Somewhere Only We Know (29 page)

Nadia was too busy dealing with the squirm of hurt that had raged up in her throat as the man she thought herself in love with pitilessly listed all of the deficits in her life. He seemed to belatedly realise that and melted back from Scary Home Office Guy to normal Alex, touching her upper arm sympathetically.

“Don’t worry, it’s all good,” he assured her. “You
are
inherently British. I just want you to be as prepared as possible. It’s no walk in the park, this process.” He looked around the room, at her motley collection of character witnesses, minus Caro, of course. “You need to all be as prepared as possible. The judge could ask you anything. Short, succinct answers. Don’t ramble. Don’t panic.”

“Alright, Judge Judy.” Ledge rolled his eyes. The familial resemblance to Holly was always strongest when he did that. “We get it. This is important to us as well, you know.” And Nadia felt a little burst of love for Ledge and Holly, her oldest friends, the ones whose family used to have her for the school holidays when she couldn’t go back to Russia, who had been with her every step of the way, and now stood beside her still, raging against the dying of the light.

Alex’s face had softened too. “I know that.” He looked around the small living room again. “You’ll all do great. I know it.” And Nadia loved him a little for his sweetness, but couldn’t help but hate the fact that he wasn’t going to be there all over again.

Chapter 23

Alex

“She couldn’t be from a worse country, mate,” was David’s damning conclusion. “It’s red hot with the Russians lately, with all that’s been going on over the last year or so. They’re not even really giving them travel visas, let alone Leave to Remain.” He sipped a little of the office canteen’s crap coffee and grimaced. Alex grimaced too; he’d been expecting it, but it was still painful to hear it straight from his esteemed colleague’s lips. David worked in the sector of the Home Office that dealt with the courts; if anyone had his finger on the pulse of what Nadia’s appeal reality was, it was him.

“But she’s been here since she was a kid,” he found himself defending her, always dredging up those last few droplets of hope from somewhere. “They might not consider her in the same way that they would other Russian national adults.”

David was already shaking his head before Alex had even finished his sentence. “I know, I read the file. So, this is your girl, right?” Alex hadn’t said anything in his original email that suggested he and Nadia were more than friends. God! It must be practically tattooed across his face. He simply nodded. David shook his head again. “Messy, Alex, really messy…”

“Is it going to help or hinder her case? Being involved with me? If I stand up in front of the judge?”

“You don’t live together. You haven’t got any history. The judge won’t consider you a serious enough relationship under Article 8. It’s not going to make a blind bit of difference to the appeal. It could, however, get you fired. You’re meant to declare relationships with foreign nationals you know, Alex, which of course means you’re not supposed to have them at all. It could void some of your security clearances.”

Alex raked his palms back over his hair, covering his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Yes. I know.” He sighed. “It’s just, I’ve barely ‘declared’ the relationship to her, how could I have done it to the office?”

David arched an eyebrow as he took another sip of sub-standard coffee. “That sounds like the sort of story that needs telling over a beer, not a weak-ass Americano,” he said. “You free this evening? Could grab a swift one after close of play.”

Alex blinked. Years he’d worked in this place, years, and this was the first time a colleague had ever extended a social invitation to him. Having said that, to be fair, he’d never got further than nodding politely at David when they shared the lift. Maybe asking for his help, inviting him down for a coffee had broken some societal barrier?

“That would be really good,” he said, sincerely. “But I’m going to see Nadia tonight.”

David nodded sagely. “Trying to get in as much time with her before she has to go?”

Alex swallowed. “Something like that.”

“I feel for you, man. We’ll catch up after it’s all over, then.” After it’s all over and she’s gone, he means, Alex thought. David stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck with it.”

Nadia

Nadia had already begun quantifying her life in hourly segments. Eight days until the court date. The next Wednesday evening she had would be the night before the appeal and she’d probably be a lot less relaxed.

You wouldn’t think it was getting on for eight o’clock at night. The Common was carpeted with bodies, ties loosened and shoes kicked off, the bright orange of Sainsbury’s carrier bags of hurriedly purchased picnic food a constant refrain against the bleached, dry grass. Nadia had brought a couple of the little square scatter cushions from her living room and so reclined in relative comfort, her head on one, an arm thrown over her face to block out the brightness of the evening. She could still sense Alex next to her – a solid, warm presence. The last time they’d lain out on the Common together they’d topped and tailed on the picnic blanket, giving one another an extremely polite amount of personal space. This time they turned their faces in towards one another and it was much, much better.

Now they’d maybe, kind of,
almost
had the conversation, it was a different type of tense between them. Like the kind a moment before you stepped out on stage, before you’d quite crested the drop of the rollercoaster; it was excitement and apprehension and everything this long summer had been, all at once, all rolled up into one unstinting feeling. Off to the west, Nadia could just about make out the playground where they’d had that first conversation, the one they’d never been able to have with anybody else, about life and loneliness and swinging over the bar.

Alex had been a little manic these past few days, constantly talking appeal strategy, a one-man-army against her deportation, never letting up. But in the thick, heavy heat of the evening he’d grown quiet, his breathing even, and he dozed peacefully next to Nadia, reminding her of the time he’d fallen asleep in the cinema and she’d half-pressed her lips to his. So many near misses, almost-kisses. And now, here they were, lying together companionably – almost at the end, but not yet – not quite yet.

And although Nadia regretted not having more time with Alex, and although she knew she’d regret having to leave him – if it all went south, and she had to – she could never regret all of these perfect little moments, the sort of moments that together make a rope, that make a happy life. And whilst, perhaps, new moments wouldn’t feel as extraordinary without Alex, without Holly and Caro and all her friends, life would, of course, go on, and on, and Nadia could always keep that with her, for ten years, for fifty: all the way until the end of the rope.

It had always been one of her favourite things: sitting out on the Common. Now it could be a perfect memory.

Alex

When Alex roused the Common was almost deserted; it was almost fully dark, and his neck and shoulder blades felt a little as if they’d been cemented in place. But the first thing Alex saw when he opened his eyes was Nadia, casually asleep, her chin tucked into her chest and her body arced to his, one leg of hers sandwiched between his two. And he knew that he loved her, simply knew it, in the way that you know your own name. It didn’t rush in all at once; it was as though it had always been there, waiting patiently for him to notice it.

And he knew he couldn’t lose her across the sea, this woman who’d changed him, changed his life, the sunshine that had come out and dried up all the rain. Alex lay there, stock-still – not wanting to wake her yet, not wanting to break the spell of the quiet, darkened Common – and began to bargain with the faceless universe. Come on. Please. You brought us together. Don’t screw us over now. Please. I’ll do anything.

The strident beep of a taxi on the faraway road came blasting, almost like an answer; Nadia jerked awake, sitting upright and rubbing her face quickly with her hand.

“Wow, conked out!” she laughed. “Embarrassing. What time is it?”

Alex consulted his watch. “God, it’s like ten!”

“Ten?” Nadia pulled herself to her feet and stretched languorously. “We’d better get going, then.”

Alex watched her from below, fascinated by her, by every little thing, by the way she stretched her arms up behind her head, and the way it pulled the hem of her dress further up her thighs. “Go where? Home?”

Nadia grinned, bending down to collect her throw cushions and stuff them into a plastic bag. “Let’s hit the swings!”

Nadia

Ledge’s housemate was on holiday, so they were round at his place in Earlsfield, Ledge having waited weeks to get to proudly show off his entertainment system set-up to Rory and Alex. Nadia and Holly were much more interested in the bottle of apple Smirnoff he’d got in for them.

It was like so many other Saturday nights, except, of course, that it was the last one before the appeal.

And Caro wasn’t there.

From the stilted text conversation Nadia had had with her the day before, she deduced it wasn’t so much that Monty was stopping Caro from going anywhere, but rather that he
insisted
on coming, and Caro was all too aware of Monty’s rather low popularity rating. Nadia could see the reasoning behind her friend not wanting to make waves until everything was a bit more settled, but still, the thought that one of her besties wasn’t there with her on this last precious weekend rankled, and she put her mobile phone away in her handbag without replying to Caro’s most recent message.

As Ledge had apparently thought the best thing to mix apple vodka with was Apple Tango, Holly was in the process of making up a batch of extremely apple-y drinks. Nadia took a sip of one and laughed.

“This reminds me of when we used to sneak random bottles of spirits in to the dorm and mix it with Tizer from the vending machine down the hall.”

Holly made a face. “Eurgh, yeah. A personal low point was Drambuie and Tizer, I seem to recall.”

“Ah, Hols.” Nadia stopped her best friend in her tracks, catching her round the waist and putting her head on her shoulder. “I hope I get to send my kids back here to boarding school and that when I do, they meet best friends at least half as amazing as you.”

Holly grabbed up Nadia's hands, a serious look on her face. “You won’t have to send your kids back here to boarding school, Nads. You’re going to be here already. They can go to normal school and come home to their lovely mum at night and see their Auntie Holly every weekend.”

Nadia shook her head sadly, determined to get this out, let this person know how much they meant to her. “Holly…“

“Holly, nothing!” Holly dragged Nadia into a hug that bumped their chests together fiercely, driving away the words Nadia had been gearing up to say. “You’re not going anywhere. If I need to chain myself to you, like a Greenpeace protestor to a tree, so be it.” Nadia felt the heat and blur of tears in her eyes but blinked them away, surrendering herself to the bear hug. "So be it," Holly repeated.

“Okay, Hols,” was all Nadia could say.

Two hours later everyone was feeling faintly nauseous on the sugar-sharpness of their drinks. The conversation circled around lazily, nobody really wanting to talk “appeal” again, or discuss Caro’s predicament. Nobody had been quite bothered enough to set up the Rock Band game that they had discussed fifteen minutes earlier. It was easier just to be.

The vodka munchies had dictated that the Hungry House app got fired up and boxes of dirty fried chicken ordered in, but everyone was rather surprised when the flat buzzer went off twenty minutes later. That was supersonic speedy for a London takeaway on a Saturday night. Ledge scooped the handful of notes and small change that made up everyone’s share of the bill and loped off downstairs to the main door of the building to collect the food.

They heard Caro before they even saw her; she apparently could smell them before she saw them. “Christ, is that apple?”

Nadia struggled to her feet from where she’d been wedged into the sofa between Alex and Rory. “Caro?”

“Good thing I picked this up en route.” Caro waggled the bottle of Sauvignon she was holding by its neck and headed straight through the open-plan living area for the kitchen cupboard she knew held the glasses. Nobody spoke whilst she filled a wine glass and turned back to face them; they sensed she had more to say. “So. Monty’s wife called me.” She swilled the wine around in her glass as if it was brandy.

Nadia and Holly exchanged a cautious look. “Just now…?” Nadia asked.

“Earlier.”

“Are you okay?” Rory blurted. Caro shot him a look of soft surprise at the interjection.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just, needless to say, this is not my first drink today.” Caro gave everyone in the room a slightly sharp smile and then, to their intense horror, burst into tears.

She’d almost recovered by the time the girls had bustled her into the relative privacy of Ledge’s slightly musty bedroom. Caro swiped at her wet cheeks angrily, as if the tears were acting outside her control.

“I’m such a mug,” she said, over and over, clutching on to her wine glass as though it was a life-preserver. “I’m such a mug. I’m such a fucking horrendous cliché.”

“Hey, are you heartbroken here or embarrassed?” Nadia asked, trying to lighten the mood, gently taking the over-full wine glass away from her friend and placing it down on Ledge’s bedside table. “What happened?”

Caro was silent for a moment, clearly composing her thoughts. “I knew things weren’t right. I’m not an idiot. That we didn’t work in real life, you know? We couldn’t cook dinner together, or just crash in front of the TV, all that usual stuff. It felt weird. Like we had to be sneaking around, snatching an hour here and there – always just in bed with each other, never really talking. I thought it would get better. I thought, Jesus, this man has
left his wife and child
for me. If that’s not love…” She gave a deep, miserable shrug.