Four Warned Read online

  As they climbed the wide marble staircase, they passed several magnificent statues. 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.

  Maureen read from the guidebook. ‘Housed on three floors, the collection displays treasures in over two hundred rooms. 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 didn’t stock Evian, because it had 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 and a glass of water.’

  Dick smiled, removed the Evian bottle from her bag and filled up the glass on her side of the table. When the waiter appeared, Dick ordered a salad for his wife, and ravioli plus a large Diet Coke for himself. He was desperate for something to drink.

  Once she’d eaten her salad, Maureen perked up a little, and even began to tell Dick what they should look out for when they visited the Summer Palace.

  On the long taxi ride through the north of the city, she continued to read extracts from her guidebook. ‘Peter the Great built the Summer Palace after he had visited Versailles, and on returning to Russia employed the finest landscape gardeners and most gifted craftsmen in the land to copy the French masterpiece. He meant the finished work to be a tribute to the French, whom he greatly admired as the leaders of style in Europe.’

  The taxi driver interrupted her flow with his own knowledge. ‘We are just passing the recently built Winter Palace, which is where President Putin stays whenever he is in St Petersburg.’ The driver paused.

  ‘And, as the national flag is flying, he must be in town.’

  ‘He’s flown down from Moscow especially to see me,’ said Dick.

  The taxi driver laughed dutifully.

  * * *

  The taxi drove through the gates of the Summer Palace half an hour later and the driver dropped his passengers off in a crowded car park. It was busy with sightseers and traders, who were standing behind their crude stalls plying their cheap souvenirs.

  ‘Let’s go and see the real thing,’ suggested Maureen.

  ‘I wait for you here,’ said the taxi driver. ‘No extra charge. How long?’ he added.

  ‘I should think we’d be a couple of hours,’ said Dick. ‘No more.’

  ‘I wait for you here,’ he repeated.

  * * *

  The two of them strolled around the magnificent gardens, and Dick could see why it was described in the guidebooks as a ‘can’t afford to miss’ attraction, with five stars.

  Maureen continued to brief him between sips of water. ‘The grounds surrounding the palace cover over a hundred acres, with more than twenty fountains, as well as eleven other residences.’

  Although the sun was no longer burning down, the sky was still clear and Maureen continued to take regular gulps of water, but no matter how many times she offered the bottle to Dick, he always replied, ‘No thanks.’

  When they finally climbed the steps of the palace, they were greeted by another long queue, and Maureen admitted that she was feeling a little tired.

  ‘Pity to have travelled this far,’ said Dick, ‘and not take a look inside.’

  His wife agreed reluctantly.

  When they reached the front of the queue, Dick purchased two entrance tickets and, for a small extra charge, selected an English-speaking guide to show them around.

  ‘I don’t feel too good,’ said Maureen as they entered the Empress Catherine’s bedroom. She clung onto the four poster bed.

  ‘You must drink lots of water on such a hot day,’ said the tour guide helpfully.

  By the time they had reached Tsar Nicholas IV’s study, Maureen warned her husband that she thought she was going to faint. Dick said sorry to their guide, put an arm around his wife’s shoulder and assisted her out of the palace on an unsteady journey back to the car park. They found their taxi driver standing by his car waiting for them.

  ‘We must return to the Grand Palace Hotel at once,’ said Dick, as his wife fell into the back seat of the car like a drunk who has been thrown out of a pub on a Saturday night.

  On the long drive back to St Petersburg, Maureen was violently sick in the back of the taxi, but the driver didn’t comment, just kept a steady speed as he continued along the highway. Forty minutes later, he came to a halt outside the Grand Palace Hotel. Dick handed over a stack of notes and apologised.

  ‘Hope madam better soon,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, let’s hope so,’ replied Dick.

  Dick helped his wife out of the back of the car, and guided her quickly up the steps into the hotel lobby and towards the lifts, not wishing to draw attention to himself. He had her safely back in their suite moments later. Maureen immediately disappeared into the bathroom, and even with the door closed Dick could hear her retching. He searched around the room. In their absence, all the bottles of Evian had been replaced. He only bothered to empty the one by Maureen’s bedside, which he refilled with tap water from the kitchenette.

  Maureen finally emerged from the bathroom, and collapsed onto the bed. ‘I feel awful,’ she said.

  ‘Perhaps you ought to take a couple of aspirin, and try to get some sleep?’

  Maureen nodded weakly. ‘Could you fetch them for me? They’re in my wash bag.’

  ‘Of course, my darling.’ Once he’d found the pills, he filled a glass with tap water, before returning to his wife’s side. She had taken off her dress, but not her slip.

  Dick helped her to sit up and became aware for the first time that she was soaked in sweat. She swilled down the two aspirins with the glass of water Dick offered her. He lowered her gently down onto the pillow before drawing the curtains. He then strolled across to the bedroom door, opened it, and placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the door knob. The last thing he needed was for a concerned maid to come barging in and find his wife in her present state. Once Dick was certain she was asleep, he went down to dinner.

  ‘Will madam be joining you this evening?’ asked the head waiter, once Dick was seated.

  ‘No, sadly not,’ replied Dick, ‘she has a slight migraine. Too much sun I fear, but I’m sure she’ll be fine by the morning.’

  ‘Let’s hope so, sir. What can I interest you in tonight?’

  Dick took his time reading the menu, before he eventually said, ‘I think I’ll start with the foie gras, followed by a rump steak –’ he paused – ‘medium rare.’

  ‘Excellent choice, sir.’

  Dick poured himself a glass of water from the bottle on the table and quickly gulped it down, before filling his glass a second time. He didn’t hurry his meal, and when he returned to his suite just after ten, he was delighted to find his wife was fast asleep.

  He picked up her glass, took it to the bathroom and refilled it