Dangerous Places

By Ceridwen Rees

Susie Jones, a nineteen-year-old modern languages student takes herself off on an Inter-Rail trip around Europe. Alone, but only briefly; on a hot August day in Amsterdam, Susie meets a group of individuals. Falling under the spell of Richard Winters, a charismatic and influential member of the group, Susie is enticed away, to live with the group in Amsterdam. Susie becomes hopelessly and unwittingly involved in the group’s secret life of political protests and anarchy. As the group travel perilously through Europe, Susie senses danger every step of the way and when confronted with a life-changing event, is faced with an impossible decision. The group is thrown into turmoil and Susie fears that she will never see Richard again. Resolved to achieve the seemingly impossible, Susie is besieged with heartbreak and recurring nightmares and fears that she will never see her dreams come true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: Mar 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370532476

Ceridwen Rees

Ceridwen Rees was brought up in rural Wales, married a journalist but has now returned and lives in the Brecon Beacons National Park.

Book preview

Ceridwen Rees was brought up in rural Wales, married a journalist but has now returned and lives in the Brecon Beacons National Park.

Ceridwen Rees

Dangerous Places

Copyright © Ceridwen Rees (2018)

The right of Ceridwen Rees to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781785543548 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781785543555 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781785543562 (EBook)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2018)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.

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Canary Wharf

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E14 5LQ

Printed and bound in Great Britain

Chapter 1

The dream

Susie was running up endless staircases, knowing that she had to get there before it was too late. Round and round went the marble stairs with their elaborate tracery, clearer than ever before. Groups of people were coming down, but she pushed through them without hesitation. This time there were doors at the top of the stairs, and she burst through the crowds, searching for Richard. In a vast hall, marble again, with chandeliers hanging from the domed roof, a fountain sent up clouds of spray, or it might have been smoke. Waves of heat and something else, perhaps fear. A bell was chiming. Noise from the crowds, screams and now shots being fired. They had never used guns. She was beside Richard, calling his name over and over as he dropped down beside a pillar; holding him close as he smiled and closed his eyes. Blood soaked through his shirt and hers. Richard, Richard, she called desperately, and wept.

Bells, not Italian. Her arms were empty. Time to wake up.

* * *

1970. Susie was nineteen years old, a student of modern languages, seeing Europe on an Inter-Rail ticket. She had thick fair hair, blue eyes and a dreamy expression; people were usually nice to her and she had trailed happily round the Continent with her rucksack for three weeks. Susie didn’t mind being alone; in her experience, someone always turned up when she wanted them to. One afternoon, she was sitting in the Dam Square in Amsterdam. It was a hot August day and she was sharing a canned drink with a girl called Hanna. Hanna was a German girl whom she had met in the hostel the previous night, who wanted to tell everyone her views on life, politics and the environment. Soon, they were at the centre of a discussion, with Hanna holding forth and Susie lazily dropping in a word sometimes, though her conversational German was not very good. The sun was blazing down, and as Susie sat up and straightened her back, she had to put up a hand to shade her eyes. Among the people sitting or lying around were three young men and a girl, who were arguing with Hanna: a serious dark girl, a lavishly vocal red-haired youth and two tall, thin ones. One of them seemed a little apart, as though he were listening to something else.

Susie was getting tired of Hanna’s vehemence, and allowed him to catch her eye briefly. It was only for a split second, but she got the full force of something she had not bargained for. It was as though she had just had a sudden slap in the face, most disconcerting and she looked away, trying to think about the other people. How had Hanna come to be such a bossy-boots? Where did the red-haired one come from? Not Germany or Holland, though he spoke German. Hanna must come from a family who all talk at the tops of their voices and never listen to each other. It is time, Susie thought, to slide away quietly, and she got her rucksack settled.

Your eyes are beginning to glaze over, murmured an English voice in her ear. Susie stiffened. The young man had edged round till he was close behind her. Would you like a cup of tea? I know a place just round the corner. This lot will still be here in half an hour. Oh, come on!

It occurred to Susie that perhaps she could ditch Hanna painlessly in this way and a cup of tea never committed anyone. Perhaps she had imagined part of what she had seen. All right, she said, getting up. Hanna did not notice, but there was a look, almost of alarm, from the dark-haired girl. But this is a jeweller’s, not a tea-shop, said Susie a few minutes later.

All the same, you can get a good cup. Just up those stairs – here.

It was a pleasant, old-fashioned room with a long table and chairs, and casement windows overlooking the street. The young man went out through another door, saying Just a minute, and Susie opened a window and looked out, thinking that she could always scream through it if the worst happened.

That’s right, always make sure of your exit, said her companion, reappearing with a tray. The kettle doesn’t take long.

Do you live here?

No, but I drop in sometimes. If you take off your sack, you can sit down. He spoke casually, not looking at her, and Susie thought she might as well sit down and be comfortable.

A few minutes later, he was back with the tea and a packet of chocolate biscuits. Susie, hungry as well as thirsty, ate and drank gratefully. They considered each other. He saw a rather pretty girl, her fair skin childishly freckled. It was the steady, direct gaze of her eyes that held him. Too honest for me? He wondered. She turned her head to look round the room, and he saw only the line of head and shoulder as she moved.

Susie found it difficult to get a clear picture of him and yet she would never mistake him for anyone else. He seemed not much older than she was, young enough to play at being someone different. Tallish, dark, thin, but a face that was hard to fix in the mind. Only the bright, dancing eyes – Susie blushed slightly and helped herself to another biscuit.

Alright? he asked, with a serious face, but laughter at the back of his voice.

Susie looked at him cautiously. The eyes were subdued now, as though curtains were drawn.

Yes, thanks, she said. But I still don’t understand. How is it that you can let yourself in and use this place?

A business arrangement. Nothing criminal, you know. But it’s convenient to be able to slip in and out sometimes.

What sort of business? Susie asked out of politeness and for something to say, but he hesitated.

It’s a bit complicated, but I’ll tell you all about it later, I hope. By the way, I’m Richard Winters.

Susie Jones.

Susie. That’s nice. There was a brief flash from the grey eyes. One thing I sometimes do is to carry diamonds about, like these. He tipped the contents of a small bag on to the table. The stones, unset but polished made a river of light on the dark wood.

Lovely, said Susie politely. Only I think I’d like them better if they weren’t so expensive.

Richard gave a sudden shout of laughter. I mean, Susie tried to explain, It’s difficult to see them for what they are and not think about what they cost.

Not really a diamonds girl, are you, Susie?

No, not my style, Susie agreed.

Nor mine, apart from carrying them round for Johan. He put them away again and Susie said, Thank you very much for my tea.

We might as well finish the biscuits. Look, one each. He offered her the plate.

Alright.

Suddenly he said, Sometimes we do things that aren’t very legal.

Oh? Said Susie doubtfully.

We have good reasons for everything we do.

Well, that’s all right, then. You don’t kill people?

No. Does that make a lot of difference?

Of course. Things are only things, but people can get hurt and I don’t like that.

Good. Will you have dinner with me tonight, Susie?

I’ve nothing tidy to wear, only my jeans, Susie hedged. Besides…

We’ll go somewhere suitable, I promise. Look, shall I see you in the Dam, say about seven?

Well, Susie looked at her watch. I’m supposed to be catching a train to Denmark later tonight.

But you could stay another night, couldn’t you? I’d like to show you our house tomorrow morning.

Oh, well, yes. All right, thanks. I’d better get back to the hostel now. Susie felt slightly guilty about taking a free meal and then probably ditching the acquaintance. Still, having to pay for another bed night instead of sleeping on the train would cancel that financially and she had told him what she intended.

So they had a meal in an Indonesian restaurant, not one of the grander ones, but good.

You can speak Dutch, said Susie. Even my German is pretty feeble.

Dutch isn’t difficult if you know German and English, and if you can get people to speak it to you. My mother is German and I was partly brought up in Germany, so it’s not hard for me. What languages do you speak, Susie?

French, I suppose. I do know a fair bit of German, but I’m not used to speaking it, which is pretty poor when I’m supposed to be doing modern languages.

Where are you doing them? Do you like it there? I was at Oxford for a year till my father died and I went off the rails.

Which college? Oh, I know some people there. We live just outside Oxford. Yes, I’ve got two sisters; they are married, but they’re still around a good deal. My mum and dad both teach.

My mother works in a clinic in Germany. I was at the university there too for a bit.

He seemed less alarming, quite ordinary in fact and yet there was something that sounded like a warning note. It occurred to Susie that if he were playing a part he would do it like this. But what, if anything, could he be hiding?

Chapter 2

Tomorrow morning, I’ll show you a different bit of Amsterdam. he said, as they waited at the tram-stop. I hope you’ll like it.

Susie did not know about the fierce argument he had with the others later that night. Marta, the dark-haired girl said, It’s hopeless, Richard. You can’t bring a girl like that into it. She isn’t interested in politics; she’d only be a drag, or worse.

I mean, said Rory, We can see how you feel, sure. She’s very nice. But what’s the use of you getting romantic with a nice wee girl who doesn’t know a detonator from a dishwasher?

That’s right, said Marta. You of all people, Richard, you can’t get soft. This is a child who’s always been looked after, you can see that, never had to do dirty work of any sort. She wants a steady fellow who’ll give her a house and babies. Not someone like you. Can’t you see that? Why has it got to be this girl, Richard? Nobody objects to you having the odd fling, but why not leave this poor lass alone?

Richard simply shook his head. Finally, he turned on them.

Why? Because she’s the one I want. She’s not stupid, anyway; she’ll learn. Of course, the business comes first with me, you know that. I’ll live and die for it, and maybe sooner than later. But while I’m here, I want her.

Marta and Rory recognised defeat. Things, Marta said afterwards, would have to take their course.

Susie, in her hostel bunk, slept happily, unaware.

The next day, they met early in the morning. Susie had been thinking it might be sensible to go straight to the station, but Richard was waiting for her at the hostel door. The morning sun was dazzling as she came out and heard him speak her name. A strange feeling of security was creeping in. Careful, now. She put up her hand to shade her eyes, and he took her arm and drew her aside. They both began to laugh.

You weren’t going to turn up, were you?

I hadn’t quite decided. Anyway, I’m going on to Denmark today.

All right. Can I take your ‘sack? No, all right. When you shake your head like that, your hair bobs about.

I know. I’m not as daft as I look, really.

You look fine. Come on, we can get a tram from over there.

Where are we going, exactly?

Middle of Amsterdam. There’s a house where several of us live on one of the big canals. I ought to warn you, it’s a nice house, but we’re just camping in it. There are other places where we stay, too.

Susie knew about squats, of course. Are there a lot of you? she asked.

There are about a dozen people in the house at the moment, but they don’t all belong to the business. I’ll tell you about that later.

The house was rather grand, though the paint was peeling. It might well have belonged to a rich merchant once, or it could be some firm’s Head Office, about to be done up.

I’ll show you where you leave your rucksack – there’s a big cupboard out here. You can keep the key yourself.

That’s not necessary.

All the same, here it is.

Susie zipped the key into her secure pocket.

Now, we’ll see about some coffee. The kitchen’s in the basement and that’s where you’ll find the workers. Careful of some of these stairs.

The kitchen was vast, with some of it partitioned off.

We haven’t yet achieved full community living with all the people here. Some of them like to keep their stuff separate, but among our lot we all share.

Marta appeared, carrying a saucepan, which was burnt black. She was looking black too, but on seeing Susie, she put down the pan, made an evident effort to look pleasant and said, Hallo.

Marta is one of our thinkers, said Richard. Some people are more, well, instinctive.

I am also responsible for preserving a basic standard of cleanliness and domestic behaviour that is acceptable to our neighbours.

I’ll wash the pan, Marta, said Richard. Marta does a great job on that side, Susie. It’s important for us not to offend people by behaving thoughtlessly.

Tell that to Rory and J.L., said Marta grimly. She picked up the pan and filled it with cold water at the sink.

I’ll make some coffee, Richard said. Marta looked at him sceptically as he filled a kettle and put it on to boil. He looked round. Cups, he said, putting some on the table. Coffee-pot, er, coffee? Why don’t we keep it in the tin marked Coffee?

Because Rory throws it all over the place when he’s got a hangover. It’s in the one that says rice. Milk’s in the fridge.

Where is Rory?

He’ll come quickly enough when he smells the coffee. Just leave the door open, said Marta.

As they sat down at the table, the red-haired young man lurched in, dressed approximately in a sweater and jeans. He collapsed into a chair and buried his face in his hands.

Oh, my God, I feel awful, he said in a gentle voice.

Richard was on his feet behind Rory’s chair, putting his hands on Rory’s shoulders. Shake yourself a little, Rory-Roy, we have company, he said softly. He’s one of the instinctive ones, he added to Susie. He has got some good qualities in spite of the mess. There are two more of us based here, but they’re away today. Oh, and Anna, she’s not active in the business these days – she lives here permanently. The rest of us get around.

I said I’d tell you about the business. We call it that, but it’s not. What we’re after is a complete restructuring of society.

How are you going to do that?

That’s the question. The present systems involve so much injustice, because the people who have the capital can pay to influence the rest against their own interests. So we have to do things that show them what is going on.

You mean, you write pamphlets and things?

Who reads those? Oh, we do that a bit and we have some serious writers, like Marta. But something that makes the front page or the television news is worth lorry-loads of pamphlets.

You mean blowing up bridges, that sort of thing?

Anything that gets headlines and helps to show up the grabbers for what they are.

But how does blowing up a bridge do that?

It would have to be done when there was some cargo being transported that someone didn’t want people to know about. This is all hypothetical, of course. Marta snorted. We have to find out as much as we can and then act quickly. If we can think of something new, so much the better. We haven’t blown up many bridges so far. Then we get in touch with the media to say what we’ve done and why. Sometimes it’s almost a kind of joke, like having the director of a profiteering firm strapped to one of his own neon signs with a poster to explain, without his pants. Of course, he wasn’t there for long, but we made sure the papers had pictures.

It sounds quite fun, but do you really think it changes people’s minds?

Who knows? We can only do what we can do and look at opinion polls. We’ve done a bit, I think. Some people have had to get out of plummy jobs, and a few things have changed here and there, partly because we’ve drawn attention to them.

Rory stirred. Kill the bastards, he said.

Richard sighed. You see our difficulty. The temptation is great sometimes. But we are essentially non-violent in principle. Is that not so, Rory?

Oh, ah, Rory mumbled.

Richard went on. We do have to adopt some practices we would rather not have to, so as to finance our operations. But we try not to damage anyone who would be really affected.

Susie thought this over. Do you mean shoplifting from supermarkets?

As and when necessary.

I can’t do that.

Nor me, said Rory sadly. Folks will be noticing the hair.

Susie reverted to the original subject. The business – are you linked up with anything bigger, communists or terrorists?

No. Well, we get on with people in all sorts of organisations, but the point of the business is that it’s a free association. We don’t take oaths, or have passwords or any kind of secret games. We trust each other, and nobody else. If anybody wanted to do the dirty on the rest of us, he could, but that doesn’t happen. That’s all there is to it.

It sounds impressive, Susie said. Are you really asking me to join you?

I wouldn’t be telling you all this otherwise. But you’re free to decide.

I’m going to Denmark this afternoon. I’ll think about what you’ve said.

There was a brief pause, and then Richard said, Right. How much longer does your ticket last?

A week. I want to go to Norway and Sweden, and go up to the Arctic Circle and see a reindeer.

Will you take a letter to Santa Claus in Copenhagen?

As long as there isn’t a bomb in it.

There won’t be, I’ll show you. I’ve got a map upstairs – I’ll get it, to show you.

As soon as he had left the room, Marta put her hand on Susie’s arm. Listen, I have to warn you. It’s dangerous, no good to you. It’s best you just disappear, go back to England, and be safe with your family. Maybe he wouldn’t go to England to look for you.

He would, you know, said Richard, reappearing. I’d come after you, Susie. Marta’s right in a way, though. It’s not an easy life. The law won’t protect you, and, as they say, there’s no future in it.

Susie looked at him directly. I see, she said. Where’s that map?

Chapter 3

A few days later Susie stepped off the Af Chapman hostel-boat in the harbour at Stockholm. It was a clear pale blue August morning, and the gleaming palaces on the other side reflected the light on the moving water. It was already autumn in the North; people had finished their long summer holidays and were going back to work.

Susie could not decide whether to go back to Amsterdam or to go straight home. She knew she would regret Richard, possibly a lot, but on the other hand the business, though no doubt it was doing a good job, sounded like