Forbidden Love

By Vicky Cash

Forbidden Love takes place in 1960s East Berlin, where an illicit love affair develops between female English journalist, Hope Edwards and female Russian soldier, Natalya Sokolov. They endeavour to keep it a secret – if caught it could mean the Gulag or worse. And when Hope follows Natalya back to Russia, the KGB begins to take an interest in their friendship. As their affair is exposed, they are forced on the run in a desperate attempt to escape to the west.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vicky Cash
• Release date: Jun 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301985722

Vicky Cash

Vicky Cash is a Freelance Editor and Creative Writer by trade. She is a proofreader, Editor and writer specialising in English language. She has successfully completed the Creative Writing course with the Writers Bureau and more recently passed with 66% a summer university course in Creative Writing and Research at Teesside University. She has also completed a number of career development courses with Future Learn by the Open University. She started writing at the age of seven and loved it. She specializes in writing thrillers and crime stories, although she has recently taken a step out of her comfort zone to write Forbidden Love, a romance set in the Cold War. She has completed a competence course in proofreading and copy editing with Chapterhouse and is currently running her own business as a Freelance Editor and Creative Writer.

Book preview

FORBIDDEN LOVE

BY VICKY CASH

Forbidden Love

Published by Vicky Cash at Smashwords.

Copyright © 2013 Vicky Cash

All characters are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Second Edition.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

PROLOGUE

The night has swept in quickly, along with the cold and rain. Two females huddle together for warmth. No words are spoken between them. They caress each other and gaze into each other’s eyes. Two lovers on the run, believing they are safe with each other, unaware that their world is about to come crashing down.

The lights from the trucks chase them. Men scream and bark orders at them - orders to stop. The dogs growl and foam at the mouth, desperate to bite at the fleeing flesh. The two women run for their lives, their hearts pounding, until they reach the edge of the cliff. On the edge, they clutch each other, looking down as rocks fall into the raging waters below. The wind bites and freezes their tender flesh as they hold each other.

We can’t make it, Hope. They’re coming.

Yes we can, Natalya, she takes her head in her hands. We can be together.

Hope looks into Natalya’s eyes and plants a gentle kiss onto her lips as the searchlights illuminate them in the dark. Soldiers shout and aim their rifles at them. The dogs bark and growl. Trucks screech to a halt and more soldiers surround them. More lights blind them. The two woman clasp hands and take a final kiss as they prepare to jump...

CHAPTER ONE

East Berlin 1965.

The Iron Curtain divides the communist east from the capitalist west and the Berlin Wall divides the city. A looming concrete structure, some twelve feet high, topped with barb wire and guarded by armed patrols, it is considered by some to be a great communist achievement, but to others it is a symbol of oppression and control. Since the building of the wall, only a few months ago, an attachment of Russian soldiers has arrived to organise the East German guard.

On the east side, life is a stark contrast to life in the west. In the west they have luxuries. Fine wines and rich succulent foods, free speech and entertainment not connected to propaganda. But in the east, it’s rules and order, poverty and control. Fear and discrimination with the constant threat of purges – of being dragged from your bed and sent to the most dreaded and feared prison – the infamous Gulag. Armed patrols are a regular sight in East Berlin and tensions are at a constant high. The west expects the east to take some form of strategic, military action against them and vice versa, but neither side ever do. Instead of bullets and bombs, both the east and west fight this so called war with words.

Trapped behind the wall - trapped in the east since the borders closed in ’61 - British journalist Hope Edwards wanders among the citizens of East Berlin. Some are proud to be a part of the Russian sector while others are desperate to escape the clutches of communism, but soldiers or the Secret Police are often there to stop their escape. She doesn’t speak to them – instead she chooses to take photographs. Sometimes, a photograph can capture and reveal a lot more than words ever can. Looking at their faces, no words need to be spoken. There are faces, just getting on with it. It’s that old wartime spirit. We carry on and stick two fingers up at the invaders when they’re not looking. The harder faces to look in the eyes are the ones that are awash with fear, desperation, and despair. A lot of people that are trapped behind the wall have families and friends in West Berlin. They don’t know when they’ll see them again. If ever. They come to the wall each day, hoping that the borders will be open again, but they never are. So then, those faces are streaked with tears. And then they plod, limp or waddle off home or to their work. And they work or sit silently, alone with their tears. The children don’t really understand what is happening. They remain blissfully unaware - most of them. Some are too young to understand. They laugh and play - sometimes even the soldiers will play football with them. Some of the soldiers aren’t as bad as they’re made out to be in propaganda. That’s why Hope chooses photographs instead of words. They tell a story. A story of a never ending war, a war that isn’t a war. There are no bullets, no bombs and no real enemy. Only fear.

Hope turns from them – unable to stomach anymore – and photographs the wall that now segregates the east from the west. It started with barb wire, now it ends with concrete. Concrete with soldiers, ready to shoot at the first sign of trouble. At the first sign that someone is trying to escape the east. As she takes her last photo for the day, Hope looks up at the grey storm clouds above. Lightning races across the sky as rain begins to fall. As people move for cover, she remains stationary – like a statue, letting the rain soak and freeze her skin. A shiver runs through her body but she ignores it. That chill reminds her, she is still alive. Still breathing. Still able to feel. She’s just another face to the guards, but still, they keep a close watch on her. Hope stares up at the grey structure and is suddenly swept back five years. She thinks of her family back home in Sheffield. The rain always reminds her of home. Her mother in that small kitchen, preparing the dinner. Her father in the factory, sweating at his machine for a living wage. Her brother in the army, doing his national service. Doing his bit for his country. She chuckles at that. How times change. He was always the one at the bar, pulling the girls. She thinks of her friends in West Berlin, drinking and laughing. The taste of fine wines and rich, succulent foods - foods that melt in the mouth. The smell of expensive tobacco invading her nostrils. The freedom to make love to a handsome man – or a beautiful woman if you know where to look. She often misses the lights and noise of the prestigious west and that makes her unpredictable. Her annoyance at being trapped from her friends and the luxuries of the west often shows in the form of anger. On this side of the wall, it’s deprivation. Rules and order. Efficiency and purges. Say or do the wrong thing and you could find yourself in the Gulag - or in a ditch with a bullet in the back of your head. Like so many others, she comes here each day, hoping. But her hopes are always dashed. She just wants to go home. To see her friends, her family. But every day is the same, bitter disappointment.

Hope is only young at twenty six years. Young and pretty at six foot tall. Slender but powerful and strong with long brown hair. Spellbinding blue eyes - the sort of eyes that can enchant anyone. The sort of eyes that can tell a fake a mile away. She’s tough and more than a match for any man. An outsider from the stereotypical woman, she doesn’t like people thinking she’s just your average little girl. Now more than ever, she has to fight to prove herself worthy to her male counterparts. She often fights with herself - her anger at the Russian and East German troops often erupts into physical violence. But at the same time, she knows that she should be better than that, that she should remain neutral and that she shouldn’t judge. A good journalist never judges. Her appearance would shock you. Dirty, khaki combats, combined with dirty, black, biker boots. Her t-shirt though, clings to her body, complementing her womanly curves.

Hey!

A voice - soft but authoritative calls to Hope through the rain. She follows the voice and turns away from the wall. A young, female Russian soldier waves to her. Hope is slightly taken aback. Despite that pristine uniform, her slender curves are clearly visible. Her light blonde hair is tucked neatly under her cap and the uniform itself is immaculate. Buttoned to the collar, perfectly cleaned and ironed. Her crystal green eyes beam at Hope as she rushes towards her.

The Russian has seen Hope here every day over the past few months, since she’s been here on attachment. The girl has caught her eye but she doesn’t understand why. She feels drawn to her. Officially, they’re not allowed to fraternise. The top brass are very suspicious - especially of those that have been trapped here from the west. In case they – the commanders call it brainwashing – in case they brainwash the troops. Show them the prestige and wealth of democracy. In case they persuade or tempt them to defect to the west. But that’s the official line. Unofficially, of course fraternisation takes place. You just have to be very cautious. But to the soldier, the girl in front of her is just like her. Far from home. Alone and afraid. The soldier doesn’t care for conflict or conformity. But if she speaks out, her commanders would most certainly send her to the Gulag or worse, have her shot. So she conforms.

Are you trying to get yourself shot? The soldier asks, taking hold of Hope’s arms.

Was that a threat? Hope tears her arm from the soldier’s grasp.

No. It wasn’t a threat by me. But I can’t vouch for the guards watching you up there.

What?

Come to the cafe. I’ll explain in the warmth, over a coffee.

I don’t drink with enemy. Hope turns away from her.

The woman smiles as she backs away. That’s a pity, I was buying.

Hope looks back at the soldier before looking up at the guards on the wall. They watch her carefully, their weapons at the ready. She swallows hard before strolling away, heading for her place of work.

Hope works for a publication called the Workers Magazine. Originally a product from the west, a small group of journalists regularly crossed to the east for stories. But when the borders closed, they had no choice but to set up an office in the east. The communists were cautious at first, but they soon realised it offered them an ideal opportunity to spread their propaganda to the westerners stuck on their territory. The office is small but comfortable. The magazine, run by only twelve journalists, is surprising popular. Plus, as long as they print certain communist articles, the employees have a relative freedom - although the Secret Police often keeps a very close eye on them.

When Hope arrives at the office, she sits at her desk and watches the others work, lost in her thoughts. Her colleagues laugh and joke with each other. Hope is the only female of the pack, which makes her feel a little left out - although most of her colleagues treat her as one of the boys. She has to take her colleagues as they come – though it is hard to keep her mouth shut when they start spouting their sexist opinions.

Her boss – Samuel Roberts – comes over and sits opposite. He’s a kind man. Thirty years with tired brown eyes. A close friend of her family, he’s like a brother to Hope. He looks out for her and defends her. When she first approached him for a job in West Berlin, he was unsure, but she soon proved her worth to him. He promised her parents that he’d look after her, but to him – although he’d never tell – Hope can sometimes be a burden. Her strong character often leads her into trouble.

Are you alright? You look... I don’t know. Tired.

She chuckles sarcastically. Isn’t everyone? I’m just fed up of being stuck here. Of having to conform.

Join the club. Look, this has to end at some point. Both sides won’t have a choice - stalemates don’t get anyone anywhere. You just need to keep your chin up and carry on. Let’s see that old British bulldog spirit, yes?

I always do, don’t I?

He smiles at her as he stands. I know you’ve been at the wall again today. You haven’t caused any trouble have you?

Why? Are you tired of bailing me out?

I’m just saying, you need to be very careful. I don’t want you to suddenly disappear in one of their purges. Just try to fit in, tolerate the communists. I know it’s hard but we have little other choice.

With that he leaves Hope to her thoughts. It’s easier said than done - to tolerate, to conform. Hope is used to the freedom and luxury of the West. It came as a shock to her when the borders closed. It was her first real assignment, her first time away from home. It was her first proper job as a journalist, the first time someone has taken her seriously. She had to learn to adjust quickly. And with all the propaganda back home, it wasn’t easy for her.

The next day, the rain continues to fall as another storm rages high in the sky. Once again, despite her boss’s warnings, Hope drags herself to the wall to mingle among the hopeful souls who prey that today, will be the day they see their families again. Once again, they’re disappointed. Hope takes some photo’s and sits on a slab of concrete by the wall. She pulls her notebook from her bag and begins to write. She writes down what she sees, her thoughts and feelings, anything that pops into her head.

The Russian female is there also. She has just finished her duty when she spots Hope sat alone in the rain. A funny sort of feeling surges through her body - like butterflies in her stomach. She watches Hope – enchanted by her image. To her, even soaked to the skin, this woman in front of her is beautiful. A beauty she’s never laid eyes on before. Her skin seems to be like silk. Her hair, so soft and gentle. And her eyes – so intoxicating. The woman clears her throat – dragging herself from her daydreams, dreams that could get her sent to the Gulag – as a fellow soldier joins her.

You think she is a spy, Natalya.

No. I think she’s probably.... She sees the look on his face and realises he wasn’t asking. He’s one of the many guards that are suspicious of Hope. I don’t know. She doesn’t look like a spy.

That’s the point, Sokolov, he laughs as he brushes past.

She watches her comrade retreat before switching her gaze back to Hope.

After a few moments she finds the courage to stroll over and sit next to her. Hope ignores her and for a while they sit there in silence. They let the rain soak them. Finally, although hesitantly, Natalya breaks the silence.

Are you staging some form of protest here?

Hope doesn’t answer.

I’ve seen you here most days for the past two months. With your camera. You must be freezing sitting here every day in the rain.

Hope remains silent.

Natalya sighs. My name is Natalya. Natalya Sokolov.

Hope swallows hard and glances towards her but remains silent and turns away.

You know, I’m not your enemy. You can talk to me.

Still Hope remains silent. Natalya chuckles.

You need to be careful. A lot of my colleagues believe you are a spy. If they had their way, they would capture you, torture you and then – should we say – make you disappear. You draw attention to yourself each day you come here.

Hope turns back to face her but doesn’t speak.

I’m just trying to be friendly. You looked lonely and I know that feeling. I’ve been alone all of my life. Natalya smiles at her before rising.

As Natalya begins to walk away, Hope calls her back.

You don’t know what it means to be friendly. You are my enemy. Otherwise, this thing you call a wall wouldn’t be here.

She stands and walks towards Natalya. She gets right in her face, so close she can feel Natalya’s breath on her skin. She looks her dead in the eye and scoffs.

You don’t even feel one ounce of guilt for what you and your comrades have done here, do you?

Hope walks away but Natalya follows and grabs her arm. Hope pulls it away and fights to stop herself from slapping her.

You want to be careful what you say. Don’t give my colleagues an excuse to drag you to some prison, to do terrible to you. And they would too - I’ve seen the terrible things they are capable of.

Hope stares at her for a moment before laughing and walking away. Natalya watches her before glancing up the street at a group of soldiers. They have been watching the pair of them and now watch Hope as she walks away – conferring with each other. The soldiers watch as Hope enters a cafe and after more brief chatter, they follow. Natalya watches her fellow soldiers as they march into the cafe, but walks away in the opposite direction.

In the cafe, Hope sits sipping a small cup of coffee. Two of the soldiers enter while the others stand guard at the door, preventing anyone else from entering. The two men toss the other patrons out by the scruff of their necks before approaching the table Hope is sat at. They tower over her. One of the men breathes down her neck.

We’ve been watching you.

Good for you.

We saw you with our colleague. We think you owe her an apology.

And you know what you can do.

The soldier drags her up from her seat by her collar.

You want watch what you say, he laughs and turns to his comrade. What do you think? Spy?

Hope laughs before kneeing him in the groin. He doubles up in agony as Hope stands back – a huge smirk on her face. As his colleague advances on her, she backs up to the door but finds it blocked as the other two soldiers enter. Hope sighs and holds up her hands in surrender. The soldier – still in some pain – turns her to face him and slaps her across her face.

Take her to the prison.

Hope struggles as the soldiers frog march her out.

Two hours later, Hope is sat in the cell – head in her hands. The cell is small and dark with just a blanket on the stone floor to sit on. The barred window lets in the cold, biting wind and a shiver runs through Hope’s trembling body. Perhaps she’s pushed it too far this time.

Private Natalya Sokolov strolls into the corridor and stands at the barred door of the cell. She holds up a thick, brown folder and reads aloud.

Hope Edwards. Twenty six years of age. Nationality: British. Occupation: Journalist. She looks pointedly up at Hope, lowering the folder. "Since your arrival here in 1961, you have been arrested fifteen times for brawling with East German and Russian troops. Tell me, do you have a death wish? – and let me tell you now, remaining silent will not do you any