A Foreign Land

By Beryl C Jones

“It’s time,” Andrei said to Maria.
Maria felt a sickening lurch in her stomach. She nodded. “Anna-” she began.
“Anna won’t come and say goodbye,” said Andrei. “She thinks I am sending you to your death. I have more confidence in you. Please don’t prove me wrong or she’ll never speak to me again.”
And so Maria begins her life in the Resistance, billeted with Alex and Nik, whose relationship isn't what it seems. Will she be able to resist Nik's advances and keep the peace with an increasingly hostile Alex? And survive the freezing cold. Not to mention the enemy soldiers, of which there are many. Or friendly fire, which is terrifying?
An unashamed romantic adventure, played out in war torn Europe, where life is harsh and things aren't what they seem. Will Maria get her man? Will either of them survive the death throes of the war? You'll have to read it to find out. A book for a cold, wet day, when the kids and their Dad/ Mum have gone to Grandma's and you've got a big pot of good coffee.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beryl C Jones
• Release date: Nov 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311849748

Beryl C Jones

Beryl lives in England with her dog and cat and a family of sparrows who are eating her out of house and home. Oh, and she has a husband and a son.She has to confess, A Foreign Land was written as a joke, after someone, who will remain nameless, suggested that she wrote for Mills and Boon for a living. The book is the culmination of reading half a dozen M&B books as research. She wouldn't put her name to it, but someone might enjoy it. She would heartily recommend writing a Mills and Boon- it was one long giggle, but she couldn't make it last 70,000 words to do a proper M&B. So Smashwords have got it. Enjoy and don't take it too seriously.Beryl also writes children's fiction under the name of Tracey Meredith. Try not to get them muddled up.

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A Foreign Land

by Beryl C Jones

Smashwords Edition

Published by Beryl C Jones at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Beryl C Jones

For my Mum,

who never got to read it

A Foreign Land

Chapter 1

The sky was grey and it was raining the night the soldiers came. It was not the robust downpour of summer, but the miserable, intense drizzle of autumn, that went on for days. Not that it mattered, for who would go out now? Now that the streets were guarded, and fear and dread soaked the town.

Throughout the night the soldiers came, gaunt grey men, exhausted and afraid, but still defiant. They travelled over the ancient cobbles in battered, creaking lorries, packed tightly in, knee to knee, clutching their rifles as drowning men might clutch straws. They knew retribution was coming, but they were prepared to make their enemies fight for every inch of ground between here and their homeland.

Maria watched them through the rain splattered windows of her attic rooms. She kept the lights off and stood away from the panes. Now was not a time to be noticed. It will only be for a few days, she told herself. They can't stay here. They must know they can't stay here. They will be caught and killed and us alongside them.

But three days later the soldiers were still there, and still more soldiers came. Maria ran her fingers through her thick, blonde hair, listening to the cracking of the cobbles as the incessant flow of trucks and tanks passed over the antiquated roads. Fear and apprehension were making her feel sick. She had hardly eaten or slept for days and she was tired- very tired, but too agitated to sleep. When would they go, she wondered. Surely they knew they had to go. There was no safety for them here.

She sat down and got up again. What was the point of sitting when she was so afraid to rest? She wished she smoked. A cigarette now might calm her nerves. Maybe a drink. She had some Russian vodka, hadn't she? She shook her head. No, alcohol would make her sleepy and she needed to stay alert. She had heard the stories about these people and their attitude to other nations. She needed to be alert, to be able to escape if she had to.

Oh why, oh why hadn't she gone to stay with friends when she had the chance? Why had she left it too late to get across to the other side of town? Well, she knew why, didn't she? She had been too scared to go by herself, and so now she was here, all on her own. Why was she such a coward?

She wandered across the room, listening intently for any changes in sound that might indicate danger. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and stared at her reflection. She looked awful. Her eyes peered out from dark shadows and her hair hadn't seen a brush for ages. She sighed. Look what just a few days had done to her. She normally took such a pride in her appearance. She knew she was pretty- everyone said so, even the women. But now she thought she'd be lucky to turn anyone's head.

It wasn't that she was vain, whatever some of her friends might suggest when she kept them waiting while she got ready. No, Maria was astute enough to realise the more attractive she was, the more men she could interest, and the better chance she had of making a good marriage. And it had to be a good marriage. Someone with a bit of money, who would look after her. No one else was going to. Maria had no family. Her name had been given to her by the orphanage that raised her.

Maria shuddered. She wouldn't dwell on that. When she had left the place a few years ago, it was like starting life again. She had moved as far away from it as she possibly could, while still being in the same country, but even that didn't seem far enough at the time.

So here she was, with her friends and her flat, and a little job that just about paid for everything, and was reasonably content. But she never felt like she belonged. Her friends had families and lovers, and some of them now had children. Oh, yes, they tried to make her feel one of them, but the truth was, Maria would always be on the outside looking in. And Maria wanted so desperately to belong. To someone. Anyone.

Maria watched the soldiers through the thin, sinuous rivulets of rain that covered the widows. No, friends weren't like family, were they? Families were almost obliged to worry about you, weren't they? But, then, she mused, she would also be forced to worry about her family. Perhaps, in times like these, she was better off being on her own, to only be concerned about herself. The people below had children. She could only imagine the terror they must be feeling as they sought to keep those children safe.

As the day wore on, she noticed people scurrying in the street below. They walked quickly, with their heads down, hoping to pass unnoticed. The soldiers looked on, most of them unconcerned, some with curiosity, but few with any real antipathy. Perhaps, thought Maria, now was the time to be brave and seek out her friends. She really didn't want to spend another day here on her own. She dressed hurriedly, choosing the plainest clothes she could find. Today her golden hair was hidden under a tightly knotted, plain headscarf, and her slim figure wrapped in a shabby, shapeless old coat. Like everyone else, she didn’t want to be noticed.

Outside the air was damp and heavy. It stank of petrol. The noise of marching feet seem to be coming from every direction, while traffic rumbled heedlessly down the narrow streets. The fine drizzle settled on everything, like a thin layer of oil, soaking into Maria’s clothing.

She had barely left her own street when she collided with a soldier. Her heart in her mouth, she muttered an apology and tried to pass him. He caught her arm and dragged her to him, pulling her headscarf from her as he did so. It pulled her hair at the roots, causing an involuntary gasp of pain. The soldier spoke to her in a foreign tongue, harsh and incomprehensible.

He was an unattractive man, his face blotchy from too much beer, and even in the cool autumn rain, he sweated. He tried to kiss her, pawing at her tightly buttoned coat, laughing as she tried to pull away from him.

The smell of alcohol hit her in the face. His grip was hard and she knew he was not going to let her go. She looked around for help, but the only person within hailing distance was another soldier, a young man who had stopped to light a cigarette. A few fellow citizens who passed by, crossed to the other side of the road and pretended they couldn’t see her. Maria felt very alone.

She struggled frantically, terrified of the inevitability of her situation and desperate to escape this terrible humiliation. She began to beat the soldier who held her, but he put her at arm’s length so that even her kicking couldn’t reach him.

The soldier laughed at her futile efforts, until Maria caught him a lucky blow on the nose. Incensed, he began shaking and hitting her. Maria screamed for help. It was pointless, she knew. Then the soldier held his gun to her head and Maria shut her eyes.

Jurgen!

Her captor turned round. It was the young soldier who addressed him, talking sharply as he walked over to them, gesticulating furiously. Jurgen replied insolently, a tone that suggested to Maria that he had just told the young man to mind his own business. The young soldier shook his head and spoke again, while Maria prayed silently for help. The angry exchange between Jurgen and the young soldier continued while Maria remained in a vice-like grip. Now the young man had his hand on her other arm, as though he was about to pull her from his colleague.

They were interrupted by a screech of brakes and the rattling of a number of army trucks. This distracted Jurgen from the argument and from her. Contemptuously, he thrust Maria away from him and into the arms of the young soldier, before striding off, cursing them as he did so.

His departure left Maria shaking, but the young soldier now stared in disbelief at something behind her, before he grabbed her by the wrist and began dragging her up the street. She sensed his urgency and tried to look around to see what was causing it, but he was tugging her along too fast.

Doors slammed behind her and there was shouting. Soldiers ran in front of them and began hammering on doors and hauling people from their homes, herding them down the street to the market place. Still the young soldier pulled her forward, not letting her stop, pulling her back to her feet when she stumbled. With a look behind him, he pushed her down a side street, against the flow of people who had been chased out of their houses by the soldiers. The soldiers smirked at her saviour, with what Maria desperately hoped was a misinterpretation of his intentions.

As they went further down the street, the noise from the market place lessened and she became aware of the sound of her own laborious breathing. The side-street had emptied out and the young soldier stopped. They had almost run to this spot and were both panting heavily.

Maria looked at the soldier. He was perhaps twenty, fair haired and grey eyed. He looked frightened as he stood with her, listening for something. She listened with him.

She didn’t recognise the sound of machine gun fire and it was only the sudden screams and awful, awful silence afterwards that told her what had happened. She looked at the soldier, appalled by what she had just heard. The soldier's face was twisted with shame and disbelief. Then he addressed her in her own tongue. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. With that he let her go and ran back to the market place.

Maria did not dare return to her home and spent the rest of a long day hiding. Places that had seemed so familiar and friendly were now dangerous. Dark shadows imbued every doorway with menace and the windows glowered at her like hundreds of staring eyes. She felt she was in a foreign country where everywhere there lurked the threat of violence.

She spent the night huddled in a dark doorway, jumping at every sound, every rattle of the trucks, every shout and bang. She was grateful the weather remained mild. She felt safer here in the street than in her apartment. Here, at least, there were places to hide. In the apartment she could be trapped.

As the night approached sunrise, the town took on a dreadful silence. Even the sound of boots marching over damp cobbles stopped. She got up quietly and listened intently, before peering around the doorway. There was no one about.

She stood for a moment, uncertain what to do. Could she reach her friends? Or would it be safer to go back to her own home? But she didn't want to be in her rooms, waiting for some other terrible thing to happen. She scolded herself. Why had she risked coming out in the first place, if not to be with friends? What was the point of going home again and being alone? Alone and vulnerable.

Her mind was made up. She was going to join her friends and not spend the rest of the day skulking in doorways. She would be brave and risk the consequences.

It took her a while to get her bearings, and by the time she was sure of her route, the town was beginning to wake up. Trucks laden with soldiers rumbled slowly through the streets, forcing Maria to keep hiding. And then she saw them, creeping through the streets like thieves, the townspeople, some alone, some in knots, carrying their belongings in sad little bundles. They had decided that the risk of staying outweighed the risk of leaving.

Maria stared at them. Perhaps I should be doing that, she thought. Then she shook her head. No, she would be no better off running away than staying here. She would still be on her own. If she was going to be like a foreigner in her own country, she wanted to be with friends. She would go to Haris and Lejla first and see what they thought.

By the time she crossed the town, the drip of refugees had become a steady