Elena didn’t look up from the reservations book.
‘And as it’s three in the afternoon, you must either be meeting a friend for tea or going for a job interview.’
Elena pulled on a pair of gloves, while continuing to ignore her son.
‘I hope it’s not a job interview,’ teased Sasha, ‘because frankly we couldn’t run the place without you.’
‘I’ll be back long before we open this evening,’ said Elena tersely. ‘Is the first sitting fully booked?’
‘Except for tables twelve and fourteen.’
Elena nodded. Although the restaurant was often booked out days in advance, Mr Agnelli had taught Sasha to always keep two of the best tables in reserve for regulars, and not to release them before seven o’clock.
‘Have a good time, Mama, wherever it is you’re off to.’ In fact he had already worked out exactly where she was going.
Elena left the restaurant without another word. She walked for a hundred yards down the road before turning right at the corner and hailing a taxi. She didn’t want Sasha to see her being extravagant. She would normally have caught a bus, but not in her smart new Armani outfit, and in any case, there are no bus stops in Lowndes Square.
‘Forty-three Lowndes Square,’ she told the cabbie.
Elena had been touched when the countess had sent a handwritten note inviting her to tea, which would give her the opportunity to see the new flat. The Fabergé egg had changed all their lives. Mike Dangerfield had split his commission with Sasha and Charlie, which had allowed them to buy a flat just around the corner from the restaurant. Elena was sad that they no longer lived with her, but she understood that a young married couple would want a home of their own, especially if they were planning to start a family.
Sasha worked all the hours in the day, and several during the night, as he attempted to juggle working in the restaurant with attending the course he’d signed up for at the London School of Economics, not to mention, or at least not to Charlie or Elena, that he had recently joined the local Labour Club. Chess nights had bitten the dust.
Elena’s was going from strength to strength, not least because when Tremlett’s restaurant closed, Elena had been able to pick up their best waiters and kitchen staff. The Tremletts, père and fils, had moved to Majorca and opened an estate agency soon after Councillor Tremlett had resigned, citing ill-health following an inquiry into the council’s decision to grant planning permission for a proposed new block of flats in Stamford Place. Sasha didn’t need to read between the lines of the local paper’s report to realize they wouldn’t be coming back.
While Elena oversaw the kitchen, and Gino ran front of house, Sasha kept a tight rein on income and expenditure, an area where his mother was completely at a loss, although he had tried to explain to her the difference between tax avoidance and being tax efficient. He ploughed most of the profits back into the business, and they had recently acquired two double-decker freezers, an industrial dishwasher, and sixty new linen tablecloths and napkins. He planned to build a bar at the front of the restaurant, but not until they could afford it.
As she sat in the back of the taxi, Elena thought about the countess, whom she hadn’t seen recently. Her unsocial hours at the restaurant meant that she had little time for a private life, so the invitation to tea was a pleasant break from her normal routine. And she was looking forward to seeing the new apartment.
When the taxi drew up outside number 43 Lowndes Square, Elena gave the cabbie a handsome tip. She had never forgotten Mr Agnelli telling her, you can hardly expect to be tipped yourself, if you’re not generous to those who give you service.
She checked the four names printed neatly beside the doorbells, before pressing the button for the top floor.
‘Please come up,’ said a voice that was obviously expecting her.
A buzzer sounded, and Elena pushed open the door and made her way to the lift. When she stepped out on the fourth floor, she saw a maid standing by an open door.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Karpenko. Let me take you through to the countess.’
Elena tried not to stare at the photographs of the tsar and tsarina on holiday with the countess’s family on the Black Sea, as she was taken through to a drawing room full of the most beautiful antique furniture. A marble bust of Tsar Nicholas II rested on the centre of the mantelpiece.
‘How kind of you to take the time in your busy life to visit me,’ said the countess, waving her guest to a large comfortable chair opposite her. ‘There’s so much we have to talk about. But first, some tea.’
Elena was pleased to find the countess was now living in luxury, compared with the cramped basement flat in Pimlico.
‘And how is Sasha?’ was the countess’s first question.
‘When he’s not working in the restaurant, he’s studying accountancy and business management at the LSE, which can only benefit our burgeoning business.’
‘Not burgeoning for much longer, I’m told. When I last saw Sasha, he mentioned rumours that—’
‘But only rumours, countess,’ said Elena, ‘although Gino’s sure he spotted two of the judges having lunch at the restaurant quite recently. But we’ve heard nothing definite.’
‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed,’ said the countess as the maid returned bearing a large silver tray laden with tea, biscuits and a chocolate cake, which she placed in the centre of the table.
‘Milk, no sugar, if I remember correctly,’ said the countess as she began to pour.
‘Thank you.’
‘Sasha also tells me he’s considering standing for the local council. I hear a vacancy has arisen recently.’
‘Yes, he’s been shortlisted for the seat, but he’s not confident they’ll select him.’
‘Be assured, Elena, Fulham Council will be nothing more than a stepping stone on his inevitable path to the House of Commons.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Oh yes. Sasha has all the qualities and failings necessary to make an excellent Member of Parliament. He’s bright, resourceful, cunning, and not averse to taking the occasional risk if he believes the cause is worth it.’
‘But don’t forget he’s an immigrant,’ said Elena.
‘Which may even be an advantage in the modern Labour Party.’
‘Don’t let him know,’ said Elena, ‘but I’ve always voted Conservative.’
‘Me too,’ admitted the countess. ‘But in my case I don’t think it would come as much of a surprise. Enough of Sasha, how is Charlie getting on at the Courtauld?’
‘She’s almost completed her thesis on “Kr?yer: the unknown master”. So it won’t be too long until she’s Dr Karpenko.’
‘And are there any signs of—’
‘Unfortunately not. It appears that the modern generation think it’s important to establish a career before you have children. In my day . . .’
‘I do believe, Elena, you are more old-fashioned than I am.’
‘Sasha certainly thinks so.’
‘My dear, I can assure you, he admires you above all women,’ said the countess, offering her guest a slice of Black Forest gateau. She paused and took a sip of tea, before saying, ‘Now, I must confess, Elena, that I had an ulterior motive for asking to see you.’
Elena put down her fork and listened carefully.
‘The truth is, I have a secret I want to share with you.’ She paused for effect. ‘Thanks to Mr Dangerfield’s diligence and expertise, and your son’s ingenuity, I received far more for my egg than I had originally thought possible.’
‘I had no idea Sasha was involved,’ said Elena.
‘Oh yes, he played a crucial role, for which I will be eternally grateful. Not only did the sale allow me to purchase a short lease on this charming flat, but also to buy several fine pieces of furniture from a certain antique dealer from Guildford.’ Elena smiled. ‘However, I still have the problem of how to invest the rest of the money, because there is a considerable amount left over. My father used to say, always invest in people you can trust, and you won’t go far wrong. So I’ve decided to invest in you.’