The Troika Dolls by Miranda Darling Read Free Book Online Page B

sit on park benches.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Joss’ show is opening tonight. You coming?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘He’s threatening to propose to the girl tonight. She’ll probably say yes, too,’ he snorted. ‘I’ll tell him I saw you.’ He finished his drink in a big gulp.
    Stevie found herself checking quickly to make sure the scar was watertight.
    He kissed her cheek. It felt like a hen-peck.
    ‘You don’t look well,’ he called over his shoulder as he left the bar.
    It made Stevie marvel. His imperviousness. The world didn’t touch Charlie. Actually, it was more than that. The world didn’t exist outside what he chose to see. Inconceivable that other people had feelings, or cravings, or that ideas mattered, that the world changed every day, that people did things.
    Things like marmalade were important to Charlie. She used to think it was all just a front. She had spent time wondering about Charlie when she had first met him, trying to get through to the real person. But Charlie managed to hold the entire world at arm’s length. It was a feat Stevie admired; the strength of will it must take to be so utterly blind.
    Stevie asked politely for another drink and lit her second cigarette of the day.
    Joss’ exhibition. Propose. He had always said he didn’t believe in forever . . . Had Norah changed all that? And now he would know that she was in town, that she didn’t have the courage to attend. Charlie would be sure to tell him. She would definitely book that flight home tonight.
    A man from reception brought her a message slip:
    Please phone Henning in Moscow 98 84 63 21.
    Stevie stubbed out her cigarette and collected her coat. Henning would cheer her up.
    She called from her room. ‘Hello, Henning.’
    ‘How are you, Stevie darling?’
    ‘Oh . . . you know.’ It was the second time she’d been called ‘darling’ that evening, the second time her cheeks had heated up—even though Henning often called her that. ‘Charging on—crime, paranoia, celebrity babies, the usual thing.’ She was aiming for ‘cheery’, but didn’t quite get there. ‘Actually it’s driving me a bit mad. I’m taking a week off.’
    ‘What’s brought all this on?’
    Stevie told him about the young girls on the park bench. She couldn’t get the picture of the two of them sitting in the rain out of her mind.
    ‘They’re haunting me, Henning. Maybe . . .’ Stevie kicked off her shoes. ‘Maybe sometimes I think I’m protecting the wrong people. The clients I saw today are protected in so many other ways: they have money, friends, love, family, every opportunity. Those girls on the bench seemed so alone in the world. No one was going to worry about what happened to them. They seemed so . . . disposable. Does that make any sense?’
    ‘It’s an awful thought, that some people are disposable.’ Henning understood. His tone told her everything. He understood, he always did. That was the thing about Henning.
    There was a long silence on the phone. Henning spoke first.
    ‘Stevie, will you come to Moscow tomorrow morning?’
    ‘Mmm, let’s see . . . no. No. Not possible at all I’m afraid. I have a client with a bad toupee who is terrified someone might catch a glimpse of his balding dome in this windy weather. He needs twenty-four-hour surveillance. Anything else I can do for you, Henning?’
    ‘I’m serious, Stevie.’
    ‘So am I. Would you mind terribly if I ran a bath while we chatted? This tub takes years to fill and I’m chilled to the bone.’ Stevie ran the taps and began to undress.
    When he replied, Henning’s voice sounded a little huskier than usual. ‘It’s a business proposition of sorts. Just a small matter, private.’
    ‘In Moscow? It’s one of the most crime-ridden cities in the world, rotten with corruption. It’s unlikely to be a “small matter”. Everything is always connected to something bigger.’
    In the mirror her face looked particularly pale. Charlie was