[guide.chat] chapter fifteen in mysterious ways
- From: vanessa <qwerty1234567a@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: "GUIDE CHAT" <guide.chat@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Tue, 19 Mar 2013 23:52:39 -0000
IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS
Chapter 15
Three more letters from Martin arrived, all addressed to Ilse and me. They
were nice, chatty letters. Then one day a letter came just for me. It was
short and to the point. 'Dear Trudi,' it began. 'I have thought for a long
time, how to write this, and found no other way but to come straight to the
point. Trudi, I love you, will you marry me? All my love, Martin.'
I was stunned after reading this letter, and without speaking handed it to
Ilse. I didn't know what to say. Ilse read the few lines, and she gave the
letter back to me silently too. Then we just sat there. I could not believe
it - he couldn't just ask me to marry him - not just like that, after only
seeing me during meals a few times, and a walk - and one kiss. Was that enough
to ask a girl to get married? He must be crazy. Or perhaps it was a joke.
But I knew Martin a little by now, and could not believe he would joke about
something like that. Something - this was not just something - this was big.
It was about marriage - about sharing our lives with each other.
When I found my voice again, I said as much to Ilse. She agreed with me, but
then, everyone would. It was absolutely crazy to think about this proposal, to
take it seriously. Suddenly Ilse laughed. "Let's ask Mrs Ashworth if we can
celebrate your engagement in the morning room, Trudi."
I had to laugh too, imagining how livid Jane would be if I got engaged to
Martin - or even thought of meeting him socially, simply because he was working
class. She hadn't known our guests would accompany us on that evening, or she
would have done her utmost to prevent it.
But Jane was not the problem; we knew how to handle her. But what should I do
about Martin?
I was flattered, of course, and gratified too, somehow. He had felt something
after all, when he kissed me. But so much, that he wanted to marry me? At
least his proposal was good for my self-image which had received a serious
battering from Mrs Ashworth, when it was still tender after the break up with
Peter.
But it would be crazy to take Martin seriously.
So, after talking about it again with my friend, I decided to ignore what he
wrote and wait a few days or a week. Then Ilse and I would write a nice chatty
letter from both of us, just as we usually did, and not even mention his
proposal.
But Ilse couldn't help it, but tell Mrs Ashworth that Martin had asked me to
marry him. It was too good an opportunity to tease Jane, especially as she had
so often said I couldn't attract any men - and also because Martin was working
class. This would hit home, if anything did.
Mrs Ashworth was indeed horrified. "What some working class men take out for
themselves. I hope you have not encouraged him, Trudi," she said, glaring at
me. "You can't seriously think of getting involved with such a man?"
I nodded calmly. "I quite like him," I said. And it was true. I did like him
- very much even. But that was all. By now I had got over the initial
attraction. Whatever I had felt on this magic night had disappeared. It was
gone.
I wasn't really considering getting involved, but Jane didn't need to know. It
would do her good to digest this news for a while, to simmer a bit, knowing she
was wrong, and I did attract men.
Anyway, we'd soon go back to Vienna, so I wouldn't see Martin again.
A week later Ilse and I wrote back to him. We didn't refer to his proposal at
all, and just wrote a nice letter from both of us, signing it with Ilse and
Trudi. Martin could make of it what he wanted to.
But Ilse couldn't stop teasing Mrs Ashworth, and asked for permission to
arrange an engagement party in the morning room. Jane was so taken aback, for
a few moments she was speechless and her face turned an unladylike red.
"Not under any circumstances," she said sharply, once she had recovered a
little. Her face remained tight, though the red colour disappeared. Instead
she grew very pale. She said no more, but we knew how she felt. Just the
thought of having working class people in her morning room must hurt every
fibre of her aristocratic being. It was unthinkable. Bad enough, that I, whom
she had befriended and treated as an equal, had contact with a working class
man and was thinking of meeting him, of getting into a closer relationship
even. I was sure, she was glad now, that we were leaving.
In the meantime, Ilse and I began preparing for our journey home - or rather,
we started to think about the practicalities and the details. Our bike would
have to be sold - but this small problem solved itself, because Hiltrud offered
to buy it. I was sorry to lose the first bicycle I'd ever owned - well, half
owned. But it had to go. So we agreed on a price, and Hiltrud would wait for
our treasure until Ilse and I were leaving.
We hadn't decided on a date yet. But we were in no particular hurry, and could
wait long enough for Mrs Ashworth to 'find' her new girls. So we told her we
were ready to go, but promised to give her enough time to organise everything
at her convenience.
Mrs Ashworth said she appreciated our consideration. She intended to engage
two girls to replace us, having a business to run now.
Nothing more was said about Martin - neither by her, nor by us. We'd had our
fun, now the matter could rest. It was time to get our departure organised,
and in as peaceful a way as possible, for Elisabeth' sake.
Our employer seemed to have decided on a similar course. So, for a while,
there was peace at the Manor, or, at least there was no open strife. We just
avoided each other whenever we could.
Then, one day out of the blue, Jane asked me to come to the shop in the village
with her. Of late, she hadn't asked me because of the tension between us,
increasing each day. Ilse's suggestion of an engagement party had tipped the
balance, and the atmosphere had grown cold.
So it would not be wise to refuse Jane's invitation - it might be an olive
branch she held out to me, trying to make peace.
Jane's car was an Armstrong, a collector's item, and she was very proud of
owning an Armstrong. The doors didn't open towards the rear as in modern cars,
but to the front, where the windscreen was. But I didn't think about this, as
I got in and shut the door. And then we were off.
Already past the lane and driving along the main the road, Mrs Ashworth said
suddenly: "Trudi, the door on your side is not properly closed."
Quite automatically I opened the door slightly to slam it shut, the way I had
been instructed by other drivers. I didn't realise the implications of the
door facing the other way, and I wasn't aware of the danger and the disastrous
consequences.
As I opened the catch, the wind took the door, pulling it open. Though I
tried, it was impossible to shut it again. With the wind blowing against it,
the door opened wider, and as I hung on, determined to close it again, I was
pulled out of the car.
I wasn't sitting anymore - my whole body was stretching like a rubber-band, as
the door opened further and ever further. Suspended over the road, I hang on,
my heels gripping the sill. If they slipped, or my fingers could no longer
hold on, I would fall out and be killed probably.
Somehow, I must close the door.
Using all of my strength, I tried again and again, aware of the danger - aware
that something would have to give: either my feet, or my fingers.
But I was loosing my strength, I couldn't hold on any longer.
And the car was speeding along.
"Slow down," I screamed, but the wind took my words, I didn't know if Jane
heard me. But she must know, I was sitting next to her - or rather, I had been
siting. Now I was hanging out of the car, until I lost my grip.
If she didn't stop, I'd get killed, or badly injured at least.
I managed to turn my head, and I saw her. Jane was looking directly at me, a
peculiar expression on her face. There was a smile on her lips, and a strange
glitter in her eyes, and as I hung out there suspended in time, watching her, I
saw how she put the foot down hard on the accelerator. And I felt the car
shooting forward even faster.
In this moment I knew she would not slow down.
With the increase in speed I was pulled out of the car even further. I was
stretched to my limit now. A fresh surge of panic hit me, and with it new
strength. I knew I would die unless I got back in the car. With one last
supreme effort I kept pulling on the door whilst tightening my legs. And, very
slowly, inch by inch, the door followed my will. Gradually I got back in the
car, shutting the door.
For a while I could only just sit there, unable to move. I was totally
exhausted and in shock, about what had happened, and about what nearly did.
But the hardest of all to accept was the expression I had seen on Jane's face.
It stayed with me. I remembered vividly how she had looked at me as I hung out
there, suspended over the road, whilst she drove on with sixty at least - and
then put her foot down, quite deliberately. The look on her face was still
with me now, filling me with revulsion and fear. I had recognised it. She had
enjoyed watching the predicament and the danger I was in. It was enjoyment I
had seen in her eyes and a strange kind of excitement. A shiver went down my
spine. I didn't want to think any further.
Now, her face had changed again; the shutters were down once more. She started
to speak, sounding angry, yet totally calm and in control.
"What did you think you were doing Trudi," she said icily. "We could both have
been killed."
I wanted to accuse her, to say she should have slowed down at least, but
something held me back. Even now Jane hadn't stopped the car, though she must
be aware of the state I was in. I didn't know what to say, in case it was the
wrong thing and I put myself in danger again. Besides, I was totally exhausted
and still in shock - about what nearly had happened, but even more so, about
the way Jane had looked at me as she put her foot down to give gas!
And now, in her controlled and ladylike manner, she kept ranting at me, saying
again and again what had happened was my fault entirely.
I couldn't even argue, I had no strength left - and it was me, after all, who
had opened the car door.
I found myself apologising, not knowing what else to say or do. Should I ask
why she hadn't stopped or slowed down? I had been in serious danger. But
perhaps I was still in danger now. So I said nothing, I was too exhausted
anyway. And Jane kept on, repeating how could I have done such a stupid thing
as to open the car door? Her Armstrong could have been ruined.
I remained quiet, unable to think rationally. Was there even a point in saying
anything? It would only lead to an argument, and just now I couldn't cope with
anything more. Far better, to get through this somehow - take no more risks -
and be very careful until leaving for Austria.
Perhaps I shouldn't show that I knew she had wanted me injured or even killed.
On my return I talked it over with Ilse. We both couldn't quite believe Mrs
Ashworth had 'arranged' this 'accident' - though we couldn't be certain. But
even if she had not planned it, at the very least, Jane had taken full
advantage of the situation. She had wanted me injured, or killed. Otherwise,
why had she not stopped, or at least reduced her speed? With no traffic on the
road, she didn't have to consider any other cars behind us.
The longer we talked, the more suspicious we became. Why had Mrs Ashworth said
that my door was not closed, if she didn't want me to do something about it?
She should have just stopped, so I could close the door.
But then, was it really unlocked? I hadn't been aware of it.
Did she plan this 'accident?' It was her car, she must have known what would
happen if I opened the door even slightly.
Going over it with Ilse, I still got no answers. But one thing was sure: I
would never trust Mrs Ashworth again. My friend felt the same, and we decided
to stay together, and to be very careful.
The next morning we gave notice officially. We would leave in two weeks,
ignoring our promise to wait until Jane was ready. She didn't remind us, just
accepted our notice without saying one word. Sometime later she joined us in
the kitchen, to discuss how to arrange everything so that the household would
continue to run smoothly when the new girls took over. But though we sat round
the table as usual, no suggestion was made of a drink. Probably her whisky was
too good for us now.
Somehow, everything was totally different. Mrs Ashworth had accepted we'd
leave, and was polite, but icy cold. There were no signs now, that as Au Pairs
we were to be treated as members of her family. She was treating us like
servants - inferior servants.
But then, we all felt differently. I could never trust Jane again. Now, all
Ilse and I wanted, was to leave.
We attempted to put our personal feelings aside, to make it as easy for
Elisabeth as we could. Her mother 'found' two girls in the village, one to
live in; the other to come in daily. Jane arranged for our replacements to
visit before we left, so we could show them what had to be done in the house,
and how to look after Elisabeth.
This worked fairly well. When the two girls came, we went briefly through all
the daily and weekly chores, and one of the girls took notes. Then we
explained a few things about Elisabeth before going for a walk in the grounds,
so the dogs, and particularly our small charge, would get used to the
newcomers.
Mary, the younger girl, was only seventeen and came from a large family. She
had looked after her younger brothers and sisters, and seemed to like children.
We encouraged her to play with Elisabeth, stressing her need, particularly
after we left when she was bound to miss us the most.
Dorothy was older and sensible, with an easy manner. Both came from the local
village and knew one another, which would probably make it easier for them. On
balance, they were a good choice, and would hopefully take an interest in
Elisabeth. And although we had no more say in this matter, we could still do
our best for the child. So we talked about how difficult the little girl would
find it, and that it would help if she got used to Mary and Dorothy while we
were still here.
"It will be better for us too," Mary said sensibly. Dorothy nodded, asking
about Elisabeth's routine. We didn't tell her she had no real routine and
practically saw to herself. Instead, we explained the child's need for company
and love, and for someone to play with her, taking an interest in her world.
Then we all played a game of catching, which Elisabeth always enjoyed, and the
dogs too. And as she knew Mary and Dorothy a little by now, we left them
playing and went back to the house.
Later, over a pot of tea, we all sat down and talked. The girls agreed to come
again while we were still here, and Mary promised to move in before our
departure.
On the next day we enquired about trains, and arranged to have our luggage
collected to be sent on to Vienna. We had much more stuff now, so we packed it
all into the new suitcases we had bought, ready to be sent on. We would just
take a travel bag for the journey.
Finally, with still a few more days to go, we were almost ready to leave. At
Easter we would be home - it just worked out that way.
The time had come to say goodbye to our friend. We took the bike over to
Hiltrud, and gave her the books we had bought. Then we said goodbye, and
promised to write soon.
To leave Elisabeth would still be a wrench, but we had done what we could for
her. The little girl was nearly four, in another year she'd be starting
school. She had changed out of all recognition. She didn't wet herself
anymore, and her dummy was no longer hanging round her neck, but round that of
her teddy bear. Elisabeth had given up her bottle, and she talked - so much,
that on times we were glad when she stopped. With only three days before our
departure, we told her that Ilse and I had to go away soon. At first she
couldn't believe we would not come back, but we had to tell her the truth. She
started to cry, and we nearly did too, but pulled ourselves together for her
sake.
"You'll have Mary to stay with you," I told her. "And Dorothy - and they'll
play with you."
"But I want you," Elisabeth sobbed, cuddling into my lap. "I like you."
"I like you too, baby," I just said, "very much." And Ilse told her the same,
and hugged her. What else was there to say? Better, to make no promises we
couldn't keep.
Then Ilse whispered something into the little girl's ear and took her hand to
lead her away. When they came back, Elisabeth carried a small fluffy toy dog.
For a while she was diverted, and walked off to introduce the new puppy to the
other dogs.
It all went as planned - but we were sad, nevertheless.
"I have an idea how to cheer ourselves up," said Ilse. Suddenly some of her
old sparkle was back in her eyes. "Why don't we go past Folkestone on our way
home, and visit Martin?"
Now that was an idea. It would take our minds off all this sadness of leaving;
we'd have something to look forward to. And Folkestone was only two miles from
Dover, so it was practically on our way. It would be lovely, to have a short
holiday by the sea. And it would be lovely to see Martin - just as a friend of
course.
So in the evening as we took the dogs for a walk, we went down the lane to the
telephone box and dialled the number of his landlady. We were in luck. She
answered, and soon Martin was on the line, saying hallo.
Suddenly I didn't know what to say anymore, and gave the receiver to Ilse.
"Hallo Martin," she said, "this is Ilse." Then she told him we were travelling
home on Friday, and thought of breaking our journey in Folkestone to visit him.
I didn't hear what he said, but suddenly Ilse handed me the receiver.
"Hallo Martin," I said.
"Hi Trudi," I heard him reply. "Listen, I want you to hear me out. We are
leaving here tomorrow, because we are going back home to Newport over the
Easter holidays. "No listen," he carried on, sensing I was going to interrupt
him and say what a shame.
"Listen Trudi," he said again, his voice sounding urgent. "Come to Newport
over the holidays. It's no further than Folkestone - just take the train.
Stay with me at my home, both of you. I'll arrange everything; you and Ilse
will be my guests. It's all right," he assured me, seemingly able to read my
mind. "Just as friends - you'll be quite safe, I promise. After the holidays,
you can travel back to Folkestone with us in the van, and carry on with your
journey from there. What do you say?"
I didn't know what to say, this invitation came too sudden and unexpected. I
kept asking questions about Newport, and where we would stay. Martin said we'd
stay at his house, there would be no problem at all, and we'd be quite safe, as
his mother lived there as well.
And then the final peeps came. We had run out of money, so I said we'd phone
back later. I needed time to think anyway, and to discuss this unexpected
development with Ilse.
Talking it through on our way home, we decided to accept this invitation. It
would be fun, an adventure - a nice adventure for a change. Somehow we both
felt we could trust Martin. And if anything was not as he said - or if he took
any liberties - we could always leave, and catch the train again. And this
time we'd travel all the way to Vienna.
Mrs Ashworth went out that evening, and because we had no more change, we
decided to use the telephone in the dining room. Neither Ilse nor I had ever
done this before, but after the incidence in the car, I felt I didn't owe her
my loyalty anymore. Ilse agreed, but then, she had fewer scruples about such
things anyway.
Martin was delighted we'd come. He gave us his address in Newport; we should
just come at any time. He would expect us whenever we got there on the day
after tomorrow, which was Good Friday. His house was only a half hour walk
from the station, but we could take a bus, and taxis stood outside the station
too. He'd stay home, and would arrange everything. He was sure we would enjoy
staying in Newport, and he was looking forward to our visit so very much.
And now, we also had something to look forward to.
At the Manor, everything was ready for our departure. Mary would arrive
tomorrow, to be here for Elisabeth when we left.
Nothing else happened before we left, except for the postcard which came for
me. On it was a picture of Shoreham-by-sea. On the back of the card was
written in a hand I still remembered well: 'Dear Trudi, I am finally back here
in England, working near Shoreham as a flying instructor. I hope you are well.
It would be so nice to see you again. Could you phone me?' Then followed a
number, and he ended with, 'love Peter'.
I didn't know what to make of this card. On the face of it, these were just a
few friendly lines from Peter, who wanted to see me again. But what for? To
bury everything that had happened, and start over again? I did not think I
wanted to do that. Perhaps if he had written differently - or maybe sooner -
but what was the use now? I put the card in my bag - I could decide what to do
later. Tomorrow Ilse and I were leaving. And we would have a great time in
Newport with Martin.
I could think about this card another time, and about Peter - if I wanted to
from
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