‘Recompense from whom?’ she asked coldly.
‘Why, from your father, of course,’ I said.
She opened her mouth to reply, but it seemed that she was too shocked by the impertinence of what I had said to find the words to argue with me. The silence lasted for only a moment, however, before she turned away from me and threw her hands in the air in frustration.
‘My sister just wants everything to go back to how it once was,’ said Marie then, playing the role of peacemaker. ‘And that’s not such a terrible thing to wish for, after all. This was a wonderful
country to grow up in. There were balls at the palace every night and wonderful parties. We all wish that things could have stayed like that for ever.’
I said nothing, but shot Sergei an amused glance, intended to mock her innocence and naivety. To my surprise, however, he did not return my smile, but glared at me instead as if he was insulted that I would dare to include him in some private joke against the Grand Duchess Marie.
‘You should feel fortunate, Tatiana,’ said Anastasia, speaking up now for the first time. ‘It is a great honour for you to help the troops in this way. You are saving lives.’
‘Oh, but I’m terrible at it,’ she sighed, shaking her head. ‘And the sight of all those lost limbs! You can’t understand it,
Shvipsik
, unless you’ve seen it. Do you know that yesterday our mother assisted at an operation where a boy of seventeen had both his legs amputated? She stood there and witnessed it, helping out in whatever way she could. But the screams of the boy … I swear I will hear that screaming again at my dying moment.’
‘I only wish that I were a year or two older so that I could help out too,’ said Anastasia wistfully, standing up and walking towards the window, staring down into the courtyard below; I could hear the rush of the fountain as its water rose and fell and imagined that she was looking towards the nearby colonnades, where she had fallen into my arms for the first time and we had kissed. I longed for her to turn around and catch my eye, but she remained silent and strong, looking out beyond the walls of the palace itself.
‘Well, you can take my place any time you want,’ said Tatiana, standing up and brushing down the front of her skirts. ‘I feel utterly miserable and intend to take a long bath. Goodnight,’ she said, sweeping out of the room as if she had been the victim of a great insult, followed by Marie, who looked back as if she had one final comment to make, but thought better of it and left the room without another word.
A moment later Sergei left too, citing a forgotten task, and the night drew to a close. As Anastasia took Alexei to his room, I remained in the parlour for a few more minutes, turning off some of the lights, leaving only a few candles illuminated, anticipating the moment when she would return, when she would close the doors quietly behind her and find her way back into my open arms.
I had never experienced the White Nights and it was Anastasia’s idea that I should see them for the first time with her. In truth, I had never heard of the phenomenon before and thought I was going mad when, restless and waking in the middle of the night, I opened my eyes to see bright daylight shining into my room. Thinking that I had slept through my usual early-morning awakening, I washed and dressed quickly and ran down the corridor towards the playroom, where Alexei could usually be found at that time, reading one of his military books or playing with some new toy.
The room was deserted, however, and as I made my way through the state rooms and the reception areas, finding each one as empty as the next, I started to panic and wondered whether I had slept through some great calamity that had occurred in the night. I was not far from the Tsarevich’s own chamber, however, and when I ran inside, I was relieved to find the boy fast asleep in his bed, stretched across the covers, one bare leg extended over the side.
‘Alexei,’ I said, sitting down beside him and rousing him gently by the shoulder. ‘Alexei, my friend. Come along, you should be up by now.’
He grunted and mumbled something indecipherable before rolling over; I could only guess what his mother would say if she arrived to kiss him goodbye before leaving for the hospital and found him still asleep so I shook him again, unwilling to allow him to return to his dreams. ‘Alexei, wake up,’ I insisted. ‘You should be at your lessons.’
He opened his eyes slowly and stared at me as if he did not know who or where he was, before glancing over towards the window, where the light was streaming through the curtains.
‘It’s the middle of the night, Georgy,’ he groaned, smacking his lips together and emitting an exaggerated yawn, stretching his arms out in exhaustion. ‘I don’t have to get up yet.’
‘But it’s not,’ I said. ‘Look how bright it is. Why, it must be …’ I glanced towards the clock which hung on his bedroom wall and was surprised to see that it was just past four o’clock. There was no possibility that we had all slept until the middle of the afternoon, however, so the only explanation could be that it was still early morning.
‘Go back to bed, Georgy,’ he muttered, turning over and falling immediately back to sleep with the ease of one whose conscience is clear.
Disoriented, I walked back towards my own room and returned to bed, although it was impossible to sleep in my confusion.
The following morning, however, I found myself alone with Anastasia as she finished her breakfast and she explained the phenomenon to me.
‘We call it the White Nights,’ she said. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of it?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘I think it must be peculiar to St Petersburg. It has something to do with the fact that the city is situated so far to the north. Monsieur Gilliard explained it to us recently. The sun doesn’t descend below the horizon at this time of the year for a few days, so the sky doesn’t get dark. It gives the impression that it is daytime constantly, although I suppose there is more of a dusk-like feeling in the early hours of the morning.’
‘How extraordinary,’ I remarked. ‘I was sure that I had overslept.’
‘Oh, you wouldn’t be allowed to oversleep,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘Someone would be sure to come and find you.’
I nodded, feeling slightly irritated by this remark, a sensation
which was only alleviated when she stepped closer to me and, ensuring that there was no one in sight to observe us, kissed me lightly on the lips.
‘You know, it’s traditional for young lovers to walk along the banks of the Neva together during the White Nights,’ she said, smiling flirtatiously at me.
‘Is it indeed?’ I asked, a grin beginning to spread across my face.
‘It is. Some are even known to make plans for marriage then. It’s just as curious a phenomenon as the White Nights themselves.’
‘Well,’ I said, extricating myself from her grip playfully, as if the idea of such a commitment was anathema to me, ‘then I should be leaving.’
‘Georgy!’ she cried, laughing at me.
‘I’m only teasing,’ I said, taking her in my arms once again, although I did so nervously. Of the two of us, I was always the one more scared of getting caught; perhaps because I knew that my punishment for discovery would be far more severe than hers. ‘But I think it’s a little early for an engagement, don’t you? I can only imagine what your father would say.’
‘Or my mother.’
‘Or her,’ I agreed, grimacing, for while the concept of my ever being allowed to marry a daughter of the Tsar was a foolish one, there was a small part of me that believed that the Tsar himself would look more favourably on a love-match than the Tsaritsa would. It was neither here nor there, of course. Such an inappropriate match could never be made. A fact which neither Anastasia nor I liked to dwell upon.
‘Still,’ she said, skirting quickly past the awkwardness of the moment, ‘you cannot be in St Petersburg and not experience them. We should go out tonight.’
‘We?’ I asked. ‘You don’t mean we should go together?’
‘Well, why not? After all, it might be bright out, but it will still be night-time. The household will be asleep. We could slip out, well disguised, and no one would ever know.’
I frowned. ‘Isn’t it a little risky?’ I asked. ‘What if we are seen?’
‘We won’t be,’ she insisted. ‘As long as we don’t draw attention to ourselves, that is.’
I was unsure of the wisdom of the plan, but Anastasia’s enthusiasm won me over, as did the idea of the two of us walking along the riverbank hand in hand, like any of the other young lovers who strolled together at night. We would be normal people for once. Not a Grand Duchess and a member of the Leib Guard. Not an anointed one and a
moujik
. Just two people.
Georgy and Anastasia.
Typically, the Imperial Family went to bed early, particularly now that the Tsar was quartered at Stavka and the Tsaritsa and her two eldest daughters were up by seven o’clock in order to be at the hospital an hour later. And so we decided to meet by the Alexander Column in Palace Square at three o’clock in the morning, when we were sure that no one would be awake to see us. I went to my bed at midnight as usual, but didn’t sleep. Instead I read a few chapters of a book I had borrowed from the library, a volume of Pushkin’s poetry that I had recently been reading in an attempt to educate myself; I didn’t understand much of it, but did my best to concentrate. When it was time to leave, I pulled on a pair of trousers, a shirt and an overcoat – not my typical guard’s uniform – and crept downstairs and out into the peculiar bright night.
The square was quieter than I had ever seen it before, but there were still people passing through, their spirits raised by the late-night illumination. Groups of soldiers returning from some adventure ambled by noisily. Two prostitutes, young and rouge-faced, leered in my direction and offered me those sensual delights which were still unknown to me, but which I desired desperately. Drunks returning from some excess sought, sung and forgot the words of ancient songs in off-key voices. I spoke to no one, however, ignoring all advances, and waited silently in our agreed meeting place until I saw my darling emerge from behind
one of the colonnades and raise a gloved hand in my direction. She was dressed in the most extraordinary outfit. A simple dress, with a
dusegrej
on top, the sleeveless, fur-lined jacket a second layer beneath the common person’s
letnik
. A cheap pair of shoes. A headscarf. I had never seen her wear anything quite so lacking in jewels before.
‘Good God,’ I said, walking towards her and shaking my head, even as I tried to stop myself from laughing. ‘Where on earth did you find those things?’
‘I stole them from one of my maid’s wardrobes,’ she giggled. ‘I’ll replace them in the morning, she’ll never know.’
‘But why?’ I asked. ‘It’s beneath you to wear such—’
‘Beneath me?’ she asked, surprised. ‘Why, Georgy, you don’t know me at all if you believe that I think that way.’
‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘No, I didn’t mean that. It’s just—’
‘There may be people who will recognize me,’ she said, looking around and pulling her scarf closer about her head. ‘It’s unlikely, but nevertheless, it’s not worth taking the risk. These clothes will help me blend into the crowd, that’s all.’
I took her hand and pressed my lips to hers, my body curving against the contours of her own, my desire anxious to be recognized. ‘You could never blend into any crowd,’ I told her. ‘Don’t you know that by now?’
She smiled and bit her lip in that funny way of hers, shaking her head at my foolishness, but I could tell that she was pleased by the compliment.
A few minutes later, we were making our way along the side of the palace and on to the path that bordered the banks of the river. The night was warmer than most I had known; we could breathe without seeing clouds of unspoken words dissolving into the atmosphere before us and my trousers were not clinging to my legs with that damp sensation that characterized so many St Petersburg evenings. The first sight that greeted us was the vision of the half-completed Palace Bridge, whose construction had
begun even before I had arrived in the city, but which had been halted by the war and stood as a stark reminder of how our progress had been stunted in recent years. Stretching from the front of the Hermitage and across to Vasilievsky Island, the enormous brick and steelwork supports stood in place on either side of the Neva, but there was no sign that the two would ever meet; instead they stretched out towards each other, like a pair of lovers separated by a great expanse of water. I caught Anastasia staring in their direction, her expression a little disheartened, and found myself hurting for her.
‘You’re looking at the bridge?’ I asked.
She nodded but remained silent for a moment, imagining what might have been. ‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘Do you think they will ever complete it?’
‘Of course,’ I said, my confident tone masking my uncertainty. ‘Some day. It can’t stay like that for ever.’
‘When it began I was perhaps eleven or twelve years old,’ she recalled, smiling a little. ‘Alexei’s age. The construction law decreed that no work could be done on it between nine at night and seven in the morning, the time when, perhaps, you might consider it most suitable to work on such a project.’
‘Really?’ I asked, surprised by her knowledge of such things.
‘Yes. And do you know why they did that?’
‘No.’
‘Because it would have kept me awake. My sisters and me that is. And my brother.’
I looked at her and laughed, sure that she was teasing me, but the expression on her face told a different story and I could only laugh again, amazed by the extraordinary life she lived.
‘Well, you can sleep all you want now,’ I said finally. ‘There will be no workers, or any steel for that matter, until the war is over.’
‘That day cannot come quickly enough,’ she said as we continued to walk.
‘You miss your father?’
‘Yes, very much,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s more than that. And it’s not for the reasons my sister wants the war to end. I have no interest in balls or fine dresses or dancing or any of those trivialities which St Petersburg society treasures above all other things.’