Puzzled

Puzzled
Seraphima Nickolaevna Bogomolova

A rendezvous in a Notting Hill café, a mystery of the digits 6-6-6, a snapshot taken at the Christmas reception, a stranger, looking strangely familiar, and a coincidental encounter on a snowy yacht – what is it – a number of unconnected coincidences or meaningful signs in the lives of the two seemingly different yet so similar young people?

Puzzled

Seraphima Nickolaevna Bogomolova

© Seraphima Nickolaevna Bogomolova, 2018

ISBN 978-5-4485-9288-1

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Translated from the Russian by Seraphima Bogomolova

Author’s site: www.seraphimabogomolova.com

Cover Design: Terminal Design www.terminaldesign.ru

© Copyright 2015—2017 Seraphima Bogomolova

Prologue

You know, I’ve made a wish: if we ever meet again, I’ll tell you something. Something I meant to tell you, but I hadn’t. I guess, I was afraid…

Chapter One

There is a distance, a veil between us.

    – Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front, Ch. 6

Episode 1 – Acquaintance

Notting Hill, London, 6 June 2008

It’s summer but the rain drizzles tirelessly, all day covering rooftops and pavements with its shimmering net.

I get out of the tube, open my umbrella and hurry off along the High Street. Reaching the café, I stop and peer in – the place seems deserted.

I push the door and walk in. Inside, small round tables line up along the walls. I choose one close to the bar. Placing my umbrella on the floor, I sit down, perching on the edge of the chair.

I’m five minutes late.

He couldn’t have left already, could he?

I take my raincoat off and look around. The cafe is not only bare of clients, but waiters are also nowhere to be seen.

What a strange place, I think and try to take on more confident posture.

Some time passes.

Outside, the rain is still drizzling.

I pull my mobile out and put it on the table. Thoughts – one strangest than the other – start whirling in my head. I grab the menu and stare at it. Running my eyes over the list, I try to take my mind off him.

Suddenly, out of the unseen depth of the cafe a waiter in a white t-shirt and a pair of shabby blue jeans emeges.

“Are you ready to order?” He asks.

Startled, I stare at him. He stares back.

“Not yet.” I reply.

He shrugs indifferently and disappears, leaving me alone again.

I put the menu down and look at the clock hanging above the bar. Almost an hour has passed since my arrival. I must have mixed up with the dates.

I dial his number.

Something clicks and an automated message informs me: “The number is out of reach.”

Episode 2 – Nicolas

London, 24 December 2010

Outside, big fluffy snowflakes silently swirl in a magical dance.

In the windows of an Edwardian house across the street a tall Christmas tree is visible. Hanging on the prickly paws are golden apples and walnuts, red bows and coloured nets with sweetmeats. Glittering in its glory, the tree twinkles merrily at me.

The church bells chime in the distance.

I move away from the window.

An aroma of pine tree and oranges wafts in the air. I throw a pleased glance at the Christmas tree, flickering in the dimness of my living room. A big shiny bauble on a lower branch catches my eye. The snowy Rockefeller Square[1 - Rockefeller Square is a complex of 19 commercial buildings covering 22 acres (89,000 m

) between 48th and 51st streets in New York City, United States. Built by the Rockefeller family, it is located in the centre of Midtown Manhattan, spanning the area between Fifth Avenue and Sixth Avenue.] is skilfully depicted on it. I think of my friends scattered around the world.

What are they up to right now?

I take my laptop and curl up on the sofa.

My inbox has new messages. I scan them quickly, mostly Christmas wishes but one email stands out. The sender’s name looks familiar. Intrigued, I click on the message. It opens up.

The doorbell rings.

I leap off the sofa and rush out into the hall.

The door opened, a frosty wind blows a handful of prickly snowflakes into my face.