The New Collected Short Stories Read online

  ‘Hi, Anatol, it’s Dick Barnsley. I thought I’d let you know that we’ve just checked in to the Grand Palace.’

  ‘Welcome back to St Petersburg,’ said a friendly voice. ‘And is your wife with you on this occasion?’

  ‘She most certainly is,’ replied Dick, ‘and very much looking forward to meeting you.’

  ‘Me too,’ said the minister, ‘so make sure that you have a relaxed weekend because everything is set up for Monday morning. The President is due to fly in tomorrow night so he’ll be present when the contract is signed.’

  ‘Ten o’clock at the Winter Palace?’

  ‘Ten o’clock,’ repeated Chenkov ‘I’ll pick you up from your hotel at nine. It’s only a thirty-minute drive, but we can’t afford to be late for this one.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby,’ said Dick. ‘See you then.’ He put the phone down and turned to his wife. ‘Why don’t we go down to dinner, my darling? We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.’ He adjusted his watch by three hours and added, ‘So perhaps it would be wise to have an early night.’

  Maureen placed a long silk nightdress on her side of the bed and smiled in agreement. As she turned to place her empty case in the wardrobe, Dick slipped an Evian bottle from the bedside table into his jacket pocket. He then accompanied his wife down to the dining room.

  The head waiter guided them to a quiet table in the corner and, once they were seated, offered his two guests menus. Maureen disappeared behind the large leather cover while she considered the table d’hôte, which allowed Dick enough time to remove the bottle of Evian from his pocket, undo the cap and fill his wife’s glass.

  Once they had both selected their meals, Maureen went over her proposed itinerary for the next two days. ‘I think we should begin with the Hermitage, first thing in the morning,’ she suggested, ‘take a break for lunch, and then spend the rest of the afternoon at the Summer Palace.’

  ‘What about the amber collection?’ asked Dick, as he topped up her water glass. ‘I thought that was a no-miss.’

  ‘I’d already scheduled in the amber collection and the Russian Museum for Sunday.’

  ‘Sounds as if you have everything well organized,’ said Dick, as a waiter placed a bowl of borscht in front of his wife.

  Maureen spent the rest of the meal telling Dick about some of the treasures that they would see when they visited the Hermitage. By the time Dick had signed the bill, Maureen had drunk the bottle of water.

  Dick slipped the empty bottle back in his pocket. Once they had returned to their room, he filled it with tap water and left it in the bathroom.

  By the time Dick had undressed and climbed into bed, Maureen was still studying her guidebook.

  ‘I feel exhausted,’ Dick said. ‘It must be the time change.’ He turned his back on her, hoping she wouldn’t work out that it was just after eight p.m. in England.

  Dick woke the following morning feeling very thirsty. He looked at the empty bottle of Evian on his side of the bed and remembered just in time. He climbed out of bed, walked across to the fridge and selected a bottle of orange juice.

  ‘Will you be going to the gym this morning?’ he asked a half-awake Maureen.

  ‘Do I have time?’

  ‘Sure, the Hermitage doesn’t open until ten, and one of the reasons I always stay here is because of the hotel’s gym.’

  ‘So what about you?’

  ‘I still have to make some phone calls if everything is to be set up for Monday.’

  Maureen slipped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom, which allowed Dick enough time to top up her glass and replace the empty bottle of Evian on her side of the bed.

  When Maureen emerged a few minutes later, she checked her watch before slipping on her gym kit. ‘I should be back in about forty minutes,’ she said, after tying up her trainers.

  ‘Don’t forget to take some water with you,’ said Dick, handing her one of the bottles from the table by the window. They may not have one in the gym.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  Dick wondered, from the expression on her face, if he was being just a little too solicitous.

  While Maureen was in the gym, Dick took a shower. When he walked back into the bedroom, he was pleased to see that the sun was shining. He put on a blazer and slacks, but only after he’d checked that none of the bottles had been replaced by the hotel staff while he’d been in the bathroom.

  Dick ordered breakfast for both of them, which arrived moments after Maureen returned from the gym, clutching the half-empty Evian bottle.

  ‘How did your training go?’ Dick asked.

  ‘Not great,’ Maureen replied. ‘I felt a bit listless.’

  ‘Probably just jetlag,’ suggested Dick as he took his place on the far side of the table. He poured his wife a glass of water, and himself another orange juice. Dick opened a copy of the Herald Tribune, which he began to read while he waited for his wife to dress. Hillary Clinton said she wouldn’t be running for president, which only convinced Dick that she would, especially as she made the announcement standing by her husband’s side.

  Maureen came out of the bathroom wearing a hotel dressing gown. She took the seat opposite her husband and sipped the water.

  ‘Better take a bottle of Evian with us when we visit the Hermitage,’ said Maureen. Dick looked up from behind his paper. ‘The girl in the gym warned me not, under any circumstances, to drink the local water.’

  ‘Oh yes, I should have warned you,’ said Dick, as Maureen took a bottle from the table by the window and put it in her bag. ‘Can’t be too careful.’

  Dick and Maureen strolled through the front gates of the Hermitage a few minutes before ten, to find themselves at the back of a long queue. The crocodile of visitors progressed slowly forward along an unshaded cobbled path. Maureen took several sips of water between turning the pages of the guidebook. It was ten forty before they reached the ticket booth. Once inside, Maureen continued to study her guidebook. ‘Whatever we do, we must be sure to see Michelangelo’s Crouching Boy, Raphael’s Virgin, and Leonardo’s Madonna Benois.’

  Dick smiled his agreement, but knew he wouldn’t be concerning himself with the masters.

  As they climbed the wide marble staircase, they passed several magnificent statues nestled in alcoves. Dick was surprised to discover just how vast the Hermitage was. Despite visiting St Petersburg several times during the past three years, he had only ever seen the building from the outside.

  ‘Housed on three floors, Tsar Peter’s collection displays treasures in over two hundred rooms,’ Maureen told him, reading from the guidebook. ‘So let’s get started.’

  By eleven thirty they had only covered the Dutch and Italian schools on the first floor, by which time Maureen had finished the large bottle of Evian.

  Dick volunteered to go and buy another bottle. He left his wife admiring Caravaggio’s The Lute Player, while he slipped into the nearest rest room. He refilled the empty Evian bottle with tap water before rejoining his wife. If Maureen had spent a little time studying one of the many drinks counters situated on each floor, she would have discovered that the Hermitage doesn’t stock Evian, because it has an exclusive contract with Volvic.

  By twelve thirty they had all but covered the sixteen rooms devoted to the Renaissance artists, and agreed it was time for lunch. They left the building and strolled back into the midday sun. The two of them walked for a while along the bank of the Moika River, stopping only to take a photograph of a bride and groom posing on the Blue Bridge in front of the Mariinsky Palace.

  ‘A local tradition,’ said Maureen, turning another page of her guidebook.

  After walking another block, they came to a halt outside a small pizzeria. Its sensible square tables with neat red-and-white check tablecloths and smartly dressed waiters tempted them inside.

  ‘I must go to the loo,’ said Maureen. ‘I’m feeling a little queasy. It must be the heat.’ She added, ‘Just order me a salad an