by Hester Rowan
We all moved forward as inconspicuously as possible and crouched in a dry thistly ditch at the edge of the meadow. Willy pointed up to the crest of the ridge, less than half a mile away.
‘That is where the border is,’ he said. ‘You see the watch tower, over the trees there? This is as close as I dare bring you.’
‘Close enough,’ said Nicolas. ‘Listen, then, Alison. The chopper will be coming over the border to land in this meadow in about three minutes’ time – you made us cut it pretty fine. Once it approaches the border, the guards will know what it’s up to and all hell will be let loose. They’re bound to fire at it, and they’ll also call up reinforcements. So the pilot has to hop in and out again as quickly as possible, and we mustn’t delay him. The minute he comes in to land, we run out to him. Scott will help you aboard – right, Scott?’
‘Right!’ Scott lay on his stomach between us, his eyes gleaming again. I only hoped that his friends would believe all his stories when he got home.
I raised my head and looked across at Willy. ‘You will make sure that Scott gets back to the camp safely, won’t you, Willy?’ I begged.
‘Of course, of course,’ Willy answered with comforting matter-of-factness.
‘Stop fussing, Alison,’ growled Nicolas. ‘It’s a bit late for you to worry about Scott’s welfare – we needn’t have brought him if you hadn’t been shaken up and injured, and that would never have happened if you’d had the sense to wait by the car.’
I caressed my sore arm. ‘Thank you for your gratitude,’ I said.
‘Oh, I’m not ungrateful – as it happened, it turned out well. But when I think of the risk you ran … it was a fool thing to do, Alison! You should have left Braun to us. Willy and I are professionals, we’re prepared for trouble and we know how to deal with it. Next time you’re out with me, for heaven’s sake do as you’re told!’
I was too weary and sore to endure any more of Nicolas’s arrogance. Suddenly I remembered his infuriating attitude when he had tried to kiss me beside the Havel; was he now according me the privilege of joining the ranks of his girl-friends, on condition that I did as I was told?
I nudged Scott. ‘You might care to tell your friend,’ I said, ‘that I don’t accept invitations on those terms!’
Scott was clearly divided by his admiration for Nicolas, a gallant desire to support me and a healthy respect for the rights of women. ‘Er – you heard that?’ he asked Nicolas diplomatically.
‘Yes. But you might like to point out to your friend that as soon as we get back to England, I’m resigning from this job. As from next month, I’ll be farming.’
‘Really?’ Scott couldn’t hide his disappointment, but he turned to me seriously. ‘That’s a safer occupation,’ he advised.
‘It’s his attitude that I object to,’ I pointed out. ‘I’m not interested in going out with men who try to insist that I should do things solely on their terms.’
Scott passed on the message: ‘Alison says she’s not interested. That’s not true, of course,’ he added gratuitously.
‘I’m glad you think so. The point is, Scott, Alison and I have a date for the week-end – I’m taking her sailing. And as a novice in a boat, she’ll have to learn to do what she’s told whether she likes it or not, or we’ll capsize. Unless she’s prepared to give me a guarantee of co-operation, I’m not prepared to teach her to sail.’
Scott nudged me enthusiastically. ‘Hey – Nic’s going to teach you to sail! That’s all he meant!’
My arm had begun to throb. ‘I don’t want to learn to sail,’ I said sourly.
Scott consulted Nicolas: ‘Is that true?’
‘No – she was very keen last time we talked about it. You might remind her, though, that we’ll be living within a couple of miles of the coast. I’m certainly hoping to have a wife who shares my enthusiasm for sailing.’
Scott turned his head towards me. ‘He says to tell you –’ he began, and then his face split with a huge grin. ‘Hey, Alison, did you hear that? Nic just proposed!’
I sat up, the pain in my arm forgotten, and looked uncertainly at Nicolas. ‘Did you?’ I asked.
He too was sitting up, looking slightly surprised, a little defiant, and extraordinarily pleased with himself.
‘As a matter of fact,’ he said, ‘I think I did …’
‘Get down, both!’ snapped Willy urgently. ‘I hear the helicopter. You must not give our position before it comes.’
We all crouched. I could hear it too, like the angry buzzing of a hornet, coming nearer and nearer. There was a distant rattle of gunfire from the watch tower, the blare of a siren, and then I could see the helicopter coming in fast from behind the ridge.
Nicolas tapped Scott’s shoulder. ‘Thank you for looking after Alison for me. If you don’t mind helping Willy with Dr Lorenz, I’ll look after her from now on.’
Scott turned to me with a cheeky grin. ‘So what do I tell Nic from you, now that he’s proposed?’
I smiled at the boy. ‘I think,’ I said, ‘that this is one thing that I’d rather like to tell him for myself.’
The helicopter roared towards us and then hovered like a science-fiction insect fifty feet above the meadow. It began to descend, its turbulence flattening the long flowery grasses.
We all stood up and Nicolas came to me, his hands reaching out to help me, his hair blowing in the wind, his eyes never leaving mine.
And then we all ran, ducking under the turbulence. The helicopter landed, the doors opened, arms were stretched out to help us aboard. Scott and Willy lifted up Dr Lorenz then waved, turned and ran for cover.
The engine throbbed noisily and the whole helicopter vibrated. Nicolas crouched beside me near the open door, holding me tightly as we watched the two figures disappear into the safety of the trees. And then the engine note changed as the helicopter rose high, whirling us up and over the border to freedom and on our way towards the Norfolk coast, the sailing boat, and the Georgian house with its avenue of linden trees.
Copyright
First published in 1977 by Collins
This edition published 2012 by Bello an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR Basingstoke and Oxford Associated companies throughout the world
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ISBN 978-1-4472-2602-4 EPUB
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Copyright © Hester Rowan, 1977
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