Irina struggles in her mother’s arms. She wants to get down and play with the puppy, but Lena says, “Wait until Aunty Sofia has met her first.” She looks at me. “Go on then. She was found abandoned in a sack by the roadside. Left to die because she has a little limp. One of her legs is shorter than the others.”
“What?” I whisper aghast.
“So she’s going to need a lot of love and attention.”
I turn away from my sister and look at the little mad thing. Indeed, the pup does have an odd gait, but it is actually quite adorable. How could anyone do that to such an innocent little thing?
“I’ll love her to my dying day,” I tell Lena staring at the dog.
My mind races ahead. I imagine teaching her all kinds of things. She can sleep on my bed. I’ll take her with me when I go for my dawn walks. Oh my God. The fun we’ll have together. I get off the bed and fall to my knees. The ball of fur comes up to me and cautiously sniffs my knee, and that is the moment I burst into sobs of pure happiness.
I swear I’ve never felt so happy in all my life.
Ten
Sofia
We arrive in London with time to spare. Guy comes down in the elevator with us, kisses Lena and helps us into the waiting car. He closes the door and stands on the sidewalk watching as Robert, his London chauffeur, drives us away. Both of us turn back to watch him and I can’t help the strange sadness that comes into my heart that I don’t have a man to wave me goodbye and love me the way Guy loves my sister.
Edgware Road, full of middle-eastern shops and restaurants, morphs higher up the road into Kilburn High Street. I have never been to these areas so I gaze out of the window curiously. By the time we turn off the busy high street and into the estate with the high rise apartments, I can immediately see the poverty of the area.
As it happens we arrive at the parking lot of Kids Rule at the same time as Lana. She gets out of a cute white Geely Panda and waves to us.
“Isn’t her husband a billionaire?” I ask my sister.
“Lana doesn’t like to display her wealth when she comes here. She says, ‘why rub it in their noses’.”
“Hey,” Lana calls coming over to us. She is dressed simply in a turtleneck red jumper, faded blue jeans, brown boots and a short leather coat. Her long hair is tied up in a ponytail and her face is scrubbed of make-up, but she is still very beautiful. “So glad you could make it.”
We kiss each other’s cheeks and head towards the wooden entrance of the one-story building. Inside, there are other people already there. They smile at us and call out greetings.
Lana walks down a corridor with us and explains the uses for the rooms on either side of us. Some with desks and chairs are for helping children with their studies, others, with musical instruments, mirrors, sports equipment, or rubber mats, are dance studios, gyms, and music rooms.
At the end of the corridor we come to a set of doors and enter what Lana calls the main hall. It is hung with Christmas decorations and is already half-full of children. They are milling about in small groups talking loudly and laughing.
“Here is where everybody comes to have fun. We hold dances, competitions and concerts here,” she explains.
The kids immediately surround us. They are a bold lot. Throwing questions to Lana about Lena and me. Lana introduces us and I follow my sister’s example and give a small wave when my name is mentioned.
From the corner of my eyes I see a thin girl with curly brown hair sitting alone on the bench. She is leaning her back against the wall behind her and has her knees pulled up. There is an open book resting on her thighs and she is coloring or drawing something into it. The reason she catches my eyes is because of the way she seems utterly oblivious to all the noise and activity around her.
For a while Lena and I answer the children’s curious questions.
“Where are you from?”
“Where’s Russia?”
“Have you seen a bear before?”
“Are you’re going to be our new teachers?”
My eyes keep flicking back to the girl on the bench. Not once has she raised her head or showed any interest in us.
Eventually, I excuse myself and walk towards her. She can’t be more than eight or nine years old. I don’t know why, but I feel almost connected to her. I sit down next to her on the bench. She doesn’t turn to look at me. Her eyes are hidden by the curls that hang over her cheeks. I glance at her book. She’s drawing a scene with a castle, a girl in a long dress and a man on a horse.
“That’s a nice drawing,” I say.
Silently she carries on drawing rows of neat little Vs to denote grass.
“My name is Sofia. What’s yours?”
Her little hand is a tight fist around the pen as she gives her drawing her total concentration.
I bite my lip. Somehow I have to get through to her. I can’t give up. There’s something so sad about her.
“I love horses,” I say quietly.
She ignores me.
“You should draw a tower for your castle.”
Her fist falters for a second, but she does not stop or look at me.
“It’s the best bit of a castle.”
I hear her take a deep breath.
“I know because I live in a castle.”
Her pen stops scratching on the paper.
I hold my breath.
She turns her face in my direction, her curls bouncing against her cheeks and her gray eyes huge with curiosity. Instantly, my heart goes out to her. She is a pitiful thing.
“You live in a castle?” she whispers.
I nod. “Uh … huh. I live at the top of the tower.”
Her eyes widen to impossible proportions. “You do?”
I nod again. “You have to go up a winding stone staircase to get to my rooms.”
Her eyes shine with awe.
“Here. Let me show you.” I take my mobile phone out and scroll through my photos. Luckily I took a lot of pictures of my new puppy. I show them to her and she leans in to look at the pictures.
“Is that your puppy?”
“Yes. Her name is Mika.”
“She’s cute.”
I grin. “She’s my Christmas present.”
A flash of pain crosses her small face. Perhaps she’s lost a pet.
I quickly scroll backwards and find a few photographs of the castle taken from the outside. She leans in even closer and gazes at my photos intently.
“Maybe you can come to visit me one day,” I say, and suddenly she seems to shrivel up. She jumps to her feet and, gathering her book, runs from the hall.
I stand up, but I can’t bring myself to call her back. What would I say? I don’t even know her name. Feeling crushed I stare at her small figure rushing away. Damn. I screwed up by being too eager. Who invites a child to their home after a few minutes of knowing them? She probably thought I was some pervert. How stupid I’ve been.
“How the hell did you do that?”
I swing towards the voice and my cheeks flare up with embarrassment. Oh God! Of all the people in the world why did it have to be Jack Irish who had to witness my failure to connect with even a small child?
Eleven
Jack
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make her run away,” Sofia apologizes. Her eyes are filled with distress and she looks as if she is about to burst into tears. I stare at her in surprise. Could such innocence still exist?
“Lori hasn’t spoken a word to anyone since she has been coming here, which is about six months. You’ve just had a conversation with her so I don’t think you need to be sorry about anything. What you accomplished is close to miraculous.”
Her eyes open wide. “Oh!” she exclaims, a flash of pure joy flirting across her face, and I suddenly see she is even more beautiful than I first realized. Her beauty is not diamond-flashy, but mysterious and intriguing, like a string of pearls glowing in the moonlight.
She chews her bottom lip and my eyes rush to the prett
y sight. She blushes furiously. Shit, I’m staring at her as if she’s the fucking fine print on my life insurance policy.
“Why doesn’t she talk?” she asks shyly.
“No one knows. She lives with her mother in one of the apartments around here. I believe her mother is foreign and doesn’t mix with the other women either.”
She looks troubled, as if Lori really matters to her. “And she has no friends?”
“She doesn’t want friends. The other kids have tried to talk to her but she won’t even make eye contact. How did you get her to talk to you?”
“She was drawing a castle and I told her I lived in one.”
My eyebrows fly upwards. “For real?”
She nods. “Yes, it’s in Cheshire. It belongs to my sister and her husband.”
I can’t help smiling. I’ve never met anyone who lived in a castle, but she looks like she should be living in a castle. The innocent princess in need of rescue.
“Do you think she’ll come back?” she asks worriedly.
“Probably. I think she likes to be around people, but she was not ready to interact. You did really well to make her take that first step.”
“But I ruined it. I rushed it and made her run away.”