by Jack Dey
By the end of the day, a great mess scattered itself through Pierre’s kitchen, but under his watchful eye the two women had created a masterpiece. Pierre unexpectedly announced with great gusto, chef-d'oeuvre and their efforts would be offered to the guests as part of the evening menu. Tess and Katrina stared at each other, dumbfounded after their teacher had reprimanded their efforts to the point of giving up and now he was praising them passionately. For the first time in her life, Katrina had actually achieved something worthwhile and it felt good to have Pierre’s congratulations, with his praise just as impassioned as his discipline.
Placing his arms across the shoulders of his protégés, Pierre smiled big and then pointed to the sink and all the dirty dishes. He was a tough master, but he encouraged them to strive to better themselves. Tess and Katrina were exhausted when they eventually headed for their room to freshen up for the evening meal, however, Pierre’s kitchen sparkled like a new pin when they’d finished.
*~*~*~*
Neddy was quiet, deep in contemplation, standing at the stern of the little fishing boat and staring back to the eerie place they’d just visited. The propellers were churning a white track across the green ocean and the sea breeze had dropped right off in the late afternoon hour. Mario’s little demonstration had shocked him, leaving his experiences and the rigours of France's violent and unpredictable coast to languish as nothing compared to what he had just witnessed.
The small fishing boat, sitting on top of the dark waters of Black Dean and the exposed rocky sides of Barrett Passage towering above the wheelhouse, made him exceedingly nervous. He could feel the presence of... something... maybe like a chained demon being held back by a greater power. Almost as if a voracious tiger held in check by the owner and his lead, then being released at a set time, attacking and devouring anything in its path. Although Mario was well out of the passage when the tide began to run in, when Black Dean came to life, Neddy could feel the pull on the hull of the boat as the enraged whirlpool swirled, baring its roaring fangs, straining to draw the boat into its lair and tear it to pieces.
“You okay, Ned?” Desapo’s unexpected voice made him jump.
“That thing is... is evil,” Neddy grumbled.
“Nooo...! It’s a natural occurring phenomena, a deep hole in the ocean floor that is affected by the tidal influence. You’ve been listening to too many dock workers and their legends.”
“I’ve seen big whirlpools before, Desapo, after the tsunami that hit Sumatra a couple of years ago, but that thing has a mind of its own!”
“What are you telling me, Neddy? Has Black Dean spooked my big brother to the point of backing out of the project?” Desapo teased.
“I never said that, Desapo! This baby has the potential to do some really serious damage if you don’t plan it properly. You can’t just park a work boat over the top of that thing and expect it to behave. If it’s affected by the tidal influence like you think, the bigger the tide the more power Black Dean will have.”
Desapo thought for a while, studying his older brother. “Yeah, I agree. Can you see why I called for you? You have more experience building lighthouses in crazy places than I do and I needed your wisdom,” Desapo’s vulnerability and admiration for Neddy was exposed and open to his brother’s ridicule.
Neddy searched Desapo’s eyes, almost as if he was coming to a decision. “I hope your ill-placed confidence in me isn’t going to be shredded.” However, Neddy was quietly pleased at Desapo’s frank confidence in his ability.
“You’ll need to get Goliath up from down south, Desapo. It’s the only working barge large enough, with a flat bottom that has a triple hull and four large legs that can be extended to stabilize the platform. We simply tow the barge in at high tide, with two powerful tugs operating from the landward side of the passage and push it into place, sitting on top of the wall. Then once it’s held in the correct position above Black Dean and out of its reach, we deploy the legs, lifting the work platform clear above the waterline. Using the wall as a solid footing, it should stabilize the barge and offset any weather or tidal influences and hopefully whatever Black Dean attempts to throw at us. It’s kinda like sitting on a backyard fence above a snarling dog. Just remember, everyone is safe sitting on the fence, out of the way of the dog, but if anything should go wrong and someone falls... there won’t be anything left. Understand me?”
The finality of Neddy’s words punctuated the serious risk Desapo was just about to embark on. Desapo stared in the same direction of Neddy’s gaze and nodded. ”I understand you, brother,” Desapo whispered.
The moments went by until Desapo broke the silence. “I’m gonna need to cost your plan to submit to Pike's little association, so you’re gonna to have to teach your lady love and her friend the ropes... rapidly! It’s imperative they get an accurate quote from suppliers, otherwise I’ll go broke trying to tame Black Dean!”
“Yeah, I figured that already. I’ll get onto it tomorrow,” Neddy agreed, with a secretive smile crossing his lips as Tess’ features delighted and teased his mind.
“So, big brother, are you in?”
Neddy slapped Desapo on his back. “I’m in, little brother... just a thought though,” Neddy added.
Desapo snapped around to face his older brother, wondering what other intriguing ideas he had. “I’m all ears, Ned.”
“When you’re ready to submit your price, double the final estimate. This is going to be a tricky job and one for the history books.”
Neddy’s warning sent a shiver down Desapo’s back. They were now on a direct war footing with Black Dean and there could only ever be one victor.
*~*~*~*
By the time Neddy walked into the diner, Desapo was already at his table. Tess and Katrina were seated and they appeared to be waiting for someone.
As Tess recognised Neddy, she smiled broadly, “Will you join us, sir?”
Neddy bowed his head. “It would be a pleasure, my lady.”
Tess couldn’t remember ever being referred to as my lady in her life and she blushed. Katrina noticed the blush and smiled. Something charming was blooming right in front of her and she was pleased for Tess. Mr Parduck was a gentleman of means and Tess would do well to encourage his admiration.
Gustav buzzed around his dining patrons like a bee to a flower and paused in front of Desapo, who was hungrily devouring his meal. “Is the meal to your liking, Mr Desapo?”
Desapo wiped his mouth with his napkin. “This chicken chasseur is exceptional, Gustav. My compliments to your chef.”
Katrina listened nonchalantly to the interlude between Gustav and Desapo, and blushed when Gustav directed the compliment to her and Tess.
“Your chefs, Mr Desapo,” Gustav’s sweeping arm drifted over Tess and Katrina.
Desapo stood and bowed to Katrina. “Madam, I am in awe of the work of your hands.”
Katrina smiled pleasantly and her cheeks flushed. “Why, thank you, sir,” she returned politely, greatly pleased by Desapo’s acknowledgement.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 38
The size of Marguerite’s outline was increasing and the baby had put a distinct waddle into her step at five months. She was the focus of the meal time conversation and all the family treated her like royalty. Marguerite’s expectation of Majiv’s disinterest in her proved to be unfounded, treating her with the respect of a cherished sister and not like a cheap tramp, as she’d imagined he would. Even though Ima had never borne a child, she had delivered hundreds in her life. In fact, she’d delivered both Majiv and Katarzyna and had been there all the way through their lives, standing by and supporting the children, suffering under the emotional decline and eventual death of their own mother and stepping in to take up the parent roles. At every stage, Ima was teaching Marguerite what to expect with her pregnancy and Katarzyna couldn’t walk past her without lovingly greeting her and the baby. Katarzyna, too, was interested in every groan and every new development and would kiss the baby befor
e going to sleep each night.
The evening meal was over and Majiv was in his room as he was most evenings. As Marguerite climbed the stairs ready to prepare for bed, she stopped at the top and held onto the banister, panting and regaining her breath, but when she saw Majiv’s door open, she decided to bid him goodnight. Waddling the steps to his door, she stood at the open room watching him sitting at his desk, busily writing in a notebook. Katarzyna had explained that Majiv was writing a memorial to their parents, his way of honouring their memory, but she had no idea what it was about and only shrugged when Marguerite asked. “Why don’t you ask him?” she’d replied innocently, the way only Katarzyna could.
“Majiv?” she panted.
Majiv jumped at the sudden voice, almost appearing to be lost in another world within his notebook.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Marguerite apologised.
Majiv sprang from his chair and stepped over to her. “It’s okay. I was just finishing for the night, anyway." His eyes dropped to her expanding stomach and he greeted the baby, ”Hello, little one.”
Marguerite smiled pleasantly at his greeting. “Katarzyna said you were writing a memorial to your parents,” she pointed to his desk.
“Yeah, it’s my way of remembering them,” Majiv seemed pensive. “Sometimes I can’t recall their faces and it worries me. I hope to get it published one day, so their names will be in print and immortalised for the generations to come. I even have a photograph to go in the finished work.”
Marguerite tilted her head to one side and studied the fine strong features of his face. “Would you read it to me? I would love to meet your parents.”
Majiv pondered her request for a moment, and the extended silence told Marguerite she was trespassing on a deep wound in Majiv’s heart. “You don’t have to, Majiv. It was insensitive of me to ask.”
“No, it isn’t that. I am not sure it is good enough to give breath to yet,” Majiv apologised, searching Marguerite’s pretty eyes.
“Maybe when you’re ready you will read it to me,” she suggested, giving him an escape route.
“No... why not now?” he came to a decision. ”You can be my censor. On one condition,” Majiv required.
“What’s that?” Marguerite panted.
“If it sounds stupid, you must tell me so... promise?”
“I promise, Majiv.”
Majiv pulled out his chair from the desk and offered it to Marguerite. She lowered herself, exhaling at the exertion, and when he could see she was comfortable, Majiv grabbed up his notebook and flipped the pages over, back to the beginning and found his voice.
"Acknowledgement. For my parents: Bolek and Alenka Protlenski. Your struggles and courage are an inspiration to me. In dedication to the memory of your lives. The journey out of preoccupation Poland had been intensely risky for Bolek and Alenka Protlenski. They had been warned by the underground that the Nazi war machine was on the move and that Poland was their intended destination..."
*~*~*~*
The walk to the bakery was taking Marguerite longer and longer and instead of a brisk thirty minutes, it was taking her nearly an hour. Ima advised her not to worry about working until she’d delivered the child, but Marguerite was determined to do her bit. She needed time to recover once she arrived, but then she was good to go for the rest of the day and the men would always appreciate her efforts, taking the serving counter burden from them. On the return leg, Majiv and Mr Lieberman would dawdle along with her, pausing frequently for her to catch her breath, but today Mr Lieberman would deliberately enforce Ima’s wishes.
“Marguerite?” Mr Lieberman spoke.
“Yes, Mr Lieberman?” she panted.
“I don’t think it will be a good idea for you to continue walking and working at the shop until the little one is born.”
“But I want to do my bit!” Marguerite protested.
“There will be time after the child is with us to consider this,” Mr Lieberman seemed stern and it appeared the conversation was closed.
Marguerite ventured, “Tomorrow is Shabbat. Let me finish the week and then I will do as you wish.”
Mr Lieberman stopped and turned to face Marguerite with a worried frown etched on his elderly features. “One more day and no more!”
Marguerite threaded her arm through Mr Lieberman’s and pulled up close to him, knowing he had her and her baby's welfare at heart. She tenderly rested her head on his arm. “Thank you.”
Walking slowly along with Marguerite, a gentle smile formed on his face.
*~*~*~*
Adam Willis had just moved into the ethnic neighbourhood and had found a cheap rental to match his paltry training salary. He was only twenty-two but he counted himself fortunate to have been accepted into a new career ahead of some pretty tough competition. Keeping fit was part of his intensive training, with any failure attracting an immediate ejection from the programme and even at the end of the rigorous course, there were no guarantees of a place. Jobs were hard to get and harder to keep, but Willis was determined and had his sights firmly set on the goal.
Setting himself an ambitious task, Willis had reached a level where he could run for ten miles without a break, and after neighbours had recommended Lieberman’s Bakery and Fine Cakes in the many conversations he’d entered into, he would allow himself a treat and sample their fine delights, pampering himself in a much fancied pastry. Pushing open the door and entering the crowded bakery, Willis joined a line and peered around people to investigate the display cabinets. The heavenly scents of fresh bread filled the room and made his mouth water, while the delights encased in the glass display cases teased his eyes and his stomach growled in anticipation. In the back room, Willis could see a young, dark haired boy in his late teens carrying around trays of dough and laughed to himself as he watched the middle aged women shamelessly following him around with their eyes, obviously drooling over more than bread.
A pretty young woman served the queue of people and as the line shortened and he came closer, he noticed she was heavily pregnant. Willis’ training immediately kicked in, with questions forming in his mind and convincing himself the young woman was in fact a girl and didn’t look old enough to be this pregnant... or pregnant at all. He studied the girl's face for many moments and pondered he’d seen her somewhere... but where? After a while, it was his turn to face the young sever.
“Yes, please, what can I get you?”
He explained his choice and when he handed his money over, he decided to test her reaction. “You’re very young to be pregnant, aren’t you?”
Marguerite’s eyes flashed at the stranger, taking a panicked interest in his face and searching for some kind of recognition. Finding none, she casually answered with an expression that said, its none of your business, but her words were far more polite. “Looks are deceptive.”
He nodded. It was a good reply and he didn’t think it was appropriate to continue probing his suspicions in a bakery queue. Maybe he would come back again and try to establish a customer relationship and then probe the girl some more.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 39
With the time fast approaching 8 pm, Becky had her hands in the dishwater, finishing the rest of the dishes before their guests arrived for a dinner date. Staring absentmindedly into the darkness of the vacant bushland next door, Becky was deep in thought. Brett crept up behind her and ran his hands around the sides of her stomach and over the baby bump. She let her head rest back against his chest, enjoying the closeness of her husband’s gentle touch, then turned to face him and leaned into his embrace, tasting his warm, passionate kiss and leaving two wet hand prints on his clean shirt.
“Erm! You had better stop right there, mister,” she pleaded, wriggling out of his embrace. "Our guests will be on the doorstep at any minute."
He trapped her escape and pulled her back into his embrace and passionately kissed her, with Becky’s resolve faltering seriously, drawn into her man’s d
etermined fire. Red cheeks glowed with the promise of something more, but a sudden knock at the door put paid to any further escalation and among a series of deflated sighs and denied play, Becky huffed and crashed back to earth, her breath still hot with unfulfilled passion and expectation. Wriggling out of Brett’s arms and checking her appearance in the lounge mirror, his flirting had set an embarrassing rosy bloom in her cheeks.
“You’d better answer the door, Brett, while I try to regain my normal colour! I am a respectable married woman and I don’t want our guests to think any differently,” Becky chastised, but then offered him a cheeky smile and look that teased him. “I love you,” she grinned, tempting Brett to pull her back into his embrace. But when he did, she protested, “Brett! The door!”
While Becky powdered her nose, Brett did a final check around the apartment before opening the door. The table was set superbly and the smell of the meal, cooked to Becky’s usual perfection, made his stomach rumble and with a swift movement Brett pulled the door open to welcome Smiley and Jacqui, thrusting out his hand to Smiley and then hugged Jacqui.
“Come in. Becky’s just fixing her makeup.”
When Becky finally appeared, she met Smiley and Jacqui with a hug, but snoop Smiley could still see the flames of a distant fire in Becky’s cheeks.
“I just hate these modern day kitchens. The ovens are so-o-o hot!”
Becky intercepted Smiley’s grin with a flush of red, understanding full well she’d been caught out, but Jacqui missed Smiley’s meaning altogether, leaving her staring at her man with a puzzled expression.
The laughter at the table was infectious as Jacqui and Smiley recapped their week since Smiley had worked up the nerve to propose to Jacqui. The hilarity continued as Smiley tried to explain how Jacqui had turned up at his apartment unexpectedly, suspicious that there was another woman in his apartment when he wouldn’t let her in. She pushed past Smiley, intending to do battle with a rival and nearly collapsed from the stench and mess. They laugh about it now, but Jacqui determinedly set about with Smiley’s help and scrubbed his apartment top to bottom.