Four Warned

Dick volunteered to go and buy another bottle. He left his wife admiring Caravaggio’s The Lute Player, while he slipped into the nearest rest room. He refilled the empty Evian bottle with tap water before rejoining his wife.

If Maureen had spent a little time studying one of the many drinks counters situated on each floor, she would have discovered that the Hermitage didn’t stock Evian, because it had an exclusive contract with Volvic.

By twelve thirty they had all but covered the sixteen rooms devoted to the Renaissance artists, and agreed it was time for lunch. They left the building and strolled back into the midday sun. The two of them walked for a while along the bank of the Moika River, stopping only to take a photograph of a bride and groom posing on the Blue Bridge in front of the Mariinsky Palace.

‘A local tradition,’ said Maureen, turning another page of her guidebook.

After walking another block, they came to a halt outside a small pizzeria. Its sensible square tables with neat red-and-white check tablecloths and smartly dressed waiters tempted them inside.

‘I must go to the loo,’ said Maureen. ‘I’m feeling a little queasy. It must be the heat.’ She added, ‘Just order me a salad and a glass of water.’

Dick smiled, removed the Evian bottle from her bag and filled up the glass on her side of the table. When the waiter appeared, Dick ordered a salad for his wife, and ravioli plus a large Diet Coke for himself. He was desperate for something to drink.

Once she’d eaten her salad, Maureen perked up a little, and even began to tell Dick what they should look out for when they visited the Summer Palace.

On the long taxi ride through the north of the city, she continued to read extracts from her guidebook. ‘Peter the Great built the Summer Palace after he had visited Versailles, and on returning to Russia employed the finest landscape gardeners and most gifted craftsmen in the land to copy the French masterpiece. He meant the finished work to be a tribute to the French, whom he greatly admired as the leaders of style in Europe.’

The taxi driver interrupted her flow with his own knowledge. ‘We are just passing the recently built Winter Palace, which is where President Putin stays whenever he is in St Petersburg.’ The driver paused.

‘And, as the national flag is flying, he must be in town.’

‘He’s flown down from Moscow especially to see me,’ said Dick.

The taxi driver laughed dutifully.

* * *

The taxi drove through the gates of the Summer Palace half an hour later and the driver dropped his passengers off in a crowded car park. It was busy with sightseers and traders, who were standing behind their crude stalls plying their cheap souvenirs.

‘Let’s go and see the real thing,’ suggested Maureen.

‘I wait for you here,’ said the taxi driver. ‘No extra charge. How long?’ he added.

‘I should think we’d be a couple of hours,’ said Dick. ‘No more.’

‘I wait for you here,’ he repeated.

* * *

The two of them strolled around the magnificent gardens, and Dick could see why it was described in the guidebooks as a ‘can’t afford to miss’ attraction, with five stars.

Maureen continued to brief him between sips of water. ‘The grounds surrounding the palace cover over a hundred acres, with more than twenty fountains, as well as eleven other residences.’

Although the sun was no longer burning down, the sky was still clear and Maureen continued to take regular gulps of water, but no matter how many times she offered the bottle to Dick, he always replied, ‘No thanks.’

When they finally climbed the steps of the palace, they were greeted by another long queue, and Maureen admitted that she was feeling a little tired.

‘Pity to have travelled this far,’ said Dick, ‘and not take a look inside.’

His wife agreed reluctantly.

When they reached the front of the queue, Dick purchased two entrance tickets and, for a small extra charge, selected an English-speaking guide to show them around.

‘I don’t feel too good,’ said Maureen as they entered the Empress Catherine’s bedroom. She clung onto the four poster bed.

‘You must drink lots of water on such a hot day,’ said the tour guide helpfully.

By the time they had reached Tsar Nicholas IV’s study, Maureen warned her husband that she thought she was going to faint. Dick said sorry to their guide, put an arm around his wife’s shoulder and assisted her out of the palace on an unsteady journey back to the car park. They found their taxi driver standing by his car waiting for them.