by Tony Criddle
“Turkey.” It was all he said before pulling his pony’s head around and setting off again.
Laleh’s left fist lifted to her mouth, her eyes brimming, and she shot her right hand out towards Nick. All at the same time. His was already on the way, and met hers somewhere in between. Neither could say anything but Gizko kept going without looking back and was fifty metres ahead when Nick cleared his throat.
“We’ve done it Laleh.” His voice shook with emotion. She still couldn’t speak at all. “We’re about sixteen clicks from Orenburc, a couple of hours at most.” He slapped her pony on the rump and it skipped after the guide. He slotted in behind her again.
Somehow he expected it to look different now but it didn’t. The sun wasn’t all that far from disappearing behind the jagged mountains to the west even though it was only mid-afternoon, and their guide was keeping them higher, where the rays still hit. The rocks and hills in the distance had already taken on varying shades of blue and purple, and shortly after passing through a walnut grove they came to a village that looked exactly the same as those across the border.
Gizko yelled a greeting to the villagers as they passed and exchanged a few words with a group of males. When they were clear again he called to Laleh over his shoulder. She turned to Nick.
“Gizko will stay here at his uncle’s village on his way back. Twenty minutes to go.” She’d looked back at him a few times, sadly he thought, but it was the first she had spoken in over an hour.
Nick had to surmise that she was thinking about the two who hadn’t made it, or maybe it was the realisation that she’d actually killed another human being. The first time has that effect on people too. Shortly after their guide reined in on a grass shoulder and drove it from his mind.
Gizko dismounted and they hopped down with him. They were perched high on a spur overlooking a deep valley climbing gently towards them from the east. A wide bitumen road and railway ran throughout its length, its origins lost in the swirls of white, yellow and orange sands in the distance, while the cluttered outer suburbs of a small city nestled close in a basin to the west. Some houses already sprawled towards them on the lower, gentle slopes below. It would be a short walk. The nearest houses were barely a mile away.
Gizko pointed out some buildings alongside the railway to the east, then to the city in the west. He muttered something in Farsi again.
“The border post is that set of buildings seven kilometres east, the city is Orenburck.” Now that it had happened it seemed an anti-climax.
Nick lifted the black bag off the pommel and rummaged until he located the boxes of Tikka ammunition. Then on impulse a wad of notes. He pointed to the rifle, then to the guide, before handing him the ammunition and the money. A deal had been struck and Gizko hadn’t expected anything more. He looked surprised when he took Nick’s offered hand and shook it. When Laleh hugged him he looked even more embarrassed. He strung the spare reins though a rope, and took off back the way they had come. The three unladen ponies trotted with heads stretched high behind him, and after he’d called a farewell he didn’t look back again. Nick put his arm around Laleh’s shoulder watching him go before staring down the slope.
“Okay Lil, let’s get on with it.” The girl didn’t say anything initially but she didn’t move either.
“Have we got a few minutes Nick?” She was still looking at the city.
“Take all the time you want Laleh.” They had one set of warm clothes each, a half empty bag and their identities, but they were free. She sat on a boulder looking at the city, not at him.
She sighed. “We finally got here Nick, and it changes a lot of things. You’ve done everything you possibly could for me, but we only hinted at a future really, and you knew I needed that at the time. I won’t hold you to that now. Things are different.”
Her reticence and melancholy over the last few hours now made perfect sense. She had grown in confidence over recent months, and had slain her quota of dragons, but there was one area that undermined it all for her. He reckoned he knew what it was. Nick dragged the black bag closer and sat beside her while he fished around for his British passport. He extracted a sheet of thick cream paper folded in four from it.
“This is a formal embassy letter Laleh, okay. It’s got an address and a file reference number at the top, but this is the meat of what it says.
‘To whom it may concern.’ Captain Nicholas Evans and Ms Laleh Amini have been recognised as in a de-facto relationship for some time by this embassy. It was to be made permanent here except that current circumstances in Iran have prevented it. During their time together they have attended a number of both formal and informal occasions at the embassy’s request, and have also assisted with entertaining visiting guests of the embassy. The couple are recognised by her Britannic Majesty’s Embassy in Tehran as being in a permanent relationship and it is requested that their status be recognised should they present this document outside Iran.”
The head was up now and she was looking at him intently. The dark expressive eyes sparkled with moisture again. “Does that say what I think it does Nick?”
“Signed and sealed by the Ambassador himself. It’s almost as good as a marriage certificate, and when we get to Istanbul it will be. You’ll just have to decide whether you want to be Ms Laleh Amini or Mrs Laleh Evans on the passport they issue you. When we get to London we can have a religious or more formal civil ceremony if you like, but we don’t have to. It’s entirely up to you.”
By now the moisture had spilled over the eyelids and was gently tumbling down her cheeks. “I like Mrs Laleh Evans Nick. It sounds as if I really belong somewhere again.” She was smiling through the tears now as well. “Just a couple more things.”
Nick took her hand. “Okay. Keep going.”
“Jock told me a bit about your childhood, and thought you might be against having children, but I would like us to make babies if we can.” She was looking earnestly into his eyes now and seemed slightly disconcerted when he didn’t answer immediately. He was thinking how best to put it.
“I want that too Laleh, and believe me I’ve thought about it a lot. Jock said a few things about this to me as well, and I swear on his grave that our kids will never be brought up the way we were. They will never get farmed out with anyone, nor be sent off to a boarding school, nor be looked on as an asset either. Wherever I end up, you’ll be there too and so will our kids. If there aren’t any schools around we’ll educate them ourselves.” His jaws were clamped and there was a determined look in his eye.
“I’m so glad you said that Nickie, and I know you mean it.” She smiled shyly.
“I missed a moon three weeks ago. I think it’s already happening.”
She couldn’t meet his eye initially, but the way he grabbed and hugged her left her little choice.
He looked almost bewildered even though he was grinning broadly.
“None of this is any different than what I wanted Lil, I’m surprised that you didn’t see it before.”
“I think I did really Nickie, but things in the past have made me insecure. I love you so much but still find it difficult to believe you could feel that way about me.”
“It works both ways Laleh. I honestly didn’t think I would meet someone I could love, respect and be a little in awe of all at the same time but here you are and you feel that way too. That’s pretty rare my love, and I would never jeopardise it. Is that it or is there something else?”
“If things had gone differently I would have found Jock’s girls on my own Nick, but I’m not worried about that now. We’ll do it together. I just need to read something to you as well.”
She smiled coyly as she rummaged in the bag for her buff envelope, and went through her folder of degrees and certificates. “It’s the letter that Minu sent. It’s girl stuff really, telling me what I was afraid to see for myself. She’s obviously very fond of you herself and told me to trust in us and things would be okay. It’s just the postscript really. It says ‘Lyon
s Coffee House, Piccadilly Circus, Valentine’s Day 1982 at eleven o’clock’.” She looked up at him.
He nodded. “I’d love to see them again myself. We’ll make a shopping weekend of it, and take in a show.” Nick was being deliberately casual for her sake. “Don’t worry Laleh. They’ll make it.”
“That’s it then Nickie. I’ve got nothing more to bring up and I feel so much happier now. I wouldn’t dare say any of this until I knew we were free.” She paused then grinned wickedly herself.
“As you, no, as we British say, this should all be set in concrete, right?”
He smiled quizzically and nodded.
“Okay, but we’ll have to wait until we get to the hotel. It’s too bloody cold up here.”
Epilogue
They stayed at a small, clean hotel in Orenburc that first night and caught the bus that linked to the railway station at Vantat the next morning. There was only one sleeper car on the afternoon train but then again they were the only takers anyway. There were no dining cars that far east either, but most of the stations they passed through had cafes of a sort, and Nick had American dollars on him. They didn’t starve and they made Istanbul the middle of the following morning.
It took several days for the British Consulate to process them fully, but now that Nick had Laleh with him he found he’d developed a taste for ancient buildings and religious artefacts. He saw parts of the city he’d never seen before and treasures he’d never heard about, but by the following weekend they were heading for Heathrow as the nucleus of a family.
And their first weeks in London were also hectic. Laleh had been disconcerted by the brief, clinical ceremony at the consulate in Istanbul, and felt more comfortable after a more elaborate civil ceremony in London.
Nick met an old flying mate looking for a job with Bristows too, and with him and his wife as witnesses, did the nuptials thing again. A decent registrar’s ceremony, a healthy, fragrant bunch of flowers, and an up-market dinner date for the four of them later, and Laleh felt properly married. Nick re-established his Australian Citizenship at Australia House on the Strand next and added Laleh as family.
Helicopter pilots were still in big demand, and within a few days he was also contracted to Bristows. They were just about the largest helicopter operator in Europe, and he would be flying S61s, the civil version of the Sea King he’d flown in the services. The destinations this time were the big oil platforms in the North Sea.
And Bristows was quite extensive. Its North Sea operation in Aberdeen, Scotland, serviced the rigs in the North Sea, and when they got there Nick met several pilots he’d known in the services. Other, mostly ex-military pilots who’d been to exotic overseas areas filled in the gaps, and not surprisingly, several of the wives had their origins in exotic places as well. It was not that unusual amongst such a well-travelled crew.
In a country that was already cosmopolitan, it was one of the most racially diverse corners in the United Kingdom, and the atmosphere was like a large naval squadron. They fitted in instantly, adding significantly to an already extended family.
It was a few months later before he was rostered off for a long weekend, and by then the highlands were well into a vibrant, colourful autumn. Laleh’s bulge was long beyond being just noticeable by then.
“Stirling is just a Sunday drive from here Lil. About an hour-anda-half each way. You up for it tomorrow?”
“If you hadn’t suggested it I was going too Nickie. Should we try to find a phone number for them first?”
“I thought about that, and I don’t think so. The first half hour is probably going to be touchy, and if we phone first they could tell us to push off and that would be the end of it. If we turn up unexpectedly they’re almost certainly going to talk to us for a while, and that could make the difference. If they aren’t there we would have probably gone for a drive anyway, so it’s no big deal.”
“Okay, let’s do it. I’ll drive down, you drive back. I won’t be able to get behind a bloody steering wheel for much longer.”
They didn’t hurry, enjoying the drive south along the east coast of Scotland, but were still in Stirling by mid-morning. The address was a small, red brick semi-detached, sporting a large yard and driveway, in an outer north-eastern suburb. Mature evergreens, the inevitable sprawling Scots pines, partially screened the houses. Nick rang and the chimes were answered by a short grey-haired woman, probably in her early seventies, wiping her hands on a floral pinafore.
When he introduced himself her eyes slitted fractionally, but then she saw Laleh’s bulge. It was a thing that probably only another woman would completely understand, but she stepped back immediately and invited them in. The husband she introduced was shod in carpet slippers.
He chatted to them while the wife boiled a kettle, but Nick could barely understand his thick accent, and Laleh couldn’t at all. She nodded and smiled when it seemed appropriate, but fortunately the wife didn’t take long with the tray. She pushed a large decorative plate of chocolate biscuits and rich, dark Dundee cake towards them, and took charge of the conversation. But from then on it was Nick and Laleh who did most of the talking anyway.
Nick talked about a Sinclair that neither had ever known, with Laleh embellishing with little personal touches, and the regrets, intrinsic strength of character and insights got to the mother in the end. She had tears in her eyes by then and leaned across and put a trembling hand on his knee.
“Stop there Nick. I’ll make some sandwiches for lunch, and I have something else to do as well. Father, take them out for some fresh air. Show them the back garden.” That was an order. He dutifully dragged them out with him and showed them his prolific veg patch and the swings and cubby for the grand kids. He got around to the low green hills behind the back fence and the ancient castle that dominated everything shortly after.
When they moved towards the back door again his wife was watching. She’d poured another coffee before they’d stomped the mud off, somehow knowing they would be ready for it.
“Do you two mind going through all this about Alistair again? I really want to hear it, and I know the girls will too. Neither knew any of this, and I think that they’ve both wondered about it ever since. They both live in Stirling and aren’t far away. They’ll be here shortly.” She stopped to wipe her nose with a tissue, and almost immediately the bell chimed and the front door opened at the same time. The girls had travelled over together.
They were handsome girls, resembling each other closely, and vaguely their gran as well. By the time he and Laleh had finished their story again, their eyes also glistened, and when he brought up the numbered account in Edinburgh there was hardly a dry eye in the house.
Nick and Laleh were talked into staying overnight, and as guests at the traditional family roast on the following day. The grandmother was delighted. It would even be a Sunday.
But it was the next one they were really apprehensive about. February 14th 1982 was cold, wet and blustery in London, as English winters always seem to be. Random sheets of drizzle lashed through every open space, trickling unpleasantly down any gaps in exposed neck lines and made the chipped pavers dark and slippery. Things had certainly changed in Iran, and also in the rest of the world, but where and by how much was still conjecture.
The American hostage crisis was long over, but Iran’s relationship with the West was still hostile, and suicide bombing by Islamic radicals was all the rage in many countries.
Nick even had a female co-pilot by then, and a number of women in the military were now being trained to fly or to take over hitherto exclusively male tasking, even to operating weapons and supplying the front line. His co-pilot was in some ways a pathfinder, the first qualified female commercial helicopter pilot he knew about, and she was good. Very good. And others were following close behind.
Laleh had wanted to, but she hadn’t contacted Iran in the nearly two years since they’d got out just in case. If overseas mail was being opened, she could destroy everything for Abdul and
Minu, leaving them with no options at all. Going to London on that holiday was a giant leap of faith, and neither had a clue about what they would find.
Nick and Laleh were heads down, hurrying passed theatres and the ticket agents, eager to get out of the frigid drizzle. He was pushing a stroller and her left hand helped, but it was covering his rather than resting on the push bar. The toddler inside strained constantly against a waterproof covering. He was more interested in the passing people struggling against the elements with lowered heads, and ignored the string of brightly coloured plastic ducks unless they got in his way.
When they reached the walnut and brass revolving doors, Laleh plucked the infant from the push chair and headed in, while Nick collapsed the stroller. The door was still turning, with him in it, when he heard the shriek. Nick smiled automatically. Although he couldn’t see passed the ornate walnut desk that guarded the austere, grim entrance, he knew what it had to be. The British were too reserved to vent their joy noisily in somewhere like the Lyons Coffee House.
Laleh had stopped just passed the entrance desk and Abdul and Minu had nearly reached her when Nick struggled through. Except for a little more grey hair they looked no different at all. All three met in a bear hug, a smaller head looking out curiously from the middle.
Abdul moved on to Nick with both hands extended, first gripping his hand but then hugging him, and by the time he surfaced Minu was on him too. She already had Alistair Farhad in her arms, but somehow she got close enough to hug and kiss him as well. There were two younger men standing at the table they’d just left, and women and children there too.
A relocation wasn’t quite what Abdul had in mind but he didn’t have a lot of choice.
Acknowledgements
It is not easy to break into the world of writing these days, especially as many books, irrespective of content, are available on websites at a much cheaper option than in hard copy. Also it is not enough to have what is considered an interesting topic, presentation also plays a large part in it. My thanks therefore to Paul, Helen and Ken at the Palmer Higgs team for pointing me in the right direction.
