Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 9.

by Andy Engines

“Lower”. The old woman critiqued me as I awkwardly lowered myself in a curtsey whilst holding the folds of my course skirt and crossing one leg behind the other.

Yesterday in the great house I had been dusting ornaments when a lady swept through the room. She glided saliently past me and it seemed to me that we existed in parallel universes. To her it appeared I didn’t exist. She entered and departed at the same speed, her eyes fixed ahead and head unmoving. I was invisible or so I thought. In the kitchen during our break there was a hubbub of chatter. Hearing my name dragged me from my thoughts and into the present.

“Marije, stupid girl.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t you know how to show respect to your betters.” The housekeeper turned back to the old woman. “At least she didn’t speak… thank God for small mercies.”

The big house had changed many things. Our once peaceful existence was shattered; the simple routines I had become accustomed to had been disrupted by the twice weekly trek to what I now thought of as ‘work’. Like the cottage I found myself adapting to change and as the cottage had given me comfort the big house gave me purpose, I had a role for the first time in my life. I had never envisaged myself cleaning but the challenge of the task and the headspace that repeated cleaning gave me was cathartic. I could drift off and let emotion melt away.

Something was happening, changing again. As winter progressed into spring the staff at the house seemed busier. There was an urgency that hadn’t existed before but I knew better than to ask anything of anyone. I either wouldn’t get an answer or who ever I asked would laugh. My Croatian though improving was still halting and the effect was it made me appear slow, it made me appear stupid. I knew different but in a world of blind men the one-eyed man is King and I was beyond blind. My defence mechanism was to listen, to observe, to learn and above all to say as little as possible.

After we finished my lessons the old woman smiled and made me remain standing. “Here girl lift your apron let me see your waist.” As I raised my apron she took a tape from one of her many pockets and without warning reached around me and took my waist size. She followed this with chest, bust, legs, arms and with the occasional tut she wrote everything down.

“What is this for?”

“Shhhh it’s a surprise.” And not another word was said.

“That’s not my passport.”

“I know. But it is yours for now.” Mr Gaspar held it out to me with his face devoid of emotion. “Valentina, this is your get out of jail free card.”

“My what?”

“This is a journey you started with your choices. Think about that.” He paused to let it sink in and all the time his eyes never left mine. “Let us help you. And for us to help you we need to keep you out of the prison.”

“But what about Marije. She is innocent. We can’t leave her with this.” Emotion was climbing ever higher in my chest and I could feel my hands start to tremble. I grabbed the passport from his hand and waved it in front of him. “An innocent woman has been arrested for murder and all you can do is say ‘this is your get out of jail free card’.”

He just stared at me, his face gave nothing away and when he spoke his voice was level, even, calm. “You had a duty to Marije and you failed.”

“I failed… How do you work that out, it was Marije who persuaded me to let her go to the police and…” I stopped mid sentence. It hit me all at once. She had needed to persuade me. Me. I was her employer. I had a duty of care. I had been responsible for her. I could have said no. He was right. I had failed Marije right from the start.

“Valentina. Listen to me. We are here to help both you and Marije. Let me do my job. Please let me do my job and you will both be safe.”

As I sat milling my actions over in my mind the smell of cherry tobacco drifted lazily over my head. Once more I thought of my Grandfather and right then I would have given anything to be that small girl on his lap again.

The silence was destroyed by a knock at the door and with a start I sat upright. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to see whatever bad news was standing on the other side. Mr Gaspar looked towards me and smiled.

“The Cavalry. I think you call it.”

“Cavalry?”

Without another word he walked to the door and opened it. Standing on the threshold was a man of medium age in a suit. He looked dishevelled and tired but then he smiled and spoke.

“James Colsen. For Miss Valentina Van Den Berg. Mark Jopson sent me. Mr Banko Gaspar I presume.”

I never thought I would be so happy to hear an American accent but as he spoke it seemed as if everything was positive again. I was not alone.

Scribbled notes were spread over the table and the pile grew as the sun marched across the sky. I had told and retold the series of events from start to finish several times. I would have thought that each telling of the story would get easier but with my new perspective it only got harder. Now that I realised I was responsible for this mess I found it even more painful to dredge up every little detail. It was as if I had taken a few steps left and was now seeing the picture from a new angle.

After I finished talking James started to question Mr Gaspar and slowly it evolved into a full discussion between the two men. I felt like a spectator as they talked and feeling useless I offered to make coffee. It kept me distracted and I needed to do something. When I returned James was on his phone and on seeing me waved me over. Placing his phone on the table he turned on the speaker and Marks voiced filled the room.

“Mark.”

“Val. How are you holding up?

First there was Mr Gaspar, then James and now Mark. I felt safe. I felt positive.

“Mark, I am good and thanks for calling. You have no idea how much I appreciate your help… everyone’s help. I just want to resolve this now. Have you heard about Marije?”

“Yes, James filled me in. Branco seems to have a handle on the legal aspects regarding the courts and Branco please let James know what funds are needed and where.”

I looked across at Mr Gaspar who was quietly nodding.

“Now Val, give James and Branco the details for rental payments for the apartment and any other information they may need. I will fax through power of attorney paperwork to release funds on your behalf and for the defence costs. Are you happy with this?”

“Of course, anything that is needed just ask.”

“So, gentleman lets aim at having a plan of attack laid out by morning. My first aim would be to have the charges dropped and the return of Marije. If that happens James fly the girls out immediately. Understood?”

“Got it.” James was scribbling on a new pad as Mark spoke. The relief in my mind was palpable. It was as if Marks words were clearing the clouds and making everything seem simple. Straightforward. I felt energy where before there was lethargy and defeat.

“Branco, push every button that you can. Take legal argument and if you think that is failing use whatever you can. If we must then grease the wheels. Leave no stone unturned.”

Mr Gaspar leaned close to the phone. “Grease the wheels, sorry I don’t understand.”

“Money Gaspar. If you need to then spread money to get our result. Be clear that I am aiming at a result, the methodology is unimportant. Understand? And people tell me if you are unhappy or have a problem with this. If you do speak up now.”

Silence filled the room.

“Good. Let's talk tomorrow at 1200 your time.” 

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