Chapter 22
Natasha was alone outside in the street, the night had turned cold with a threat of rain hanging ominously in the air. She was out just for a look round, she never meant to go far. Just five minutes in the fresh air to start to get her bearings in this strange fascinating City. She never meant get lost but the streets of London were unfamiliar to her. When Colby had left her he told her that he just had some quick business to do and he would be back soon. He had told her to stay in the flat and on no account to go out or answer the door to anyone.
Natasha was a teenager... Ignoring sage advice is what they do, it's a law of nature. Keen to see a little of London, she had asked to go with him but Colby had seemed reluctant – worried that, despite all the subterfuge, she still might not be completely immune from watching eyes that could have been sent from Sachovia.
Natasha decided that if he would not take her, then she would slip out on her own and be back before he came back, no one would ever know. Now she stood swelling with tears. It had started off fine; she had taken the new coat that Valentina had bought her, and slipped it on. Pausing to pose for an instant in front of her mirror. The coat was a knee length gaberdine with large buttons in two rows down the front. Pulled together with a belt it flared out slightly from the waist. Fashionable rather than practical it gave Natasha a feeling of elegant sophistication when she wore it. Valentina seemed to have a natural sense of fashion and knew exactly what a girl like Natasha would feel good in. Natasha pulled on the pink woollen hat over her cropped hair and stepped out into the night with anticipation and a little thrill of excitement. The crisp evening had seemed to fill her with energy and she had walked briskly down Milbern Street as fast as it was possible for her feet to hit the ground. The fish and chip shop was still open, the light from its window spilling across the sheen of the wet pavement, the smell tantalising but she had no money...
She walked down Woodstock Road and then street after street, always turning to the right in the expectation that she would eventually end up where she had begun. She found herself near a railway bridge. 'Bridge End Road' the sign said. It meant nothing to her.
A mile and a half down Parr Lane, half a mile down Holmwood Road past the brightly lit BP petrol station, and then she was hopelessly lost and starting to feel the threads of fear draw tight in her stomach. There was nothing to do but keep on walking and she marched on obstinately, feeling the muscles in her right calf starting to cramp. She had a sudden urge to sit down on the wet pavement and cry.
Natasha's thoughts turned to Katrina, she was like a big sister to her and she missed her more than she could express. She would have given anything to see her walking towards her now with a confident smile on her face. Natasha held Katrina as a sort of role model, a perfect young woman to emulate. Katrina would certainly not have not got lost so easily, nor would she start crying if she had. Natasha took a deep breath and pulled herself together; her thoughts turning to Colby... He would probably kill her if she ever got home. Colby's flat was her place now, however temporary her stay there might be, it already justified the name home. Her future was still uncertain but she was starting to think of Colby as having a permanence in that uncertain future. He had not really said anything but she knew he was fond of her too. Even though she had only spent a few days there, his flat felt like a place she might belong, a place where she was safe.
Natasha had been cursed with a poor sense of direction, but it seemed to her that the right thing to do would be to try to get back within sight of the river and follow upstream until she recognised some familiar landmark. That meant turning south, she thought, or west maybe. But which way was that? She would have to ask someone which way she was headed. She began to look, with a fragile kind of hopefulness, for somebody friendly, whom she might talk to. She didn't even know the correct address for Colby's flat... Rain was starting to fall across the air now, catching in the glow of the street lights like a sheet of tiny prisms. She passed an electrical goods store, a bike shop, a florist. The window of the florist was bright, inviting and she paused trying to draw some warmth from the glow of the light. She looked at the display of orchids and South African roses while icy rain made its way down her collar until it ran in a shivering rivulet down her spine. She pulled her light weight coat tighter and rubbed at the cramp in her leg. The coat was intended for a mild Mediterranean climate not the bone-chilling autumn weather of England.
"You all right love?" The voice had come from a black cab that had just pulled up silently from the easy flow of traffic. Natasha froze. Colby had told her not to talk to strangers. He had told her not to leave the flat...
She turned away from the voice and started to walk again limping now as her right calf muscle protested and threatened to leave her completely vulnerable. Gripped by an urgency that was suddenly teetering on the edge of panic she pushed herself on. Despite her earlier bravado, her recent experiences had left her fragile. The taxi followed slowly silently just the play of its headlights and the occasional splash of tyres betraying its presence. They moved, girl and taxi in unison for two or three minutes, each step more painful than the last.
"You need a lift love? This ain't no weather to be out. Cats and dogs stuff this."
Natasha turned her head.
"I've got no money." Natasha said. It was the truth but was intended to send the man on his way. She turned to look at the driver. He was middle aged, greying hair with a flat cap balanced over what was probably a bald patch. He wore thick rimmed glasses and had his jacket collar turned up. She knew all about men who liked children too much but he looked harmless enough, his cab looked warm. Maybe there was genuine kindness in his eyes.
"Oh is that a French accent?" The driver said. "It sounds pretty... anyway who said anything about money? Look I've got a daughter of my own, she's a few years older than you now but I wouldn't want her out on the streets alone at night... Where do you live darlin'? I'll give you a lift home... No charge."
Natasha stopped and turned to face the driver.
"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." She said.
"Come on love it's warm in here, you'll be safe with me... I promise."
His gentle smile and the warmth of his cab was intoxicating...
...
Katrina had woken to her first sunrise on Guernsey. The contrast in the weather could hardly have been greater. The morning was fine, just a trace of early mist falling down from the garden to the cliff. The wind had gone and was replaced with an embracing quietness that made her want to sing. She was still singing when she heard the knock at the door. Hastily grabbing her dressing gown she opened the door.
It was John... Of course it was.
He had brought her some eggs and a can of milk. Katrina dragged her fingers through the straggle of unkempt hair that lay across her eyes and blinked at the young man.
"Just... well... Mum thought you might like some eggs." He said.
"Oh yes how kind. From your own chickens?"
"We've got a few layers running about the place, s'posed to be kept in the barn but they get out... We find eggs everywhere."
"My Babushka back in... in Croatia had hens... the biggest yellowest yolks you'd ever see." Katrina took the eggs that were nestled in a cardboard box and put the milk on the table.
"Have you had breakfast?" She said.
"Well yes ages ago... You get up early if you've got cows to milk."
"I can imagine... Well can I at least give you coffee then?"
"You may do that, coffee would be nice." Katrina watched as he pulled off his muddy boots and then she drew him into the little cottage and sat him on the sofa while she disappeared to hurriedly dress. She called down to him through the mezzanine curtain. "Put the kettle on will you I'll just be a minute." It took just a moment for Katrina to emerge from the privacy of the bedroom wearing faded blue jeans and a thick oversized sweater knitted in triangles of pale grey and pink. She eased herself backwards down the rather fragile stairs a
nd quickly made cups of instant coffee. Her warm smile was a gift for John that easily repaid his act of neighbourliness. She handed him his cup with the steam still curling into the air. He grasped it to warm his hands.
"The weather seems to be a big improvement this morning John. I'll probably venture out and do some exploring... I might take that old bike for a ride."
"That sounds like fun... I wish I could join you but the farm keeps me pretty busy what with it being just the two of us these days."
"Just you and your Mum?"
"There's a lad who helps with the milking but most of the day to day heavy work is down to me."
"It must be hard work."
"Not hard... not when you enjoy the life. I couldn't imagine working in an office or a factory. Give me the open air... Except when its... like howling a gale."
"No... I guess getting back to nature, the simple life, has its appeal."
John nodded and finished his coffee with deep gulps before wiping his mouth unceremoniously with his sleeve. Katrina smiled at his unpretentiousness, his open honesty. What you saw was what you got. She liked that.
"Would you like another cup?"
"I really need to get back."
"OK... But don't be a stranger." She stood and walked him to the door standing a little closer than was strictly necessary. So close that their arms inadvertently brushed. "I don't suppose you could give me some advice John... The thing is I need to find a job and I don't really know where to start looking." John let his eyes trace her fragile frame, so delicate so pretty. He felt real pleasure that she had so easily come to trust him.
"So what sort of thing are you looking for?" He said.
"I've got experience waitressing, child care, I worked on a small holding taking care of goats and making cheese when I was younger, I can cook a little... Anything that will earn me a modest living."
"I'll put my mind to it... Don't suppose you know how to milk cows."
"I could learn..." She said. John was not sure how serious she was being; her face gave no indication that she might be joking but he didn't want to make himself look foolish by jumping too easily at an opportunity.
"I've got a mate who manages The Captain's Table... It's a restaurant over La Fosse way. Maybe he'll have something... 'course its off season at the moment...."
"You mean for tourists?"
John nodded he seemed lost in thought... something about the idea of farm girls had caught his imagination. "I'll bring the Evening Press up later you may find something in there."
"You're so kind John... If it's no trouble."
She took his fingers with a shy smile and held them for just an instant as they stood by the door and then she watched him walk away across the road and then down towards his farm. The early mist was already lifting, the sky pale blue and clear, the air like ice. In a voice so quiet that it was barely audible, Katrina hummed a sweet melody from her childhood as she looked out across the blue of the sea. She felt that, after all, she might be happy here on this little dot in the Channel.
When she had tidied the cottage Katrina dressed warmly and walked out into the morning. The sun had risen and a gentle warmth had softened the chill air. She made her way through the back gate that led directly to the cliff edge. From there she found a narrow rocky path, almost hidden under the tangle of overgrowth. It wound down through the gorse towards the sea. Below was a tiny cove, the tide was low and leaning over an outcrop of rock she saw a narrow strip of shingle beach with rock pools exposed by the ebbing water. It was worth investigating and she edged her way down the path. There was a small pine sapling that clung to the cliff edge and was bent and shaped by the prevailing wind. It was barely taller than she was and as she sidled her way past, her feet gave way on the slippery path sending a shower of loose rock falling down into the cove. If she had not been able to grab at the slender trunk of the pine she might have followed the landslide down to the jagged rocks below. Katrina took a deep breath and steadied herself before continuing her exploration.
A small wooden dingy was pulled up above the high-tide line and chained upside-down to a stake driven into the grassy foreshore. Out a few metres into the cove where the water was deeper an orange buoy bobbed in the gentle swell. She knew instantly that Valentina would have moored the Falcon here. If she half closed her her eyes she could almost see it floating there. Valentina's Midnight Falcon... She thought of her friend out there somewhere all alone and wondered if she would ever see her again. The tears she wiped on her sleeve must have been caused by the frigid air of the English Channel. This was simply not a day for sadness.
...
The invitation for John to come to dinner had been a rather spur of the moment thing. He had accepted it with eagerness and now in the afterglow of an extremely pleasant dinner they sat comfortably together on the sofa with toes warmed by a comforting fire crackling in the hearth.
"Malcolm Dupres... he's the mate I mentioned... "
"Yes..."
"I told him about you... You know... that you were looking for a job."
Katrina laughed "Yes spit it out... I assume he said no."
"Not at all, in fact he reckons he might have something for you... If you want to go down there to the restaurant tomorrow morning."
"That's great John. Thank you for that."
"That's all right... Unless..." John paused suddenly halted by a feeling of uncertainty.
"Well... unless what?"
"So... Katrina were you joking when you said, you know... you could learn to milk cows?"
"No I was definitely not joking... are you offering me a job on your farm John Le Prevost?"
"Would you take it if I did?"
"Is this is genuine John? Not just you feeling sorry for me? I'm not quite a charity case just yet."
"Oh it's genuine all right and I could never mistake you for a charity case. Fact is Mum and me have been thinking of taking someone on for a while now... The farms doing well and the work load is starting to build up... then there's my part time lad Richard... He'll be leaving school soon and he'll be off to college on the mainland."
"I wouldn't want to push him out."
"You wouldn't, he'll keep his job 'till the summer's over in any case."
"You may not have noticed John but I'm not very big, do you think I could cope with proper farm work? This wouldn't just be herding a few goats."
John smiled, in fact he had notice that Katrina was no body-builder but could identify no problem at all in her stature.
"There's lots of girls working on farms these days, a lot of the heavy stuff is mechanised these days anyway. I'm sure you'd be fine... But, if you're unsure why not go and see Malcolm first, you might prefer what he has to offer. Then if that's not suitable you could maybe do a month's trial on the farm, see if you like it."
"And if you like me."
"Well yes there is that..."
"OK... that sounds like a plan."
"I'll give you a lift tomorrow in the Land Rover if you like."
"Now you're starting to spoil me John."
"How else were you planning on getting there?"
"I could take the bike."
"But that would deprive me of paying you back for the dinner... not to mention the chance of you know... seeing you again."
"OK if you insist... There's some other things I need to do like setting up a provider for my phone and organising a bank account. Could you point me in the right direction for that?"
"No problem. We'll sort all that out... I tell you what, I'll take the day off... Maybe we could have lunch at Malcolm's. Then we can go into St Peter Port."
"I'd like that but I don't want to be any trouble."
"As long as I'm back by afternoon milking it'll be fine. I could do with a bit of time off anyway. It would be nice to have someone to show round town."
She pulled herself closer to him and contrived to slip under the warmth of his arm as if he already was her boyfriend. She could feel John's gen
tle squeeze as he settled beside her accepting her friendship without question. Without looking she could sense his smile of contentment for the simple meal she had cooked him. A simple meal that had taken her the entire afternoon to prepare. John had brought a bottle of wine with him and they sipped the last glass caught in the warm glow of mutual discovery.
The next morning early before John was due to arrive, Katrina cycled down to the local store for some bread and a few other essentials. The newspapers were on display in a rack outside the shop and she saw a headline that caught her attention:
Latest from War in Sachovia. – Leader of Opposition killed in Missile strike. She bought a copy and hurried back home to read it leaving the bike propped up by the porch.
Adam Prochniak, leader of the Sachovian Republik party and an unconfirmed number of his aides were reported killed yesterday following a missile strike on his office building. A spokesperson from the Republik Party said that his courage and unstinting service for his country were a testament to the spirit of the great man. He will be missed by all of Sachovia. The party would continue the fight for democracy spurred on by the loss of the great leader.
The Prime Minister of Sachovia Boris Koch expressed his regret at the loss of a great man to the rebel forces. He sent his sincere condolences to the Republik Party and the family of his friend and parliamentary colleague.
The civil war continues to escalate despite the latest Permanent Court of Arbitration peace talks held at the Hague on Wednesday. The Rebel forces were reported to be closing in on Rubansk the Capital of Sachovia and were reported as having captured abandoned Sachovian army weaponry including Russian made tanks and missile launchers.
Katrina thought of her homeland and the terrible new struggle they were facing but she seemed remote from Sachovia now as if her life there had just been a nightmare from which had wakened to a world of normalcy. She thought of little Natasha who would never have to go to Sachovia now; she wondered at her own naivete for ever thinking it would have been a good thing. Katrina longed for her phone so that she could try to contact her. No longer condemned to being a queen, Natasha might now find a happy life... Wherever she was.
The Midnight Falcon Page 22
