relatives but without success, so the wife and I went to his funeral to pay our respects.’
‘He had a daughter, Marta, who was my grandmother, and a son, Nicholas, as well. I wonder why you couldn’t find them?’ Had they been estranged? The more Kitty found out about Dmitri, the more she realised how little she knew.
‘I guess they lost touch along the way. Course, that was in the days before the Internet. You can pretty much find anyone now …’
After Jeff and his granddad left, Kitty went into the cabin to open the package. As well as the long cardigan, there was her fleecy dressing gown, the one she wore to cuddle up in front of the tele on winter nights, a bundle of post that had come through for her, a new novel by one of her favourite authors, and a family bar of Galaxy chocolate. Had Marion packed all this for her?
She opened the chocolate and munched a square as she flicked through the mail: a postcard from a friend in Costa Rica, a bank statement for her personal account, a couple of invoices, some complimentary play tickets – and a letter with a note from Marion on the outside: ‘Hi Kitty, I couldn’t lie when Tom asked if I knew where your cabin was. I refused to give him the address but promised to send this package and let you know he’s missing you terribly. We had a long chat the other day and I feel sorry for him. He’s a decent man.’
Kitty was irritated. People always thought Tom was decent. That meant if there was any interruption to the normal harmony, it was automatically assumed to be her fault.
‘Anyway, I’m sorry to stick my nose in where it’s not wanted but I couldn’t see the harm in you having this lot and the enclosed letter from Tom. Hope you are OK out there. Marion.’
The envelope wasn’t sealed. Kitty glanced inside and recognised Tom’s handwriting. Nerves twisted in her stomach at the thought of reading it and she decided she would wait till later, when she’d had a glass of wine for Dutch courage.