The Scandalous Kolovskys: Knight on the Children's Ward

Consultants didn’t need to look up; he just gave her a very clipped response as he continued to write.

‘Yep.’

Annika consoled herself that this was progress.

‘You’re not working this afternoon, are you?’ Dianne frowned as Annika came into the office.

‘No,’ Annika said. ‘I just popped in to check my roster.’

It was a lie and everyone knew it. She wasn’t due for a shift for another week, and anyway she could have rung to check. She had, to her mother’s disgust, worked on the children’s ward this morning, but they had let her go home early. Instead of taking advantage of those extra two hours, and racing to her mother’s to have her hair put up and her make-up applied for the ball, she’d popped in to check her roster.

‘How’s Elsie?’ Annika asked. ‘I rang yesterday and the GP was coming in …’

‘She’s not doing so well, Annika,’ Dianne said. ‘She’s got another UTI, and he thinks she might have had an infarct.’

‘Is she in hospital?’

‘She’s here,’ Dianne said, ‘and we’re making her as comfortable as we can. Why don’t you go in and see her?’

Annika did. Elsie wasn’t particularly confused, but she didn’t recognize Annika out of uniform.

‘Is any family coming?’ Annika asked Dianne.

‘Her daughter’s in Western Australia, and she’s seventy,’ Dianne said. ‘She’s asked that we keep her informed.’

Annika sat with Elsie for a little while longer, but her phone kept going off, which disturbed the old lady, so in the end Annika kissed Elsie goodbye and asked Dianne if she could ring later.

‘Of course,’ Dianne said. ‘She’s your friend.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

STARING out of her old bedroom window, Annika felt the knot in her stomach tighten at the sight of the luxury cars waiting lined up in the driveway.

She could hear chatter and laughter downstairs and was loath to go down—but then someone knocked at the door.

‘Only me!’ Annie, her sister-in-law, popped her head round and then came in. ‘You look stunning, Annika.’

‘I don’t feel it.’ She stared in the mirror at the curled blonde ringlets, at the rouge, lipstick, nails and the thousands of dollars worth of velvet that hugged her body and felt like ripping it off.

‘But you look gorgeous,’ Annie protested.

How did Annie balance it? Annika wondered. She had probably spent half an hour getting ready. Her dark curls were damp at the ends, and she was pulling on a pair of stockings as she chatted. Her breasts, huge from feeding little Rebecca, were spilling out her simple black dress. And her cheeks had a glow that no amount of blusher could produce—no doubt there was a very good reason why she and Iosef were so late arriving for pre-dinner drinks!

‘It’s going to be fun!’ Annie insisted. ‘Iosef was dreading it too, but I’ve had a fiddle and we’re on the poor table.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Away from the bigwigs!’ Annie said gleefully. ‘Well, we’re not sitting with the major sponsors of the night.’

And then Annie was serious.

‘Iosef meant it when he said if you needed a hand.’

‘I cashed the cheque.’

‘We meant with your studies.’ Annie blew her fringe out of her eyes. Iosef’s family were all impossible—this little sister too. There was a wall that Annie had tried to chip away at, but she’d never even made a dint. ‘I know it must be hell for you now—finding out what your mother did …’

‘Had she not …’ Annika’s blue eyes glittered dangerously ‘… your beloved Iosef wouldn’t be here. Do you ever think of that when you’re so busy hating her?’

‘Annika, please, let us help you.’

‘No!’ Annika was sick of Annie—sick of the lot of them telling her how she felt. ‘I don’t need your help. I’m handing in my notice, and you’ll get your money back. All my mother did was try and look after her family—well, now it’s my turn to look after her!’

She stepped out of the car and smiled for the cameras. She stood with her mother and smiled ever brighter, and then she walked through the hotel foyer and they were guided to the glittering pre-dinner drinks reception.

Diamonds and rare gems glittered from throats and ears, and people sipped on the finest champagne. Annika dazzled, because that was what was expected of her, but it made no sense.

Hundreds of thousands would have been spent on tonight.

Aside from the luxury hotel and the fine catering, money would have been poured into dresses, suits, jewels, hairdressers, beauticians, prizes and promotion. All to support a cluster of orphanages the Kolovskys had recently started raising funds for.

All this money spent, all this gluttony, to support the impoverished.

Sometimes, to Annika, it seemed obscene.

‘You have to spend it to make it,’ her mother had said.

‘Annika …’ Her mother was at her most socially vigilant. Everything about tonight had to be perfect. The Kolovskys had to be seen at their very best—and that included the daughter. ‘This is Zakahr Belenki, our guest speaker …’

‘Zdravstvujte,’ he greeted her formally, in Russian, and Annika responded likewise, but she was relieved when he reverted to English.

He was a Detsky Dom boy made good—a self-made billionaire and the jewel in the crown that was tonight. He poured numerous funds into this charity, but he was, Zakahr said, keen to raise awareness, which was why he had flown to the other side of the world for this ball.

This, Nina explained, was what tonight could achieve, proof of the good they could do. But though Zakahr nodded and answered politely to her, his grey eyes were cold, his responses slightly scathing.

‘I’ve heard marvellous things about your outreach programme!’ Annika attempted.

‘What things?’ Zakahr asked with a slight smirk, but Annika had done her homework and spoke with him about the soup kitchen and the drop-in centre, and the regular health checks available for the street children. She had heard that Zakahr was also implementing a casual education programme, with access to computers …

‘We would love to support that,’ Nina gushed, and then dashed off.

‘Tell me, Annika?’ Zakahr said when they were alone. ‘How much do you think it costs to clear a conscience?’

She looked into the cool grey eyes that seemed to see right into her soul and felt as if a hand was squeezing her throat, but Zakahr just smiled.

‘I think our support for the education programme is assured,’ she said.

He knew, and he knew, and it made her feel sick.