She reached the top step and turned to look out at the area below her. She sensed him before she saw him. Behind her. She turned and there he was, moving out of the shadows of the huge doorway.
He paused, not quite in full daylight. He beckoned her towards him.
‘Tina, I knew you would come,’ said Sasha. He gave her a brief hug and then looked down at Dimitri by her side. The tension immediately left his face, the frown lines dissolved as the muscles relaxed and softened his features. ‘Dimitri.’ It was a whisper. Sasha dropped to one knee, his hands gentle as they held the boy’s shoulders.
‘Dimitri,’ said Tina, hoping she sounded natural. ‘This is mummy’s friend. Sasha.’
Sasha held out his hand. ‘Hello, Dimitri. It is a pleasure to meet you.’
Tina watched as her son, their son, looked at the outstretched hand. He glanced up at Tina, who nodded encouragingly, before shaking hands with Sasha. It broke Tina’s heart. Father and son greeting each other in this way. It just shouldn’t be. There should be hugs and kisses, smiles and laughter, not this formal, unfamiliar meeting of two strangers. She could see the tears fill Sasha’s eyes as he stood up and looked at her. He went to speak, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. He looked out across the square for a moment, regaining his composure.
‘Come inside. It is safer. We need to talk,’ said Sasha finally.
‘Are we going to the whispering place now?’ asked Dimitri as they made their way in through the side door, Sasha paying for full access to the cathedral with the cash from his pocket.
‘Yes, we’ll make our way there now. It’s over there on the right,’ said Tina finally releasing her son’s hand and letting him skip ahead. ‘What’s going on, Sasha?’ she said as they walked towards the staircase for the Whispering Gallery.
‘I do not have much time,’ said Sasha, his voice low. ‘I am not supposed to be here and I am sure John will be here any time now.’
‘Where is he? Is he okay?’ said Tina, suddenly alarmed.
‘He will be okay. Maybe have a little headache, but that is all.’
‘Sasha! What did you do?’
‘Sshhhh. I do not want to attract attention. He will be okay. I needed to get out on my own. He would not let me speak to you.’ He placed his hand on Tina’s arm. ‘I need your help.’
‘It depends what you want me to do,’ said Tina. She took Sasha’s hand from her arm, with every intention of letting it drop away, but as she touched him her mind was flooded with a morass of memories and feelings. She gripped his arm to steady herself. Sasha tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and placed his other hand over hers.
‘Come. I will explain.’
Dimitri, still ahead of them, was jumping up the stone stairs that led to the Whispering Gallery. ‘One!’ Jump. ‘Two!’ Jump. ‘Three!’ Jump.
Tina, her arm still linked with Sasha’s, followed their son, the progress was slow but it gave Sasha chance to speak.
‘It is my son, Nikolay.’
‘Your other son.’ Tina couldn’t help correcting him.
Sasha sighed and closed his eyes momentarily. ‘Yes, my other son. He needs this operation. I do not think the police are really going to bring him over to the UK. They are taking far too long. They are making excuses every day, always blaming inter-country relations and red tape. I cannot wait. Nikolay cannot wait.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I need you to get the money I hid. It is in a safe-deposit box.’ Sasha looked behind him and then to each side. ‘You have the key for the box. You must get the money and send it to my wife … Rozalina.’
He cut Tina to the core. Sasha talking about his son and his wife. They should be her and Dimitri. Another woman and another child had taken their place.
‘Please Tina, I am begging you. For Nikolay, a child. He is only two years old.’
‘But if the police have agreed to help you, why do you need me to do this?’
‘Because they are playing games. I do not trust them. They want information from me, but I do not believe they are going to bring Rozalina and Nikolay over to the UK.’
‘One hundred!’ announced Dimitri as he came to a halt halfway up the staircase. His face was pink from the exertion, the jumping long since abandoned in favour of a customary approach to steps.
Tina herself was beginning to wilt. ‘Well done, darling,’ she said, allowing herself the opportunity to pause for breath. She had a vague recollection of reading a sign that said something about over 250 steps to the Whispering Gallery. ‘Come on, let’s keep going.’