Snegurochka

all around our new house.’
Lucas held his wine glass up to his face and peered at her through its smeary double lens. ‘Funny girl,’ he said, wanting to touch her, but she hadn’t finished.
‘My bedroom was at the end the corridor, away from my parents. I used to lie in bed at night, listening to my stomach gurgling. And I knew that if you loved someone, you had a baby. So I thought I had a baby in my tummy.’ She paused, her mind re-focusing on the soft green light she’d made when she closed her bedroom curtains and the silence she’d made when she held in her breath. ‘I couldn’t tell anyone, of course, because eight-year-old girls who weren’t married weren’t supposed to have babies, so I made a cot for it out of a shoe box and kept it under the sink. I thought it would come out of my belly button.’
‘Oh deary me,’ said Lucas, who hadn’t expected to find her quite so entertaining. He leaned across and kissed her. The wine glass toppled over, spilling its dregs into the beanbag. Rachel felt a wet patch under her hip but it didn’t matter; these things often happened at parties.
* * *
The doorbell keeps ringing and ringing.
Lucas is still fiddling with the locks at the far end of the hallway when Rachel emerges from the bedroom, yanking a clean top down over her bra.
‘Quick!’ she pleads. ‘Before they wake Ivan!’
At last the bolt shoots back and the lever drops, but as Lucas pulls open the front door Rachel sways. She puts her hand against the wall as if it is the tower block that has shifted. Or maybe she’s a little feverish.
‘Oh, and here you both are!’ says a woman’s voice, in an accent that might be Canadian. Rachel sees two figures moving forward from the gloom of the landing. Lucas has mentioned his friends often: Vee, the Harvard-educated stringer for a Toronto daily who learned Ukrainian from her grandparents, and Teddy, the photographer from Michigan. Lucas hangs out with them a lot, he’s told her. They have fun together. Now Rachel can, too.
Lucas moves aside and Vee steps in across the threshold. She is tall, slender, with dark hair cropped short, red lipstick, mannish glasses and a face more striking than beautiful. Rachel tries not to stare.
‘Where’s the baby, Lucas? Where’s little Ivan? He’s not sleeping, is he?’ Vee pouts, clownishly. ‘Dammit, I just knew he’d be sleeping . . .’
‘Hey,’ says Lucas. ‘Rachel, this is Vee. And Teddy.’
‘Hello – lovely to meet you.’ Rachel tries to shake Vee’s hand.
‘Oh, I want a kiss!’ says Vee, pushing her glasses to the top of her head and pulling Rachel towards her. ‘Teddy wants one, too! I told him your witchy-faced caretaker downstairs needed a cuddle but he’s too-too shy, aren’t you, sweetie?’
This is clearly a joke, for Teddy isn’t shy at all. He makes a great show of embracing Rachel, arms pretend-flapping like a penguin. When he stands back he’s smiling, his brown eyes set close together, one hand rubbing the dark stubble on his jaw. He is wearing a faded Lou Reed t-shirt under a sheepskin jacket. Vee, too, has an air of not trying too hard and Rachel is aware of her own slack-waisted skirt, the hint of something sour-smelling on her shoulder, the thick, lumpy breastpad she’s slipped inside her bra. Her vision blurs a little. Perhaps the tower block is swaying after all.
Vee is still talking. ‘We’ve been desperate to get you out here!’ she says, walking into the living room with its shiny parquet flooring and textured wallpaper that makes Rachel think of elbow skin. Pale October light filters through the net-curtained window and the glass door that leads out on to the balcony. ‘We’re sick of Lucas moping around, waiting for you to arrive. Jesus, this flat is amazing! It’s so empty! Where’s all the crap you had in that other place, Lu? Hey, a three-piece suite! That couch must be hiding the cocktail bar . . .’
‘Drinks!’ says Lucas, ducking down the hallway to the narrow kitchen wedged in the corner between the living room and the bedroom. He raises his voice so that they can still hear him. ‘It’s more than we can afford, but I promised Rachel we’d have a bit of space, and Ivan will be crawling before we know it. My old flat was a death-trap.’ He reappears, grinning and eager with three beers in one hand and a bottle opener poking out of his shirt pocket. Then he remembers what has changed. ‘Hang on, there are four of us!’
‘Not for me,’ says Rachel, with a shake of her head.
Lucas slides an arm around her waist and gives her a squeeze. ‘My beloved wife also demanded a lift. And a washing machine!’
‘Well then,’ declares Vee. ‘That’s it. You’ll never see the back of me! I’ll be camping out in the foyer with my bundles of dirty laundry . . .’
‘We haven’t got one yet.’ Rachel’s voice is flatter than she intends; her veneer of sociability is tissue-thin. ‘I’ll rinse things in the bath.’
Vee raises one of her finely arched eyebrows. ‘That won’t be easy – with a baby,’ she says. ‘Hey, you must let us see him – I bet he’s adorable. Is he talking yet?’
‘Are you kidding?’ laughs Lucas, handing round the opened bottles. ‘He’s only three months old! Feeds, sleeps and leaks from every orifice. Now you really need to see this view . . .’ He sweeps aside the net curtain, revealing the balcony beyond. For a moment, a shadow drifts downwards across Rachel’s vision like a dust particle trapped on her cornea – tiny limbs, curling fingers, a floppy neck. She wants to shake her own head, erase the image of the falling child before it can take hold, but Vee’s eyes are upon her, the tip of her tongue just visible through her teeth. Rachel extricates herself from Lucas’s arm and sits down on the sofa.
‘Oh – my – God!’ exclaims Vee. She