Demyan found himself smiling and then raised his eyes as he read on because it would seem he had European royalty visiting his house at the weekend.
Go, Alina!
Libby agrees that the main bedroom is too masculine. I have a large watercolour painting that would look very nice on the main wall opposite your bed. It is too big for my apartment and lives in the wardrobe. I’ll bring it in tomorrow, but please don’t worry if you don’t like it, I shan’t be offended in the least. The colours are nice, that’s all...
Demyan blinked as he read on—it was a magnum opus of an email.
I was thinking about Roman’s bedroom. Again, please don’t be offended, I might not be being very sensitive or politically correct. Why don’t I take a photo of it with my phone, tidy it up and then put it all back, exactly as it was?
I have made you an appointment for the dentist tomorrow at eight a.m.!
Demyan didn’t understand the exclamation mark and was pondering it as he replied.
Saturday is fine for the inspection.
I don’t need to see the painting—whatever you think.
As for Roman’s room...
Demyan hesitated, just sat there for a very long moment and then resumed writing.
...I am not offended at your suggestion. However, my mother said that if you touched the room before the other reached their destination, planes would fall from the sky, the earth would crack open and disaster would be wreaked so it is probably better to leave it as is.
Demyan.
Instead of the casino he headed for bed and lay there for a very long time, remembering the confusion of his childhood and the terrifying rituals his mother kept changing while insisting that they were adhered to. There could be no empty bottles on the table, no half-filled glasses were allowed either...
Just an endless circle of rituals, and for what? It had changed nothing anyway.
His mother had ended up in hell.
He got up and sent a further email, now, before he changed his mind. It was ridiculous to be selling his home and not tidying the bedroom.
Alina, do whatever you think best with Roman’s bedroom.
Then he lay on the bed and thought about her and wondered if she’d think it strange to get two conflicting emails.
Tough, Demyan thought, heading back to the computer, she was going to get three.
Just don’t tell me if you do.
PS Why didn’t you like high school?
CHAPTER SIX
‘THERE WERE GOOD times, Demyan.’
Just back from the dentist, Demyan hadn’t even taken his jacket off and he closed his eyes to Nadia’s voice and then opened them to Alina, who was pretending to concentrate on something—though it didn’t matter anyway as they were speaking in Russian. ‘I can’t remember any,’ Demyan said.
He glanced at his computer and read the email Alina had sent him.