Krista's Chance

by Gemma Jackson

  “Krista, we are both cold at this moment. It will be even colder on the ferry across the channel. We need clothing that will keep us warm. We cannot afford for either of us to fall ill.”

  “But these!” She shook the garment again. It was even uglier than her hated black woollen stockings!

  “No one will see you wearing them, for goodness’ sake!” Perry tried hard not to laugh at the look of outrage on her face. “They were designed for men undertaking long journeys in cold weather. I believe the American cowboys found them very useful.”

  “I am not a cowboy.”

  “Obviously not.” Perry gave in and laughed until his sides ached. When he had sobered up, he put an arm around her shoulders. “Look,” he bent at the waist, pulling her with him to look through the window at the side of the van. “We are in the middle of nowhere. We must learn how best to survive the coming weeks. We have no laundry facilities. The water we carry on board will be used sparingly unless we are parked near a stream. The type of garments my mother sent for you were used by men setting out across hostile environments. Please put them on.” He squeezed her shoulders gently, pulling her upright. “If you find they do not work for you we will think of something else.”

  “Oh, very well.” Krista was shivering. It was so cold, now that the engine had been turned off.

  “I will light the fire. We need to warm this van up or we will never sleep.”

  Krista felt such a failure. Their very first night and she was close to tears. She wanted to kick the bench close to her.

  “Perry? Do you know why Captain Waters insisted we travel in this fashion?”

  “It is such a clever little craft.” Perry had opened the cast-iron door of the little stove set snugly into its high iron fireplace surround. The cast-iron chimneystack travelled up and out of the top of the van. It would heat the van in no time. He was stuffing paper and kindling, kept in a locked box tucked into one side of the fireplace, into the stove. Really, there was a place for everything they could need. He put a match to the kindling and turned to look over his shoulder at his despondent companion. “This little beauty has everything we could need.”

  “That does not answer my question.” Krista wanted to kick Perry now. How dare he be so cheerful!

  “Captain Waters had this van designed with smuggling goods and people in mind. There are hidden compartments and moving walls that can be put into use if necessary. We are the first to use it.” He’d been given instruction in concealing cargo of all shapes and sizes from all eyes. He took several logs from the box and put them on the now blazing kindling. He closed the door, dusted his hands and stood. “I cannot leave the door open. The van would fill with smoke, but we will soon feel the benefit of the fire.”

  “We are supposed to sleep, eat, bathe and smuggle people in this little thing?” Krista threw her arms wide. “It cannot be done.”

  “Yes, it can,” Perry insisted. “You will see as we go along.” He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “You are cold and tired. You need to change into warmer clothing. We will have something to eat while the van warms up.”

  He sat back down in the driver’s seat and pulled the curtain across. He knew they were asking a great deal of Krista. He believed she was more than capable. She was simply overwhelmed at the moment. The noise coming from behind the curtain told him she was changing. He tried very hard not to think about what that meant.

  Krista had a white-knuckled grip on the wheel as they prepared to drive away from the field the next morning. The gold ring she’d put on that morning gleamed on the third finger of her left hand. She was wearing the gent’s winter undergarments and the oiled slacks and jumper. They felt strange on her body but Perry had assured her the heat of her body would cause the garments to settle around her. They were to head to Felixstowe docks. What a night! She felt as if her body was still blushing. There had been so many intimate matters they needed to discuss! Perry had been all that was gentlemanly but … he had to explain her very clothing to her! They had slept in bags for goodness’ sake!

  “I want you to drive very slowly towards the entrance to the field.” Perry’s voice came from the back of the campervan.

  “Are you not going to sit down first?” She turned to look into the van.

  “I want to look and listen as we leave.” Perry was making a final check of the van interior. “I believe we have everything cleaned away and locked down, but I will not be sure until the van is moving.”

  “Hold tight!” Krista turned the engine on and began to drive very slowly towards the gate.

  “I believe I will call the lady in the urn Brunhilda Alvensleben,” Krista said as they drove towards Felixstowe.

  “That is quite the name – why?”

  Krista did not take her eyes from the road. “It is all very well for Captain Waters to tell us that the ashes are those of my great-grandmother but we will need more of a story than that if anyone should ask.” She shrugged. “It is best to be prepared.”

  “I agree, so tell me about her.” Perry was proud of Krista for the way she had behaved when faced with a situation that was difficult for both of them. They had spent a comfortable night, thanks to her willingness to obey his instructions.

  “The urn is that of my great-great-grandmother, I have decided.” Thinking about the lady in the urn had given her something to get her mind off the strangeness of spending a night in a van, in a field, with a man not her husband. “Her name of birth as I have said was Brunhilda Alvensleben. She lived to a great age, one hundred and three …”

  “That is old. You might be stretching it a bit.” Perry objected.

  “We don’t want anyone who might ask about the urn to claim they know someone old enough to remember her, now do we?”

  “That danger had not occurred to me.” Perry said. “Nor to Captain Waters it would appear.”

  “I have given a great deal of thought to my dear old grandmother – my grosmutti. I resemble her greatly, don’t you know? Why, I was her very favourite grandchild.” Krista laughed. It was nice to have a relative she could talk about!

  They continued to make up outrageous stories about the bold Brunhilda as they drove on to Felixstowe

  “I am so glad your mother insisted on kitting me out.” Krista was standing on the deck of the ferry.

  The campervan had been hoisted onboard. They were under way. The only part of her body feeling the biting cold of the whistling wind was her face. Every other inch was covered.

  “I believe there is an area set aside on the deck below for passengers.” Perry too was glad of his oiled outer garments. “Do you want to sit in out of this wind?”

  “We will have to speak with our fellow passengers.”

  “It will be good exercise for us.” Perry was nervous too. They had talked about the image they would present but this would be their first actual time of testing their story on strangers. “I had thought there would be more cars and people travelling.”

  “It is my firm opinion that no one in their right mind would travel in the first days of November,” Krista said. “I would think in December people would travel for the holidays, perhaps, but this cold bleak weather is not conducive to thinking of holiday cheer.”

  “If you hadn’t promised Brunhilda that we would scatter her ashes across Germany in her birthday month we would not be here.” Perry hid his grin in the scarf he had wrapped high around his neck and chin.

  They joined their fellow passengers for the three-hour journey across the channel. Krista received many disapproving stares from the older passengers. The younger crowd, however, thought it was a great lark to see a female dressed in adventurers’ gear. They strolled the decks hand in hand, speaking of food they wanted to eat, places they wanted to visit. They gave the impression of what they purported to be – a young couple starting out in life together.

  “I want to drive through the Belgium border and on through the German border before we stop for the night.”
Krista was once more behind the wheel of the campervan. The road leading away from the harbour and towards the border was a good one.

  “This is a very strange sensation,” Perry said.

  “What is?” Krista was concentrating on the road. She was nervous. This would be their first meeting with officialdom.

  “We are on the wrong side of the road!” Perry’s foot hit the floor, reaching for a non-existent brake.

  “It is strange to me too.” Krista laughed. “I am driving in what feels like the passenger seat!”

  “Keep laughing,” Perry said through his teeth. “We are coming up to the border guards.”

  A guard, a pistol on his hip, stepped into the road and held his hand out in a stop action.

  Krista brought the campervan to a smooth halt close to where the glowering guard stood. He stared at the licence plate on the car and a smiling Krista sitting on the wrong side and approached scowling.

  “Do you speak French?” He practically barked in French as soon as Krista had rolled down the driver’s window.

  “Does not every civilised person?” Krista responded fluently with a wide smile.

  “What are you doing here? Where are you going? This is not a good time to travel into Germany.” He looked at the couple, shaking his head at their folly. “It could be dangerous.” He could say no more but he wished he could order this pair to get back on the road and go home. The border was an uneasy place to work in these troubled times.

  “My husband and I are fulfilling a promise I made to my German great-great-grandmother as she lay dying.” Krista waved a hand at a smiling Perry.

  “You are in a wheelchair.” The guard’s eyes almost popped out of his head as he leaned in the window to get a better look at the man.

  “Oh, he doesn't need that!” Krista gave a delighted thrill of laughter. “The silly man had a riding accident just before our wedding.” She pouted delightfully. “I was very cross with him, I can tell you. Can you imagine – taking his horse over the highest fence during the hunt – and right before our wedding!”

  “But why the invalid chair?”

  “Oh, that is his mother’s fussing!” Krista flicked her hair in disgust. “She thought her poor baby would get fatigued walking around on his healing leg.”

  “Papers!” the guard barked. He couldn’t stand here listening to this beautiful young girl. He had work to do. He prayed they would travel safely through a country he feared was not safe for anyone these days.

  Their papers and campervan were examined before the guard gave the signal to his fellow guard to lift the barrier. Krista took the papers with a beaming smile for the guard and, with a shouted farewell, turned to drive forward.

  “How did I do?” she whispered as they drove slowly along the road separating the guard post on the Belgian side of the border and the German guard post.

  “I think you confused that guard. Good for you. Now see if you can do it again.”

  It was more difficult to confuse the German guard. Krista made much of the fact that her great-grandmother had extracted a promise from her on her deathbed. A promise she was determined to keep. They were eventually allowed through, but the guard was on the telephone to someone as they drove through the barrier and onto German soil.

  “I don’t know if we got away with that.” Perry could not hear what the guard had been saying on the telephone.

  “If I did not think it would attract attention I would pull over onto the side of the road and indulge in a fit of the vapours. I have never done such a thing before but there is a first time for everything.”

  Chapter 5

  “We are to drive in the direction of Aachen. There is a forest park slightly off the road where we are to camp. The border between the two countries runs through the forest. We will camp there tonight and drive into Aachen tomorrow.” Perry had the map and guidebook on his lap.

  “I will be glad to get out and stretch my legs.” Krista drove where he directed, longing to get out of the van. She wanted to take a moment to think about the fact that they were in Germany. They had arrived but what awaited them? “We will have to shop for supplies in Aachen tomorrow. We can make a list of our requirements this evening.” They were stopped twice on the road by bad-tempered motorcycle guards. The story of Brunhilda was told, the urn displayed and with grunts of disgust they were waved on their way.

  When she finally brought the van to a halt by the side of a stream almost hidden by heavy tree branches, Krista was exhausted.

  “We need to get set up,” Perry almost bounced from the van. “I’ll gather firewood. There is no point in using up our supplies when there is an abundance around us. We will have one fire outside this evening and the stove in the van will warm the place enough for us to sleep comfortably.”

  Krista wanted to roll her eyes to heaven. If this was his idea of comfort, he could keep it. Still, she had agreed to this charade and would not start complaining now. The sum of money she was being paid for her part in this seemed suddenly not quite enough!

  Working together, they pulled the awning away from the body of the campervan and set the table and two folding chairs outside. Perry had set up a fireplace of rocks in a circle. He’d picked fallen branches and thick sticks from the floor of the forest. The branches were soon blazing, casting bright light into the darkness. The fire in the van was burning to warm the interior. Krista opened and heated two cans of beef stew. She carried the pot out of the campervan. She put it on a flat rock in the circle around the fire hoping to keep the food hot. She set the table and put a packet of crackers close to hand. It was not fine dining, but they were hungry.

  “You could walk through the trees and into Belgium from this spot,” Perry, a spoonful of stew held close to his mouth, leaned forward to say. “It might be good to get to know the best route.”

  Krista too leaned in. “This poor woman we are to meet has been on the run for days. When she reaches us, if she reaches us, I expect her to be completed drained and ready to collapse.”

  To anyone watching, the couple were having an intimate conversation.

  “We may need her to jump out and walk across the border,” Perry said. “We could arrange to pick her up on the other side. I would like to have a plan in place for the worst eventuality.” He blew on his spoon. “What did you think of the guards who stopped us? Was it my imagination or were they –”

  “Prepared to shoot first and ask questions of a corpse?” Krista knew exactly what he meant.

  “Something of the sort, yes.” Perry smiled. “I would not have stated the matter as you have but they were both more aggressive than I would have thought for guards accustomed to tourists visiting this park.”

  “We will have a better idea tomorrow when we visit Aachen.” Krista wanted to shop for their needs but also get a feel for what was going on in this area. “Listening to gossiping customers should give us information. And the shopkeepers will know what is going on.”

  “Good God, you don’t intend to ask them – do you?”

  “Of course not.” Krista laughed. “I will be the sweet young English bride complaining about the cruelty of her new husband who expects her to camp out in the forest. Then I will tell anyone who wants to listen all about Brunhilda and her dying wishes.”

  The following day they were stopped several times by aggressive guards as they drove towards Aachen. Krista enquired about shopping for supplies. She made a point of complaining about the cruel treatment of her new husband and his desire to experience nature in the raw.

  In the end they had not dared explore the forest around their camp site for a possible escape route. As they sat by their fire, Perry became convinced that all of the noises they heard were not made by animals. Krista had been happy to stay by the fire. She was not one to step out into the wilderness.

  They were given directions to the marketplace by a guard and Krista found a place to park the campervan in one of the laneways leading off the market square.

  “
You are going to have difficulty walking on these cobblestones,” she said, turning off the engine. “You should take your cane, I think. You do not want to stumble.”

  They locked the van and walked towards the market. They stood for a moment to take in the sheer grandeur of the square. Tall grey granite buildings framed it. The cathedral towered over all, its spread of granite gables like wings greeting all comers. Tall government buildings of breath-taking beauty framed two sides of the square.

  They asked directions and visited a nearby bank to change some of their traveller’s cheques. The bank clerk was sullen as he practically threw the German marks onto the bank countertop. Krista pretended not to notice his attitude, smiling widely and remarking on the beauty of the building.

  They stepped out of the building onto the market square.

  “Oh Perry, darling!” Krista gushed loudly in English as they started to walk between the stalls set out on the square.

  There appeared to be a great many armed scowling soldiers examining the market crowd. The atmosphere was heavy, with none of the sounds of laughter and shouted conversations you would expect from such a place.

  “Look, Perry, you simply have to try some of these!” She pointed to an array of sausages hanging from the top of a butcher’s stall. “Grosmutti loved German sausage. She always told me it was the best in the world. You simply must try it.”

  She stopped in front of the stall, beaming a wide smile.

  There were no words of greeting from the butcher.

  “Everything looks wonderful,” she said to him in fluent German.

  “It is made with pig!” he barked.

  “So?” Krista shrugged. “Should that be a problem?” She knew Jewish people did not eat pork.

  She was aware of a couple of soldiers stepping close to the stall.