Page 74 of Sunrise By the Sea

The sofa was covered in intricate throws, and there were plants everywhere; hanging and jutting out. A music stand stood tall, and next to it a clarinet, which she’d never even heard. Pictures hung on the walls and books were piled up and jammed on every available surface, in Russian, French, different languages. It didn’t look like it would leave him a lot of room to get around. Finally, as he had promised, in the kitchen was lined up an entire bar’s worth full of the oddest liqueurs and spirits Marisa had ever seen.

‘You weren’t kidding about the bar,’ she said eventually.

‘Why would I kiddink?’ he said a little defensively.

‘No reason,’ she said. ‘Is your oven on?’

He looked at her. ‘I have magic oven?’

‘No, obviously not I just wondered . . . if you turn it on I could heat up supper.’

‘Okay,’ he said. Then he stood for a long time in front of the oven.

‘Whathave you been eating?’ said Marisa crossly, coming up behind him and setting the temperature on the exact mirror image of her own cooker.

‘Polly is very good to me. And the fish and chips are good.’

‘You can’t eat fish and chips every day.’

‘Life is very sad,’ said Alexei. He turned back to the drinks trolley. ‘So! What would you like?’

‘What are you having?’

‘You are surprise guest.’

‘Okay, what would you normally have?’

Alexei narrowed his eyes. ‘Well, I would put some vodka in a cup.’

‘Yes?’

‘And . . .’

He shrugged.

‘That’s what you have?’

‘I am Russian.’

‘Okay,’ said Marisa. ‘Okay, I really don’t want that. Do you have any red wine?’

He did, and she brought it near the oven to warm it up a little and stirred some into the sauce. It was very quiet in the house. She looked at him and wondered why, and then she suddenly realised.

‘Oh my goodness,’ she exclaimed suddenly, before she could even think. ‘It’s so quiet in your house compared to mine!’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’re not living next door to you!’

He smiled, pushing his thick hair away from his face. He would need another haircut soon, and looked rather wistfully towards his piano.

‘How did you become a piano teacher?’ she asked. She decided the best thing to do was just to dish up and serve as if she was in her own house; she knew where everything was and Alexei didn’t seem helpless so much as completely and utterly disinterested. The bowls hadn’t even been moved, had never been used and she had to rinse them. She made up a salad, lifting up the untouched salad servers.

‘You don’t eat enough salad.’

‘No,’ he said, looking gloomy. ‘You sound like my mother. But I eat many, many bananas..’

Marisa smiled. ‘I’ll let you off then,’ she said, tossing the light herby salad with a little dressing she had brought over, using some of her precious balsamic vinegar as she did so.

---