Sophie Law [Sophie Law] - Olga’s Egg

A black cab ran through the blue neon shimmer of the Curzon sign which floated in a shallow puddle on the road. A London sound if ever there was one, thought Assia. There was something very soothing about a city that had just been rained on; heavy umbrellas shaken down, tyres spraying through puddles, sodden coats peeled off in warm, steamy halls. That feeling you get when you have finished crying.

As she shuffled into the cinema lobby next to Bens damp woollen shoulder, Assia watched as rich Russian after rich Russian rocked up and rolled out of Porsches, Bentleys and any other Mayfair car you could think of. This was an event to which they brought their wives, not their girlfriends. Assia had begun to respect the men who had retained their first wives but kept mistresses openly; it showed a kind of reverence for the women who had borne their children all those years ago. Russians married when they were very young and often oligarchs-in-the-making had had children in wedlock by the time they were twenty. Then they did a front-wheel skid into money, and everything changed.

This place is quite extraordinary, nest-ce pas? Assia cast her eyes around the lobby of the Curzon Mayfair before taking a sip from a squat glass of icy sludge layered with exotic leaves, the sort of thing that was offered by expensive caterers desperate to do something different. Different was essential because the people who made it their job to cater to the very rich had realised that when you serve expensive champagne to Russians at drinks parties they slate it because being rude about what you drink shows off your sophisticated palate. Assia had become very used to drinking the finest champagne while the Russian guests complained: This champagne is disgusting, I cant drink this filth! How can you drink such dish water?

Ben nodded in agreement. Hmm, yeah. Very 70s, very retro. Quite a time capsule. He paused and crunched a mouthful of ice while surveying the guests as they arrived. Normally you can rely on the Russians to look pretty vintage fashion-wise but this lot seems to have come on. In fact, you could say theyre giving you London girls a run for your money.

You really dont get out much, do you? said Assia. Rich Russian girls, mostly second generation oligarchy, have been elbowing their way to the front of the fashion pack for a while now. Assia lowered her voice. Its the girls who are new to money who slip up: the Oligarch Girlfriends or Second Wives who take the Versace route, thinking that you cant look like a hooker if your dress is expensive. With her eyes she steered Bens gaze to a tall woman with a high ponytail of long peroxided blonde hair. Wearing a thigh-length white snakeskin coat with gold studs around the collar, entire stretches of long leg emerged where the coat ended prompting doubt as to whether she was wearing anything underneath. She was standing next to a dark bull of a man who looked as surly as she did.

That coat is probably fresh from the Versace Autumn/Winter 2016 collection and I bet it cost thousands, but she still looks like a tart from Volgograd. You can take the girl out of and all that.

You might want to be careful what you say, young lady, said Ben smirking and rubbing the sleeve of her coat between his fingers. From looking at your coat hmm Theres got to be a drop of Russian blood there. In fact, youve got to be half-Russian, am I right? Am I right? This coat is just that little bit too sexy on you.

Shh, for goodnesss sake! Assia swatted Bens hand away and avoided his gaze. I would say something foul to you in Russian, but I dont want to offend my fellow countrymen. She laughed and stirred the melting pile of ice in her glass with the stubby straw. She hadnt admitted it to herself, but she didnt like it when Ben tried to seduce her, even jokingly. He turned into a man she didnt recognise and she felt tricked in some way, as though all he had ever wanted was to get her into bed. Her eyes wandered over his shoulder and she looked suddenly preoccupied. Ben followed her gaze.

What is it?

Tanyas here with some man. Assia sighed. Great. Just what I feel like on a Friday night. Get ready for the Tanya Show.

A beautiful woman with dark shoulder-length hair and fierce eyes came towards them followed by a red-headed man in a pinstripe suit. The man smiled at Assia when he saw her.

My sister! Tanya pointed at Assia while beaming at her companion expectantly. Her smile split the deep red of her full lips and her eyes wrinkled beguilingly.

How do you do, Im John. The man with red hair stepped forward and grasped Assias hand warmly. Its quite incredible meeting Tanyas doppelganger. I mean, I understand the science of it but it never fails to be utterly surprising to see identical twins. Am I allowed to say it? You are just like her!

Real twins said Tanya looking serious, her dark brow furrowed. Not those fertility-clinic multiple-birth type twins.

Well, quite said Assia, nodding with mock concern. Its lovely to meet you. And this is Ben. Assia ushered Ben forward and watched as the men shook hands and muttered the platitudes of greeting. She had no idea where her sister had found him, but she liked John immediately. It was hard to put her finger on it but something about him seemed warm and authentic.

Little sister, how are you? Tanya opened her arms extravagantly, sweeping her fur-trimmed pashmina around her twin. Assia allowed herself to be embraced. It felt strange hugging like this in public; a display of affection for everyone except her. Assia knew that Tanya was just playing to the crowd, to John specifically, showing him how much she loved her darling, sweet identical sister