“Miss, are you all right?” the man asked. He sounded breathless. Sofia sat up and stared at the car; it was a shiny black BMW. Her eyes darted with panic back to the man, who was obviously its owner.
“Shall I help you up? Do you think you can stand?” The man’s face was animated with concern. Yet, there was something else in his eyes too; awe, mixed with incredulity.
“I can try,” she managed in a faint voice and, surely enough, she was able to.
“Thank God!” The man wiped beads of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Shall I take you to the hospital, just in case?”
“No, I’m all right,” managed Sofia, still quite shaken. She searched her jeans and shoes, her top and jacket, but there were no tears, no sign that she’d been injured at all. She brushed her brow with a shaky hand and looked at the people around her again. Thankfully, the spirit was gone. Is this the gift she had for me? Nice gift! I’ll make sure to ask her to send me a card instead next time!
None the wiser to her inward, wicked sense of humour, the man continued to watch her, concerned, in case she was hurt despite there being no signs to indicate it. “Do you feel dizzy? Light-headed? Perhaps I should take you to the hospital. In case you hurt your head.”
“I’m all right, that won’t be necessary, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, thank you very much.”
The man took his eyes from her for the first time, relieved she seemed to be all right, and noticed her notebook and the loose sheets of paper scattered on the tarmac by their feet. He sat on his haunches and gathered everything, then returned it all to her, but not before noticing the exquisite sketches. He admired one of them in particular; the one of The Lady standing on the West Pier. He also noticed vaguely there was poetry in the notebook, but of course he had no time to read, just enough to know what it was.
“Thank you,” said Sofia, taking the notebook and the loose sheets from his hands. An old lady approached to hand Sofia her backpack from the bench. The woman surmised it was hers since no one else had claimed it. Sofia took it with gratitude, glad no one had taken it during the accident and the kerfuffle that followed.
“How about I buy you a cup of tea? Will you let me do this for you at least? You look shaken up—I am not surprised— and I feel awfully guilty.” The man put an honest hand out, palm facing up. He had kind eyes and when he smiled, they smiled too. It was an honest proposal after a frightful experience. Sofia couldn’t bring herself to turn it down.
“Yes, all right, sir. Thank you.”
“Super! Please, this way,” he said, beckoning to her to get in his car in the passenger seat. He opened the door for her with a gallant gesture and, within seconds, they were off in his expensive BMW, the curious crowd dispersing in their wake.
Chapter 25
“Are you serious? You went in his car afterwards? What if he’s an axe murderer or something?” Annika’s eyes were huge, her expression unbelieving.
Sofia gave a dismissive wave. “Nonsense. He is a very decent man. You should have seen his car. So fancy!” She rolled her eyes and took another sip from her tea, her third one in the past hour. There’s something about tea that makes it indispensable on a day full of thrills.
“If axe murderers looked like axe murderers, they wouldn’t find any victims to chop up, would they?” said Annika matter-of-factly, causing Sofia to giggle.
“You watch too many horror movies. Anyway, let me show you his card!” Sofia opened her backpack and handed a business card to her friend. It read ‘Ricky Lennard, General Manager, Rocking Horse Publishing’. The logo was a quaint rocking horse.
“Is it his own company?”
“Yes. But you know, he said it’s just a hobby. I have the impression he doesn’t need to work, so I wasn’t surprised to hear it.”
Annika gave a frown. “What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know. Everything about him cried out that he’s very well put, you know? Not just the fancy car and the expensive suit he wore, but also his manner. Hardly a man who lives hand to mouth.”
“And he offered to read your poetry? Just like that?” Annika threw Sofia a quizzical look. “Are you sure he wasn’t just trying to redeem himself for nearly killing you?”
Sofia realised she was joking and gave a titter.
“Of course, I’m jesting,” confirmed Annika. “He’d be mad not to be interested in your poems. They’re fabulous.”
“It wasn’t just the poems he liked. He was very impressed by my sketch of the West Pier too. When he asked to browse through my notebook at the teahouse he couldn’t take his eyes off it. He said that The Lady of the Pier fascinates him, and that he couldn’t believe he met a girl from Greece who looks like The Lady and writes poems.”
“He knew you and The Lady look alike? How?”
Sofia leaned closer to Annika as they sat on her bed. “Because he owns pictures of her from when she was alive,” she whispered, as if what she was saying was too precious even for the surrounding walls to hear. “He said he’s fascinated by the spirit and has dedicated his life to researching the strange sightings on the Pier. Annika, I believe he’s the gift the spirit spoke of, right before I fell in the road, before the wheels of this man’s car.”
“I don’t blame you. The coincidence is amazing. Fancy being almost hit by the car of a man who’s fascinated by Laura Mayfield, of all people!”
“The other funny thing is that he said the timing was perfect for meeting me. He said he was planning to invest a lot in his publishing house, to expand the business, which also involved signing up with new authors, looking for new blood. He said I might as well have fallen right out of the sky today.”
“So, he wants to sign you up? He said that?”
“More or less. He asked me to type my poems as soon as possible and visit his office to submit them.”
“Strike while the iron is hot, Sofia! I’ll help you,” offered Annika, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. “There’s a typewriter in the library, as you know.” She placed a firm hand on her friend’s shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. “This is a great lead, Sofia! The best one you could have ever hoped for. You should try to learn as much as possible about The Lady from this man.”
***
After a hearty supper at the cafeteria, Sofia went straight to the nearby phone booth to call Loula. In the evenings, her friend helped out in the hotel’s dining room as a waitress. Once again, the polite receptionist put her through to the kitchen at once.
“Sofia mou! How are you?”
Sofia didn’t want to keep Loula away from work for too long, so, without delay, announced her big news about the accident and her new, exciting acquaintance.
“Oh my God! This sounds amazing! Not only have you met someone who can help you find out more about The Lady, but you’re on your way to becoming published, too! Congratulations, Sofia! Wait till I tell Steve this, he’ll be over the moon for you!”
“You haven’t told him anything about The Lady, though, have you?”
“No, of course not. But I can tell you something he mentioned about Danny that I think is about her!”
“What?”
“I wasn’t sure about telling you at first, mainly because you were so determined to be with Jeff. But now that you two have fought, and I hope this is the end of it, perhaps telling you this will strengthen your resolve to stick with Danny . . .”
“What is it? Out with it!”
“I think The Lady visits Danny in his dreams, too!”
“What? How do you know that?”
“He told Steve he had a dream about you and the West Pier the night you visited his house for his birthday.”
“Really? What exactly did he tell Steve?”
“He said he dreamt he was with you on the West Pier feeding the starlings together. He said he was wearing a brown scarf that you bought him as a gift.”
While Sofia listened astounded, Loula went on to tell her all
about the strange feelings of familiarity the dream had infused in Danny, how he felt that being with Sofia was inevitable, and how his insecurities were diminishing fast, the more he thought about her.
***
On the outskirts of Brighton, Danny was lying on the couch in his therapist’s office. He was making great progress and, these days, the awkwardness during his sessions was long gone. Now, he loved to talk about his feelings, about the joy and the great sense of relief he felt.
“And you had this recurring dream again last night?” asked his therapist, a tall, dark-haired woman in her thirties.
“Yes, and once again, Sofia felt like she was someone else. The young woman was thinner than she was, gaunt, dressed in black, calling out to me.”
“And you were on the West Pier again?”
“Of course, like always. And once again, I was wearing the same rusty brown scarf,” he said wide-eyed, his gaze pinned on the opposite wall, his fingertips caressing the scarf around his neck.
“I noticed you wear it in all our sessions now. Do you wear it every day?”
“Most of the time, yes. I can't explain it, Dr Farley, but it feels like when I’m wearing it, I’m keeping a promise.”
“A promise to whom?”
“I don’t know. It’s relevant to the Pier, though, I know that.”
“The Pier? But this doesn’t make sense, Danny. What do you think the Pier symbolizes in the dream?”
Danny shrugged his shoulders, lost for words, but his eyes were twinkling at the memory of his recurring dream. Even though the woman in black felt different, she looked exactly like Sofia. He loved the dream of them feeding the starlings off the West Pier head; it reminded him of the pier in Vassilaki where Sofia had first captured his heart.
“I think the Pier is the key, Danny. If you can work out what it means to you, perhaps we can make some headway here.”
“I don’t know, Dr Farley. All I know is that in the dream, the Pier feels like home.”
The therapist knitted her brows. “Like home?”
“Yes, this would perhaps be the best way to describe it. Home. The only place where I can be happy.”
“Danny, I think you should hold on to this girl. Give it time, don’t rush into things. I am starting to think that you’re very close to healing from your childhood wounds. Whatever you do, take utmost care not to lose this girl from your life.”
“Oh, I intend to do just that,” said Danny, a dreamy expression on his face, the rusty brown scarf around his neck in stark contrast to the tumultuous blue in his eyes.
Chapter 26
Maundy Thursday, April 1946
Laura met up in town with Maggie early for their appointment. She and Freddie had dressed to the nines for the occasion; not just to celebrate walking along the Pier for the first time together, but also for the incredible prospect of meeting Christian. When Maggie called Laura on the telephone the previous evening, Laura stood holding the receiver like a dead weight for a few moments, aghast, unable to believe that Christian was in town and that he wanted to meet her.
Maggie had to confess she’d sent him Freddie’s picture and that Christian had noticed the resemblance and guessed he was the boy’s father. Laura was so ecstatic with the news she didn’t mind at all. If anything, she was grateful that Maggie had cared enough to intervene.
When Laura arrived with her son at the West Pier toll booth, Maggie was there with little Sandra. The two friends greeted each other with a kiss, and Freddie went straight up to Sandra to give her a little hug. He was very protective of her; whenever they were together, he’d never leave her out of his sight. There was a street band playing by the turnstiles, and he took her by the hand to get a little closer. Their mothers cooed over them as they watched them jump about and jerk their arms and legs to the happy tunes that the band played.
Little Sandra was wearing a new frilly dress, and she kept twirling with glee, calling out to her mother to watch her as she did so, squealing with excitement. Freddie looked very handsome too, in a light brown tweed jacket, matching trousers and hat that made him look just like a little gentleman.
A tall young man was standing by the band, handing out sticky labels for people to wear on their lapels, advertising the formal ceremony of the West Pier opening the next day. He walked up to the children, patted their heads and stuck one label on each one’s chest. It made the children delirious with excitement, and they rushed back to their mothers to show them off.
“Look, Mummy! Isn't it nice? It has a picture of the Pier on it, look!” said Freddie.
“Yes, my angel, that’s lovely indeed. Did you say thank you to the nice gentleman who gave it to you?”
Freddie pulled a face of indignation. “Of course,” he said, as if his mother had asked something preposterous. He frowned and, after a few moments of hesitation, looked up to Laura again. “Mummy, who is this man we’re meeting here?”
“I told you, my love; it’s an old friend of mummy’s and Auntie Maggie’s. He’s been away for a while, and now he’s in town again for a few days. He’s very nice; I’m sure you’ll like him.”
Freddie shrugged. “How do you know?”
Laura beamed at him and tousled his hair. “I just know.”
The children dashed back to the band to run around and chase each other. Other children came to join in. Soon, a bunch of toddlers and older children had gathered there, dancing to the upbeat music, their guardians standing close-by, their faces bright with elation.
“I guess happiness is contagious,” said Maggie to Laura with a giggle as they watched the children laugh and dance.
Laura turned to her, a frown creasing her forehead. “I’m so worried, Maggie! Do you think he’ll turn up?”
“Are you joking? Of course he’ll turn up! All the hounds of hell couldn’t stop him from coming here today. There’s nothing to worry about, Laura!”
“I don’t know . . . it just feels too good to be true. I am so happy, and yet, I am afraid as well. Does this make any sense?”
Maggie put out a hand and squeezed Laura’s arm. “Yes, it does. But you shouldn’t feel this way. It’s time to be happy, Laura. No one can take this away from you now. You’ve suffered for a long time, just waiting for this day. Now that it’s here, just enjoy it!”
Laura’s sight blurred to hear these words, and she nodded with feeling in response. She smiled at her friend, but before she could express her thanks in words, her eyes focused on the man about to cross the road from Regent Square across the street. Oh my God! It’s him! It’s Christian!
Following her stunned gaze, Maggie turned around to see Christian walking towards them. Dressed in a dark suit and bow tie, he looked stunning; nothing like his earlier self that didn’t care for formal wear. One could hardly register the limp of his artificial leg. Any bystander would be unlikely to notice it, focusing only on his dashing looks, his brilliant blue eyes and open smile.
“Bless my heart! Laura, Maggie!” he said, when he stopped before them, holding a small paper bag. Laura felt pinned to her spot. When she locked eyes with Christian, she felt unable to move, let alone speak. He seemed more than a wistful mirage than reality. It took her a few seconds to come alive and respond to his greeting.
Thankfully, Maggie opened her arms to hold him first, kiss his cheek and ask him how he is. After this short exchange, Christian turned to Laura again and, by then, she was able to unglue herself from her spot and take a step forward. She stopped a breath away from him and gave him a hug that felt to her like it lasted an eternity.
Laura breathed in his scent; cologne, with a touch of musk. The long fringe of his hair caressed her forehead when he bent to kiss her cheek. The feeling brought on tingles up and down her spine; it felt like a dove trapped in her chest, fluttering its wings about, striving to set itself free.
Christian shook his head, amazed. “You look wonderful, Laura! As if not a day has passed since I last saw you.”
Laura beamed at him. “A
nd yet, it’s been eight years, I believe. You look just fine, Christian.”
“Well, there’s less of me than last time you saw me,” he joked, patting his artificial leg.
Maggie placed a tender hand on his arm. “You’ve served our country in its dire need, and for that, we’re all grateful to you. We’re so proud of you, Christian!” Her voice trailed off, her eyes pooling with tears. It wasn’t just the fact that he was back that made her feel so moved; the very sight of him standing next to Laura was simply too exciting to bear.
Laura nodded her agreement but didn’t comment. She felt like she had a stone lodged in her throat and couldn’t swallow it down, nor get rid of it. She tried to smile again and, thankfully, the children returned then, giving her a distraction to react to.
“Mummy! Did you see me dance?” Freddie clutched at his mother’s dress, pulling her towards him excitedly. “Come, come watch me and Sandra dance! And I’ll show you my friend Bert from school. He’s here with his mum and dad!”
“Not now, my darling. Our friend, Mr Searle, is here, remember?” Laura prompted the child to acknowledge Christian, who was now looking down at the boy, speechless to see a mirror image of himself back at that age. Christian tried to seem serene, collected, as not to scare the boy, but inside, his heart was drumming in his chest.
“This is Freddie, I believe?” said Christian with a slow smile, bending over to pat the boy’s head. All the while, Freddie’s eyes were locked with his own. “Hello, there,” said Christian.
“Hello, sir.”
“I hear you’re a good lad.”
Freddie grinned. “Mummy says so!”
“Well, I believe good boys should be rewarded. I have a little present for you.” Christian produced a magnificent music box from the paper bag. It was made of resin and metal. Decorated with wreaths of greens, blues and yellows, it was crowned by a wooden rocking horse.
The Storm Page 13
