Rosie (32 page)

‘Ah.’ Nick hesitated. ‘Have we met before?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘You must have known my grandmother.’ He was curious now.

‘Not exactly. But I was aware of her.’

The confused expression on Nick’s face elicited more of an explanation.

‘Your grandmother was from Russia.’

‘I know.’

‘She was a Romanov.’

‘Ah, yes. Well, she thought she might have been, but we’ve discovered that it was very unlikely.’

The old man shook his head. ‘She was a Romanov. Not a legitimate one, but a Romanov nevertheless.’

Nick was incredulous. ‘How do you know?’

The man smiled kindly. ‘We know all the members of the family. We try to keep track of them.’

‘That sounds a bit sinister.’

Oleg Vassilievsky shrugged. ‘It is not intended to be. We like to think of it as loyal support.’

‘I don’t understand . . .’ Nick looked over his shoulder at Alex and Victoria, who were deep in conversation with Sophie. Then he asked, ‘Why have you never appeared before?’

‘We had rather lost track of Mrs Robertson until our attention was drawn to her.’ He nodded at Alex. Then he continued, ‘We endeavour to show our respects on occasions such as this.’

Nick began to feel as though he were having a bad dream. ‘So who were her parents?’

‘Her father was an English naval officer.’

‘We’d worked that out. But what about her mother? It wasn’t really Grand Duchess Tatiana, was it?’

‘No, it was not.’

‘Thank God for that.’

‘It was her sister, Grand Duchess Olga.’

Nick looked for something on which to steady himself. He found nothing. After several seconds he managed to speak. ‘How can you be sure?’

‘We are sure,’ he said firmly.

‘But . . . what does this mean?’

Oleg shook his head. ‘Very little now. Your grandmother is dead. We came to say goodbye. That is all.’ He offered his hand. Nick shook it and asked, ‘Who is “we”?’

‘You will not have heard of us. We are a small group of people loyal to the Russian royal family. We do not think that they should be forgotten.’

‘Is that all?’

Oleg bowed once more. ‘That is all. Please accept our condolences. A very good day to you.’

He turned and walked towards a black car, whose engine was already running. He got into the rear seat, and as the car moved off he turned, waved, then disappeared from view.

‘You’re not saying much?’

‘Sorry?’ He jumped, startled.

‘You’re very quiet,’ said Alex, patting his leg as they sat at the table in the Red Duster.

‘No. Just thinking.’ He smiled, giving her his full attention.

‘Well, it’s been quite a day, but I think she’d have been happy with her send-off.’

‘I hope so.’

Casually she asked, ‘Who was that man you were talking to?’

‘Just an old acquaintance of Rosie’s,’ Nick said.

‘He looked a bit scary.’

‘No. Not really. Just wanted to pay his last respects.’

‘That’s nice.’

One day he would tell her about the man. And about Rosie. But not now. For now he just wanted to take the two of them home, and try to start a new life. A normal life. A life as a husband, and as a father. When he felt the moment was right to ask them.

He watched as the two of them smiled and chatted together. There was nobody with whom he would rather spend the rest of his life.

His thoughts drifted off once more. To Rosie. ‘Goodbye, my love,’ he murmured. ‘And thanks for everything.’ And as he did so, all he could hear was the music from
Dr Zhivago
.