Read Online Winter Garden by Beryl Bainbridge - Free Book Online

for upsetting everyone’s plans. The contents of his suitcase, previously despised, had become precious. Wretched in yesterday’s shirt, he had attempted to buy various toiletry articles at the visitors’ shop on the second floor of the hotel. Though lights blazed above the counter and at least three women lounged behind it, he had been turned away empty-handed. Worse, Nina hadn’t come down to breakfast. He had telephoned her frequently from the lobby, without success. Enid had knocked at the door of her room but received no reply. She’s said that Nina couldn’t be all that tired; they’d both gone upstairs to bed shortly after he himself had left the restaurant. Ashburner hadn’t liked to pursue the matter further. Knowing that Enid had spent most of the night with Bernard, he could hardly ask her if she had heard Nina moving about in the room next door. Olga Fiodorovna, when told that Nina couldn’t be roused, had said it would be best if Mrs St Clair stayed where she was. There was no point in disturbing her; they weren’t going anywhere important. Inwardly, Ashburner disputed this. Nina could be lying seriously ill. To his shame, he was far too exhausted and unwashed to make an issue of it.
    They drove through the white city, hurtling along avenues so broad that the pedestrians on the distant pavements swirled like black flecks in the snow.
    ‘Stop,’ shouted Bernard, suddenly.
    He had glimpsed in the narrow gorge below the citadel the outline of a swimming pool. Steam puffed above the blue water and drifted into the trees. The driver, deprived of nicotine, accelerated and the car leapt on the icy road. Bernard, too choked for words, swivelled in his seat and pounded on the leather upholstery. Olga Fiodorovna gazed at him placidly and played with the knot of her silken headscarf.
    ‘He had a bad night,’ volunteered Enid.
    Ashburner was comfortably dozing; now and then as the car bounced in its tracks a little snort of tiredness broke from his open mouth.
    ‘I’ve got to get out,’ said Bernard. He took hold of the handle of the door. ‘I’ve got to use my bloody legs.’
    Olga Fiodorovna looked anxiously at Enid, who explained that Bernard probably needed exercise on account of his funny hip.
    Olga Fiodorovna leaned forward and placed her arm round Bernard’s shoulder. She talked soothingly to him. She would make her phone calls to the airport and, while she did so, he and the others were at liberty to walk in the open air. Everyone must avoid gaining entrance to buildings, however historical and enticing. He personally must give an undertaking to be good and remain outdoors.
    ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ agreed Bernard, flinching under the chummy pressure of her arm and determined the moment he was rid of her to make for the swimming pool in the moat.
    Some minutes later the car came to a halt beside the steps of St Basil’s Cathedral. Helping Bernard from his seat as though he were an invalid, Olga Fiodorovna pointed diagonally across Red Square towards a large Gothic edifice, turreted and towered, situated lower down the hill. She stipulated that in one hour’s time they should meet in the English bar of the Hotel Nationale.
    ‘One hour,’ repeated Bernard, thrusting his fists deeper into his pockets lest they should fly out and punch her to the ground. Normally a solitary man, he wasn’t used to taking orders.
    Ashburner, dragged from the interior of the car, staggered under the onslaught of the wind. He waved uncomprehendingly as Olga Fiodorovna was driven away. He was all at sea. Within seconds his ears turned purple, and so fierce was the pain that he shuffled on the spot like a tap dancer. Upon learning from Enid that Bernard wanted to go to some outdoor swimming pool, he was flabbergasted. ‘My dear fellow,’ he shuddered. ‘You can’t. The shock would kill you.’ He looked wildly about him for shelter. Clutching his incendiary ears and calling for the others to follow, he jogged