The Storm

by Effrosyni Moschoudi

  The expression on James’s face was one of sheer determination. He intended to help Laura break free that night, and if it meant he had to lose his job in the process by beating the living daylights out of his boss, then even better. He stood before Charles as a pillar of rock, ready for anything. “Steady, sir! I don’t think you’re in a position to make any threats.”

  “What do you mean, you ungrateful little man? Who are you to tell me what to do?” Charles thundered, unable to see in his drunken stupor that James could send him flat on the ground with a single punch without him even seeing his fist coming.

  “I’m saying you should calm down and let these people do what they wish. Clearly, her ladyship no longer wishes to be with you. Leave, and let these people carry on with their lives together as they wish.”

  “How dare you? And says who that she’s even a lady?” sneered Charles, waving his hand in Laura’s direction.

  James set his jaw and took one step closer to Charles. He was level with his eyes, his nostrils flaring. The smell of Charles’s breath was nauseating, but he stood there without flinching. He drew a long, patient breath before speaking. “I said, go now, or you’ll be very sorry.” James shook his fist in the air. “I’ll make sure of that. Make no mistake, sir!” The last word dripped from his tongue with such sarcasm, it made Laura flinch at the repercussions he’d surely suffer for it.

  Charles stared at his meek and mild chauffeur aghast, unable to register what he’d just heard. He turned to Christian and Laura, who were still huddled together with the child, staring back in amazement to hear James’s words. Gratitude shone in their eyes, the kind that words cannot express.

  “Look at you, the happy family!” exclaimed Charles, taking three uncertain steps in their direction. Every step he took made him feel even sicker but nothing made him feel worse than seeing his wife standing next to the man he hated so much. The child in their midst was the cherry on the cake; It had been a painful thorn he’d been wearing with shame in his side, for much too long.

  “You! You whore! It’s all your fault!” Charles leapt towards her, but he never got close enough. James pounced behind him to catch him by the scruff of the neck, swinging him around to land a punch right on his nose, causing Charles to bend over. His fierce cry of pain filled the chilled night air.

  Charles fell on his knees, blood gushing from his nose. The strike sobered him up somewhat, and he managed to stand unaided. “All right,” he said with a sickly grin on his face. He put up two hands. “You and me, Searle. A fist fight is long overdue, old boy. Be a man about it, and stop hiding behind your favourite skirt. What do you say?” He balled his hands into fists and began to strike mock punches into the air, his idea of enticing Christian to accept.

  Not that Christian needed any encouragement. “I agree it’s long overdue, Willard. However, I am not sure it’s noble on my part to take advantage of you in this condition. You’re drunk. Go home and sleep it off. Tomorrow, your life will be simpler, I promise. The woman and the child that you despise so much will be forever gone. It’s my pleasure to relieve you of their presence.” Christian gave a wide smile. His fists were itching to strike Charles, but it would be undignified to hit a man looking as pitiful as that, no matter what he’d suffered because of him.

  “Get off it, Searle! You’re just a coward, admit it!”

  “Save it, Willard. You heard your chauffeur. Just get in your car and leave! James will drive you anywhere you want.” Christian met James’s eyes, who nodded firmly in response.

  Charles intercepted their eye contact and felt rage rise within him. “How dare you mock me, you bastards? Both of you!” He leapt towards Christian and struck him hard, right across the face.

  Christian didn’t expect that, but he didn’t waste time either. He grabbed Charles by the collar of his coat, then shoved him hard, sending him lying flat on his back on the concrete. Charles stood back up and attacked again, sending his fist towards Christian’s stomach, but he cut him off, serving Charles a punch right where he wanted it; on the side of his face, right on the ear where he knew it would hurt like hell.

  Charles screwed up his face in pain but wasn’t deterred. He took a step back and shook his head, then locked eyes with his adversary, who waited.

  Christian was aware he had a huge advantage over such a highly intoxicated man, but now he’d had a taste of what it felt like to physically hurt him, he wanted more.

  Laura took the child aside and stood with him at the railing, showing him the lights on the Pier. It looked ghostly with its night lights on high roofs and around the landing stages at the very end. Big moths buzzed around the streetlights overhead. The tender susurrus of the sea played in tune with the scrape of the waves on the shingle below.

  Freddie held his rocking horse up against his chest as he took in the serene view, obeying his mother’s request not to look at what was happening on the pavement behind them. Laura spoke to Freddie about the farm to keep his mind occupied, trying to keep her voice steady and upbeat for his sake, and Freddie tried to imagine the outhouses, the stables and the pens with the animals, trying to shut out the angry noises that reached his ears from behind them.

  James could do nothing but watch. The way he saw it, Christian had every right to do what he was doing. He knew the whole history right from the beginning, after all. He had been there to watch as his boss tried one devious plan after another to break the two lovers apart. Although he didn’t know what had transpired years ago among the three, he’d often thought he should have done something to stop Charles. For Laura’s long suffering, in a way, he’d been feeling guilty all along. But tonight, Christian was finishing the job for both of them, giving Charles exactly what he deserved.

  With the fist fight still underway, James walked up to Christian’s hired taxi. Its driver was still standing by it, watching the men fight. James flashed him a tight smile and, to his question, he replied that the drunk was an aristocrat getting what he deserved. Upon hearing that, the driver chuckled. No aristocrat should be allowed to think they’re better than the average working man. He was only glad to watch him get his comeuppance. A few feet away, Charles’s taxi waited also, its driver visible through the glass, chewing his lips, wondering what kind of mess he’d gotten himself into, and if he should just forget about his fee and go.

  By now, Christian had treated Charles to a fair amount of punches, having given many more than he’d received. There was a cut on his cheek, but nothing like the gushing blood from Charles’s nose that had been repeatedly attacked and was now broken.

  “Do yourself a favour and stay down this time, Willard! Don’t make me hit you any more. Now, if you’ll excuse us . . .” Heaving a deep sigh, Christian beckoned to Laura to approach with the child.

  With eyes full of trepidation, Laura rushed to join him, trailing the child behind her by the hand.

  The three went to James and the driver by the taxi, not looking back once at Charles who stood crouched, wiping blood from his face with his coat sleeve. They were about to say goodbye to James when they heard a snigger from behind them. When they turned around, Laura’s knees buckled. Charles had followed them to the taxi and was standing a few feet away, pointing a pistol at them. The hand that held it shook violently.

  “Are you crazy? What are you doing?” shouted James.

  A mad laugh escaped from Charles’s lips. His hair was a mess, a long glistening fringe draped over his forehead above two shining eyes; the eyes of a madman who had been cornered and had nothing left to lose. “Laura, you leave me with no choice,” he muttered.

  Christian put out a hand. “You can't be serious, Willard! It is over, man! What is the matter with you? You made Laura unhappy. I can make her happy. And this child is mine. What did you expect?” He tilted his head, his expression sincere.

  “I can't just let you go, Laura,” said Charles, turning his gaze at her. Impossibly, there was a flicker of tenderness there. Tenderness, and a vast desert of regret.
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  “Charles, please,” Laura pleaded, panic colouring her voice. The very idea that he could pull the trigger caught the breath in her throat. She felt faint. The world started to whirl around her. The moments felt like they dragged into eternity.

  “Goodbye, Willard,” said Christian determinedly and turned about face, putting his arms around Laura and the child, to ease them into the car.

  James stood motionless, his eyes never leaving the pistol. He saw how Charles stood uneasy on his feet; he knew that menacing glint in his eyes. He’d seen it countless times over the years. It was unmistakable. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but it was too late.

  The sound of the bullet leaving the pistol erupted violently in the sweet serenity of the night. It rose over the soothing crashing of the waves, sending the seagulls that perched on the railing a few feet down the parade to fly away in a mad frenzy.

  “Christian! NO!” cried Laura when he crumbled to the ground. The bullet had found him very near the heart, entering from behind. Charles’s aim was perfect. Years of shooting for entertainment and during hunting on his estate lands earned him the perfect aim, even in his drunken state. He delivered his one-shot punishment in the man’s back, just as you’d expect from a coward.

  Laura knelt before Christian, turning him over, his head resting on her lap. Her hands felt his coat frantically and, from the semi-darkness, they emerged to the harsh, yellow light cast from the streetlamp overhead covered in warm, sticky blood that delivered her doom. She started to call Christian’s name as he lay still, but his eyes were closed. Is he breathing? Oh, dear Lord help me, what do I do?

  Freddie was kneeling beside them, clutching his rocking horse that was now sprayed with his father’s blood.

  James and the two taxi drivers had rushed to Charles to seize and hold him firmly on the ground, having taken the pistol easily from him. To their surprise, Charles hadn’t resisted and now watched the devastating scene from across the distance with an unbelievable calm, as if he were just a curious onlooker and not the man who’d just pulled the trigger.

  As he lay on the ground flat on his stomach, the three men pinning him down, Charles wasn’t looking at Laura or the child, but at Christian; his only wish was for him to die a moment sooner. He didn’t mind that the men loomed over him, handling him roughly. He didn’t mind even when a patrolling policeman, having heard the gunshot, rushed to the scene to apprehend him, blowing his whistle to summon his nearby colleagues. All Charles cared for, was that they allowed him to watch until Christian was gone, until his deed was done, until it was perfectly safe that Laura had nowhere to go.

  Around him, there was shouting and urgent words. People kept rushing to the scene, policemen and citizens alike. Charles heard someone shout that an ambulance was on its way for the man that had been shot. A ghost of a smile formed on his lips. It didn’t die away, not even when one of the policemen sat on his haunches before him to handcuff him.

  Charles shook his head forlornly and chuckled to see his hands bound by the Law. Nothing mattered any more. There was no meaning and no purpose left in his wasted life. He had come here with the sole intention to kill or be killed, seeing that life would be pointless if Christian took Laura away. Now that Christian was as good as dead, even the prospect of capital punishment for him was a price he was willing to pay.

  Slowly, Christian opened his eyes with difficulty, but when he saw Laura, he looked almost happy. Laura gasped and stared down at him, trying to decipher what his half-smile meant. Is there hope? But he has lost so much blood! She had taken off her scarf, his scarf, that rusty brown one that had always brought her so much comfort. She was pressing it down on his chest, trying to contain the blood, but deep down she knew it was futile.

  “Laura . . .” whispered Christian.

  “Hush, my love! The ambulance is on its way. Save your strength, please!”

  “Laura, I’m not sorry I came back to Brighton for you . . . I want you to know that.”

  “Neither am I, not for a single moment. But don’t worry now. There’s plenty of time to talk about all that. You’ll be fine, just hold on . . . Hold on till the ambulance arrives.”

  “My darling, please remember always that I never stopped loving you. Not through the war, not even years later when I could have claimed you and never did. Please forgive me for not coming back sooner . . .”

  “Hush now! What are you saying? You’ve done nothing to apologise for, my darling. Now please save your strength. The ambulance is on its way.”

  “Please understand, Laura, you’ve been my only love. I never forgot you, I never let you go . . .”

  “And you are mine,” she whispered, her heart melting as she brushed his forehead with a tender hand. “But please, Christian, my love . . . Please don’t worry about anything. Hush now and save your strength . . .”

  “There is no time, Laura. So please let me say what I have to say.”

  Laura caressed his hair and tried to fight back the tears that stung her eyes. She needed to be brave. He had been so brave for her and their child. She owed it to him to be the same. “Tell me, I’m listening,” she said finally, defeated. There was nothing she could do. He was fading before her eyes by the second. She watched as he closed his eyes every now and then, every time for a bit longer than before. She hunched over him, bringing her ears closer to his lips, but she never stopped looking at him, gazing into his blue eyes that now seemed to focus into space.

  “Laura, I want you to know that no matter where you go, I’ll come and find you . . . I mean, in another life, just as you always said. I’ll never let you go. Even if it takes a hundred lives to find you again, I’ll keep looking . . . I promise you.”

  These words made Laura cry with sobs, but she tried to smile at him, nodding fervently.

  “You’ll know how to find me, won't you, Laura? I’ll be the one with the goofy smile, making a fool of myself every time I lay my eyes on you . . . Forever your clown, remember?”

  “Oh, Christian,” she said, hot tears flowing freely, despite her best intentions. She stooped over and kissed him on the lips, the tears wetting his cheeks, hot and desperate.

  “Just make sure it’s somewhere warm next time . . . by the sea . . .” he said, closing his heavy eyelids, a faint smile on his lips. “Where I can take you by the hand and we can walk under the sun for a lifetime of blissful summers.”

  “Yes, my love. I promise. We will . . . I’ll always wait for you. Only you. I’ll follow you anywhere in the world you’re going to be. And when I find you, I promise that I’ll never let you go again. No mistakes next time.”

  “Yes, no mistakes. Never let go, till we meet again. I love you, Laura, my darling . . .” Christian brought up a hand and caressed Laura’s cheek, a stain of thick blood from his hand, smearing her skin as he did so. By now, he managed to keep his eyes open with great difficulty. He could feel the beckoning bliss of eternity approaching; he turned to the boy, his eyes twinkling with sadness. “I love you, Freddie. Remember me, my son, remember your father . . .”

  Freddie was in no position to understand any of this. As he knelt limply beside his parents on the stone-cold pavement, his chin was quivering, his wide eyes staring at the blood all over the nice man’s thick coat, on his mother’s hands and on his own, beloved toy. And then, with one last laboured breath, the father he’d never known, the one that life never allowed to fill his life with fatherly happiness, left his mother and him forever.

  As soon as Christian was gone, Laura burst into heart-wrenching wails. James, who had been watching from a respectful distance until then, rushed to kneel beside her. He put his arms around her and squeezed her against him as she sent heart-breaking cries high into the hazy night.

  And the little boy, as he watched the whole scene in shock, looked down at his blood-stained toy and spared a thought for the farm; the coy, fat cows he wanted so much to see, the green pastures where a multitude of sheep grazed every day expecting his visit. Even he
knew in his little heart right then, that as it was with his elusive dream of the farm, so much more that was going to be precious to him had just been lost forever.

  Chapter 39

  1988

  Sofia and Danny celebrated New Year’s Eve in one of Brighton’s popular night clubs in the company of Annika, Sylvia and Sue. Sofia had bought a new dress for the occasion, a silvery-glittery article that had cost more than she was prepared to spend, but when she saw it, she fell in love with it and couldn’t resist. It was worth it, though, because the moment Danny saw her in it he went crazy, showering her with compliments, and not getting enough of holding and kissing her. Sofia was equally impressed to see him that night. He had made an effort too, wearing for the first time a beautiful dark ensemble consisting of a turtle neck jumper and trousers made of pure wool that made him look irresistible, like a movie star. When she asked him how come he had opted out from the usual jeans to dress formally for the first time, he winked at her and said he had a secret plan for that night. Sofia asked him what he meant, but he gave an enigmatic smirk and went to buy the first round of drinks for everyone.

  Upon his return, Danny found the girls chatting, eagerly awaiting their first drink before hitting the dance floor. Danny had asked three of his mates from Helmston to join them. They expected them to show up any minute. The club was packed and it looked like it was going to be a fun night. The DJ played the best dancing hits, including many by Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson and Kylie Minogue that made Sofia ache to hit the floor.

  Danny raised his glass to make a toast. “Here’s to a happy New Year to us all!” Everyone cheered.

  “And if I may,” he added, placing a hand on his heart, “I’d like to propose a second toast to my precious Sofia . . .” The others went “Aww . . .” Danny squeezed Sofia against him. “I am so proud to call her mine! Because, as you all know, other than drop dead gorgeous, she is also an amazing poet! Here’s to your forthcoming fame and success, my darling!” he said and everyone cheered.