The Last Kolovsky Playboy

The lollipop shrugged, and Aleksi wondered if her clavicles might snap.

‘I’m not sure. Actually, thanks for reminding me. I’ll ring the hospital and find out. Levander said to arrange a gift.’

It was the longest meeting. Coffee, and then morning coffee, and then lunch at the desk—it wasn’t often the three Kolovsky sons and their parents were together. Aleksi’s identical twin, Iosef, had taken a day off from the hospital where he was a doctor, and they had all sat in silence as Ivan told them about his illness, his sketchy prognosis, and the necessity that no one must know.

‘People get sick,’ Iosef had stated. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘Kolovskys cannot be seen as weak.’

And they spoke about figures and projections, and a new line that was due for release, and the fact that Aleksi would appear at all the European fashion shows while Ivan underwent his treatment. Levander would cover Australasia.

Iosef, by then, had long since left.

Despite the gloomy subject matter, it was a meeting devoid of emotion and the coffee tasted absolutely awful.

‘Shto skazeenar v ehtoy komnarteh asstoyotsar v ehtoy komnarteh.’ His mother’s eyes met his as Aleksi stood to leave for London. No Have a nice trip from her, just a cold warning that what was said in this room was to stay in the room. The trickles of bile turned into one deep dark lake and Aleksi felt sick—felt as if he were a child again, back in his bedroom with his parents standing over him, warning him not to speak of his pain, not to reveal anything, not to weep.

Kolovskys were not weak.

Levander said goodbye to him as if he were going out to the shops rather than heading to the other side of the world.

As Aleksi headed out through the plush foyer he saw a vast basket, filled with flowers, champagne and a thick, blush-pink silk Kolovsky blanket, waiting for the courier to collect it.

Kate must have had a girl.

Rarely did Aleksi question his motives, rarely did he stop for insight, and he didn’t now, as he went through the gold revolving doors to the waiting car that would speed him to the airport. He went around again, stepped back into the foyer, and with a few short words at the bemused receptionist, picked up the basket. When he was seated in the back of the luxury car, he read out the address to his driver.

‘I can take it in for you, sir,’ his driver said as they arrived at the large, sprawling concrete jungle of a hospital.

But somehow he wanted something he could not define.

His father was dying and he was so numb he couldn’t feel.

He didn’t understand why he was standing at a desk asking for directions to Kate’s room, didn’t really stop to pause as he took the lift, was only aware that the place smelt nothing like the private wings he occasionally graced. And, yes, he was just a touch nervous as to her reaction, what her visitors might say, if he’d be intruding, but he wanted to say goodbye to her.

For Kate, the last twenty-four hours had been hell.

Twelve hours of fruitless labour, followed by an emergency Caesarean. Her daughter lay pink and pretty in her crib beside her, but Kate was the loneliest she had ever been in her life.

Her parents would be in to visit tonight, but after her phone conversation with Craig she held out little hope that he would appear.

No, the pain of labour and surgery was nothing compared to the shame and loneliness she felt at visiting time.

She could see the curious, sympathetic stares from the other three mothers and their visitors at her unadorned bed, devoid of balloons, flowers and cards.

She was just alone and embarrassed to be seen alone.

Unwanted.

She’d asked the nurse to pull the curtains, but she’d misunderstood and had pulled them right back—exposing the bed, exposing her shame.

And then there he was.

He read her in an instant.

Read the other mothers too, saw the dart of incredulity in their eyes as he smiled over to her, as they realised that he was there to see her. Could he be…? Surely not! But then again…

‘I am so sorry, darling!’

His voice had a confident ring as he strode across the drab four-bed ward, and he looked completely out of place, still in a suit, his tie pulled loose. He came over to the bed, deposited the glorious Kolovsky basket on her bedside table and looked down to where she lay.

Her face was swollen, her eyes bloodshot from the effort of pushing. Aleksi had thought women lost weight when they gave birth, but Kate seemed to have doubled in size. Her dark wavy hair was black with grease and sweat, but she gave him a half-smile and Aleksi was glad that he had come.

‘Can you ever forgive me for not being there?’ He said it loud enough for the others to hear.

‘Stop it.’ She almost giggled, but it hurt too much to laugh. ‘They think you’re the father.’

‘Well, given that’s never going to be true…’ he lowered his voice and, so as not to hurt her, very gently lowered himself on the bed ‘…it might be fun to pretend.’ He looked at her poor bloodshot eyes. ‘Was it awful?’

‘Hell.’

‘Why all the drips?’

‘I had to have surgery.’ She watched him wince.

‘When do you go home?’

‘In a couple of days.’ Kate shivered at the prospect. She couldn’t even lift her baby; the thought of being completely responsible for her was overwhelming.

‘That’s way too soon!’ Aleksi was appalled. ‘I think my cousin had a Caesarean and she was in for at least a week…’ He thought back to the plush private ward, the baby he had glimpsed from behind the glass wall of the nursery. He glanced into the crib, about to make a cursory polite comment, and then he actually smiled, because struggling to focus back at him was surely the cutest baby in the world. Completely bald, she had big, dark blue eyes and her mother’s full pink lips.

‘She’s gorgeous.’ He wasn’t being polite; he was being honest.

‘Because she’s a Caesarean, apparently,’ Kate said. ‘I think her eyes will be brown by the time I get her home.’ And then she asked him, ‘Aleksi, what on earth are you doing here?’

‘I’m on my way to the airport.’ When she didn’t look convinced he gave a shrug. ‘Five hours in my parents’ company and maybe I needed something different.’ He stared back to the baby. ‘She’s awake.’

‘Do you want to hold her?’

‘God, no!’ Aleksi said, and then he changed his mind, because maybe he did need something different. ‘Won’t I disturb her?’

‘She’s awake,’ Kate pointed out.

‘I thought they were supposed to cry.’ He knew nothing about babies, had no intention of finding out about babies, and yet he was curious to hold her—and so he did.

Big hands went into the clear bassinette and lifted the soft bundle. Kate’s immediate instinct was to remind him to support her head, yet she bit on her lip and silenced the warning, because he already had, and for a stupid blind moment she wished the impossible.

Wished, from the tender way he held her baby, that somehow her baby was his too.