Monday 10 December 2012

Keeping granny company




Chec
Check out my two novels here.
It had been snowing heavily for most of the day, Klara wrapped a scarf round her neck and took the lift down to the ground floor. The figure that left the high rise block looked like any young woman going out on a cold December evening. Her knee high boots, tights, black skirt and grey chunky jumper covered with a long black coat and black woollen scarf. If you looked a bit closer, you'd see everything was a little threadbare, a little tired, including Klara herself who was older than the first glance suggested. She hurried as much as she could in the trecherous conditions. A quick glance at the clock on the lamppost told her she was already a little late. The streets were deserted; people preferring to stay at home rather than brave the arctic conditions. The wind whistled through her clothing and she shivered as she passed the imposing tower of the secret police building. The severe building reminding her this was real, there was no safety net, no parachute. Granny was sitting in the corner of the dimly lit, L-shaped cafe. Klara felt a slight twinge of guilt at using her grandmother as cover, dragging in an innocent old lady but needs must. She greeted granny with a kiss and hug, removed her top wear and ordered tea. She subtly took in her surroundings. Two other people were in the cafe; both sat alone nursing a shot glass. Both were males, both in their 40s and both had close cropped hair. Both of them watched her like she was an exotic creature. She answered granny's questions about work and listened to granny's medical conditions. She sipped at her tea and lit a cigarette for her and her grandmother. The way the women inhaled and blew out smoke was identical, there may have been 45 years between them but they were similar in so many ways not only in looks. Granny had been in the resistance during the war, fighting the Nazis, dodging the bullets, sneaking around at night, Klara was now fighting the regime, different ideology - same tyranny. Klara, stubbed out the cigarette and nodded towards the toilet. She stood up, straightened her skirt and went through the door at the end of the restaurant. In front of her were two further doors, she entered the one marked ladies, locked it and waited. It wasn't long before she heard the door open, someone enter the antechamber and lock the door of the men's toilet.
'I'm learning to count using an abacus.' The voice was clear and strong. Klara wondered which man it was, the one with the beard or the clean-shaven one with the beautiful blue eyes.
'The arrow points the way' she replied through the walls. Her voice was calm, her heart rate normal, hands dry.
She left the cubical dropped the film on the floor and washed her hands. Back in the cafe the man with the eyes was watching as she came out, his eyes seemed to pierce her, accuse her, she blushed a little as she sat down. Granny smiled at her, misreading the situation.
'Very handsome isn't he,' she teased her granddaughter. Klara had to agree, but the man scared her.
The toilet door opened again, and the bearded man walked nonchalantly through the cafe and out into the snowstorm.
Klara walked her granny home, it was not far from the cafe but in the icy conditions granny needed a little help. After their goodbyes Klara headed home, into the wind. She battled the elements and tried to keep her footing. It was dark and lonely, not a soul in sight. Just as she turned into her street she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned round to see the man with the blue eyes staring at her, smiling. She immediately thought that she'd been caught,  that she'd spend the night in the tower and then well, who knows? She'd heard the rumours of course but they didn't bear thinking about.
The man spoke but the wind whipped away his words. She put her hands out ready to be cuffed. He foisted a black scarf into her hands.
'You left this at the cafe,' he yelled again. Klara looked at the scarf and looked again at the beautiful blue eyes. She blushed, smiled and felt a wave of relief flush over her.
Pavel turned and walked away, he'd been spying on Klara for 3 weeks, but in that time she'd very quickly gone from suspect to the object of his desires. The way she moved, the way she laughed, the way her face wrinkled, everything about her. He knew he could never have her, she was the enemy; but he also knew he could never harm her. He knew she had made contact with 'them' tonight, knew she'd handed over the film he’d seen her make. But in the morning his report would say she was no longer under investigation, just a girl keeping her granny company on a cold winter's night.

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