Aleksey plucked the book from him.
The young man blushed. He was possibly even more attractive than the photographs Aleksey had already seen of him. He had sharp, defined features, with blond stubble and dark blue eyes. He’d had a hair cut recently by the looks of it, for it was buzzed at the back and sides, and the skin around his ears was much paler than the deep tan on his neck. Aleksey smiled inwardly: he used to have a short back and sides like that before the autumn term too.
Mark accepted the mug of tea Ben handed him and waved him to a chair. ‘It would make a fantastic project for one of my research graduates. And they would really appreciate the money, obviously. What do you think would be fair?’
‘How quickly could you get it done?’
‘Well, I could take it with me today. I’ll be seeing them all for prep tomorrow. So…’ He took it up again. ‘It’s, what, about forty pages? Maybe three hundred words a page—very neat handwriting, but still handwriting, so that’s always a little more tricky. I think we could get it done in a couple of days to be honest.’
Aleksey nodded. ‘Would two thousand pounds be fair?’
‘Two thousand…oh, I think that’s a bit too much. Let’s say five hundred, shall we?’ Was it just him? Why did he keep having these conversations? Was everyone mad? Or perhaps just honest. It was a puzzling mystery he’d file away to ponder later.
‘One thousand then—as we have disturbed you and come unannounced.’
‘Well, you’ll make one of my grad students very happy.’
‘There is one minor thing—confidentiality. Obviously, I do not know what the book contains, but it must remain private until I decide what to do with it.’
‘Oh, right. I see what you mean. Well, look, how’s this…we’ll translate it and give you the transcription. If you feel you can release any of it I’d be thrilled to work on it and possibly publish it. I mean, perhaps you don’t understand the significance of this, but there’s almost nothing written in Cornish until its revival at the beginning of this century when it was recognised as a minority language. Only about a thousand of us speak it—obviously something I’m trying to change. Tell me, did you by any chance find this in the west of Cornwall?’
Aleksey mulled this over for a moment, suspected the contents would give this away anyway, so replied, ‘Scilly.’
‘Oh, thatisinteresting. That’s one of the few places where it was spoken widely in the dead years—farmers and fishermen kept it alive really. I’m coordinating with a few people down there now on another project. How can I contact you when we’re done?’
Aleksey gave him his number and email address.
They rose to leave.
Ben went out first, swinging the keys around his finger. Aleksey waited until he was down the drive, then turned back and returned to the kitchen. ‘Oh, did you forget something?’
Mark was reading the book, finishing his tea. Aleksey sat down opposite him. ‘You have new students this year.’
‘Well, I hope so. I need to pay my mortgage.’
‘Emilia Ivanovna.’
‘Oh, Emilia, yes. She interviewed late, didn’t she? She was quite…determined. I think she’ll be a natural, as she speaks Russian and Danish already.’ Aleksey frowned. Danish? That was worrying. He’d had many private conversations with Ben in Danish, assuming younger ears in the back seat had not been comprehending. ‘Her A Level results were superb. She could probably study any course she wanted, so I’m lucky to have her. Yes, she was a bright spark. She impressed us all. How do you know her?’
‘She’s my daughter.’
‘Oh! Sorry.’ He paused. ‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘I was thinking about it.’ He leaned back in his seat and stared at the young man.
Mark began to appear uncomfortable.
Aleksey waited him out. It had been a while, but he hadn’t lost his touch. He supposed it was like riding a bike: you never forgot how. When he felt the atmosphere in the room was just right, he said, ‘Emilia has had a particularly challenging life. She understands the true nature of the world. She has looked into a heart of pure darkness and yet, as you say, she is lit from the inside like a spark. Emilia has a purpose, a destiny, which I can only see a glimpse of at present, but that flame must not go out. She flew down the wind while she was in my care, but now she is in yours—in a way. I do not wish the wind to change direction and blow out that spark. If that were to happen, you would discover the true meaning of storms, for I would rain hellfire and damnation down upon you. And I am not speaking metaphorically. I did not get this face by studying books, professor.’
Mark took a long time to reply. He turned the little diary around on the table. When he did speak, his voice was steady, but subdued. ‘I am in the business of stoking embers. I have never once wanted any thing else from a student than for them to shine as bright as they can and go out into the world carrying that beacon with them.’
Aleksey folded his arms on the table. ‘Good. We understand each other.’
Mark’s eyebrows rose. ‘I’m glad you think so.’
‘Perhaps this will seal our bargain. I assume you do field trips on this course? Practical research?’
‘Oh, yes, of course. Most of it is out in the field actually—especially for the archaeology modules. We’re hoping to visit Hadrian’s Wall, Lindisfarne, Lofotr Viking Museum in Norway, if our fundraising stretches that far…’
