Krista's Chance

by Gemma Jackson

  “Johann Graf Benz, Count Westheimer.” The man introduced himself with a smile. He clicked his heels. “At your service.”

  “Peregrine Fotheringham-Carter.” Perry took the hand the German held out and shook. “Perry.”

  “Delighted to meet you,” Johann said in excellent English. “How may I help?”

  “I thought to have the van washed and waxed while my wife and I have something to eat. My poor darling, I am afraid, is ready to commit murder. It hasn’t been the most comfortable of trips.” Perry laughed lightly.

  “It is a very unusual vehicle.” Johann appeared to have all the time in the world to stand and talk. “It attracted my attention.”

  “I commissioned her.” Perry gave the van another pat. “She has been a little wonder on this her maiden voyage.”

  “Would you show me around?” Johann Graf Benz gestured to the van.

  “Should I move it out of the way first?” Perry looked around the busy way station. “We are blocking the petrol pump.”

  “No need.” The Count barked orders to the attendant before gesturing to the door of the van. The attendant rushed away to serve another driver.

  “If you would care to step into the van,” Perry held the door open. “It is tight quarters. I will stand out here and answer any questions you might have.”

  “Why, it is all ship-shape!” Johann exclaimed as he accepted the invitation to examine the van interior. He opened a door. “A toilet.” With his hand on a built-in cupboard he turned to look at Perry. “May I?”

  “Be our guest.”

  “It is almost like being on a small boat!” Johann delighted in poking his nose into every feature.

  “I thought the same thing myself.” Perry stood smiling on the forecourt while yet another German examined his vehicle. This man, however, was a far different sort than the bully boys they had encountered so far. He was far more dangerous.

  In the meantime, Krista had been fortunate in that a cleaning woman was leaving one of the many toilets in the cement-block building. The woman gestured to the toilet she had just cleaned, suggesting Krista could make use of it before the men had a chance to turn it back into a pigsty. The toilet was a luxury to Krista after days of using the van. And miracle of miracles, it had running hot water!

  Krista ran across the cement surface back towards the campervan. She passed Perry with a wave and jumped into the van’s interior.

  “Herr Count,” she had heard how the attendant addressed this man, “I do not mean to be rude, but I have a lovely woman holding closed the door to a freshly cleaned bathroom. I am going to take full advantage!” She bent to pull her vanity case out of the fitted wardrobe and ran back outside. “Perry, it has hot running water!” She shouted over her shoulder as she ran.

  “You are a fortunate man.” The Count stepped down beside Perry. “I have had ladies express less pleasure at the gift of diamonds.” He clapped Perry on the shoulder, laughing loudly.

  Chapter 7

  The two men were sitting in the busy café/restaurant drinking coffee and smoking the Count’s cigars, at a table hastily offered up to the Count by saluting men. Thanks to his translation assistance, the campervan was taken away to be washed and waxed, the water supply topped up and the spirit cannister for the cooking stove changed.

  “So, Fotheringham-Carter,” Johann Graf Benz said. “Your family are, I think, sailors.” Johann smiled at Perry’s surprise. “I have competed against men of that name in regattas.”

  “My father and brothers.” Perry laughed. “Their passion is sailing and the sea.”

  “But not your own?”

  “I sail but my first love is horses.” Perry tried not to clench his teeth around the cigar. The man sitting across from him was a naval officer or he’d eat his hat. He recognised the look in his eyes and the set of his shoulders.

  “I too …”

  “Pardon me.” Perry began to stand. He had seen Krista standing on the forecourt, looking around for the campervan.

  “No need.” Johann clicked his fingers and barked a command to a waiter who hurried to open the door of the restaurant. The waiter ran over to Krista and pointed to where the two men were visible through the tall windows of the restaurant.

  “Perry, darling!” Krista, vanity case in hand, hurried to the table.

  The two men stood at her approach.

  “When I couldn’t see the campervan I thought you had deserted me.” She giggled. “I wouldn’t blame you for running from a nagging wife.” She smiled at the man with Perry. “Hello again, Herr Count.”

  “Frau Fotheringham-Carter.” Johann clicked his heels and took her free hand, carrying it to his lips.

  “Call me Krista, please! Otherwise I shall be looking over my shoulder for my mother-in-law!” She smiled widely, all bright blue eyes and innocent charm.

  “Sit here, darling.” Perry took the vanity case and put it on the floor. He pulled out a chair. The two men waited until Krista was seated before sitting.

  “Have you ordered something to eat, darling?” Krista shook out her napkin.

  “I thought I’d wait for you to see what it was you would like,” Perry said.

  “They have wonderful fish –” Johann stopped speaking when Krista began to laugh, immediately joined by Perry.

  “I am so sorry, Herr Count!” Krista waved her napkin in the air, tears of amusement in her eyes.

  “Johann, please.” He exuded charm.

  “Johann, thank you.” Krista gave a jerk of her head in his direction. “You could not know but we,” she waved a hand between herself and Perry, “have been having heated discussions about Perry’s wish to fish. I could not bear it. I like fish. In fact, it is one of my favourites – but lightly broiled on a plate!” She buried her face in her napkin, shoulders shaking with suppressed amusement.

  “So, no hunting.” Johann shared an amused look with Perry over Krista’s bowed head.

  “No gun,” Perry said.

  “I thought you were living off the land when I saw your sweet little campervan.” Johann raised an eyebrow.

  “No, no!” Krista objected. “We have been living off canned stew.”

  “You are a fortunate man, Perry,” Johann said. “To have a woman willing to accompany you camping.”

  “No, Johann.” Krista wiped her eyes with the napkin and stared earnestly into Johann’s pale blue eyes. “I am the one who is fortunate. Perry has planned all of this,” she waved in the direction of the forecourt vaguely, “for me …”

  Then the story of Brunhilda was told once more.

  Perry put his hand on Krista’s arm and stopped her in her storytelling from time to time. He asked Johann’s advice about the food on offer. They ordered and were served while Krista continued to entertain the Count and anyone listening with tales of her great-great-grandmother. Perry added a word where he could. He had heard the tale of Brunhilda so often he could join in Krista’s story.

  “Brunhilda Alvensleben,” Johann said when Krista paused in her story to sample the food. “I wonder if my grandfather would have known her?”

  “It would have to be your great-grandfather, I believe,” Perry said. “Brunhilda was one hundred and three years old when she died two years ago.”

  “That is a great age.” Johann shook his head.

  Krista was enjoying the hot dish she had been served. It was hot, nourishing and delicious, with dumplings that were light and fluffy.

  “She outlived everyone of her age group.” Krista blotted her lips with her napkin. “It was very sad.”

  The three settled in to enjoy their meal, exchanging polite chit-chat from time to time. The meal was consumed, coffee served and with Krista’s permission cigars were lit. The garage attendant entered the restaurant and presented Perry with a bill for the work done on the campervan.

  “It has been a pleasure meeting you both,” Johann said as the attendant left. “But I must continue on my journey.”

  “Before you leave u
s, Johann,” Krista said, “my darling husband is booking a hotel for us this evening. We had hoped to reach Dusseldorf and book a room. Can you recommend somewhere?”

  “Yes, of course … but let me settle the bill …” Johann reached for his wallet, but Perry stopped him, insisting he should pay for the meal.

  Johann agreed with a smile. “There is a road off this one.” He pointed in the direction of the road that interested Perry and Krista. “If you follow it you will come to the harbour. There is a grand hotel overlooking the water that I believe will please you.”

  “Bliss!” Krista clapped her hands. “I cannot wait to have a bath.”

  “I shall not say I shall think of you in your bath.” Johann stood and clicked his heels. “It would not be the act of a gentleman.”

  He left them, laughing.

  “That was frightening,” Perry said when they were once more on the road.

  “Yes, indeed,” Krista agreed. “The Count was all that is charming, but I got the impression we were being skilfully interrogated.”

  “He knew my father and brothers,” Perry said.

  “The ties between Germany and Britain are strong.” Krista had to pay close attention to the road. The number of trucks sharing the road was impressive. “If it comes to war there will be a lot of heartbreak.”

  “It is no longer a question of ‘if’, Krista. It is when. What we have seen in our travels has been – to me anyway – clear indication that Germany is gearing up for war. There are too many soldiers on the road. Too many factories producing items that when assembled could well be machines of war. We cannot close our eyes to all.”

  “I agree. Look – what are those strange-looking ships?”

  They were approaching the harbour, Perry keeping a lookout for the hotel the Count had recommended.

  “Sweet Lord!” Perry pressed at the dash. “Drive very slowly.” He removed a pair of the smallest binoculars that Krista had ever seen from a hidden compartment. He put them to his eyes and his gasp of horror was clearly heard. “They are submarines, Krista. The man-made sharks of the sea. There are far too many of them.” He lowered the glasses. “Our navy will be sitting ducks with those hunting them.” He felt sick to his stomach to think of men being forced to face the sea with hunters beneath them.

  “Smile!” Krista gave a sickly smile herself.

  They were attracting attention from the men travelling to work on the docks. A guard stepped into the path of the van, his arm up in the halt position.

  Krista put her head out of the driver’s window and shamelessly used the Count’s name. She gave the address of the hotel the Count had recommended and was given directions without a great deal of bother.

  “It is just as I thought,” Perry said as Krista prepared to turn the van around. “Did you notice the guard’s reaction to the Count’s name? He is an officer in the German navy. I am sure of it now.”

  “Why did he send us down this road, I wonder?” said Krista. “He must have realised that we would see all these submarines. Strange.”

  Perry shot her a look. “Do you think he did it deliberately? That he wanted us to see them?”

  “For what reason?”

  “I don’t know.” Perry shook his head, puzzled.

  He wanted to telephone his father but knew he could not. It would endanger the Count and themselves. He would have to wait until he returned home to share this information. What seaman would not be sickened at the carnage those submarines could cause – and so close to the channel that separated the Continent from Britain? The navy must be warned.

  Krista stood in the luxurious foyer of the hotel. They made a sorry sight in their camping clothes. A porter stood behind her with a trolley holding their luggage. She was not needed for translation here – the male receptionist spoke fluent English. Perry asked for laundry services straight away. He booked a suite for them with attached bathroom and a fireplace in the living room of the suite. Krista almost swooned at the thought of such luxury. He gave the Count’s name with a smile when asked how he had heard of the hotel. It was all very convivial.

  “Can you recommend somewhere my wife can have her hair styled?” Perry asked as he signed a great number of traveller’s cheques.

  “The hotel has a spa, sir.” The receptionist watched closely as Perry continued to turn pages in his folder of cheques. “This area is known for its healing waters and spa treatments.” He looked down his nose at Perry as if he should have known this about an area he was visiting. “I can make a booking for your wife if that is your wish?”

  “Yes, please.” Krista stepped forward to twine her arm through Perry’s. “I would love some pampering, darling.”

  “It is the least you deserve after days of camping, my love.”

  “The spa is enjoyed by gentlemen also.” The receptionist looked at Perry’s bristled chin, untidy hair and rough clothing.

  “Capital,” Perry smiled. “Please make bookings for both of us.”

  They discussed timing, with Krista insisting she needed a long bath before she could think of anything else. She fussed aloud about getting their soiled clothing to the laundry woman as soon as possible. It would take time to dry the items. If there was someone listening, he would be very bored with their inane chatter.

  Perry stood in the wide window, his arm around Krista’s shoulder, as they admired the view of the harbour.

  “I need a bath.” Krista turned away from the view of a line of very menacing-looking machines that were docked nose to nose along both sides of the harbour walls.

  Perry followed her to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He put a finger to his lips when Krista began to object. He put the plug in the bath and turned both taps on full.

  When the water was flowing freely, he said, “I may be seeing shadows where there are none, but it would be very easy to put a receiver somewhere in these rooms. It would be a simple matter to have someone listen to everything we say. The noise of the water will block our words. I believe.”

  “God, Perry!” Krista sat on the side of the bath, her head in her hands.

  “We cannot continue to drive around this area in the hopes that we will make contact.” He did not mention the woman they sought. Better to err on the side of caution. “We have information we must get back to those in command of our forces.”

  “Let me have my bath.” Krista stood to add some of the scented sachets that were offered to the hotel guests to her bath water. She reduced the flow of the cold water. The last thing she wanted was a tepid bath. “We can do nothing at this moment.”

  “We need to sort our laundry.” Perry opened the bathroom door as he spoke.

  He took the tiny but powerful binoculars from his trouser pocket and keeping his body hidden behind the long curtains that framed the window he made a close examination of the docks.

  “Did the receptionist say the people from the laundry would come by or do we need to telephone down when I have the laundry ready?” Krista was speaking to Perry’s back as she pulled items from their haversacks. She kept her voice light and unworried. “I love your mother dearly, darling, but the clothes she chose for me – they are far from my preferred style of dress. Do you think the laundry will be able to launder this waterproof material?” She ran into the bathroom to shut off the taps.

  In the basement spa of the hotel Krista was primped and oiled. She was determined to enjoy the experience. She had seen the prices and knew she might never be able to afford such a thing again.

  Perry was in the gentlemen’s section being groomed.

  Krista was led from small treatment room to small treatment room by a smiling attendant. She had to wait sometimes, wrapped in the hotel’s dressing gown with other women. They were offered the water the spa town was known for while they waited. She kept her eyes closed and her mouth shut. She listened to the buzz of conversation around her with knots in her stomach. The women were all exchanging hateful stories about Jewish people. She had to hide her clenc
hed fists in the deep pockets of her dressing gown. It took almost everything she had not to gasp at the vitriol being poured on the heads of innocent people.

  One would talk about the luxury apartment her Jewish neighbours lived in while some relative was living in a garret. It was the fault of the Jews of course.

  Krista listened and wanted to shout her horror to the sky. They were speaking with such venom about Jews being forced out of their businesses by loyal Germans. The Jews too were German. Could these women not see that?

  She was glad when the stylist put curlers in her hair and put her under a dryer. She could no longer hear the conversations around her. She closed her eyes, allowing the warm air to caress her face while she tried to understand how a nation of educated people could be so misled.

  “Look at you!” Perry picked Krista up and swung her around the room to delighted squeals from her. “My God, Krista,” he whispered into her ear while she continued to make sounds of delight, “the world is running mad. The things I have heard.” Then aloud he said, “There is the woman I married. You look wonderful.”

  “Good enough to be taken to dinner?” She shook her head and tried to communicate her own horror without words. Perhaps no one was listening to them, but it did not do to take chances.

  “I want to show you off to the world!” Perry cried dramatically.

  Chapter 8

  “Darling, I have been making enquiries.” Perry tucked into the selection of breads and cheese that comprised breakfast. The dining room set aside for guests to break their fast was smaller than the room they had dined in the previous evening. The heat from the fire was very welcome. The view through a nearby window was of a dismal grey day.

  “Try this one.” Krista held out the cheese platter, pointing with the cheese knife. “It is delicious.”

  They had returned to the hotel after an early morning stroll around the harbour. She was glad to be in out of the biting wind.