The Lady of the Pier
The Storm
by
Effrosyni Moschoudi
© 2015 Effrosyni Moschoudi. All rights reserved.
Effrosyni Moschoudi asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Cover design: © 2014 Deborah Mansfield. All rights reserved.
This eBook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the original purchaser only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or if it was not granted to you directly by the author for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons - living or dead - is entirely coincidental.
For my family and friends in Moraitika and Messonghi, Corfu
Prologue
The young man was faceless. The only memorable thing about him was a rusty brown scarf that he wore loosely around his neck. As always, The Lady had Sofia’s face, and in this dream she was happy. The couple stood on the Pier by the railing, outside the Concert Hall. She began to sing a joyful song of love, and the man caressed her face, holding her closely in his arms.
But then, a wind picked up and his brown scarf caught it, coming loose to rise into the air and float away, towards a mass of rain-threatening clouds. The Lady started to wail, and the man disappeared from beside her.
Just as her dress turned from pure white to black, another man appeared to amble towards her. He was sure of himself, dark-haired, with piercing blue eyes, the colour and intensity of cold steel. He took The Lady by the hand and started to pull her away from the railing, but she wailed, resisting. The man’s face contorted with malice. He raised a hand and hit her across the face. The Lady collapsed to the deck and a heart-wrenching cry left her lips, so devastating, so harrowing, that it made Sofia wake up.
She sat up on her bed in the dorm, one hand on her brow, wiping away cold beads of sweat. What a horrid nightmare! Sofia threw a glance at Annika in the semidarkness and was relieved to see she hadn’t disturbed her. Her roommate was fast asleep, her breathing soft and even.
Sofia gave a soft sigh. Once her pulse began to slow down, she put on a cardigan over her pyjamas, found her slippers and left the room on tiptoe to visit the communal toilets down the hall.
No one else was there at this hour. She rushed to the washbasin and splashed water on her face. It felt wonderful, reassuring, grounding. It put distance between the dreadful nightmare she’d had and her blissful, uneventful reality. But then, to her horror, she looked up and saw her face in the mirror. Across her cheek, long finger marks, red and angry, made her gasp in shock.
Chapter 1
Brighton, October 1988
Sofia and Annika emerged into the street with beaming faces. They had enough partying for one night. Behind them, titters from an intoxicated group of girls rose in the chilled air as they staggered against each other on their way into the club.
Sofia raised her coat collar and held it against her neck, shivering. Unlike her roommate, who was dressed in jeans, her own short skirt and stockings didn’t provide much protection from the cold.
“Taxi!” yelled Annika, signalling frantically at the passing vehicle. It pulled to a stop beside them. A snub-faced man peered at them in a benevolent manner from the driver’s seat. The girls took the back seat together and informed the driver of their destination. When the taxi halted at a red light, Annika let out a long sigh of relief. “These nights out are a lifesaver, perfect for releasing all that tension from the studies, don’t you think?”
Sofia gave a little laugh. “Too right. It’s no wonder the whole class was in that club tonight.”
“And why not? I’m so glad we found this new hangout. So glad we have Sylvia. She’s the queen of the night scene in this town! That girl never tires; I bet she’ll dance the night away till closing time again,” said Annika with a snort. It turned into a hiccup, and she brushed a hand past her face. “Oh, I think I’ve drunk too much.”
Sofia gave a little wave. “Nothing that a good night’s sleep can’t fix.”
Annika nudged her on the elbow. “You seem to hold your liqueur quite well.”
“It’s easy when you don’t mix your drinks. I stayed with gin and tonic all night.”
“Is this why I feel so sloshed? Beer, then martinis, then beer again.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh dear, sounds like a sandwich. I’m famished.”
Sofia tittered. “It’s only tea and biscuits for you at this hour, then off to bed.”
“Yes, Mummy,” joked Annika. “Of all roommates I could have had in the world, I had to get the one sounding exactly like my parents.” She turned to Sofia, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. “Did you see Sylvia tonight? Where does she find all those guys? Different one every night.”
“And why not? If she’s not going to play around now, when will she? When she’s forty and married with kids?”
“What? Who are you and what have you done with Sofia?”
Sofia rolled her eyes. “It’s harmless, Annika. She just goes out to lunch or to the cinema. It’s not like she sleeps with them.”
“I don’t recognise you. A month ago you’d have been disapproving of this kind of behaviour.”
“I’ve learned my lesson.”
“But you don’t do that, do you? You don’t go out with different guys like she does. So, how come you approve?”
“Annika, you have a boyfriend who adores you and can’t wait for you to finish your studies and go back to Sweden, but not everybody is as lucky as you are. Some of us have been unlucky in love; Sylvia and myself included. Maybe Sylvia needs this to alleviate her frustration. I have my fun too but only on the dance floor.”
“That guy you were dancing with tonight was very cute. Aren’t you going to see him again?”
“Yes, he was cute; just like the guys I danced with last week and the week before that. But it means nothing, Annika. It’s just fun.”
“This is not like you, Sofia. I saw you kissing him tonight.”
Sofia shrugged. “So?” She barely stopped herself from adding that this was all she could do to dull the pain, and to remove from her lips the lingering feeling of Danny’s kisses. But Danny was a subject she’d decided not to broach any more.
“So is this your idea of moving on? Kissing, cuddling, and dancing with a different guy each time?” said Annika, as she glanced at the fleeting street lights outside the window. She wanted to bring up the subject of Danny and the ghost on the Pier, to try to put some sense into her. But after a month and a bit of knowing her, she knew how stubborn her Greek friend was.
“It is harmless fun, Annika! Nothing more and nothing less.”
“Have you even exchanged numbers with any of these guys?”
“Once. Remember that cute ginger guy last week?”
“The freckly one?” Annika gave a pretend-shudder. Freckles weren’t her thing.
“Well, he was good-looking. And he made me memorise his number, insisting that I should call him the next morning and have lunch. I felt sorry for him, and in the end decided to call him, meaning to just have a quick coffee around town. But when I phoned, he sounded terrified.”
“What? Why?”
“You know, I don’t even think he remembered me. He must have been really drunk that night. He made an excuse to say he was too busy studying and we hung up. That taught me a lesson.”
“What’s
that?”
“Never take a British boy seriously when he talks with drink in him. They don’t mean a word.”
Annika tittered and put out a hand to pat her friend on the arm. From the driver’s seat, they heard a stifled snigger, but the man sitting there said nothing.
Moments later, the taxi pulled to a stop outside Grand Parade. The driver turned around, named his fee, and gave the girls an easy smile. “Take care now, girls,” he said, when they handed him the money. “And careful of those British lads when they’re drinking. They’ll say anything for a good time. Been there, done that and bought the proverbial t-shirt. I have a daughter your age these days. Makes me damn shamed for lots of the things I did when I was a lad.”
Chapter 2
A week later, Sofia received a message to call Jeff. The number was local. She went to phone him as quickly as she could manage it, and when she heard his voice, she felt excited by the prospect of meeting him again. He said he was phoning from a B&B at the promenade. Of all places, he had booked a room in one of the stunning edifices on Regent’s Square, but Sofia declined the offer to meet him there. These days, she avoided this area. She couldn’t risk a single look at the West Pier for fear she’d catch a glimpse of The Lady of the Pier again.
Thankfully, The Lady no longer came in her dreams. Relieved, Sofia hoped she’d never come back again. She missed the view of the West Pier but had to put behind her everything that reminded her of Danny. It was all she could do, to gaze at the Pier from afar, mainly from the Palace Pier, where she loved breathing in the fresh, sea air while stretching her legs.
This is why, she offered Jeff to meet her there instead and he was happy to. They kissed on both cheeks at the Palace Pier entrance and after a short visit to the arcade he led her to a tearoom at the pier head. They sat indoors but, through the windows, they could marvel at the magnificent view of the Hove. The glass panes on the houses standing on the surf glinted in the morning light in quick succession, like beacons attracting seafarers to shore.
Even the West Pier in the far distance seemed to bask in the morning sunlight that penetrated through passing fluffy-white clouds every now and again. Its ancient, sturdy pikes seemed to sigh with relief after the recent days of stormy weather, when they had to fight off the angry wash, fierce tongues of dark blue mass threatening to claim another big chunk of the derelict structures. These days, torn and deeply wounded, you could almost hear the West Pier issuing sighs of relief on any given sunny day.
“You look wonderful,” said Jeff, snapping Sofia out of her reverie. She turned to find him sitting back on his chair gazing at her with twinkling eyes. He had just returned from the self-serving buffet with a tray that contained tea and cake for them both.
“So do you,” she said truthfully. Despite herself, for her astonishment was immense, she brought a hand up to her face, pointing. “Your skin. What have you done? It looks amazing.”
Jeff gave a nervous smile. “Believe it or not, and I am not proud to say it, I had to go to a beautician. I’ve been battling with this poxy skin all my life, on and off. It was becoming too much, what with the break-up and everything, so I took a friend’s advice and this beautician fixed me in no time. I do feel like a different person now, I will admit that.” He gave a broad grin. “I swear by chemical peeling now. Lucky you, Sofia, being a natural beauty you never have to bother with any of that.”
Sofia thanked him with a timid smile but said nothing about the irresistible charm she saw in him. Instead, she took a sip of her tea and marvelled at the sea view for a few moments while he munched on his cake.
“So, you said you’re here with a friend. Isn’t she joining us this morning?”
Jeff put up a hand, looking alarmed. It took him a moment or two to swallow down his last bite of the cake, which he spent waving an urgent hand in the space between them. “Oh no, it’s a he!” he finally managed. “He’s a local, visiting his parents.”
“He’s not staying at the B&B with you then?”
“No, we only kept each other company on the train. I expect I won’t see him again till it’s time to go back to London tomorrow afternoon.”
“Strange he didn’t offer you a spare couch in his house. You’re not close friends then?”
“No, just colleagues. He’s a nice bloke and all that, but I prefer to be independent. Besides, all I wanted was to get some sea air and see a certain Greek friend in the process.” He winked.
“Yes, great!” Sofia nodded firmly and wondered if perhaps he liked her still, since he chose Brighton for his short weekend break. The notion excited her. She wondered if she fancied him enough to pursue this further. And why not? Especially as he’s turned into a looker!
***
In the evening, Sofia and Jeff exited a pub dressed in thick coats and jeans. Although they walked side by side without touching, to see them you’d think they were old friends who’ve been hanging around together forever. Sofia had done all her studying for the day and had her evening tea at the campus with her friends earlier, so the rest of the night was hers to do as she wished.
When Jeff offered to go to a disco for another drink and a bit of dancing, she accepted with pleasure. He proposed one he’d heard of in the bowels of The Metropole Hotel, but as this was a stone’s throw away from the West Pier, she declined. Jeff declared they could go wherever her heart desired, and she proposed one that was within a short walking distance. They got there, ordered a pint each and took a seat in a dark corner, sitting back on the plush pillows, watching the sea of youngsters sway to the blaring pop music.
The beat was so loud it was impossible to talk without having to shout in the other person’s ear. Hence, they sat close together and did just that to communicate. Soon, he had an arm around her and she let him. When the music changed to a slow song, he turned to her with hope in his eyes. “I love OMD! Shall we dance to it?” he asked and she stood. He took her hand and led her to the dance floor.
Sofia felt unsure when he put his arms around her and swayed gently with her. It felt wrong to be in his arms and she didn’t know why. I’ve danced with so many guys since September and it felt wonderful. Why do I feel so bad with Jeff?
She shook her head, trying to shake with it, the uncomfortable feeling away. “Forever Live and Die, right?” she said, naming the title of the song they were dancing to, trying to make conversation.
Jeff pulled back and stared into her eyes, an appreciative grin spreading across his face. “My goodness, that’s right! I keep forgetting how well you know British pop.”
Sofia tittered and said nothing else. He pulled her against him then, and they danced silently together. Towards the end of the song, where the beat quickened, he pulled himself away, got hold of her hand and twirled her, then dipped her, taking her by surprise.
Sofia gave an excited laugh. “You’re quite the dancer,” she said, causing him to laugh the same way.
At the end of the song, they returned to their seats, and he took her hand again in his, putting an arm around her. This time, she felt like saying something. “Jeff, perhaps you’re going too fast?”
He tilted his head and kissed her neck then, breathing in deeply the sweet scent of her warm skin. She pulled back and put a gentle hand on his chest. “Please don’t.”
“But Sofia, you know I like you. You’ve known from Corfu. And I can tell you like me too. Why fight it?”
“Jeff, you’re leaving town tomorrow. What are you hoping for?”
“Is this the problem? That I don’t live here? I could be here every other weekend if that’s what it takes, Sofia. I earn enough, I can manage it. It’s only one train from Victoria station. Just say the word!” He threw both hands in the air, his eyes lighting up, his face ablaze with hope.
Sofia shook her head. “No, it’s not because you don’t live here. It’s just that . . .”
“What?” He tilted his head and pulled her closer to him.
“Don’t do that!” She pushed him away, th
is time with force. “You’re coming on too strong!”
“What is the problem, Sofia? You refused to tell me back in Corfu. Care to enlighten me now? Please? I really care for you. If there’s something I can do, as to be able to do the right things by you, please tell me. Can’t you see? I’d do anything for you.”
Sofia stared at him aghast. No other boy had ever spoken to her like that. It threw her off balance, the feeling his words conveyed. It felt so precious to hear someone wants you so much they’re willing to bend themselves for you, rather than expect you and your heart to break in smithereens just for a remote possibility of happiness. The way she’d been doing over Danny for so long.
“It’s just that I’m too vulnerable right now, Jeff . . . I need time,” she confessed, a pleading look in her twinkling eyes.
“There’s someone else?”
She nodded.
“Do you love him?”
“It doesn’t matter any more.”
“Is it over? Will you allow me to try to help you forget?”
“I don’t know. The feelings I have . . .”
He put a gentle hand over her lips. “Say nothing then. Just say nothing. We’ll take it slow. I’ll wait for as long as it takes.” He let out a deep sigh, squeezed her in his arms with tenderness and she let him. She melted in the warmth of his embrace and considered again the possibility of life after Danny. When he kissed her, she responded to his lips with abandon, hoping that her pain could finally go away.
Chapter 3
Brighton, May 1940
Laura’s bedroom door was left ajar. Maggie swung it open as soon as she climbed the stairs, and strode in without knocking. Laura was reading a book in a cosy armchair, little Freddie playing on the carpet by her feet. “What is it, Maggie?” she asked, when she saw her friend’s animated expression.
The Storm Page 1
