Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 7.

by Andy Engines

Expectantly I sat watching the lawyer as he pulled a writing pad from his briefcase and placed it precisely on the table. He looked up and smiled at me as he reached across his chest and pulled an old fashioned fountain pen from his inner pocket. The silence was unbearable and his smile remained pointed in my direction as he went through an obvious ritual. Last to appear from a side pocket was an old beaten pipe that he lifted out and held in front of me as if for inspection.

“Miss Van Den Berg…May I?”

I dumbly nodded as he then pulled out what looked like a pocket knife from his jacket. “and please its Valentina.” The smile was still pointed at me and then as he picked away at the bowl of the pipe his eyes joined the smile.

“Do you have a … Some thing for this?” He held the pipe pointing into the bowl.

I rose and went to the kitchen wordlessly and looking through cupboards found a side plate that I imagined would suffice. Returning I placed the plate in front of him and sat opposite him again. He nodded his head in thanks and tapped out the bowl of the pipe onto the plate.

“Do excuse me please. I think better when I have my pipe.”

As he worked I took the opportunity to watch him and couldn’t help but like the old man. As I opened the door on his arrival he had briefly introduced himself and then with his infectious smile had entered and asked for a few minutes to organise himself and his mind now that the drive was over.  He wasn’t the lawyer I had imagined. In my mind I was expecting a younger man, driven, dressed for success and alert. Yet, I knew appearances could be deceiving, he was obviously experienced, his age told me that and if Mark had chosen him he must be good.

His hair was gray and neatly trimmed, the beard also trimmed short and both framing a lined face that showed wisdom and experience with laughter lines at his eyes. His clothes were crumpled from the car drive but neat and tidy and it was obvious his tweed jacket was much used and obviously much loved; a part of him in so many ways I imagined. As my mind wandered a cloud of smoke rose from his pipe as he puffed it vigorously to life. Cherry tobacco wafted through the room and I found my mind drifting back to another old man in another time.

“Grandad, you’re on fire.”

“No Valentina, its my pipe.” He laughed and waved me over to his knee. “Come little Princess, come and sit with me.”

“So… Apologies Miss Van Den Berg.” I shook my head and re-joined the present. “Please start at the beginning and tell me everything. Don’t try to think just talk to me.”

Words flowed and I found the second telling much easier, first to Mark and now to a lawyer.  As I spoke he didn’t stop me nor did he take many notes, his eyes focused on me and I felt as if he was listening not only to every word but every syllable, every sound I uttered. As I finished he smiled and sat looking at me in silence.

“Hmm was that clear, do you want me to repeat any parts?” I looked at him looking at me and I felt the need to speak.

“No, that is fine Miss Van Den Berg. I am just repeating in my mind.” He smiled that smile again whilst tapping his head. “I find it helps seal the words in if I focus back over it.” After what seemed an age he sat upright and energy flowed with the movement. Everything changed.

“Now questions, and this time I will be asking for a slower telling to the answers.” That smile again. “And this time it will take a little longer.”

He probed the story and scribbled on his pad and the time stood still as he dissected each part for more information, writing and plotting each part in his pad. By the time we finished I was exhausted and my mind was whirring but throughout all his questions and probing he had remained the gentle old man who knocked on the door.

“Hmmm. This good now, tonight we sleep and tomorrow I will visit our friend the inspector and collect Miss Zuzic.” As he finished he looked around and then looked back at me. It was the first time I had seen him in any way at a loss.

“Is there a problem Mr Gaspar.”

“Hmm no problem but it is late and I have no hotel, it was explained to me that I would be accommodated. I apologize. I will find a hotel. This is most awkward.”

It was so funny I almost laughed and gladly I explained that there were more than enough rooms; but underneath, if I confess, the idea of not being alone in the apartment lifted my spirits higher. Right now I needed company.

The morning sun reached that height where it shone directly onto me and sleep became impossible as the day didn’t so much announce its arrival but shouted and seared through my eyelids to my sleep infused brain. It was a beautiful time and after what seemed like an eternity of gloom my mood was higher, my spirits elevated and the sun the harbinger of a good day. It is amazing what hope can do and with a bounce I entered the living room to find Mr Gaspar sitting watching the square outside. The second thing I noticed was the aroma of coffee coming from the kitchen.

“Ahhh the morning suits you my dear. I hope you don’t mind but I took a liberty with your coffee machine.” He smiled and then waved at the table. “And I woke to the smell of the pastries from the cafe so I thought they would help the coffee taste even better.”

I watched the square with him whilst we ate and drank, seeing people going about their morning and for the first time I realised the simplicity and beauty of the scene I was witnessing. With a start I realized that for the last few mornings I had seen only monsters.

“You know you are witnessing over a thousand years of history.”

“Sorry?”

“A thousand years. More than a thousand years. These are good people Miss Van Den Berg, please don’t judge us all by the actions of a few. But I admit that all people have their limits and these people, my people reached theirs long ago.” He looked across at me and his face was sad.

“The people of Croatia have had war at our borders for as long as history can be written. We've been under the Romans, the Barbarian hordes marched through our lands. The Ottomans raided our borders, killing and pillaging. We've been the Habsburgs' military frontier for centuries.  After the war we were moulded into Communist Yugoslavia with our neighbouring states and ruled by Tito for decades. Our history and tradition were rewritten and denied to us by our Communist masters.”

As he spoke his voice remained calm but I could see pain in his eyes as he talked.

 “When Europe celebrated unification and peace after the fall of Communism we entered our darkest days. Yugoslavia collapsed and neighbours who had lived peacefully for generations started to kill each other, town against town, village against village, neighbour against neighbour, family against family.”

I couldn’t disturb him nor did I want to. As he spoke I looked over the square and the image of tranquillity was so at odds with his words.

“We are a people laid bare and stripped of everything, by conquest, by political gain, by religion and then finally by ourselves. It is a tragedy and sadly it has left us impoverished. Great houses have fallen over the centuries and yet we still have dukes and counts but they are empty titles, hunted by the communists and impoverished by war.”

“Look outside. There is Croatia and her struggle, the old woman bent at the back with crooked fingers, the old man broken from years in the fields and yet they are proud.  These people love and laugh but some, a few, will use any power they have to extort, to blackmail and to pad their empty nest. It is these people I apologise for. Please find it in your heart to forgive us.”

“Forgive us?” it was the first word I had spoken.

“Yes forgive us Miss Van Den Berg. Forgive Croatia and don’t judge her by this horrible affair.”

We sat in silence and as if needing a distraction he pulled out his pipe. I made two coffees and finding no words I sat down again but this time as I looked at the square I saw something different. I started to see the history behind the old couple who had witnessed so much and the hopes of the young couple who had everything to live for.

“So… Miss Van Den Berg. To business-

“Please… call me Val or Valentina.”

“So be it. Well… Valentina… Soon the associate sent from the USA should be here to help but in the meantime I intend to visit the police station and find out what is happening.“ He looked at me hard. “I mean really happening and then we can get this all sorted.”

He sat back and smiled as if victory was ours and his optimism was infectious.

“Of course I will have to address Miss Zuzic as yourself to prevent further problems but this shouldn’t be an issue. Now I believe the police still have your passports and one of my prime aims is to secure their release into my holding and hence yours. I believe from what you have said that they are being held purely as a weapon to extort money from you.”

As he spoke everything became so clear cut, so simple and the vipers den of problems I had made in my mind slowly started to disappear.

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