Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 12.

Here's the next chapter of Andy's international saga at last. Apologies from the author for taking so long between chapters. As usual, real life keeps intervening.
 

by Andy Engines

“Oh my God, he is so cute.”  Laughing I looked across at the boy on the jet-ski that Jackie was ogling. The sun was shining down on us and Jost Van Dyke was my favourite place on earth. Well favourite until the next island. 

At first I thought being cramped on a small boat in the Caribbean sounded so dull. Tiny cabins, no freedom and boring routine and yet on arriving for our girls trip we were happily surprised by the sumptuousness of our ‘tiny’ boat. As boats go it was largish I suppose and the helicopter sitting high above us on the top platform did look impressive but it was still tiny compared to the suites I was used to. Looking over I could see Caitlyn eyeing up one of the sailors who often appeared as if by magic and provided for our every whim. 

Girls walked perfectly upright carrying trays as if they were born to it delivering a steady flow of drinks, snacks and meals created by the Michelin star chef hidden far below in a kitchen somewhere.in the bowels of the boat. Yesterday had been St Martens and now we were In the BVI’s to tour and enjoy in our little palace. Rebecca started to guffaw and looking over I could see Caitlyn had snared her man. A bronzed Adonis in a rather fetching white uniform was gently massaging sun lotion into her back.

Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 11.

by Andy Engines

Noises crept into my dream and slowly my eyes opened to the dark unfamiliar room. My body was cold and my soul numb. The room was warm but fear rippled through me as if a stone had been thrown into my own personal lake. Creating havoc where before there was serenity. I was alone, or so it felt, for the first time in a long time. Slowly I reached, touching unfamiliar objects and finally finding the small lamp; light flooded into my room. It was stark, bare, devoid of emotion or character. It was more a cell than a room and an all too hard reminder that this was now my home. The only decoration was my uniform for the day; hanging neatly to attention on the back of the grey door.

As I entered the great kitchen it was the same but then it wasn’t. There had been no walk in the dark before dawn. The faces were all the same but even they were different. And then I realised they were all the same. Everything was the same. It was me that was different.

“Marije. Don’t stand looking stupid. Come Girl, take this.” I turned to the cook and she smiled as she offered a steaming cup of coffee. “Sit, get warm and drink your coffee. Breakfast will be a while yet and you need some energy.”

Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 10.

by Andy Engines

I stared in the mirror not quite comprehending what I was seeing or rather the full extent of what it meant. The dress was black. Fitted but not too tight to allow a full range of movement. It ended just below my knees and halfway to my elbows with a white collar around the neck. Combined with the white apron it could only be one thing.

I stood looking at myself in the mirror and for the first time since this whole diabolical period had started I felt beaten. I had seen maids. My family had employed maids and not once had I thought I would be staring at myself as a maid. But now I was. I felt the uniform, touching the fabric as if it was one totally alien to me. I was in shock. This was a badge. This was a huge reminder of who I was and who I had once been. This was a measure of my defeat.

“Come child.” I glanced over at the housekeeper as she stood watching me. “You have chores to do and little time do them.”

And that was it.

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.”

Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 8.

by Andy Engines

“Marije, stupid girl.”

The old woman’s hand flashed out and caught me hard on the side of my face. Tears welled up and I fought to hold them in as nausea pushed up from my stomach and I started to shake. Her face instantly changed and she smiled again and then held me tight.

“Sorry my child but you have to be less clumsy.”

I looked down at the shards of the vase around my feet and so wanted to tell her it was a mistake; that the cat had made me jump, but although my understanding was improving my spoken vocabulary was woefully inadequate still.

“Sorry. Mistake.”

She held me back at arm’s length and smiling she took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped my eyes. “Now, get this mess cleared up.”

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.

Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 6.

by Andy Engines

The water was freezing as we plunged the sheets into the stream and then out to scrub on the old flat rock at our side. I had learnt to work hard and fast to get blood flow into my fingers and yet every time we did this the old woman would look and laugh.

“Cold yes?” her eyes shined in amusement as we scrubbed and she talked on, some words coming clear but the rest a blur. I was getting proud that I could just about follow her monologue if she kept to simple words and didn’t change the subject once I had grasped what she was talking about.

“Yes… Cold… fingers… cold.”

Her eyes crinkled up and she guffawed loudly in pleasure at my words. It was a beautiful day and the sun was still low in the sky as we scrubbed and washed.

Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 5.

by Andy Engines

“The Chief Inspector has decided to hold Miss Van Den Berg for further questioning and he requested Inspector Novak to come and inform you of Miss Van Den Bergs temporary confinement.”

Marije had been gone for two hours when a banging on the door startled me and warily I looked into the spyhole to see the inspector and translator standing outside. We now sat facing each other in the lounge.

“Confinement, I don’t understand… and who is the Chief Inspector.”

“Sorry Miss Zuzic, my English isn’t perfect…” She turned and conferred with the inspector again before turning back to me. “Confinement is wrong, sorry. I believe what I am trying to say is Miss Van Den Berg is making a second statement and may be delayed until tomorrow. I can assure you she is perfectly well and she requested the Inspector to tell you this. And the Chief Inspector is Inspector Novak's superior, naturally.”

I was getting more worried as each word left her mouth. I could feel my fingers start to tremble.

Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 4.

by Andy Engines

My daily routine was slowly growing on me and I found that it helped to take my mind from other matters beyond the little cottage. The old woman was starting to make a more sense as I picked up individual words. She would smile as she held something in front of me and repeat its name over and over whilst waving her hand for me to repeat. The reward of a smile when I got the pronunciation right was becoming addictive.

Every morning my first task was to clear the ashes from the range in the kitchen and I soon learnt to preserve all the embers that were still alight as these made short work of getting the fire going again. As soon as the fire was lit I would get a kettle of water on to boil, expectant of the first drink of the day an hour or so later.

Once the water was on to boil I would sweep the kitchen floor and once satisfied that the floor was as dust free as it could be I would slowly crawl back across the old stones scrubbing them clean with a hand brush and water. At first my knees ached from the kiss of the old stones and my hands were perpetually sore but after little time I found the aches disappeared. Slowly my young body adapted to the daily demands it faced.

Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 3.

by Andy Engines

I sat, waiting and time slowed down to grains of sand. There was still no word. It had been 2 hours, then 3, then 4 and still Marije hadn’t returned. Each minute that passed marked more questions, more worry and more doubts. I was doubting myself, doubting Marije, doubting the world and asking why I had pursued this line of action and then I realised I had pursued no line. I had been carried on a wave that lifted me and dragged me forward with absolutely no control.

After 5 hours I was starting to get frantic and found myself pacing the apartment, listening for any sound of her arrival. When I realised how stupid I was being I sat in the window and watched for her return in the hope that sitting watching would speed events up. She would return, why on earth wouldn’t she? I made yet another coffee and returned to my vigil and realising the stupidity of my actions I returned to pacing and listening once more.

Something must have happened, something had gone wrong, what was taking so long, why wasn’t she back yet. At some point worry gave way to something far worse. A feeling of loneliness started to descend on me and I was very aware that I was in a strange land in a horrible predicament and I knew absolutely no one.  Tears started to flow and I don’t honestly know whether they were worry for me, worry for Marije or just plain self pity but the emotion was raw; it held me in a vice like grip and I didn’t know which way to turn.

“Mistress?”

Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 2.

by Andy Engines

The old woman smiled as she spoke, intently looking at me as if she could will me to understanding. It had been two weeks now and I still didn’t understand a word but as she started pantomiming sweeping the floor understanding dawned. I smiled back at her and put my book down and took up a brush and started to help sweep the floor. As we worked she constantly talked and I had no idea if she was talking to herself or to me but I found her company soothing. Right now I needed company and I couldn’t face being alone once more in the mess that had unfolded around me. As we worked she continued to smile and every now and then looked over at me and nodded her head whilst making a clucking sound that I hoped was approval.

Just as the void created in my soul at the death of my parents was starting to heal a new one had opened up. The last two weeks had been a terrifying ordeal and it still hadn’t fully sunk in, it felt as if I was stuck in a dream, or rather stuck in a nightmare. The moment when I was sat in the bath and Marija entered was etched vividly into my memory.

“Oh my God, you don’t think?”

Story: Dancing With My Soul. Chapter 1.

by Andy Engines

It was one of those balmy afternoons where the sun was not too hot and the wind perfect as it tickled over my body cooling just enough to satisfy as I lay basking in the Adriatic sun.  Thoughts of the week before in Vienna played out in my mind as I remembered the magical touch of the music as I danced during the Concordia ball. I was used to extravaganzas, used to money and its power but this had been so much more. One hundred and fifty three years of history gave it something money could never buy back home. It was deeper, soul soothing in its beauty, and … oh so elegant. The past two years had been a black hole in my life and this had helped close the hole in my soul.

Marije had helped me choose a dress and prepare. She had briefed me, taught me and helped me blend in with the old money of Europe. It wasn’t that I was uncouth as I was used to mixing with society. I had grown up with the American elite in privileged money built cocoons; summers in Martha’s Vineyard, the Hamptons, skiing in Aspen, boarding schools and then finishing schools, but I believed the old families of Europe did it better. They did it more elegantly, they didn’t believe bigger was better and ultimately, I believed, they were more cultured. They had the depth of history that we lacked. They observed time honoured traditions and believed that money didn’t necessarily make a person.

Marije had served for old families in Europe before coming to America and ultimately to me. She had a vast knowledge of European etiquette. It was not just her knowledge that I found I desired, but her company as well. She was fast turning into more than a maid to me, I saw her almost as a companion on my travels. My partner in crime. My friend.