Krista's Chance

by Gemma Jackson

  “How do you sell the sausage? We are travelling and cannot store a great deal but I must introduce my husband to the foods my German relatives love so much.”

  “You can buy it sliced.”

  “Wonderful!”

  There was no curiosity about the two foreigners standing in front of his stall. He did not question or remark upon her knowledge of his language. He just sliced the sausage, wrapped it and handed it over.

  That attitude and the close attention of the soldiers continued as Krista flitted around the market, pulling Perry along behind her. She visited the baker’s stall and clapped her hands in delight to see the selection of breads and cakes.

  She spent time in front of a stall selling baskets. She couldn’t make up her mind and ran her fingers over the items on offer. She questioned the stallholder about her goods. She purchased one of the shopping baskets.

  She insisted on buying a coffee percolator and ground coffee, proclaiming to all at the stall that her husband had only tea on board his campervan. She drifted from stall to stall, complaining bitterly in German about her husband and his expectations of his new bride.

  Krista was acting for all she was worth. Her stomach was tied in knots. The atmosphere in the market was frightening. She wanted to hunch her shoulders and hurry away. The shoppers walked along with their heads bowed. There was no exchange of gossip as people stopped to buy their household needs.

  The soldiers, travelling in pairs, glared and marched around the square as if they ruled the world. Perhaps they did. No one seemed willing to attract their attention.

  Perry accompanied Krista with a besotted smile on his face – ready to hand over the money for whatever his darling wanted. He appeared to be unaware or unable to understand the insults directed at him by the muttering soldiers.

  “Do you want to visit the cathedral, darling?” Perry asked in English. He didn’t think there was anything more Krista could buy. “I would like to sit down for a moment.”

  “Oh, my poor darling!” Krista was instantly all remorse. She reached up to press a kiss on his cheek. “What am I thinking of? Dragging you around after me! You are so brave. You should have said something.” She fluttered frantically.

  They walked slowly towards the entrance of the magnificent edifice. Perry offered to carry her basket of shopping but she refused to relinquish it. They were aware of the stares being directed at them but continued to portray a young English couple totally besotted with each other and unaware of the world around them.

  The interior of the cathedral welcomed them. Krista wanted to collapse onto the nearest bench. She could not. There were people in the cathedral praying. She helped Perry onto one of the benches. She put her basket of shopping beside him then stood for a while, staring around her at the wealth and beauty of the place.

  She joined Perry on the bench and they sat for a while, holding hands and looking around.

  “We should get back on the road,” Perry whispered.

  They stood to leave, Krista stepping out first, her shopping in hand. Perry followed her. An old man passing with his head bowed, hands clenched in prayer, bumped into Perry rather violently. He grabbed Perry’s shoulders to steady him, apologising loudly in German. He used his work-roughened hands to keep Perry steady on his feet and muttered in English, “Get her out of here. Get away. Go home while you still can.”

  He apologised again in German and walked from the cathedral, muttering about stupid Englishmen under his breath. The words could be clearly heard as the acoustics in the cathedral were excellent. The old man knew what he was doing obviously, as his whisper to Perry hadn’t even been heard by Krista.

  “Are you alright?” Krista asked.

  “I am fine, but I really would like to get on the road.” Perry gripped the handle of his cane and walked, with Krista making noises of concern at his side, out of the building and over the cobbles to where they had left the campervan.

  There were four soldiers standing around the van.

  “Gentlemen, hello – may we help you?” Krista called in German, the wide smile on her face almost hurting.

  They turned at her words and her heart sank even further at their cold expressions.

  With hardly a word, they then subjected the van and the travellers to an examination that had Krista biting her tongue. There was no need to pull everything from the storage areas and throw them around. When one held the urn in the air in a threatening way, she burst into tears and loud hysterical sobbing – which wasn’t difficult to do in the circumstances.

  “Shewas so proud to be German!” Krista stood with tears flowing down her cheeks. She had been telling the story of Brunhilda to the soldiers as they tore apart their little campervan. “She insisted I and all of her family learn to speak her mother tongue.” She swiped frantically at her cheeks, ignoring the handkerchief Perry tried to pass to her. “She was so proud of the fact that I resemble her. She wanted to spend eternity flying over her beloved country!”

  One of the soldiers stopped tearing at the contents of her Louis Vuitton luggage and asked, “Where did you say she was born?”

  “I didn’t!” Krista wailed, wanting to tell the man to get his hands off her undergarments. “You never asked!”

  “You said she was born around here!” another soldier shouted out.

  “I did not!” Krista wailed. “Are you not listening to me?”

  Perry had to turn his head away. Krista was playing her part to perfection. He wanted to applaud. The situation was frightening. The place they parked was an artery leading to the market square yet not one person walked along its length while the soldiers held them there.

  “I said she loved this area!” Krista was giving it all she had. She clenched her fists and shouted at the ignorant louts. “She told me the men of the region were all that was charming and gallant! It would break her heart to see you behaving so rudely!” The words might be all that was silly, but she was at least able to shriek out her fury.

  “Dear Lord, Perry!” Krista gasped when they had repacked the campervan and taken to the road. “Things are much worse than we were led to believe. The people here are terrified.”

  “That was some performance back there.” Perry too was shocked by their morning’s experience. “I didn’t know whether to laugh or applaud.” He leaned in to touch her shoulder with his. “I will tell you though. I would never marry a woman like you. I could never trust you!”

  They laughed until they cried, releasing the tension they had been under.

  They drove along, searching for a camping site for the night. Neither mentioned their orders of remaining in the same camping site for two nights. They neither of them wanted to return to the forest.

  “It was brave of that old man to warn me away.” Perry had told her what he had said.

  “His English was good. Maybe he was a soldier in the Great War.”

  They talked for a while about this and that, each concerned for the other and their safety.

  “Perry, how is Gisele to make her way to us if she is subjected to the kind of treatment we have received?” She looked over at him before returning her attention to the road. “We have each other for company and support but she is alone and scared.”

  “What will be, will be.” Perry had no other answer.

  “Yes, indeed … but I pity the poor woman.”

  After a while Perry said, “Krista, do these roads seem superior to you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you are the one driving but they seem to me to be in excellent shape. In fact, they look almost new.” Then it dawned on him. “Dear God – of course – they’re for troop movement!”

  Chapter 6

  Perry left the van, taking care not to wake Krista yet – the poor girl was exhausted. He walked into the forest and moved carefully along, enjoying the sounds of nature around him as the day dawned. He stopped occasionally to pick up sticks and thick fallen branches for the fire. This was the third campsite
he had set up. They would break it down today and move on. What they had seen and heard needed to be reported to the powers that be. The aggression in the air was oppressive.

  He used one of the branches as a walking stick and continued to explore the forest. He soon became uneasy. He felt as if there were eyes upon him. He had felt this way ever since they reached Germany.

  He carried the wood back to their campsite and started a fire in the pit he had dug. He would let the fire die down before brewing a pot of coffee, slicing some of the bread they had bought in Dormagen yesterday and toasting it. With a little butter and jam they would have a meal.

  He sat in one of the chairs they had left under the awning, watching the fire burn down. He hated to wake Krista but they needed to pack up and get back on the road.

  “Perry, is it morning already?” Krista bolted upright at the sound of the door opening. The cold bit as soon as the sleeping bag fell away from her.

  “It is indeed, sleepyhead,” Perry kept his eyes away from her. He stepped carefully around her. She was taking up most of the floor space. He stepped quickly to the little kitchen, removing items he needed. “I have the fire going outside. I am going to make a pot of coffee and toast while you wake up. Join me when you are ready.”

  It took three trips but he soon had everything he needed to hand.

  As soon as Perry closed the campervan door behind him, Krista fought her way out of her sleeping bag. She ached in every bone in her body. She had never felt so cold and tired in her life. She pulled on her outer garments – which she was coming to hate – and used the campervan toilet. When she was ready, she stepped out into the freezing cold morning.

  “We can’t go on like this,” Perry said as soon as they were both clutching mugs of coffee. The heat from the mugs was very welcome.

  Krista leaned in to her mug, enjoying the aroma of coffee and the warming steam. She was afraid to open her mouth. She did not want to be the one to admit defeat.

  “There is simply no way anyone could find us out in the middle of nowhere as we appear to be.” Perry was frustrated. They had been driving back and forth within a wide circle for days. The cold was deepening and if he wasn’t mistaken snow was on the way.

  “Captain Waters appeared to believe she could find us. We are her best hope. I hate to leave anyone to the mercy of the soldiers and guards we have been encountering.”

  It seemed that every road they drove down they encountered more and more soldiers. They, all of them, seemed to take a perverse delight in stopping the campervan and demanding papers and explanations. The very daring demanded they search the campervan. They took no care of the items packed so carefully within the small space. Perry and Krista were forced to spend time returning everything to its place when the bully boys gave up on their idea of fun. They stood around the van and laughed to see the pair restoring order to the chaos they had created.

  “Today we will drive to Dusseldorf and take a room in a hotel,” Perry stated.

  “Perry …” Krista didn’t know what to say. It would be such a relief to be out of the cold. She could have a bath. She almost clapped her hands but didn’t want to let go of the warm mug.

  “We have given it our best shot, Krista,” Perry too longed for a bath and the chance to sleep in a warm soft bed. “We have driven past so many train stations and bus stations I am almost blind from searching faces without appearing to!”

  It was his job to search for the woman and take mental note of all around them while Krista kept her eyes on the road. Waters could not allow them to take the photograph of his sister – it would be too risky. Perry and Krista had done their best to memorise Gisele’s face.

  “We need a break from all this, Krista, to boost our morale.”

  “But …” she tried to object but her heart wasn’t in it.

  “Krista,” Perry swivelled in his deckchair to reach for the coffee pot sitting in the hot ashes to one side of the fire, “you have a career in front of you as a writer of fiction.” He laughed while refilling their mugs. He returned the pot to the ashes before throwing the last of the wood on the fire. “You have told so many stories of Brunhilda Alvensleben and her many beau that I feel I know the woman. I could almost feel the waves from the pleasure cruiser under my feet when you regaled that last lot of guards.”

  “I was afraid, Perry.” Krista sipped the coffee. He had offered to make toast but she couldn’t eat a thing right now. “It breaks my heart to see the beauty all around us. Cologne was a wonderland for the eyes, yet you could sense that everyone was afraid. We need to leave Germany and return home. I sometimes feel as if I have a ticking clock inside my head warning me to run.” It was time and past to admit how terrified, tired and miserable she was. The effort of constantly putting a smile on her face and greeting those soldiers and guards as if she did not fear them was taking its toll.

  “I too have had enough,” Perry threw the dregs of his coffee on the fire. They hadn’t eaten the bread he had carried out for toast. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at the moment as much as packing up and getting on the road.

  They were old hands at the chores that needed to be completed before they moved on from their campsites. They could be packed up in little time.

  They didn’t need words between them as Krista returned and stored all items in the campervan. Perry threw earth on the fire and carefully checked to insure there were no sparks remaining. He would allow the stones that surrounded the fire to cool while he rolled the awning back into the side of the van. By the time they left it would be almost as if they were never here.

  “You have not enjoyed camping at all, have you, Krista?” Perry asked as they motored along the smooth road.

  “If Brunhilda had been born in June,” she took her eyes off the road for a moment to share a laugh with him, “I am sure the journey would have been delightful. We have camped in areas which are so beautiful. In the sunshine I am sure I would delight in skipping gaily along but in the cold … mon Dieu, it is miserable!”

  “We have not been able to escape each other either.” Perry was keeping a close eye on the area they passed through. There were a lot of people on the road travelling to work. Factories billowed out black smoke into the air. It did not appear Germany was suffering the same lack of industry as the rest of the world. The economic depression had cut deep into the life of English working men and women. But it would appear everyone in Germany – or at least the area they had passed through – had more work than they had hours.

  “I am proud of both of us.” Krista too was noticing the trucks carrying payloads of coal along the route. “We have made a true effort to remain polite and sane.” She once again took her eyes from the road. “It has been difficult at times.”

  “Keep your eyes on the road and head with all speed to Dusseldorf, madam. I want a bath and a soft bed.”

  They laughed together. They were becoming expert at presenting an image of carefree youth to anyone who might care to watch and wonder.

  “You will have more of an audience there as you heap coals of abuse upon my poor innocent head for bringing you on such a dreadful honeymoon.”

  “I will give some thought to the abuse I mean to mete out!” She had been bemoaning her lot for so long she was tired of the sound of her own voice.

  “Krista,” Perry didn’t move in his seat but his voice was sharp, “there are a lot of trucks heading off the main road in that direction.” He used his hand, hidden under the campervan’s body to point to a line of trucks waiting to exit the road they were on to link up with another. “We need to follow that road and see what is going on.”

  “Some of those trucks are filled with soldiers.” Krista too had been taking note. “It would be dangerous to follow along while there are so many waiting to exit. We need to find somewhere to wait and make the connection to the other road when this lot have cleared.”

  “Slow down.” Perry sat forward. “Turn in there.” He pointed.

  Krista didn�
��t question him. She was used to him giving directions. She drove off the main road into what appeared to be a way station – there was a restaurant and garage with several petrol pumps. There was even a row of public toilets. She pulled the campervan up to one of the petrol pumps and turned off the engine with a sigh of relief. She intended to use the public toilets no matter how dire they might be. She stepped out of the van on one side and Perry on the other.

  “Darling!”

  Perry’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

  She’d been preparing to push through the interested crowd and sprint to the toilets. She wanted to inspect the interior. If there was hot running water she intended to freshen up.

  In English he said loudly, “Will you tell this man what we need before you disappear, please.”

  “Sorry, darling,” Krista said in English. “I was so eager to check out what appears to be a plumbed-in toilet I forgot my manners. What do we need?”

  “Ask this chap if there is someone who can wash the van down and wax it.” He patted the side of the van fondly. “We have put the old girl through her paces.”

  “Perhaps I could assist?” A man they had not noticed stepped into view.

  He was an attractive older man with grey shading the blonde hair over his ears. His blue eyes had lines around them like those of a man used to the outdoors. He was dressed expensively and gave the impression of being comfortable with his place in the world. “I can translate your needs,” he gestured towards the attendant with one elegant hand, “while your wife tends to her own needs.”

  “Herr Count!” The attendant clicked his heels together and gave the ‘Heil Hitler’ salute.

  “You run along, darling,” Perry said. “This gentleman will translate for me.”

  “I shan’t be long!” Krista took to her heels. She noticed the presence of the man the attendant had called Herr Count seemed to be affecting the behaviour of the men around her. There were no nasty comments and offensive suggestions offered as she sought a free public toilet.