Milieu Dawn

by Malcolm Franks

Matt could hear the voice telling him to get up but his eyes were refusing to open. It was only when he felt the stream of water running down his face his consciousness began to fully return. He sat up and watched as Martha drew back the curtains, still feeling he had so much more sleeping to do.

  Once the daylight had broken into the room, his mind started to co-ordinate the movements of his limbs and he rubbed at the sore eyes.

  “I was going to leave you, but only three hours was your instruction,” she said.

  “This must be the first time in living memory you have ever done exactly what I asked,” he replied sleepily.

  She responded by throwing the wet sponge into his lap.

  “If you do not wish to shower then wash yourself in bed. Be sure to smell nice for our guest tonight.”

  “Guest, what guest?” he moaned.

  Martha had already exited the door. All he could hear was her calling out for Gerhardt to replace the bulb in the hall he promised to do last week.

  Collapsing back onto the bed Matt rested his head onto the palms of his hands, looked up to the ceiling and smiled. This felt like home was supposed to feel like. The comforting noise of familiar people crashing around the place was music to his ears, an orchestral masterpiece. And he’d forgotten how wonderful the views were from up here.

  Hopefully, the surrounding sky would be clear once he got outside and he could use one of the telescopes, bolted to the ground next to the surrounding stone walls, to look out over the Austrian mountains.

  His thoughts turned to Rosa. Martha’s disappointing news about this new bloke in her life, and his intended proposal, was totally unexpected. He understood her apparent distance now, at the harbour side. Rosa had really visited to tell him she intended to marry. All Matt could hope was this wouldn’t prove to be a barrier to her helping him. He urgently needed her input on his problem today, not in two weeks time.

  He showered at a leisurely pace, taking care not to sing too loudly. There were worse singing voices in this world, but you had to listen hard to find them. The wet shave was delicately delivered, mainly because the blade was old and a little worn. He hated having to plaster over razor cuts. Once that was safely negotiated, he donned the fresh linen shirt and clean pair of dark coloured jeans before slipping on and lacing the soft leather shoes.

  The cold bottle of lager was already waiting to greet Matt on the table, as he emerged onto the patio. The sun shone bright. Even in late afternoon the gentle wind found it impossible to completely subdue the pounding heat.

  Gerhardt sat quietly, shaded by the large umbrella, content to sit and observe the throng of tourists milling around the cafeteria and the surrounding landscape. Every now and again his head would turn to accommodate the frequent flight paths of passing insects. Other than that he usually said little. No doubt his desire to converse had been beaten into submission by Martha’s constant chattering.

  “Good sleep?” asked the older man.

  Matt nodded and smiled. He wasn’t sure whether the Austrian’s words were a prelude to a longer conversation.

  “We have a guest tonight,” said Gerhardt.

  “Martha told me. I assume this is a personal guest rather than a customer.”

  “Yes.”

  Matt sipped at the cold bottle. In a strange sort of way, Gerhardt was good company. Long conversations, though somewhat rare, usually developed into entertaining incidents and demanded a fair degree of concentration. The man was much sharper then he preferred people to believe.

  There were more lines on his face than Matt remembered, and his thin brown hair had receded a little further. It was the simple quietness of the man Matt especially enjoyed, the perfect antidote to Martha. He was a guy comfortable with his own persona, who rarely offered advice or made open judgements about other people.

  “Rosa is to be married soon,” said Gerhardt.

  “I understand she may have a proposal to consider.”

  “Will she accept?”

  Matt hesitated.

  “Who knows? It will be a decision only Rosa can make for herself,” he replied.

  Gerhardt waited, before nodding once.

  “This is true. Even so, people sometimes make decisions without knowing the full circumstance of their situation.”

  Matt smiled.

  “Has Martha been bending your ear again?”

  “Do I have a choice?” he replied with a slight grin, which made the younger man laugh out loudly.

  Once he’d settled, Matt looked across to the wise Austrian and grinned. The man returned his gaze and smiled with mutual affection.

  “I’m sure Rosa knows what is best,” Matt said. “Should she accept, then we must wish her all the happiness for the future.”

  Gerhardt raised the green bottle and tipped it against the Englishman’s.

  “I can drink to this,” he said.

  The older man held his penetrating gaze, almost daring Matt to respond. He considered briefly before deciding against making a reply. Instead he raised his own bottle to Gerhardt’s and then took a long drink. Deep down, Matt believed Rosa would never agree.

  “There goes Martha, back to the residence,” said Gerhardt out of the blue. “She will be there a while.”

  Matt turned to see her scuttling away from the hotel.

  “I don’t suppose you have any cigarettes?” asked Gerhardt with a twinkle in his eye. Matt rarely smoked. Fortunately, the older man was in luck.

  “She will only smell it on your clothes later.”

  “By then it will be much too late,” bellowed the Austrian in laughter.

  The young man reached into his side pocket, retrieved the half full packet and tossed them across the table.

  “Remember,” he said. “It was not me, agreed?”

  Gerhardt drew on the toxic instrument and smiled broadly as he exhaled.

  “Das ist gut,” he muttered.

  They were on their third bottle when Martha reappeared and stood menacingly over them. Matt was feeling decidedly light headed while Gerhardt had grown ever more boisterous.

  “You have been smoking,” she said in a disapproving tone to her husband, glancing accusingly across to the Englishman. The older man shrugged his shoulders with indifference and then chuckled boyishly at the severity of her observation. A taller figure loomed into view from behind Martha, the head of the new arrival partially blotting out the weakening light. Matt raised a hand to his brow to shield his eyes from the rays of sun illuminating her silhouette.

  “Matthew, please say hello to Gratia. She is our guest for the evening.”

  He rose and held out a welcoming hand. With tied back raven hair and Guinness eyes, her Asian skin seemed to shimmer in the dying embers of the sun. Slightly taller than her host, the smile was cushioned by the cherry red choice of lipstick on her mouth. Slim more accurately described her build than skinny. Matt discovered she owed her height to the four inch heels. Although dressed casually, dark slacks and a bright yellow blouse with short sleeves cut open on the shoulder, the outfit oozed designer wear. The bright tone of the blouse eclipsed all, dominated the human landscape. She looked every inch the archetypal power dresser.

  Matt was instantly attracted to the youthful, fresh-faced newcomer. Then again, given his current state of involuntary celibacy, Matt was physically attracted to almost any woman under fifty these days.

  “I am pleased to meet you, Matthew,” she said with a hint of a Germanic tone. “My name is Gratia, Gratia Fuchs.”

  While they continued to shake hands Martha set about berating Gerhardt for his smoking, the ideal opportunity for Matt to lean forward to their guest.

  “Matt,” he said quietly, “I prefer to be called Matt, when we are out of earshot.”

  She gave him a wide smile, lighting up her round face and fully stretching the cherry red lips. He found it oddly difficult to avert his attention from her large, dark eyes. The whirlpool effect of her steady, penetrating gaze was extraordinarily unsettling.
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  “Come, sit down Gratia,” offered Martha. “Perhaps a glass of wine, would you prefer red or white?”

  “No, a cold bottle will be fine. I have some catching up to do,” she said, drawing Martha’s attention to the empty bottles strewn across the table.

  Matt cocked his head at the new arrival and smiled. Her choice of drink surprised him, brought a new dimension to the judgement he had already unfairly formed of her.

  “Book covers are so misleading, don’t you think?” he said with a gentle smile. “Often, they reveal so little of what really lies beneath.”

  His gentle humour made her laugh. Not a loud and hearty bellow, more a gentle and subtle tune delivered with well-practised feminine grace.

  “Please, you must tell me. What story do you believe lurks underneath my book cover? Is it adventure, a thriller, perhaps even a murder mystery,” she replied mischievously.

  “Certainly a mystery I would say. One can only hope there is no murder concealed within the main body of the text.”

  Her smile broadened, just as Martha returned with more cold bottles of lager.

  “So what brings you to the top of a mountain of this sunny eve?” he asked.

  “Martha called to say her son had arrived home from abroad and wished for me to meet him over dinner.”

  “No mother could wish for a finer son than Matthew,” interrupted Martha.

  “I think you are forgetting something; we are not actually related, Martha.”

  “Oh this is easily solved,” she said leaning over to peck his forehead. “There, it is done. I have adopted you.”

  “Your escape is now truly impossible, Matt,” chipped in Gerhardt.

  Gratia found the exchange enchanting. Matt wasn’t quite sure how worried he should really be.

  “I understand you have travelled from the west coast of Canada,” said Gratia. “You have come a long way.”

  “Yes, and I’m beginning to think this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

  More laughter followed; open, unforced and welcoming. If he hadn’t known better it was almost as though he were within the confines of a family gathering, over a meal.

  “Martha, I could have come on another day. Your adopted son must be tired after such a long journey.”

  “No, please stay,” he said. “You’re my only hope of escape from the mountain.”

  Martha gave him one of her cross looks. The young woman responded to the banter with a warm smile. Matt leaned over to her shoulder.

  “If you can’t help me get away then you must please alert the authorities on your return home. Legend has it many young men have gone missing on this mountain.”

  Her eyes fixed their friendly gaze on him. Matt was fascinated by their individuality. People’s faces were not always easy to read and he placed great store therefore on what he could see in their eyes. With Gratia he found this near impossible. Hers had a depth which easily concealed the real thinking of her mind from open view. Gratia sensed what was going through his mind.

  “You will need to look a little harder than that,” she teased. “Every good novel holds at least one unexpected surprise for the reader.”

  He laughed.

  “And I suspect yours is on the very last page,” he said.

  “You shall have to see,” she replied with an amused grin. “There is a full evening ahead. Is that not enough time?”

  “With you?” he replied with a smile. “I really don’t think so.”

  The group chatted aimlessly for a while before Martha elected to serve the food she had been preparing. Gerhardt switched on the large patio heater, to take the edge off the cooling outside temperature.

  Under questioning, Matt revealed to Gratia what life was like in Victoria. He spoke of the temperate climate, the green environment, and of the humpbacks and orcas patrolling the waters of the surrounding ocean. It was not uncommon, he had said, to experience chance encounters with wild bears on the mainland. He recalled the friendliness of the residents and told of the island’s history and the fact that many old British customs were still prized there.

  She kept her gaze fixed on him the whole while he talked, as if she were imagining every minute detail from the images he described. Matt could tell when people were listening out of a sense of politeness. The easy to spot signs of an unforced blink, or a sideways glance from the corner of an eye, could never be concealed for long. Gratia did none of these things throughout the entire evening. Her attention was real, her interest genuine.

  “And what is it that you get up to on this lovely island?” she asked. “Or do you wile away your days simply observing the natural environment?”

  “I run a floatplane taxi service, mainly for tourists. Mostly I fly people to and from Vancouver, sometimes on sightseeing trips around the islands themselves. On occasion, I will take people to Seattle.”

  “So this is your own business?”

  He smiled and nodded.

  “You fly these machines yourself?”

  “Not all of them, I do employ other pilots,” he said.

  “And you enjoy flying.”

  “Love it. The sky is one of the few places left where a man can completely escape from our constantly regulated society. You are surrounded by sky and nothing else, the ultimate freedom.”

  “Were I to visit Victoria, would you give me a tour also?”

  “I will fly you personally,” he replied. “And at our lowest possible rate,” he added with a cheeky grin.

  She found the quip amusing, and gently patted his arm in a playful admonition at his reference to payment.

  “There is one thing I do not understand, though.”

  “Shoot.”

  “This must be the height of the season. Yet you are here in Europe, thousands of miles away from your home.”

  God she was sharp. He hid his surprise behind a half smile.

  “Yes, I have come to Europe to find someone and return something.”

  Gratia’s eyebrows pulled together in curiosity.

  “Who do you search for?”

  “Well, that’s the problem. I don’t know who it is or where they are. Someone left some valuables behind and I am trying to return them. I only know my search begins in Germany.”

  “I am German. Perhaps I can help?”

  Matt reached into the long front pocket of his jeans and handed her the diary.

  “There are no details of the owner, but if you turn to the addresses page there are a number of entries which are not clear. The one thing I’m sure of is the word Germany.”

  “Would you refill my glass please, Matt?” she asked.

  Tipping some red from the bottle he noticed her fingers smooth over the embossed letter.

  “This is a very nice diary. Where did you get it from?”

  “A guy called Ted Kendricks left it in my possession.”

  She turned the respective page and began to study the first paragraph, containing the word Ham.

  “This is Hameln, the town where I lived in my youth.”

  “Hameln?”

  “You would know it better as Hamelin.”

  “Oh yes, the legend of the Pied Piper,” he said. “How do you know?”

  “I recognise the post code. These three letters represent either a town or city in a particular country. The mixture of letters and numbers after are the area post codes.”

  Gratia turned to the next page. Matt instantly reached over and pressed the diary to the table.

  “No!”

  His sudden sharpness caused her large eyes to widen.

  “Sorry,” he quickly added. “I meant to say no, but thank you. All I needed was an idea of the whereabouts of the first address so I could make a start.”

  Her steady gaze restored, the dark eyes mercilessly pierced the temporary defence erected by his blank stare. He knew it was coming, the one-liner that would have him skewered to the back of the chair.

  She didn’t let him down.

  “Perhaps it is
your novel that hides the real mystery under its cover?”

  He straightened his posture and weakly returned her smile, trying to buy precious seconds for his defensive mind to find a way of restoring her good humour.

  “I assumed you were Austrian, given you must live close to St Wolfgang,” he said.

  “No,” she replied, her earlier warmth returned. “I am German and live in Munich. It is by studying International Business Law which brought me to the attention of Schafen Industries.”

  “Oh, so you knew Johannes Schafen?”

  “Johannes would have all of the prized universities of the world scoured each year to unearth the talent he sought. He visited me in America, before I had graduated, insisting he would not return to Austria until I had agreed to work for him.”

  “Johannes,” said Matt with a tinge of sadness. “He was a great guy.”

  “A good and gifted man; he is a big loss to the world.”

  Matt paused to consider.

  “International Business Law, I can see why Johannes would want you working within his global transportation business. Your learning and expertise would be invaluable, a real asset to the business.”

  She smiled with humility. Matt found her intriguing. There was not the slightest suggestion of any corporate superiority often evident in most multinational employees.

  “His death must have shook things up terribly,” he added, “Not least because he is such a hard act to follow. I pity the poor sod who stepped into his shoes.”

  “That is Gratia,” chipped in Martha, from seemingly out of nowhere. Until this point, she and Gerhardt had been virtually silent.

  Matt’s vain attempt to hide his intense surprise at this news could only be described as feeble, at best. He was dumbstruck. The woman he had been talking to all evening headed up one of the largest European transportation empires in history. Matt felt suddenly foolish and miniature, as if in the presence of a giant.

  Earlier, he had spoken with enormous pride in the way he had expanded the air taxi service, from a position of barely breaking even to healthy profitability. The achievement, he now realised, paled into insignificance against the scale and responsibilities of her position.

  “Why do you look surprised?” she quizzed. “Is it because I am a woman?”

  Matt shook his head vigorously.

  “No, certainly not,” he muttered, struggling to conceal his uncertainty. “I guess, like most others, I carry images in my mind of international corporate leaders being elderly, grey haired gentlemen in pin-striped suits sitting behind enormous leather desks.”

  She started to laugh at his observation, unnerving him slightly.

  “This was not a chosen career path, only one thrust upon me unexpectedly. Johannes trusted me above all others and, for legal purposes, used my name as his deputy in the unlikely event he was indisposed. I do not believe he ever intended for succession to happen so soon.”

  He was surprised by her openness and honesty.

  “You look so young,” he said unintentionally.

  “Oh, what a sweet man you are,” she replied with a warm smile.

  He took an unsteady cough to try and clear his throat and regain some equilibrium. His awkwardness amused her and caused Gratia to laugh again.

  “Now I have made you uncomfortable.”

  “Confused, more like,” he replied. “You seem so normal for someone with such great responsibility on your shoulders, Gratia.”

  She shrugged her shoulders to suggest an apparent indifference.

  “It is not a position I am entirely comfortable with, but one I shall eventually have to grow into.”

  Matt could feel his admiration growing for this young, and very astute, woman. He was about to compliment her when Martha intervened.

  “Gerhardt, you must help me in the kitchen with dessert,” she said boldly.

  “It is ice cream only,” he protested.

  “I must present it well for our guests, now come,” she demanded.

  Slowly, Gerhardt rose and reluctantly followed his wife to the kitchen muttering his discontent. Matt was surprised by Martha’s clumsy attempt to leave him alone with their guest.

  “She seeks to match us for the evening,” said Gratia with an amused grin.

  “Looks like it,” said a bemused Matt. “I can’t think what’s got into her. Please accept my apology for her behaviour. If I didn’t know better you’d think she was running a European dating agency up here in the mountains.”

  Gratia laughed openly, and this pleased him. Corporate Chief Executives were surely not meant to be so free with laughter in public.

  “Perhaps it would be better to humour our host, at least until she is ready to retire for the night,” said Gratia.

  “Even so, please accept my apology. I can’t think what’s got into her,” he replied.

  “Martha misunderstands my position.”

  “What position?”

  She sipped at the glass of red while considering her next words.

  “Being head of Schafen Industries at such a young age is not without personal challenges.”

  Matt was puzzled.

  “Really?” he said. “I would have thought you had it made. You complement wealth and position with polite humility, topped with grace and finesse. And you are most certainly intellectually gifted, given your educational achievements.”

  She gave him a quizzical smile, eyes searching his face for a twitch or other sign of insincerity. Fortunately there wasn’t one, as he hadn’t lied.

  Her smile widened.

  “It is complicated,” she said.

  “Life is simple, only people complicate the world.”

  The smile shortened as her mind contemplated his words.

  “Schafen Industries is much like all other multinational companies, filled with very competitive and ambitious people. Such people abhor being overlooked for advancement when opportunities arise. You can therefore imagine their distress when Johannes’ lawyers were required to overlook them all and appoint me instead to the position of Chief Operating Officer.”

  She hunched her shoulders to accentuate the point.

  “So you have corporate opponents who scrutinise your every move, searching for any example of misjudgement and indiscretion with which to strengthen their position while weakening your own. Any one of these factors might open the door to people Johannes did not trust to properly manage his business affairs. This forces you into forever keeping your guard, to be constantly alert,” Matt replied in realisation.

  “You are quick to understand these corporate matters. I am impressed.”

  He glanced away, unused to being complimented.

  “Martha has no such insight. She believes I do not possess the ability to be aware of such perils, that I am vulnerable to the ambitions of others.”

  Matt was surprised at Gratia’s dismissive attitude towards Martha.

  “Do you have many adversaries?” he asked.

  Her resulting half smile revealed signs of loneliness at its edges. It was the first time he had noticed a vulnerability to her confident facade. Perhaps Martha had a point.

  “There are a few, the number is not specific. Some are visible to the naked eye, but with others it is not so certain.”

  “This must make life a little tiresome, lonely even.”

  “Business large or small, it is the same for any leader. I’m sure there must be occasion when you feel a little alone, no-one to share your thinking with. I am blessed with having one trusted lieutenant, a man called Jan Mohlenbeek. He has been very supportive and provides wise and good counsel. Managing the business would have proved more challenging had it not been for Jan’s support and guidance.”

  Matt thought back to his own existence back in Victoria. He found it lonely to be the only decision maker. Gratia at least had someone to share the burden.

  “Johannes was one of the smartest men I ever met,” he said, looking directly into her eyes. “He would have chosen you
on ability alone. Johannes would have considered every possible factor before making his decision, and concluded you would always have the measure of your enemies.”

  The full smile returned to her expression. He noticed her facial muscles relax from the previously concealed tension he now realised she had disguised, up to this point. She was an interesting mix of a person.

  “Thank you.” was all she said.

  “I am confused by one thing,” he said.

  “Which is?”

  “Why would Martha believe it would be a good idea to pair you with a complete stranger for the night?”

  Her eyes darkened.

  “She believes the role makes me unhappy and in need of an outside interest.”

  “And are you, unhappy?”

  “I have wealth, position and power. Do I look unhappy to you?”

  She did, though Matt felt it better not to add any further weight to his adopted mother’s observation.

  “Martha lives in a past world. She has chosen to confine herself and her husband to this one small part of the planet. No doubt this will give her access to some elements of life, but it is limited.”

  She had revealed another side to her nature, contradicting everything she had shown him thus far. Matt couldn’t decide who the real Gratia was. The warm, engaging dinner partner whose company he had enjoyed up until now. Or the cold and arrogant, intellectually incisive business executive she had revealed over the last few minutes.

  The moment was broken by a sudden screech emanating from the restaurant kitchen and both turned to address the noise. Martha burst through the swing door in uncontained excitement and rushed towards their table.

  “It has happened. It has happened,” she gushed. “There is to be an Austrian wedding. Beautiful Rosa has agreed and they are to be married soon.”

  Matt was convinced his heart had missed a beat. Seconds passed before he could muster the energy to somehow force his lips into a welcoming smile as the elder woman reached them. She pecked at his cheeks in rampant excitement, then feverishly at Gratia’s, before rushing back to the kitchen to seek out a bottle of champagne. Truly, the woman was a tour de force all on her own. At least her departure presented him with some time to adjust to the unexpected news, allowed him the chance to fix the false smile to his face.

  “She has accepted,” said Gratia.

  “Yes,” he replied in a slightly resigned tone. “You know of Rosa then?”

  “How could I work closely with Johannes for all of those years and not know of Rosa Cain?” she smiled.

  “Of course,” he said quietly.

  “Rosa is a beautiful woman. She is also intelligent, sharp and quick witted. It is easy to like her.

  “Yes, it is,” he agreed.

  Gratia could sense his balance had been disturbed.

  “This happy news disappoints you,” she observed.

  He turned and gave her his best, false smile.

  “No, a little surprised, that is all. I didn’t think Rosa would ever marry, not after Johannes.”

  The pause was uneasy. He could feel Gratia’s thoughtful gaze fix upon him, steady and unrelenting. Matt felt a man’s hand sympathetically pat against his shoulder.

  “Martha is too excitable, has been all this week while she awaited the news,” said Gerhardt. “In this state she will never find the bottle she seeks. I had better help her.”

  Matt lifted his hand and touched at the older man’s arm to acknowledge the brief contact. Once Gerhardt had left, Matt’s hand dropped back to the table.

  “How well do you know Rosa Cain?” asked Gratia.

  He held his response for a few moments.

  “We spent some time together, shortly after Johannes died, bringing us close for a while. Rosa deserves to be happy and I am pleased for her.”

  “I’m not sure that answers my question.”

  “I think it does,” he said after a pause.

  Matt could sense he had failed to quell her interest.

  “I had not heard her speak of you before,” she said.

  His consequential blink was unintended.

  “Like I said, we were only friends.”

  She was unconvinced.

  “Even so, you must try and put on a much happier face, for Martha’s sake.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sam and Genevieve