The fact that I had to go to London saved me the threat of wearing Mary's pajama and shortened my run by twenty minutes, then I showered, changed, got on my bike and rode to the bus station. My coat, the one Mary had worn yesterday, was hanging at home: I couldn't ride in it because it smelt of her, so I put on a light leather jacket, although I could tell from the hats people were wearing that it was quite cold today. When I got to the bus station and hitched my bike to a post, I bought a ticket to London, got on the bus, and fifteen minutes later I was on my way to meet my sister. I was sitting by the window listening to music, and a schoolboy of about twelve was sitting next to me, looking at me every now and then , and I smiled back at him. Soon the guy fell asleep, snuggled up to me, but that amused me.

The time dragged on slowly, and I was literally glued to the window, looking out at the views: it was a deep English autumn, and in half a month it would be winter. The nature was beautiful: the bare trees that had dropped their leaves like foundlings to the ground were mysterious and frowning, as were the heavy grey clouds in the sky. This dreary grey landscape did not subdue my eyes: its slight sadness only delighted me. It was no longer the beauty I had seen in England at the beginning of October, but neither was it the gloom with which many people associate that prim country.

In London, taking hints from passers-by, I reached Big Ben, but Mariszka was not yet there. While I was waiting for her, a nasty little rain, which I disliked so much, began to fall, and my loose, twisted hair lost its volume and turned into a loofah. But despite the weather, my mood was sunny, and I waited impatiently for my sister, and while she was away I looked round the buildings and the square with interest. I'd never been to London before. The airport didn't count.

«She's late for something» I thought as I looked at my smartphone screen. It was already ten o'clock and twelve minutes. Finally, a couple of minutes later, a black sports car with tinted windows drove up to me, and out of it, with an umbrella in her hands, came Mariszka, as usual, delicate and dazzlingly beautiful: in my opinion, of us three sisters, she was the most perfect and elegant. She was my ideal woman.

I threw myself on her neck.

– Misha! You've blossomed in freedom! – said my sister, looking me over with an appraising glance. – And what a marvellously awful nail polish you have! But you're wet! Where's your umbrella in this beautiful weather?

– It wasn't raining when I drove in» I explained, and slipped under her umbrella. – But I hope you'll keep me warm. I like my nail polish, and I painted my nails especially for you!

– Red nail polish? – grinned her sister. – Well, you've surprised me. Shall we go?

But it seemed to me that she didn't want to smile at all: she must have been in a bad mood, but I didn't care, for I was terribly glad to see Mariszka.

We walked around the town, and my sister asked me about my studies, what I was doing, how I was spending my time, who I was talking to, and I told her all the same things I had told my mother. I knew that if Mariszka found out that I was living with Mary, she would get angry or, worse, teach me about life, so, according to the official version, I lived in seclusion, did not communicate with anyone, but watched people and their behaviour. And when my sister asked me, «Have you met Frederik Haraldson» I said, «No. Not once.»

– How is Markus? – I asked, because I knew everything about Mariszka, but almost nothing about her husband.